“Maybe. But you're going to have a hell of a hard time proving it.

“And actually, no. I was nowhere near Europe when all that stuff was happening. The Roman Empire was falling apart, and I had no desire to get caught in the collapse.

“No, I had much more fun. I was in what is now known as India." She sighed in happy memory.

“Now that was a place where a girl could let her hair down and relax."

“Watch out, Daddy," Sarah said as they climbed the back steps to the house. "Next thing you know she's going to tell us she wrote the Kama

Sutra."

“Don't be silly, Sarah. I didn't write the Kama Sutra.

“I inspired it.”

Kincaid chewed and swallowed, feeling strength flow back into his body.

With a negligent swipe of his teeth, he pulled another hunk of raw, dripping meat from the human femur he held in his hands.

Best use I could have possibly found for Fontein, he thought. The ex-cop had made the fatal mistake of coming to Kincaid's penthouse, perhaps trying to worm his way back into his good graces. Instead, he had found Kincaid, crazed with pain and fury after failing to kill the

Carpenter bitch at the hospital. Fontein had barely had enough time to scream before Kincaid's claws had laid his throat open. Maddened, he had fallen on the warm corpse Like a starving wolf, taking in food and power with every bite.

Now, Fontein's body lay in a dismembered heap. He had eaten the internal organs first; the heart, liver, and intestines dulling the savage edge of his hunger. His body was rapidly repairing itself. Still too slowly for his taste, but he would be back to his full strength in a matter of days, if not hours, thanks to the beefy ex-cop.

The pathetic pile of carrion is serving me better in death than he ever did in life, Kincaid snarled to himself. He was still furious over his inability to kill Althea Carpenter. The hateful succubus had been helpless, her body and spirit separated, and still she had somehow managed to elude him! The chase through the streets of downtown Chicago had been exhilarating. He had felt more alive than he had in years. He had been only moments away from laying his claws on her disgusting golden shell when he had been swept off the side of the truck like an annoying insect, his body smashed and broken.

It had taken him hours to get back to his penthouse. His first action had been to call Rachel Wainwright, the human woman who he knew was sheltering Althea's spirit.

He smiled around a mouthful of bloody meat. Wainwright's reaction had been suitably hysterical. The woman was a good lawyer, but playing unwilling host to a spirit Like Althea Carpenter could break even the strongest of wills. He could hear her approaching madness in every word she said. What must it be like, to suddenly have another soul in your mind, driving you to more and more foul acts of self-abasement, unable to control your own sexual desires? Wainwright had sounded like she was one small step away from a complete and total mental breakdown.

Good, he thought. The bitch thwarted me in the Antioch Chemical case.

Serves her right if her mind snaps entirely.

But Carpenter...I must have Carpenter. This Earth, this mortal realm, this zoo of stinking, breeding sheep. I have to escape it. By the

Master's black soul, I have to get out of here! Back to the Pit, before

I lose my own mind. Her death will be the payment I lay before the

Master's feet in exchange for my return.

He lurched to his feet, ignoring the rags which had once been a four-thousand dollar suit clinging to his malformed flesh. Fontein's leg held casually in one hand like a chicken bone, he went to his desk.

He turned on his Laptop, going over once again what the corrupt officer had gathered for him before his untimely demise. Dried blood flaked away from his claws as he typed, the action surprisingly delicate and precise, despite his grotesque outward appearance.

Let's see...