The second book in the Night Huntress series

I WAITED OUTSIDE THE LARGE, FOUR-STORY home in Manhasset that was owned by a Mr. Liam Flannery. This wasn’t a social call, as anyone looking at me could tell. The long jacket I wore was open, leaving my gun and shoulder holster clearly visible, as was my FBI badge. My pants were loose-fitting and so was my blouse, to hide the twenty pounds of silver weapons strapped to my arms and legs.

My knock was answered by an older man in a business suit. “Special Agent Catrina Arthur,” I said. “Here to see Mr. Flannery.”

Catrina wasn’t my real name, but it’s what was on my doctored badge. The doorman gave me an insincere smile.

“I’ll see if Mr. Flannery is in. Wait here.”

I already knew Liam Flannery was in. What I also knew was that Mr. Flannery wasn’t human, and neither was the doorman.

Well, neither was I, even though I was the only one out of the three of us with a heartbeat.

A few minutes later, the door reopened. “Mr. Flannery has agreed to see you.”

That was his first mistake. If I had anything to say about it, it would also be his last.

My first thought as I entered Liam Flannery’s house was, Wow. Hand-carved wood adorned all the walls, the floor was some kind of really expensive-looking marble, and antiques were tastefully littered everywhere the eye could see. Being dead sure didn’t mean you couldn’t live it up.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as power filled the room. Flannery wouldn’t know I could feel it, just like I’d felt it from his ghoul doorman. I might look as average as the next person, but I had a few secrets up my sleeve. And lots of knives, of course.