“That’s not what’s bothering you, though.” His fingers touched my hip. He crowded a little closer, his heat wrapping around me. It felt nice.

I let out a long breath. “What’s bothering me is that the loa don’t step in where they’re not invited. At least, not without a good reason. And that was the Twins. At least, I’m reasonably sure it was one of their aspects.”

“Bad news?”

Well, not particularly good news. I shrugged. “We’ll see. If he was mixed up in something, we’ll find out. I’ll pick up the file from Avery and—”

“Dinner first?” It wasn’t like him to interrupt me.

I was tired, my head hurt, and I smelled like death warmed over. “Dinner first,” I agreed, scrubbing at the quick-drying blood on my face with my free hand. “This doesn’t look right. It makes my weird-o-meter tingle like mad.”

“That’s saying something. Come on. Let’s close this up and go home.”

“In a second.” I gave him a squeeze, freed myself, and checked the small bathroom. A bar of coal-tar soap in the ringed bathtub; toothbrush, box of baking soda, and a straight razor in a ceramic mug next to the sink.

The razor was a nice one, antique. Had to be 1920s, if my guess was good. A black scale with mother-of-pearl inlay, and a well-preserved steel, sharp as a suicide’s whisper. I flicked it open, saw the shadow of blue swirling under the surface of the metal. I blinked, and it was gone.

Now that’s interesting. I closed it carefully, dug in my pocket for a Ziploc baggie, and found one. Slid the straight razor in and sealed it. I wonder…

“What have you got there?” Saul said from the door.