Benicio raised the divider, then reached between our seats and pulled out a thermos.

“Another downside to rentals,” he said. “No in-car beverage service. I’m spoiled, I’m afraid. I had this brewed on the jet, and I assure you, it’s excellent, though the container might be somewhat off-putting.” A rueful smile as he lifted the battered army-green thermos. “Ugly, but it does the job better than anything I’ve found.”

The vacuum seal popped, filling the cabin with rich steam.

“I apologize for interrupting your work.” He handed me a white china mug. “It wasn’t a council concern, was it? My daughter-in-law would not be pleased.” Lucas’s wife was Paige Winterbourne, witch delegate to the council.

“It’s not council work,” I said. “But they’ll expect a report from me-and my editor is expecting a story-so I need to get back before my sources wander off.”

He filled my mug, then topped off his.

“I still feel responsible for the trouble you and Karl experienced with Tristan,” he said finally. “I should have been aware of his activities. In recompense, I wanted to offer you and Karl a job-temporary, of course-and one particularly suited to your talents. You’d be paid, naturally, and I believe it would help you gain valuable skills for your work with the council. I hoped to talk to Karl first, but I have no way of getting in touch with him.”

His gaze settled on me.

“I don’t have his number,” I lied, then added a truth. “Anyway, he’s in Europe. Indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely?”

“That’s what he said.”

“How unfortunate.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “Have you had any experience investigating street gangs, Hope?”