“Any mention of sexy sonnets?”

“No. But she was accused of inspiring inappropriate desires in men.”

Diesel took the article from me and read it for himself. “The whole witch trial thing makes my nuts crawl.”

“Boy, I’m really glad you shared that with me.”

“Don’t you have an equivalent body part that’s shriveling even as we speak?”

“No. But I’m getting nauseous.”

My doorbell bonged, and someone started pounding. BAM, BAM, BAM! I opened the door and Hatchet charged in, sword drawn.

“Hand it over,” he said, “or I will smite thee down.”

“You’ve gotta lose the Renaissance thing,” Diesel said to Hatchet. “You sound like an idiot.”

“You mock me now, but there will come a time when you will bow to my sire, and to me as well.”

Diesel didn’t look worried about bowing to Wulf and Hatchet. “There’s a reason for this visit, right?”

“You have what is rightly ours. We have the book, and the key is part of the book.”

“What key?” Diesel asked.

“You know very well. The Lovey key.”

“Nope,” Diesel said. “Don’t have it.”

“You lie. You were in Gilbert Reedy’s apartment ahead of me, and you took the key.”

“How do you know?” Diesel asked him. “Maybe the police took the key. Maybe the key doesn’t exist. Maybe Reedy swallowed the key, and they’ll find it during the autopsy.”

“I know because I have powers,” Hatchet said. “I sense these things. I smell them. I see visions. And besides, I looked in the kitchen window just now, and I saw the key lying on the counter.”

“Finders keepers,” Diesel said.

Hatchet’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets and his face got blotchy. “It will be ours!” he yelled. “My master commands it. You will give me the key or all will die!”