Holly nodded. "I've seen that in some of the nastier spell books."
"Then that's our connection. The summoner and the murderer—or whoever is directing the murders—might be working together. They might be one and the same." The detective thought for a moment, flipping notebook pages back and forth. "The murder of the girl in the Flanders house probably relates to the portal there. The murder in the wine cellar did happen right before your mouse. I don't know about the first two deaths. Maybe those are your warehouse incidents."
"Would that be around the same time the changelings arrived in Fairview?" Holly asked.
Alessandro refilled Macmillan's glass, then Holly's. His own was still full. "I don't know. I only saw them the once. I thought those two were the killers, but now there has been another murder."
"Unless there're more… whaddya call 'em… changelings somewhere," Macmillan added. "Though I have to say we—the police—never found any others."
Alessandro folded his arms. "Neither did the vampires."
"But why would they be involved at all?" Holly wondered.
"Vampire politics." Alessandro shrugged. "In the past they fought for territory. They lost badly. That is why there are so few of them now."
"Are they servants of the demon?" Holly mused. "Are they looking for revenge?"
"I don't know," said Alessandro.
They fell silent. The only sound was the ticking of the kitchen timer.
Alessandro sat back. "Those pieces fit together well enough to explain at least some of what's happened. That still doesn't tell us who's behind this, but last night they succeeded. They got their demon."
"What are they—whoever they are—going to do with it?" Macmillan asked. "More important, what are we going to do about it?"
"I was reading one of Grandma's books," said Holly. "It suggests finding the name of the demon. It won't get rid of it, but if you know its name, you're one step closer to controlling it."
"Like finding its rap sheet? What it's capable of?" said Macmillan.
"More than that. Names have magical significance,"
Alessandro replied. "Holly, is there a way witch magic can find the demon's identity?"
Holly squirmed, pulling her skirt down over her knees. Catching her breath, she held it a long moment, then released it slowly to still the butterflies in her stomach. She had an idea she really hated.
"You mentioned necromancy. I could raise the dead," Holly said in a dull voice. It was easy to be brave and determined just talking to Grandma, but now that she was committing herself for real, her head was starting to throb. "We just need to identify the grave of someone who walks between the worlds. A restless ghost. Then I can bring that spirit forth for questioning."
Alessandro shook his head, a somber look on his face. "That is an excellent idea. I would have liked to have made the suggestion myself, but I've been afraid that if you use the power required for necromancy, you will be hurt."
Holly shrugged. As miserable as she was, she wasn't going to backpedal now. Holly tossed back her wine in a gulp and set the glass down on an end table with an audible click. "I don't want to do this, but this demon was in my house and threatening my life. It has to go. I'll do whatever it takes."
The men looked at each other, clearly conflicted. "I don't know what the problem here is," said Macmillan, "but I'll help however you need me to."
Alessandro just frowned.
"All right then," Holly said softly, tension knotting her cold, cold stomach. A timer in the kitchen began to ding. The high pitched bell felt like a spike in Holly's skull. The detective headed to the kitchen to check on dinner.
Alessandro leaned forward and fixed her with his amber gaze. "I don't like this, however useful necromancy may be. I'm not undermining your decision, but if you change your mind at any point, just say the word."
"I can't. So much is at stake. Including me."
"What are the risks?"
"It's big-M magic."
"And so I am right to believe that it will hurt?"
"Yeah." Holly sighed. "And sometimes necromancy's just disgusting."
She poured herself another glass of wine, her innards wobbling at the prospect of raising the dead. That was big-league stuff, the majors. What am I doing?
Alessandro's cell rang—a tinny rendition of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. He made a face, then got up and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "As the detective said, whatever you need. Anything."
He flipped open the phone. "Caravelli." He listened. "Excellent. I had a thought for you to follow up. Ask him where he was yesterday afternoon, about four thirty. I'm serious. Certainly."
He walked into the next room, which looked like a study. She watched him go. Where was who yesterday afternoon? The last murder had been yesterday afternoon at about four thirty. What's going on?
She could hear Alessandro, even though he was keeping his voice down. Curiosity won out. She rose and crept forward, her steps silent on the carpet, and paused just outside the door. It sounded as if he were having an argument.
Alessandro was speaking. "Impossible." He shifted impatiently, listening to the reply. "Let me get my hands on the creature. Hold off for an hour or so, and I'll be there."
There was no ambiguity in Alessandro's tone. There was an implied threat in the words that made Holly suddenly cold.
"I'm old enough to know better than to say too much," Alessandro growled. "And I'm here protecting my interests."
Protecting his interests?
"All right, if that's the case, I'd better come." He snapped the phone shut and turned.
Startled, Holly backtracked to the living room at a trot. His hand caught her arm before she quite made it. "Ow!" Holly protested, fighting the rough strength in his fingers.
"I could hear you breathing outside the door," he said into her ear. His breath, cooler than a mortal's, raised the hair on her nape. He released her. "Be careful of eavesdropping. Be cautious of everything you do right now."
His size and strength were just too there all of a sudden. Even as a mortal he would have been formidable. As a vampire he had at least ten times a man's brute power. She swallowed hard, frightened and intrigued by the expression in his eyes. It was demanding and hungry and it made him handsome as sin.
Holly's heart began to speed. "I just heard you say you know better than to say too much. What aren't you telling me?"
He glared, his irritation sparking off of Holly's. Attraction and frustration hummed between them. "Am I that untrustworthy?" she whispered.
Frowning, he picked up his car keys from the coffee table. "Don't put words in my mouth. Enjoy your dinner." His voice held a world of disapproval.
" 'But don't enjoy it too much,' " she quipped, lifting her eyebrows in mock innocence.
He wavered, looking at the keys in his hand as if they would unlock more than the car door. "Precisely. I would rather stay here with you, keep an eye on things."
"Why? Am I in danger of being poisoned?"
He drew close, his silky sleeve brushing against her bare arm. That was all it took to send her thoughts scattering like seeds in the wind. His nearness made blood rush under her skin, as if he had called it. Perhaps he had. Half the vampires' power lay in their magnetism, that innate ability to fascinate their prey.
Sweet Hecate! Past kisses hovered like ghosts, nearly tangible but just a hairsbreadth out of reach. Anticipation ached in her body, making her want to crush herself against his chest. I want him too much. She had tasted him. She knew how good those lips could be. Deadly good.
He dropped his lips to her ear, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist. "Do you think I want to leave you here with that man? I don't like his smell. He's hiding something."