“Just one more. Apparently a friend of Ms. Wainwright was missing. She and her daughter spent a good deal of time yesterday afternoon calling police departments and hospitals, Looking for a woman named Althea

Carpenter. They finally Located her in a hospital, but the woman is in a coma. Or at least, severely ill."

“What ?"

The voice was quiet, but with an intensity that jerked his head up from his scribbled notes. Kincaid was staring at him. The expression of joyous hope on his face was almost obscene.

“Carpenter? Althea Carpenter? You are sure of this?"

"Yes, sir," Lloyd said. He scrolled through his iPad until he found the audio file he needed. In moments, Sarah Sunderman's clear young voice could be heard, asking for information about Althea Carpenter. As the file played, they could both hear the switchboard operator confirm her name and the news she was in a coma.

“A coma," Kincaid gloated. "By the Lord of Darkness himself! Althea

Carpenter has fallen into my grasp." Before Lloyd could react, he found himself Lifted and shaken like a rat, Kincaid's terrible hands bunched in the jacket of his cheap suit.

“Where is she?" he roared.

“Where is she?"

"I don't know!" he squeaked. In his terror, his bladder cut loose, a thin stream of urine soaking his pants.

“Listen to the file. No one says the name of the hospital. It could be any of the ones on the north side."

"You find it," Kincaid growled. His breath, stinking of blood and death, wafted over Lloyd's face. "Do you hear me? You find out where she is. Hardin can wait. Wainwright and her family can wait. You find

Althea Carpenter for me. And I will make her a gift to the Dark Lord himself.

“If you don't," he said, "Your death will be one that she-demons use to terrify their imps until the end of time. You will curse the day your father met your mother. I will destroy you so utterly that the Almighty will look for eternity and never even find your soul."

Oh my fucking Christ he's gorgeous.

Sarah stood stock-still at the counter island in the middle of the kitchen, her hands wrist-deep in a bowl of hamburger, staring at the man her mother had just introduced as Jeremy Edwards, a law student who had been working as her intern for the past few months.

Is love at first sight possible? Or am I so fucking horny any man will do?

But no. Despite the desperate itch in her lady-parts, which had been driving her to more and more intense sessions of self-pleasure over the past week, she knew what she was feeling for Jeremy was more than simple randiness. She drank him in like he was a glass of clear water on a hot day. He was taller than average, topping her by an inch or two, which was a relief, since she was tired of dating men shorter than she was. He was dressed in tan cargo shorts, loafers, and an dark blue polo shirt, untucked at the waist. His hair was a nondescript brown, and his eyes were an unusual shade of greenish hazel.

But it was his face that drew her. Clear, open, and alive with intelligence, she felt she could watch it all day and not grow tired of the sight. His mouth was mobile, his lips quirked in an easy smile, and his nose clean and straight, unlike the jutting beak her brother and father shared. The Naismith Nose, it was called, and she thanked God she had managed to avoid it.

With a start, she realized she was staring, and that her parents were looking at her expectantly.

“Sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. "I guess my mind was somewhere else."

Like his pants. She fought to keep her eyes from dropping to Jeremy's crotch, not wanting to be caught checking out his package.

She wiped off her hands with a dishtowel, trying to scrub as much raw hamburger and egg yolk from herself as possible.

“Hi," she said, advancing with her hand outstretched. "I'm Sarah."