Thornadryll’s book was old, hadn't been heavily guarded and had definitely been stolen. Zoe was a rebellious teen, presumed runaway with a vampire fetish. My psychic tracking had led me to a half-built hotel, a pile of fresh vampire ash, and an elf. Something about the elf, aside from his being dead, nagged me. I needed to look at the body again. Kate’s locator spell for Zoe had led us to the Barrows, and the Mitchells seemed damned convinced she’d run off to be with a vampire. So were the vampire ashes related to her case? How good were the chances that the elf wasn’t involved with Thorandryll’s missing book? Swinging my boots off the desk and sitting up, I spied my client walking into the reception area. For a moment, I wished I'd worn a dress, or at least a skirt. Something nicer than jeans, ropers, and the dark blue tee that said ’You think this is bitchy?’ Today the elf was casually dressed in dark indigo jeans, a pale blue silk dress shirt left un-tucked with the sleeves rolled up.
