“Blood,” Cassandra said as we walked through the Dahl yard. “I smell blood.”

“Well, that’s your specialty, so put your nose to the ground and sniff it out.”

She ignored me. In the middle of the yard, she closed her eyes and slowly turned. When she had the direction, she walked to a massive oak tree and bent under its spreading branches.

“There’s blood here,” she said. “Soaked into the ground.”

She pointed to a small patch in the shade. Even up close, the damp grass only looked dew-covered, a spot that hadn’t been in the sun yet. But when I touched it, my fingers came away red.

“Why would there be fresh blood?” I said.

Cassandra looked up. I followed her gaze. There, stretched across two thick branches, was a man’s body. Another man was draped over a higher limb. Higher still a dark form stuffed in a fork looked like a dog with another one above it.

“Shit,” I said.

Davis seconded my curse, then said, “Why the hell would they stuff them in a tree?”

“Because they couldn’t get them over the fence without being seen.”

“How did the killer get over it?”

“The house is guarded against teleporting half-demons, right?”

“Of course.”

“And the yard?”

“No. It’s too big an area and too complicated to maintain. When the children are out, there’s always a guard right there so . . .” He trailed off. “That keeps someone from teleporting in and hurting the children during the day, but not coming in and killing the guards at night. Doesn’t explain how the family got out, though.”

“Unless they didn’t get out,” Cassandra murmured.

We looked at the house. Davis jogged toward it. We followed.

The house was a single floor. Maybe two thousand square feet. Not big enough to hide a family . . . or the bodies of a family. Especially not when we had the blueprints, which showed every room.

Cassandra didn’t pick up the smell of blood, which was a relief. She kept returning to the master bedroom, though.

Finally, she said, “Someone’s here.”

When Davis frowned, I explained that vampires have a sixth sense for detecting the living. The problem with ignoring certain races is that you don’t understand their powers.

Cassandra crouched and pointed at the floor. “Under there.”

Davis shook his head. “There’s no basement. Not even a storage space.”

“Well, either you have a compartment under this floor, containing a living person, or the property is infested by giant moles.”

“Let’s start moving furniture,” I said.

We found the trap door under the area rug. It was locked, from the inside. As I examined it, Davis studied the blueprints as though, if he looked hard enough, a subterranean room would suddenly appear.

“This isn’t supposed to be here,” he said finally.

“I think that’s the point.” I leaned back. “You’re an Igneus, right? Can a little fire help here or do we need a crowbar?”

He concentrated on the hinges. Not being an Exustio, like Adam, he couldn’t disintegrate them, but with a combination of heat and brute strength, he finally wrenched the door from its hinges.

When I made a move to go down, Cassandra waved me back.

“I’m the shield, as I recall,” she said. “I’ll go first.”

“What’s Mr. Dahl’s power?” I asked Davis.

“He’s a Tempestras.”

In other words, a storm half-demon. Not terribly lethal in a tight place. I eased back and let Cassandra descend.

As she disappeared into the darkness, there were no shouts or screams or gunshots. Just the sound of someone scrabbling away from her.

When I started down, Cassandra lifted a hand to stop me and whispered, “It’s a child.”

After a moment we heard her say, “You must be Gabrielle.” The Dahls’ daughter. I was surprised Cass remembered the name. “I’m Cassandra. We’ve been looking for you.”

A sniffle. Cassandra kept talking to the little girl, her faint French lilt coming stronger, making her voice soothing, musical.

“She’s good with kids.” Davis sounded shocked.

“It’s the only way she can get them to open their windows and invite her in.”

His look said he didn’t find that funny. At least he didn’t take me seriously. I’ve met supernaturals who would.

Cassandra has a patience with children she can’t find for adults. I think she enjoys their lack of pretense. They amuse her. Well, we all amuse her, but children particularly so. They like her back. Particularly if she uses her vampire charm.

Contrary to myth, a vampire can’t make you do anything against your will, but if you’re already inclined in that direction, their voice and gaze can prod you along. This scared little girl wanted to be rescued, so it was easy for Cassandra to persuade her that we were rescuers.

After a few minutes, she led Gabrielle out. I motioned Davis back—a hulking bodyguard is not the first thing a terrified kid needs to see as she comes out of her hiding place.

According to the file, Gabrielle was five. She was chubby, with curly blond hair and dark blue eyes and wore a nightgown covered in frolicking puppies. Or that’s what it looked like—the gown was dusted with dirt, the front streaked from her tears.

“Hey there,” I said, crouching down to her size. “How about we get you some breakfast. I bet you’re hungry.”

She nodded.

“Cassandra’s going to take you in the bathroom to clean up,” I said. “I’ll get your breakfast.”

Davis motioned that he was calling it in. I gestured that Sean shouldn’t hurry—we needed to get as much from the girl as we could before an invading security team frightened her into silence.

I found cereal in the cupboard and pulled out a box of Lucky Charms that was tucked at the back, behind the healthier stuff. I poured a bowl and a glass of orange juice before Cassandra got Gabrielle to the table.

“Can you tell us what happened?” I asked after she’d eaten a few mouthfuls.

“A man came,” she said. “From Mr. Nast.”

“Mr. Nast?”

She nodded. “The young one. The old one came once, to see Larsen, but the young one comes a lot. He’s nice. Mommy and Daddy like him, so they weren’t mad even if it was past our bedtime.”