Page 46 of Half Dead

“Now isn’t the ideal time to turn off his phone.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you doubt his ability to take care of himself.”

I huffed. “What about Dantalion? He didn’t answer his phone. Have you seen him?”

“Wait. You called me third?”

“Look at this way. I could’ve called Alessandro third.”

“Dan-Dan is parked outside the club. He took second watch.”

The knot in my stomach eased. “Will you ask Kane to call me when he feels ready to talk?” He’d seemed in decent shape when I left him last night. Sad and stoic, but not distant.

Josie was silent for a moment. “You don’t need to worry, Lorelei. We’ve got this.”

For once, I hoped she was right.

Otto’s house was one of the older, larger homes in Fairhaven, the Castle notwithstanding. Unlike my sprawling monstrosity, the house on Walden Lane was sophisticated, symmetrical, and shipshape.

I rang the bell and waited for Heidi, his stoichousekeeper, to answer the door. It seemed to happen in record time. Typically, I could count to five Mississippi in my head. I got the impression that she liked to keep me waiting.

“What’s the rush?” I asked. “Now that the weather’s actually pleasant, you don’t want me standing outside?”

Heidi didn’t crack a smile. “Mr. Visconti is in the study. I’ll take you there now.” She turned on her heel and trudged down the hall like she was about to meet with the executioner to discuss which blade he might use on her neck.

Music greeted us in the hall as we approached the study. Jazz. I hated jazz with every fiber of my being. Chaos in musical form.

“What’s with the sound of torture?” I asked.

“Mr. Visconti has company,” Heidi said. She left me standing alone in the doorway.

I peered inside the room. Otto sat on the sofa, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the arm. The pianist was tall and broad, with long arms that seemed capable of enveloping the entire width of the piano. His movements were frantic as the music reached its crescendo. The song came to its merciful conclusion, and I clapped, prompting Otto to turn toward the sound.

“I’d recognize that slow, mocking clap anywhere. Lorelei Clay, I’d like you to meet my special guest, Luke.”

“Luke,” I repeated. His face was more chiseled than the statue of David, and his dark eyes gleamed with intelligence and good humor. His reddish-blond hair appeared tousled, as though he’d simply raked a hand through it this morning and went on his way. The suit, however, was immaculate. Not a thread out of place.

He rose to his full height to greet me with a kiss on the cheek. I moved my head at the last second to avoid contact.

“I apologize for my European customs,” Luke said. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve visited the States.”

“Lorelei won’t mind,” Otto said. “She lived in England for a few years.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? London?”

“Yes.” I watched as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. One seemed to be missing an essential element.

“Lorelei is such a pretty name.”

“Thank you,” I said, choking down the bile that rose in my throat. “Is Luke short for something?” Although I was fairly certain I already knew, I was still woefully unprepared for the answer.

“Lucifer.”

Otto started to choke.

Know with whom you’re having the pleasure, as Pops liked to say.

The corner of Otto’s mouth lifted high enough to reveal one stunted fang. “Surely you can’t betheLucifer.”

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