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office. “Deacon, you sent the damned vet to pick up those dogs.”
    “They’ve got to be checked for rabies.”
    “Believe it or not, the FBI lab is fully able to make that determination. The veterinarian wasn’t happy about our presence or our refusal to allow him on the scene. He called the press. Not just your local rag—Durham and Raleigh.”
    Deacon shrugged. “I told Stan to wait a bit before he went out there. Sorry he didn’t, but you should’ve told me your people were handling the dogs’ bodies. Besides, what makes you think it was him tipped the press?”
    “Dr. Stanfield informed me personally of his action and motives. He hoped to keep us from covering everything up—though he declined to say what, exactly, he thought might merit a cover-up. Possibly aliens. Or maybe he believes cover-up is the FBI’s SOP in any investigation. As a result, we’ve got two television crews and a swarm of print reporters at the scene. Several of them followed me into town. They’re downstairs now.”
    “They’ll keep a bit.”
    Her lips stretched in a smile that should have made Deacon nervous. “You’ll want to speak to them soon, Sheriff. I gave a brief statement at the scene. They know that the FBI received a tip about the location of three bodies, which have been tentatively identified by the sheriff of this county as those of your three vics. They are also aware we have reason to believe magic was involved in the deaths.”
    “You told ’em that? Shit! I’m going to have forty thousand scared people in this town! Why the hell did you—”
    “Because I had to. Because my hand had been forced.” She stepped up to his desk, set her palms on it, and leaned forward. “Because you were either too stupid to guess that Dr. Stanfield would freak at the presence of the FBI, or you called him, knowing good old Stan is a conspiracy nut and likely to call in the press. Knowing that and wanting it, because you’re pissed. I would very much like to know which one it was.”
    Deacon scowled—but Rule caught the whiff of guilt-scent on him. “Why the hell would I want the press around?”
    “You don’t like bossy women. You don’t like feds. And you really don’t like bossy female feds who have a personal connection to a lupus, because you’re a narrow-minded, self-righteous bigot.” Lily straightened, glanced at Rule. “We’d better go before the vultures realize you’re here.”
    “Bigot!” Deacon shot to his feet. “You’re nuts, you know that? You notice that I’m black? Don’t tell me about bigotry, you sorry little—”
    “Sheriff.” Rule stood. Anger slid into ice, setting its cold claws at his throat so that his voice dropped to what, in his other form, would have been a growl. “You don’t want to finish that sentence.”
    Deacon stared at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. And didn’t say a word.
    Rule turned to Lily. “I’d rather not be on television this morning.”
    “My car’s out front. Yours isn’t. Back door?”
    He nodded. The press would find him. He knew that. Halo was too small, and he was too well-known for his presence to remain secret. But he wanted a chance to talk to Toby first.
    Lily opened the door, then paused to look over her shoulder. “By the way—the dogs weren’t rabid. That will be confirmed by the appropriate tests, but I already know what the problem was.”
    “What?”
    “Something they ate disagreed with them.”

FIVE
    RULE slid behind the wheel of his Mercedes. Lily shut the door on the passenger side with what, in a less perfectly engineered piece of equipment, would have been a slam. “Stupidity I can live with. God knows I have to, at times. But that sort of mean-spirited behavior . . . He did it on purpose, didn’t he?”
    Rule started the car. “Perhaps not consciously, but he knew the veterinarian would cause trouble for you.” Not that Lily had taken that parting shot because of the trouble Deacon had caused her. To her