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He waited a few seconds.

He distinctly got the impression Black was at home, meaning the penthouse on California Street he shared with his wife, Miriam. It was nine in the morning in New York, which meant it was only six a.m. there. Both of them were early risers, though.

Knowing Black, he’d been to the gym already.

That, or he’d gone on a run, possibly all the way to the Presidio and back, or even to Ocean Beach and through the park.

“Not today,” Black grunted, clearly hearing him. “We have our own distractions here at the moment, brother. Have you talked to Nick yet?”

Jem stiffened. “No. I just told you––”

“Whatever,” Black cut in, voice annoyed. “We have a house guest. Me and Miriam. It’s been a little all-consuming with our time.”

Jem opened his mouth, hesitated as he reconsidered, then closed it again. He had other things he really needed to talk to Black about. He didn’t want to be distracted from that until he knew what his orders were now, given everything.

He felt the younger seer wait a few beats longer for him to ask.

Dalejem cleared his throat.

“Let me know when you’ve got the news on,” he said instead.

He listened as Black walked out of what was probably his bedroom and into the living room and kitchen. There was flicker of sound, which promptly got muted, but not before Jem recognized it as the television news.

After a few seconds, Black cursed in seer under his breath.

“Fuck,” he said then, switching to English. “Did you talk to Frasier at all?”

“No.” Jem tugged his jacket tighter around his chest, then shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I was at the hotel bar you told me to use. The Twilight, across from their building. I’d been sitting there almost three hours when it happened, so I saw the cops and EMTs arrive. I don’t think he left the building all day. I tried his office and a few other places you gave me, and nothing. Same with the roommate.”

“Ungerman?” Black clarified.

“Yes. Did you see he’s the second vic?”

Black cursed under his breath a second time. “Gods-damn it.”

“Yes. It’s going to be a little difficult for me to ask him or Ungerman about a human murder club now.” Jem paused. “Do you think maybe this Lion Hunter’s Club was behind it? Frasier’s death? Seems like kind of a coincidence.”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you want me to look into the deaths while I’m here?”

“No. Maybe later. We’ll keep an eye on the police investigation for now.”

Jem felt Black’s preoccupation through the line.

He waited. He knew the younger seer must be absorbing the details of Frasier’s death through the news report he was watching.

“What did it look like to you?” Black asked a few beats later. “I assume you looked into what they have so far? At least the bare bones?”

“A professional hit,” Jem replied promptly. “And yes, I visited the police station last night, and again a few hours ago. I managed to grab the assigned detective this morning. I only did a basic read, but I got a few things. They definitely think a pro did this.” He hesitated, then added, “In my opinion, likely not a human.”

Black’s voice sharpened. “What makes you say that?”

Jem shrugged deeper into his jacket as he gazed north. “A few things. When you see the logistics of the shot, you’ll understand.”

The silence thickened.

“Where were the shots taken from?” Black asked, his voice harder. “From another building?”