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“A death cry,” Crane replied. “This dear girl’s soul screamed out in such agony at the time of her death that all else was obliterated. Any regrets she may have had. Any last wishes. Any final thoughts strong enough to linger. She was either betrayed by one she loved or heinously wronged.”

“Any clues about who killed her?”

The ghost studied the onyx jar, his irises rolling until they disappeared and only the translucent whites showed.

Ugh. Like that’s not creepy. No wonder ghost stories never end well.

“None that I can find,” Crane said at last, his eyes normal again. “A death cry is pain made solid, nothing more or less.”

“What would happen if you took off the lid?” Only Mira would think to ask that.

“Have you ever heard a banshee’s scream? Or a harpy’s? Imagine that magnified ten times over.”

I shuddered. I’d never had to deal with a harpy, but a banshee’s cry? That was a sound you heard in your nightmares—right before the monster eats you up.

“You could ask the Witch of Endor, however,” Crane said. “She communes with earthbound spirits.”

“That holds her spirit here?” I nodded at the jar.

“Yes.”

“Witch of Endor?” Gigi repeated. “Where could we find her?”

“She has a shop near the 50th Street subway station. I do not know what price you may pay for her services. She is not as … reasonable … as I am.”

Crane floated over to the mirror and returned the jar.

“I choose to pay in deed,” Kerry said. “Who is the one you need freed and where do I need to go?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Crane shook his head. “In the case of a death cry, I never charge. ’Tis bad karma.”

I nodded, ready to go, but Kerry had another question for the ghost.

“Would you be able to tell me if someone is dead or not?”

Uh-oh. I thought I knew where this was heading and it wasn’t any place good.

“If the person left a regret, unfinished business, or, as you’ve seen, a death cry, then, yes, I would.”

“Check for Gemma Shepherd.”

“I’ll need a memory.” Without a word, Crane held out his hand, and Kerry recoiled as if the see-through fingers were reaching for his heart.

And in a way, I guessed they were. Kerry would never sacrifice a single memory of his girl, and I was about to offer one of mine instead when Gigi stepped forward.

“Here. I have one I don’t mind giving away.” She laid her hand in Crane’s, winced when he claimed the memory, and slumped back against Jax’s chest as Crane once more returned to his mirror door.

As we waited, I glanced at Kerry and saw sharp tremors rip through the kid’s body. I looked over at Mira, who was also watching him, and her face reflected my own thoughts.

I gestured to Jax and saw he was already preparing to contain Kerry if Crane came back with evidence that Gemma was dead.

Well, I hoped he’d be able to contain him. A Harker tornado in the middle of the city would be bad .

When the ghost returned, I let out a rush of air to see his translucent hands were empty. Kerry looked ready to pass out. I felt kind of sick myself. The stress he was living under was worse than any physical torture I could imagine.

Thanking Crane for his time, I herded everyone out of the office and back to the elevator and down.

“Well, I guess we’re off to St. Pat’s.” I patted the package as we exited the building.

“And I’m off to see Zick at Mammoth’s.” Kerry stretched his arms over his head.

“What’s Mammoth’s?” I thought I’d better keep tabs on him.

“It’s a bar where the Diabolical hang out. Most of you wouldn’t be able to go with me, so it works out.”

Hank had told me not to let him go off on his own. I didn’t like it, but there was only one solution.

“I’d like Mira to go with you,” I said.

“Sure.” She smiled at me.

“Give us the address.” I tucked the small box under one arm. “And, Mira, you keep your eyes open.”

“I can take care of myself,” she growled.

“Except for when a devil sneaks up on you or a raider kidnaps you,” I retorted.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I started to apologize, but she cut me off.

“Even you can be surprised in an ambush, meathead, or taken down by a behemoth.” She thumped my chest with the heel of her hand. “Besides, this time I know to be on guard from the get-go.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I admitted.

In the background, I could hear Jax asking Kerry why we all couldn’t go with him and listened with only half an ear. What I was seeing in Mira’s golden eyes was much more fascinating.

“As soon as they smelled you, they’d want to eat you,” Kerry explained. “For me, the possession taint drowns out the scent of my Divine blood. And Mira’s coercion taint is strong enough to hide hers, so she makes the best sense.”

Pain flashed across her face.

“It’ll fade on its own over time,” I murmured. “It already is.”

“I know.”

Her eyes darted to Kerry, and I suddenly understood.

His taint would never fade, nor could anyone heal it. He’d accepted the demon, invited it in, made a conscious decision to do so. No matter how noble or self-sacrificing a gesture it had been, he’d damned himself with it.

Maybe there were others, but I knew only three ways to be free of it.

One, Sin Eaters could devour it, but only in exchange for your Divinity—and only after you were dead.

Two, you could seek absolution, but that required real, heartfelt repentance. Kerry didn’t regret what he did, which took that option off the table.

Three, he could receive a blessing from God or an archangel, and I just didn’t see that happening.

None of the Holy host are outwardly hostile toward us.

Most simply ignore us. There are some who can be stirred to pity, and a few are assigned to work with our Council and the elders.

They intercede for us and, yes, on occasion bless us, but normally only in recognition of some great sacrifice or service.

Yeah, good luck with that.

“Where do you want us to meet up with you afterward?” Kerry interrupted my thoughts.

“How far away is Mammoth’s?” I didn’t know much about this city, and certainly not the parts that he would have frequented. “Jax, can you bring up a map on your phone? And Mira, you’ve got your new phone, right?”

“Yep!” She held it up.

“Mammoth’s is over by the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel.” Kerry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “After your errand, you can meet us in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“What’s in Hell’s Kitchen?” Jax asked.

“The Witch of Endor, apparently.”

“You never heard of her?” Gigi’s eyebrows flew up in surprise.

“I heard of her.” Kerry rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

“I’m not welcome in the Kitchen.”

“Why not?”

“Long, unpleasant story.” He looked away. “But hey, I’m not supposed to be in Midtown, either, yet here I am.”

Before I could ask who was brave enough to impose boundaries on the Great Kerry Harker, terror of New York, Mira held up a hand.

“Wait a minute. I thought the Bible says that witches shouldn’t be allowed to live. Are we really going to ask one for help?”

“The Old Testament is full of Jewish laws and rituals,” I shared my thoughts, “a lot of which contradict the New Testament. For example, it also says not to deal with necromancers, yet Jesus himself raised the dead on more than one occasion.”

“But if it’s a sin—”

“Who cares if it is?” Kerry’s face tightened. “I don’t give a f—”

“I’m just saying there might be consequences,” Mira interrupted him.

“If there are consequences, I’ll take them all, so long as it helps get my angel back.”

“We can always ask forgiveness if we need to,” Jax said, playing peacemaker.

Kerry opened his mouth, probably to retort that he didn’t give a rip about forgiveness, either, and I decided to intervene.

“Well, Kerry, send us the location where you want to regroup. Do you think the rest of us can walk to St. Pat’s from here?”

“Yeah. It’s less than a mile away.”

“Good.” I gave him a nod and gathered my ducklings. “Let’s go.”