No Humans Involved

toward him.

There, in the shadows, was Karl Marsten.

A recent addition to the Pack, after several years of 'fence-sitting,' Karl was a jewel thief, and looked like Hollywood's version of one. Dark haired with sharp features and sharper gray-blue eyes. With his pressed pants, linen shirt, Italian loafers, faint tan and manicured fingernails, he looked like an action hero idling on the sidelines while his stunt double worked up a sweat for him. But from what Elena said, he was quite capable of working up that sweat all by himself, and those expensive clothes did little to disguise a powerful build. A dangerous man hiding beneath the veneer of a bored sophisticate.

By the time I arrived, he'd overcome his surprise and was eying Jeremy with a half-smile that seemed almost rueful.

'Dare I ask how long you've known I was around?' Karl said. 'Or, perhaps not. You'll shatter my delusions of stealth.'

I looked at Jeremy. 'So that's whose scent you've been picking up these last couple of days. Elena didn't have him standing by in Arizona after all.'

Jeremy said, 'I'm not the one he's been watching.'

He directed my attention across the way, where we now had a perfect view of Hope's backdoor entrance.

'I was… concerned,' Karl said.

'Because she called and told you she was investigating some occult business, and you thought she was doing it on her own.'

'Which isn't to say that she couldn't handle it on her own, but I knew Jeremy was in town and Elena wanted me nearby in case of trouble. Discovering that it involved you meant there was no reason not to stay close, keep my eye on-'

He stopped, gaze fixed on something over my shoulder.

Hope started toward us. 'I sensed a werewolf and thought it was Jeremy, so I came down to meet him. I should have known better. Werewolf plus chaos equals only one person I know. Care to finish that sentence, Karl? Who were you keeping an eye on?'

Genuine dismay rippled Karl's composure. 'I was-'

'Doing his job,' Jeremy cut in. 'Watching me, at Elena's behest.'

'Ah.' She gave Karl another hard look, one that said she didn't believe it, but would take it up with him later. 'I suppose you might as well join us, then.'

'With such a welcome, how can I refuse?'

'With such an entrance, how can you expect a welcome?' Hope turned on her heel and headed for her backdoor. 'At least I didn't come home to find you in my living room again.'

'I was testing your security.'

'You just like pushing your luck. One of these days you've going to spook me on the wrong night and push it right into an early grave.'

WHEN WE reached Hope's apartment, Karl looked around.

'I see your mother's been here,' he said. 'She has impeccable taste.'

'She does. And she's single. Close to your age too. Want her number?'

He only strolled into the living room and stretched out on the sofa.

'Make yourself comfortable,' Hope said, tossing her keys on the counter.

'I am, thank you. And I'll take a Scotch and soda when you have a moment.'

She flipped him the finger. He smiled. As she invited us to sit and offered coffee, his gaze followed her, lips still curved. She tossed him a bottle of Perrier. He caught it easily and we started to plan.

DIVISION OF DUTIES

JEREMY TOLD US HIS THOUGHTS as Karl scavenged through Hope's fridge, pawing past the take-out cartons and pulling out the leftovers.

When Jeremy finished, he looked at me. 'I know you should accompany me. After all, this is your investigation-'

'No. Well, yes, I'd love to follow through, but under the circumstances, you don't need to be checking over your shoulders, making sure I'm okay.' I glanced at Karl. 'I presume you're going with Jeremy? As backup?'

'I am.' He turned to Jeremy. 'Fried chicken or pork vindaloo?'

Jeremy's gaze slid to Hope.

'Eat up. I have so many leftovers, I can barely squeeze in a carton of milk. The perils of cooking for one. Jaime?'

'Nothing for me, thanks.'

'The vindaloo, please,' Jeremy said to Karl.

'Good choice,' Karl said, scooping out the stew for Jeremy and some of both for himself. Then he opened a container of what looked like potatoes au gratin. 'So, if I'm playing bodyguard, someone needs to stay behind with Jaime.'

'Not if I'm in Brentwood,' I said. 'The house is surrounded by cops, so Hope can go with you two-'

'I'd prefer you had backup, Jaime,' Jeremy said. 'If Hope doesn't mind.'

From the disappointment that flickered across Hope's face, she did mind. Not much fun babysit when there was an adventure going on.

She could have played the sexism card, but she didn't, probably realizing gender had nothing to do with it. Out of a necromancer who can talk to the dead, a half-demon who can see visions of chaos, and two werewolves with superhuman strength and senses, it was obvious which two should head into battle. They could have used Hope's chaos detector, but someone had to stay behind to guard the main target.

Hope covered her disappointment with a smile. 'Sure. That's fine.'

Karl paused, spoon in a bowl, his gaze on her, steady and piercing. She glanced at him and they exchanged a look. He nodded, and put one of the plates into the microwave.

AN HOUR later we were back at the Brentwood house, where Hope and I would wait while Jeremy and Karl met Zack Flynn and, with any luck, used him to infiltrate the group.

With the ongoing confusion at the house, no one questioned me bringing guests in. Didn't seem to notice, even when I took three people up to my room.

Karl and Hope were on the balcony, door closed to give them privacy as they talked. Though I couldn't hear a word, I could tell it wasn't their usual banter. Karl was doing most of the talking, his fingers resting on Hope's arm, leaning down to her, face grave.

Hope's fingers grazed the gun under her jacket. Jeremy had been happy to see that gun… and even happier when Karl assured us that Hope could use it.

I pulled my gaze from the balcony as Jeremy returned from scouting.

'All clear?' I asked.

He nodded. 'Nothing has changed with the police, and May hasn't returned.'

'Before you go, could you draw a couple of your runes for me? The protective ones?'

'You don't need to humor me, Jaime. I know that whatever irrational urge I have to draw those is just that: irrational. A symbol can't protect someone.'

'Please?'

He looked around, fingers drumming against his leg, as if almost hoping he wouldn't see anything to write on. I took a sheet and pen from the tiny writing desk. He sketched a few runes, not even pausing to consider which to do, as if he already knew. Then he quickly folded the sheet in quarters and reached around me to tuck it into my back pocket, using the opportunity to lean close, body pressing against mine.

I whispered, 'If we finish this tonight, you won't need to rush back to New York before morning, will you?'