“There’s a vampire smell in here, very recent,” Dahlia said.

“Besides the half-demon, I’m getting humans, a werewolf, at least two vampires.”

Werewolves. Dahlia’s mouth twitched. But first of all, she had to interrogate the only living creature in the cavernous room. “Demon girl,” she said, “explain yourself.” Now that Dahlia spared a moment to take in the half-demon’s ensemble, Dahlia’s eyes widened. The skinny creature, whose short hair was dyed a brilliant lime green, was wearing black Under Armour from top to bottom. Her red sneakers were a fine clash with the lilac miniskirt and a buckskin vest lined with fleece.

“I’m Diantha,” the girl said. And then she began a long sentence that was possibly in English.

“Stop,” Katamori said. “Or I’ll have to kill you.”

Diantha stopped in midword, her mouth open. Dahlia could see how very sharp the half-demon’s teeth were, and how many of them seemed to be crammed into her little mouth. Katamori would have quite a fight on his hands, and Dahlia found herself hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

“Diantha, I’m Dahlia. Our names are similar, aren’t they?” Dahlia said. She hadn’t tried to sound soothing in a century or two, and it sat awkwardly on her. “You must speak so that we can understand you. Maybe it will help you to be calm if we tell you we know you didn’t do this thing.”

“We do?” Katamori knew the reason, but he wanted Dahlia to spell it out.

“No blood on her, except on her shoes.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice. Diantha’s bright eyes were on her so intently that she knew the girl could read her lips.

“I’mtherunnerformyuncleinLouisiana,” Diantha said. She didn’t seem to need to breathe when she spoke, but at least this time she spoke slowly enough—at less than warp speed—that the vampires could understand her.

“And you are here at the ascension party because . . . ?”