"Nobody came around asking about the dead men?" TunFaire's Watch aren't exactly police. Their main mission is to keep an eye out for fires or threats to our overlords. Catching criminals is way down their list, but sometimes they do bumble around and nab a baddie. TunFaire is blessed with some pretty stupid villains.

No one came Go eat, Garrett. Attend to the needs of the flesh. Allow the spirit to relax and become refreshed. Forget it. All is well that ends well.

Good advice, even coming from him. But he's always so damned reasonable and wise—when he isn't trying to play games with my mind. He got my goat, being cool and sensible. I headed for the kitchen

Dean was in shock still, distraught because uncaring fate had cast a cold eye so close to home. His mind was a thousand miles away as he stirred some kind of sauce. He didn't look at me as he handed me a plate he'd kept warm. I ate without noticing what, which is a crime itself, considering the class cook Dean is. I was drifting around a few yards away myself. I didn't interrupt the old man's brooding. I was pleased that he cared.

I rose to leave. Dean turned. "People shouldn't ought to do like that, Mr. Garrett."

"You're right. They shouldn't ought. You're a religious sort. Tell the gods thanks for not making it worse than it was."

He nodded. He's a gentle sort generally, a hardworking old fellow trying to support an ungrateful gaggle of eligible but terminally homely nieces who give him more grief than any ten men deserve from their female kin. Generally. Right now he had him a bloodthirst bigger than a vampire who hadn't fed for a year.

I couldn't relax. It was over, but my nerves just wouldn't settle. I prowled up the hail to the front door, peeked outside. Then I checked the small front room to the right like there might be a forgotten blonde cached in there. I was fresh out.