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When John nodded, the Brother said, “Figured. Creeping me out as well. Qhuinn, you hang with him.”

Zsadist strode through the darkness, checking windows and doors. As he disappeared around the back of the house, Qhuinn glanced over.

“Why is this creeping you out?”

John shrugged. I used to live in something like it.

“Wow, you had it good as a human.”

It was after that.

“Oh, you mean with . . . Right.”

God, the house must have been built by the same builder, because the facade and the arrangement of rooms was basically the same. Looking at all the windows, he thought of his bedroom. It had been navy blue with modern lines and a sliding glass door. The closet had been barren when he’d arrived, but it had gotten filled with the first new clothes he’d ever had.

Memories came back, memories of the meal he’d had the night Tohr and Wellsie had taken him in. Mexican food. She’d cooked Mexican food and put it all out on the table, big platters of enchiladas and quesadillas. Back then, when he’d been a pretrans, his stomach had been very delicate, and he could remember feeling mortified that he’d only be able to push the food around his plate.

Except then Wellsie had put a bowl of white rice with ginger sauce in front of him.

As she’d taken her chair, he’d wept, just curled his fragile little body into itself and cried for the kindness. After having spent all his life feeling as if he were different, from out of nowhere he’d found someone who knew what he needed and cared enough to give it to him.

That was a parent, wasn’t it. They knew you better than you knew yourself, and they took care of you when you couldn’t care for yourself.

Zsadist came back up to them. “Empty and unsacked. Next house?”

Qhuinn looked at the list. “Four Twenty-five Easterly Court—”

Z’s phone went off with a soft chime. He frowned as he checked the number, then put the thing up to his ear. “What’s up, Rehv?”

John’s eyes shifted back to the house, but then returned to Z as the Brother said, “What? Are you kidding me? He showed up where?” Long pause. “You are fucking serious? You’re sure, you’re one hundred percent sure?” When the Brother hung up, Z stared at the phone. “I have to go home. Right now. Shit.”

What is it? John signed.

“Can you guys cover the next three addys?” As John nodded, the Brother looked at him strangely. “Keep your phone close, son. You hear me?”

When John nodded, Z disappeared.

“Okay, clearly whatever that is, it’s not our biz.” Qhuinn folded up the list and put it in his jeans pocket. “Shall we outtie?”

John glanced back at the house. After a moment, he signed, I’m sorry about your parents.

Qhuinn’s reply was a while in coming. “Thanks.”

I miss mine.

“I thought you were an orphan?”

For a while I wasn’t.

There was a long silence. Then Qhuinn said, “Come on, John, let’s get out of here. We need to hit Easterly.”

John thought for a minute. You mind if we stop somewhere else first? It’s not far.

“Sure. Where?”

I want to go to Lash’s house.

“Why?”

I don’t know. I guess I want to see where this all started. And I want to look in his room.

“How’re we going to get inside, though?”

If the shutters are still on autotimer, they’ll be up, and we can dematerialize through the glass.

“Well . . . hell, if that’s where you want to go, okay.”

The two of them dematerialized to the side yard of the Tudor. The shutters were up for the night, and in a blink they were standing inside the sitting room.

The smell was so bad, John felt like someone had taken steel wool to the inside of his nose and used the shit like a Q-tip ... all the way to his frontal lobe.

Covering his mouth and nose, he coughed.

“Fuck,” Qhuinn said, doing the same.

The two of them looked down. There was blood all over the carpet and the sofa, the stains brown from having dried.

They followed the streaks out into the foyer.

“Oh, Jesus . . .”

John lifted his head. Through the lovely archway of the dining room was a scene right out of a Rob Zombie movie. The bodies of Lash’s mother and father, seated in what were no doubt