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I rested the cold beer against my cheek. What was this? My third? No wonder I was so chatty.
    “So what happened with you?” Aidan murmured.
    I shrugged. “My dad was in Ireland for the summer. He’d just graduated high school and wanted to see his homeland or some such nonsense before college. He met my mom in a small village. He stayed, and so did she. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I guess they cared for each other. She cared enough to leave me with him after I was born instead of tossing me into the ocean.”
    “Well, you seem to have turned out okay without her in your life.” He leaned toward me, forearms resting against the table in front of him. “Gotta be kind of lonely, though. I don’t think I’ve ever met a half-banshee before. I’ve met a couple full-blooded ones. Well, fully powered ones, really. But never what they call half-bloods. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
    Well, wasn’t I special? I cleared my throat. “Yeah, well, I was raised by a good man.” I had to get the subject off my parentage before I got weepy. Damn, definitely too many beers. “Did you get along with your family?”
    Pain flared behind his eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I never knew my dad. He…wasn’t exactly the marrying kind.”
    I opened my mouth to press him for more information, but stopped. An angry Aidan I could push, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with a troubled one.
    “Look,” I said, finally. “Let’s get back to the case. The only OWs I can figure for it are succubi and incubi. Have you come across anything else in your investigation that might fit?”
    “Nope.”
    …
    The headache pressing against the back ofmy eyes hadn’t improved much with my first cup of coffee, and neither had my mood. I leaned against the wall in front of the office door, holding my second cup in one hand and an open book on succubi in the other, with a file tucked tenuously between my arm and chest. I didn’t have high hopes that a headache would be the worst of my problems today.
    The door clicked open and a man who appeared to be in his late twenties stepped out wearing a dark suit, sans tie. The tailored outfit looked too pricey for a cop, and I could have ID’d him from that alone. “Mac,” Detective Claude Desmarais said as he walked past.
    “Claude,” I muttered to the detective, and headed into the office he’d just vacated.
    “Sit down, Mac.” Lieutenant Vasquez, the Hispanic man behind the desk, was only an inch or two taller than me, but made up for his lack of height with broad shoulders and large biceps, although his rounding midsection revealed that his job now required him to work from a desk every day. A full head of dark hair belied his age—I knew for a fact he was in his mid-fifties. I often wondered if he dyed his hair, but that wasn’t something I was willing to ask him even if I’d had a few beers.
    “Lieutenant,” I said, sitting on the chair across from him. I set my coffee and book on the desk, gripping the file in my hands.
    After signing the paper he’d been reading, he looked up at me. “Okay, what do you got?”
    “I think we’ve got an incubus. Possibly a succubus.” No one would ever call me indirect.
    He leaned back in his chair and studied me. I stared right back at him, tempering my usual glare to a solid cop face.
    He let out a muttered string of expletives, his voice low enough that I couldn’t make out any word but “freaks.” Then he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. “Aren’t incubi supposed to be extinct?”
    “They’re supposed to be, yes.”
    The muscles in his jaw tensed and he crossed his arms. “Okay, tell me.”
    “We’ve got two victims here, and several more who could be connected in other jurisdictions. I’m looking into it. All the vics are women. All dead with no physical cause. All had sex before they died. I’ve got oh-dubs going on the latest vic this week. Oh, and Astrid called last night and