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“Making a new division for preternatural crimes wasn’t a popular move with everyone. Until now the Investigative Division has been handling them.”

“Gee, and I thought the FBI was above such petty disputes.”

Bradley laughed. “God, don’t I wish.”

“This is a really, really fresh scene, Bradley. I don’t mean to tell you your job, but shouldn’t we be searching the area for the creature?”

“We did a ground search, turned up nothing. We’ve still got the helicopter up. We also sent off for geology maps of the ranch in case there’s a cave we missed.”

“Would a geology survey cover man-made ruins?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“This area of the country is supposed to be lousy with ruins. Just because nothing’s visible from above ground doesn’t mean there won’t be something buried. A room, or even a kiva.”

“What’s a kiva?” Bradley asked.

“A sacred underground room for ceremonial magic. It’s one of the few things that most of the southwestern tribes, or pueblos, have in common.”

Bradley smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re also an expert on Native American religious practices, too?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I had a brief overview in my comparative religion class in college, but I didn’t take Native American as one of my electives. Knowing that kiva do exist and their general use pretty much exhausts my knowledge of the southwestern tribes. Now if you need to know details about the Sioux sun-worshipping rituals, those I remember.”

“I’ll check with the surveying company and see if they mark man-made structures.”

“Good.

“The locals called in some tracking dogs. The dogs wouldn’t come in the house. They refused to track.”

“Were they bloodhounds?” I asked.

Bradley nodded. “Why?”

“Bloodhounds are a very friendly breed. They are not attack dogs. Sometimes on the preternatural bad stuff they refuse the trail. You need some trollhunds.”

“Troll-what?” Bradley asked.

“Trollhunds. They were originally bred to hunt the Greater European Forest Trolls. When the trolls went extinct, the breed almost died out. They’re still a rare breed, but they are the best you can find for tracking preternatural bad guys. Unlike the bloodhound they will attack and kill what they trail.”

“How do you know so much about dogs?” Bradley said.

“My dad’s a vet.”

Edward had reentered with Olaf and Bernardo at his back. He’d heard the last. “Your dad, a doggie doctor. I didn’t know that.”

He was looking intently at me, and I realized that Edward didn’t really know much more about me than I did about him.

“Are there any trollhunds in this area?” Bradley asked it of Edward.

He shook his head. “No. If there were I’d know it. I’d have used them.”

“You knew about troll-whatsits, too?” Bernardo asked.

Edward nodded. “If you’re a varmint hunter, so should you.”

Bernardo frowned at the criticism, then shrugged. “I do more bodyguard work than critter killing these days.” He was looking at everyone, everything but the table and contents.

“Maybe you should go back to guarding other people’s bodies,” Edward said. I don’t know what I’d missed, but Edward was angry with him.

Bernardo looked at him. “Maybe I should.”

“No one is stopping you.”

“Damn you, . . . Ted,” and Bernardo walked out.

I looked at Olaf, as if for a clue to what had just happened, but Olaf had eyes only for the remains. His face was transformed. It took me a few seconds to realize what the expression on his face was, because it was wrong. It did not match what was happening. He stared down at the remains of that woman with enough raw lust in his eyes to burn down the house. It was a look that should have been saved for privacy, to be shared between your beloved and yourself. It was not a look for public consumption, when you were looking at the bleeding remains of a woman you did not know.

Staring into Olaf’s face, I was cold, cold all the way down to my Nikes. Fear, but not of the monster, or rather not of that monster. If you had given me a choice between whatever was doing these killings