A few seconds later Basim emerged from the woods. In the slanted light, he looked like a woodland creature, his wild hair full of bits of leaf and twig. There was something ancient about Basim al Saud. I had to wonder how he’d become a werewolf in wolfless Arabia. As I watched, Basim turned away from the other three and came to my front porch. He knocked, low and firm.

I counted to ten and opened the door. I tried not to stare at the blood. You could tell he’d washed his face in the stream, but he’d missed his neck.

“Miss Stackhouse, good morning,” Basim said courteously. “Alcide says I should tell you that other creatures have been passing through your property.”

I could feel the pucker between my eyes as I frowned. “What kind, Basim?”

“At least one was a fairy,” he said. “Possibly more than one fairy, but one for sure.”

That was incredible for about six reasons. “Are these tracks. or traces. fresh? Or a few weeks old?”

“Very fresh,” he said. “And the scent of vampire is strong, too. That’s a bad mixture.”

“That’s unpleasant news, but something I needed to know. Thanks for telling me.”

“And there’s a body.”

I stared at him, willing my face to stillness. I have a lot of practice at not showing what I’m thinking; any telepath has to be good at that. “How old a body?” I asked, when I was sure I had my voice under control.

“Around a year and a half, maybe a little less.” Basim wasn’t making a big deal about finding a body. He was strictly letting me know it was there. “It’s quite far back, buried very deeply.”

I didn’t say anything. Geez Louise, must be Debbie Pelt. Since Eric had recovered his memory of that night, that’s one thing I’d never asked him: where he’d buried her body after I’d killed her.

Basim’s dark eyes examined me with great attention. “Alcide wants you to call if you need help or advice,” he said finally.