I laughed out loud, then captured his face in my hands to beam at him. “I want you to animate the late great news reporter, Barbara Benson for my media release. I think it would be basically the best thing that ever happened on National TV.”

“Even better thanTheWarlock Detective? Sacrilege. You want to do an interview on national television with an undead reporter. Ah. I haven’t personally dug up anyone for centuries. That’s what minions are for. Rats are actually quite talented diggers. I have other matters I need to arrange if you’re serious about doing an interview on national television, exposing yourself and your parents to Salina in order to draw her out.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Is it that obvious?”

He laughed and caught me up against his chest. “You don’t want anyone there who isn’t immune to Salina’s death aura. That’s why you want a reporter who is already dead. You alwaysaim to protect the weak, to bring the wicked to justice. How are you going to draw out the murderer?”

I inhaled deeply against his chest. I had to sound confident, even if I was having serious second thoughts. “Easy. No criminal can resist going back to the scene of the crime. I do need to make some calls tonight.”

He kissed my forehead and stood. “I’ll leave you to your work. The hall outside will be filled with my shadows, and…” He pulled a white rat out of his pocket and handed it carefully over to me. “You also have that lawyer you can summon with a drop of your blood. Although I am aware you are against working with him, you are already embroiled. Also…” He pulled out a bracelet and slipped it over my hand, then pressed a kiss to my inside wrist before he stepped back.

I stared at my old bracelet, the one I’d given to a ghoul, and then stared at him, speechless. I pointed at him. “And you weren’t obsessed with Cassandra Clarence? Why do you have my old bracelet?”

“Your mother asked me to retrieve it, but was so condescending, I decided to keep it in order to properly antagonize her. I didn’t realize that she was my future mother-in-law.” He tsked. “Also, who doesn’t want to keep a token from a saint? You know how it operates. Keep it on, skin-to-skin contact, and it will protect you from all evil, including Salina’s death aura.” He bowed, backed out, and then vanished in a black flickering shadow that smelled of strawberry ice cream.

Our next date was definitely going to involve the couch, bad television, and an entire tub of Neapolitan.

Chapter

Twenty

“One, two, three, and we’re on…”

Barbara Benson, the freshly animated undead, smiled brightly at the camera as it rolled, the bright lights making it impossible to see the camera, or the cameraman, or the lights crew.

“Welcome to Singsong City Sentinel’s nightly news, broadcast from the ashes of the Convention Center. That’s right, folks. We’re here, in the ashes of what used to be the biggest convention center in the Midwest, but is now nothing but ashes and some old metal beams. Let me tell you, if I still had to breathe, I’d be struggling. Let’s ask our guest for the evening, Miss Nova Star. Is it hard to breathe right now?”

I smiled brightly at the camera past Barbara Benson and nodded. “I think it’s harder because I’m nervous than because of the ashes.” I sneezed and Barbara laughed.

“Well, there you have it. Miss Nova Star is going to talk about the events that took place a month ago right here. Why don’t you tell us what happened in your own words?” Her voice became soft, compassionate, perfectly pitched for the emotion of the moment.

I fought the sick sensation and took a deep breath, then sniffed a few times because of the ashes tickling my nose. “My mother isn’t Patricia Clarence. The real Patricia Watford, that was her maiden name, was buried in a small town in Switzerland. At sixteen years of age, she died in childbirth delivering a half human, half demon baby. You see, without medical intervention, no human mother, particularly one who used illegal drugs regularly, could survive having a demon-blooded child. My mother, Lira Hood, daughter of Calumny of the Seven, met Patricia while doing a drug run, and decided?—”

“A drug run?” my mother scoffed, coming out of the darkness to take the chair to my left, frowning at me darkly. “If you’re going to tell a story on live national television, be certain to get your facts straight.”

She’d arrived right on schedule. She was almost too predictable, and I knew which news channels leaked what to her publicist.

Barbara Benson gasped. “Mrs. Clarence. I’m so glad that you decided to join us. I do appreciate having more than one side of the story. Would you like to tell us what happened? How did you meet Patricia, the tragic teen mother, with nowhere to turn?”

My mother sat up stiffly. She was going to kill me when this was over. “I met Patricia Watford when she tried to steal from me. I could tell by her condition that she wasn’t going to last long, so I let her take my money and coat, but I followed her. This was winter in Switzerland. She was extremely slow, as she was heavily pregnant and sick. When I walked in on her, she was terrified, tried to fight me off, but she was too weak to do much. She was living in a shed, no heat, no plumbing, no hygiene, but she was trying to eat, trying to cook on a small fire in the middle of the floor. It’s a wonder she didn’t burn it all down around her.” She shifted uncomfortably and took a deep, calming breath before she continued.

“At the time, I wasn’t in any position to help her, as I was running from a vampire who had marked my whole family. Still, I had a few contacts and got her to a house where she could be cared for, not a proper medical facility, but at least somewhere heated, somewhere she would be safe. When I heard she was dead, I took her name.”

“And her face,” I added.

Barbara sighed heavily, shaking her head. “And that’s what we call a real tragedy.”

My mother gave her a sharp look. “No, the real tragedy is that her death could have been prevented with some basic health care. But her parents cut her off when they heard that she was pregnant with something not entirely human. They believed in protecting humanity above all else, even though they were personally the worst kinds of humans. They spent their fortune on gambling and other vices I’d rather not mention on national television.” She gave me an icy look.

I smiled back at her. “And that’s why you felt justified in killing them?”

Her brow furrowed in shocked horror. “No! I didn’t kill them.”

“No, you had your father, Calumny of the Seven, do it.”

Barbara raised a hand. “Nova, please. Let’s listen to your mother’s side of the story.”

“Or I could tell it,” Mr. Good said, coming out of the shadows, manacles on his hands, orange jumpsuit looking garish in the camera lights. Oh good. Gabby had come through for me. Hopefully Philip and Fin were doing their parts at a good distance as well.