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seems to think it’s the only way to draw him out.”
    “Yeah, I’m sure he does. He’s not the one who’s been appointed cannon fodder,” Inigo growled. I didn’t like it when Inigo growled. Or, rather, I liked it a little too much. It did things to me. I barely refrained from clenching my legs together. I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. I really needed to find a boyfriend.
    I cleared my throat. “Anyway, we’ve got to find the best place to start spreading the word. You know a good mystic bar or something?”
    “Graveyard.”
    I blinked. “Excuse me?”
    “Graveyard. You’d be amazed at who you can find in a graveyard.”
    “Is this one of your clairvoyant things?” He was always coming up with weird ideas which he conveniently blamed on his abilities.
    “No, this is one of my common sense things. Best way to get word out to your Sunwalker is to hit the supernatural grapevine, and the most gossipy members of the grapevine have a bizarre tendency to hang out in cemeteries.”
    Common sense. Right. The day Inigo exceeded me in common sense was the day hell froze over. Then again, with the way things were going, that wasn’t as unlikely as it might seem. “Fine. Graveyard, it is. And he’s not my Sunwalker.”
    “Sure, if you say so.” His wolfish grin told me he wasn’t buying.
    I started the car and pulled out into traffic, heading toward the oldest cemetery I knew. If you’re going to go creepy, you might as well make sure it was really old creepy. Too bad we weren’t still in London. They knew how to do creepy old graveyards properly in London.
     
    ***
     
    As you can probably imagine, Portland has several old cemeteries, some dating back to the days of the pioneers. Nothing nearly as old as in London, of course, but old enough to ramp up the creepy factor.
    This particular cemetery was certainly plenty creepy. Moonlight bounced off white marble headstones giving the place an eerie glow as we got out of the car. Despite the warmth of the evening, there were tendrils of mist swimming about the bases of trees and swarming over graves. The whole thing was incredibly, incredibly eerie. Did I mention it was seriously giving me the creeps?
    “All right,” I said to Inigo, placing my hand on the grip of my UV gun, not that it would do any good unless the creepies were vampires. “Now what?”
    Inigo shrugged. “I dunno. This is your gig.”
    “You’re the one who insisted we go to a graveyard,” I pointed out with flawless logic.
    “Gods, would you two stop arguing, you’re giving me a headache.” We both started as a dark shape rose from behind one of the stones.
    I yanked my gun out of the holster and pointed it at the shape. I would never admit it, but I very nearly yelped. The shape barked out a laugh. “Are you nuts? A UV won’t do diddly squat against anything but a vamp.”
    “Well, I know that,” I snapped back. “But since I can’t see you, you might just be a vamp.”
    The shape stepped into the moonlight and became a man. A very tall man with silvery hair pulled back in a ponytail and an honest-to-gods black cape. Not a vamp. Necromancer probably. Or just some weirdo who liked hanging out in cemeteries dressed up like a bad Dracula standin. I shoved the gun back into the holster.
    “Sorry. Habit.” I gave him what I hoped was an apologetic smile, but felt a lot like a grimace and flashed my ID. “Morgan Bailey. P.I.” Gods that sounded dopey. Who’d I think I was? Magnum?
    “No problem. So, what’s a cute couple like you doing hanging out in a cemetery on a lovely night like this?” He reached into a pocket in his cape and yanked out a bag of caramel popcorn, which he proceeded to munch. Not that caramel popcorn was weird. I love caramel popcorn. It’s just that eating it in a cemetery in the middle of the night seemed a little, well, strange. Especially when dressed in a black cape.
    I would have loved to say so many things, but I settled for, “We’re