employees standing behind the counter. “Hello?” I called out. “Is there anyone here?”
A young woman—younger than me, at least—pushed out from behind a curtain. “Sorry,” she said, chewing, and putting down a Chinese takeout box with chopsticks sticking out the top. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She wiped her hands on her skirt. “What can I do for you?”
I blinked when the woman smiled a dazzling, welcoming smile that made her hazel eyes crinkle attractively. She nodded to me and then focused on Parker, her grin growing broader. “Wow, we haven’t had one of you in here before.”
The woman pushed her long, corn silk hair over one shoulder, and I glanced at her beaded name tag: KISHI. She remained focused on Parker, and he was quiet, his eyes intense, entranced.
“Parker,” I whispered, shaking his arm.
“Oh, sorry.” He blinked, then grinned. “My partner”—he chucked me on the shoulder, locker-room style—“and I are looking for something in particular.”
“Oh yeah,” Kishi said, her eyes never leaving Parker. “What would that be?”
“A sword,” I interjected, stepping in front of Parker. “A jeweled sword that can be charmed. It’s called the —”
“Sword of Bethesda,” Kishi supplied, “and I don’t have one. Not anymore, at least.”
“Not anymore? Did someone buy it?”
“Yeah, just a few days ago, actually.”
My heartbeat sped up. “Who bought it? Can you tell us?”
Kishi cocked her head. “No, I really can’t. The patrons of the Crystal Ball expect a certain degree of anonymity.”
“But this is serious. It’s detective work. Parker, show her your badge.”
Parker tore his eyes from Kishi and dug out his wallet, flashing his badge.
Kishi half smiled. “And you’re a cop, too.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the counter, her chin in her hands. She pressed her breasts together seductively, and I noticed Parker’s eyes skim over them. “How does that work?”
“What is she talking about?” Parker whispered to me. I held up a silencing hand.
“Please, Kishi, lives could be at stake here. We could come back with a search warrant, but by then it might be too late, and you could have a portal to hell opened and a lot of innocent blood on your hands—human
Kishi blew out a long sigh and looked past me at Parker. She slid a crystal bowl full of pomegranate seeds toward him. “Fruit?”
I slapped Parker’s hand away and held on to it, staring Kishi down. “Who bought the sword?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Give me a second.” She backed away, disappearing behind the curtains.
“Wow, she’s really something, isn’t she?” Parker said with a grin.
I slapped his chest. “And so are you. She’s a demon, Parker, a very, very bad one, and she’s entrancing you.”
“Kishi? Nah,” Parker said, reaching for the pomegranate seeds.
“Don’t!” I grabbed his hand, slapping a spray of pomegranate onto the floor. “If you eat food from a Kishi, you can’t get away. She looks beautiful, but she’s two-faced. Literally.” I leaned closer and lowered my voice to a barely audible whisper. “She will eat you.”
“Okay,” Kishi said, slipping back through the curtain with a receipt in her hand. “Whoever bought the sword paid cash. I sold it myself.”
I laid my palms on the counter. “Do you remember anything about the buyer?”
Kishi shrugged her shoulders. “Not much. It was a woman. Youngish, I guess. Black hair.”
I frowned. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Kishi looked around me at Parker and held up the crystal bowl again. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to eat, angel?”
Parker paled and I mashed my foot on top of his. “No, thank you,” he said finally. “We should probably be going. Thank you very much for your help, though, Kishi. We really appreciate it.”
Kishi’s beautiful features went cold as she frowned. “Fine. Have a nice day,” she said sharply. Then she turned on her heel, and I grabbed Parker by the wrist, dragging him out of the Crystal Ball. I slammed the door behind us, and he turned for one last glance at the beautiful Kishi, and paled.
“Did you see that?” Parker breathed, pointing at the store. “Kishi, she—she’s—”
“Two-faced,” I finished.
Kishi was behind the counter, reaching for her Chinese takeout box. Her back was toward us, her rump perfect and perky under the loose folds of her skirt, her waist trim. Her long hair was parted neatly over her shoulders and a face—dark-eyed with salivating, pointed teeth—peered out from the back of her head.
“I told you. Kishis have beautiful faces on the front to lure their prey. On the backside, usually underneath their long, Pantene-commercial hair is their other face. The one they use to eat their prey.”
Parker’s breath was quick, and I crossed my arms in front of my chest, satisfied. “Guess you were lucky I was here, huh, ‘angel’? She must have really liked you. By the way—if you eat anything they offer you, you can’t escape them.” I leaned up on my tiptoes, my nose just inches from his. “Ever. So, you’re welcome.”
Parker pushed his hands into his jean pockets as we walked to the car. “Can Kishis … see things … about people?”
I grinned. “Like your angelic façade?” Parker’s eyes widened and I laughed. “Obviously not.”
After we had pulled back onto the highway, Parker looked at me. “So, how do you know all this about demons and the Underworld, anyway? I’m a detective, but I couldn’t tell you much about it or, you know … detective history.”
I smiled, remembering. While most kids my age were falling asleep to Disney movies on the VHS, Gram was in bed with me, telling me stories about the Underworld and the creatures that lived there. She told me about the pink-and-blue-bodied Oni, from Japan, who drinks too much, eats too much, and is known for occasionally drinking Japanese rivers dry, and the oversensitive, shape-shifting Bori, who likes to playact as a human just for fun. She told me which demons couldn’t be referred to by name (lest you trap them as your slave), and that you should always whistle when approaching certain members of the demon world. Fairies, pixies, ghouls, and crouchers were generally peaceful if left alone but quickly resorted to violence when snuck up upon. Gram had volumes of knowledge about the Underworld and treated each being in it with reverence and respect—always reminding me that the Underworld, with its thousands of demon species, survived because demonkind followed a code of respect that had been lost on humankind.
Parker tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and looked at me sideways. “So, the person who bought the knife was a woman.”
“Right,” I said, yawning.
“With long black hair.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Kind of like your roommate.”
I looked at Parker incredulously. “You can’t be serious. There is no way Nina, of all people, would be involved in something like this. Look at her! She’s five-one for God sakes!”
“She’s a vampire. Weren’t you the one who told me they have superhuman strength?”
“She’s also my best friend,” I said, staring out the front windshield, “and I know her a lot better than you do. This has nothing to do with her.”
Chapter Seventeen
The light was fading in the conference room where Parker and I had the contents of the evidence boxes spread out between us. Well, the contents of the evidence boxes, two empty bags of peanut M&M’s, the remains of an Ali Babba falafel platter, and two frozen mocha lattes melting in Styrofoam cups. I rubbed my eyes and blinked out the big glass window into the police station vestibule.
