“So what’s the plan?” Adam said as we climbed into his Jeep.

“We’re starting right at the source,” I said. “A home invasion, if we’re lucky.”

“Sweet.”

“I thought you’d think so.”

Less-than-Legal Adventuring

EVERETT WEBER LIVED OUTSIDE MODESTO, IN A SMALL farmhouse, an ugly cinder block with a freshly mowed lawn and tidy yard, but with woodwork years overdue for a paint job. Probably a rental, owned by whoever owned the surrounding vineyards. Like most renters, Weber was quite willing to keep the place neat but wasn’t about to dip into his own pockets for repairs.

Weber worked at a place in Silicon Valley, so we hoped that at one P.M. on a Friday, that’s where he’d be. From Lucas’s preliminary background check, Weber appeared to live alone. Add in the fact that his house was on a dirt road, with no neighbors for a half-mile in any direction, and a daytime break-and-enter wasn’t as risky as it sounded.

The remote location made it perfect for a B&E but more difficult to get up close and check for occupancy. We called the house from the road, and no one answered the phone, but that didn’t necessarily mean Everett wasn’t there. After some skulking around, Lucas proclaimed the house empty, and we met at the back door, whereupon we discovered that every window came complete with bars and security decals. After a quick check, Lucas declared the decals legit. Weber had a security system, and it was activated.

“No disarming spells in your repertoires, I suppose?” Adam whispered as we huddled near the back door.

Lucas pulled a small kit from under his leather jacket. “No, but I do have this.”

“Cool.” Adam crouched beside Lucas as he worked. “Now this you didn’t learn in law school.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lucas murmured. “No, this comes from having Cabal contract employees as clients. As you might expect, the Cabals don’t contract them for their typing skills. In some cases, an exchange of skills proves more valuable than financial remuneration.” He fiddled with a mess of wires. “There. Now comes the difficult part. I need to cut these three at the same time or I’ll set it off. However, if I do cut them, it’s easily discovered, and Weber will know his system was breached. This may take a few minutes.” He reached into his kit. “First, I need to—”

Adam reached down and grasped the mess of wires. A spark, then they disintegrated to ash.

“Or we could just do that,” Lucas said.

“Damn those spontaneous electrical fires,” Adam said.

“Been practicing, I see,” I said.

Adam grinned and wiped the ash from his hand. He grabbed the door handle.

“Wait,” I said.

I cast an unlock spell. Adam opened the door. We paused,but no alarm sounded. Lucas finished replacing the wires, then waved us inside.

We soon understood why Weber put a security system on a rented farmhouse. Any money he’d saved on rent, he’d invested in electronics, with multiple computers, a plasma TV, and a hi-fi system that I’m sure rocked the neighbors even a mile away.

While Adam and Lucas started searching, I headed for my area of expertise: the computer. I quickly discovered that Weber applied the same standard of security to his hard drive as he did to his house. Although he was the only person living there, he had the computer password-protected. It took nearly thirty minutes to crack that, only to find that all his data—even his e-mail—was encrypted. I burned the files onto a CD for later.

Since Lucas and Adam were still searching, I returned to Weber’s computer to search for a specific piece of information: a credit card number. Seeing how careful Weber was with his files, I assumed this search would be futile. Well, I was wrong. Five minutes of hunting and I found a cookie containing an unencrypted credit card number. Later I could hack into the credit card company system and search his records, in hopes that if he was our killer, he’d used his card for traveling.

After another hour, we declared the house thoroughly searched. Lucas and Adam hadn’t found anything. We could only hope that decrypting Weber’s files and checking his credit card records would prove more fruitful.

We retreated to Santa Cruz, where Adam lived with his parents. I was eager to get Weber’s credit card records, but Adam’s mother, Talia, insisted that we have dinner first and, having been on food-free mental superdrive since breakfast, I had to agree that my brain needed nourishment before I did something as dangerous as hack into credit card companies.

We had fettuccine Alfredo alfresco, on the multilevel deck that covered half the backyard. Talia and Robert ate with us to hear about the case. As usual, Adam’s initial recitation had left out half the details and mangled the rest, so they’d waited to hear the real story from the source.

Talia was one of the few humans who lived within the supernatural world. That was her choice, to accept the dangers of that knowledge in order to better understand her son and husband, and play a full role in their lives. Over the last few years, Robert’s health had begun to fail, and Talia had been picking up the slack. Robert was only sixty-eight, but his physical condition had never been what one would call robust, forcing him even from an early age to take the scholarly approach to helping other half-demons, acting as a resource and a confidant. Talia, who was twenty-seven years younger, had embraced the midlife career change. As for Adam taking over Robert’s work, well, let’s just say no one expected him to be sitting behind a desk, reading demonology texts, anytime soon.