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“Get him out of here, Zerbrowski.”

Zerbrowski led a nearly weeping Antonio from the room. I had a feeling that ol’ Tony had been responsible for getting the charm back. He failed, and he was going to pay the consequences. The police were the least of his problems. If I were him, I’d make damn sure grandma was locked up tonight. I wouldn’t want her near her voodoo paraphernalia. Ever.

“We’re going to search now, Mrs. Salvador.”

“Help yourself, Sergeant. You will find nothing else to help you.”

She was very calm when she said it. “Even the stuff behind the doors?” I asked.

“They are gone, Anita. You will find nothing that is not legal and . . . wholesome.” She made that last sound like a bad word.

Dolph glanced my way. I shrugged. She seemed awfully sure.

“Okay, boys, take the place apart.” Uniforms and detectives moved like they had a purpose. I started to follow Dolph out. He stopped me.

“No, Anita, you and Burke stay up here.”

“Why?”

“You’re civilians.”

A civilian, me? “Was I a civilian when I walked the cemetery for you?”

“If one of my people could have done it, I wouldn’t have let you do that either.”

“Let me?”

He frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“You may be a bad ass, you may even be as good as you think you are, but you aren’t police. This is a job for cops. You stay in the living room with the civies just this once. When it’s all clear, you can come down and identify the bogeymen for us.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Dolph.”

“I didn’t peg you for a pouter, Blake.”

“I am not pouting,” I said.

“Whining?” he said.

“Cut it out. You’ve made your point. I’ll stay behind, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Most of the time you’re ass deep in alligators. Enjoy being out of the line of fire for once, Anita.” With that he led the way towards the basement.

I hadn’t really wanted to go down into the darkness again. I certainly didn’t want to see the creature that had chased Manny and I up the stairs. And yet . . . I felt left out. Dolph was right. I was pouting. Great.

John Burke and I sat on the couch. Dominga sat in the recliner where she had been since we hit the door. The children had been shooed out to play, with Enzo to watch them. He looked relieved. I almost volunteered to go with them. Anything was better than just sitting here straining to hear the first screams.

If the monster, and that was the only word that matched the noises, was down there, there would be screaming. The police were great with bad guys, but monsters were new to them. It had been simpler, in a way, when all this shit was taken care of by a few experts. A few lone people fighting the good fight. Staking vampires. Turning zombies. Burning witches. Though there is some debate whether I might have ended up on the receiving end of some fire a few years back. Say, the 1950s.

What I did was undeniably magic. Before we got all the bogeymen out in the open, supernatural was supernatural. Destroy it before it destroys you. Simpler times. But now the police were expected to deal with zombies, vampires, the occasional demon. Police were really bad with demons. But then who isn’t?

Dominga sat in her chair and stared at me. The two uniforms left in the living room stood like all police stand, blank-faced, bored, but let anyone move and the cops saw it. The boredom was just a mask. Cops always saw everything. Occupational hazard.

Dominga wasn’t looking at the police. She wasn’t even paying attention to John Burke, who was much closer to her equal. She was staring at little old me.

I met her black gaze and said, “You got a problem?”

The cop’s eyes flicked to us. John shifted on the couch. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“She’s staring at me.”

“I will do a great deal more than stare at you, chica.” Her voice crawled low. The hairs at the nape of my neck tried to crawl down my shirt.

“A threat.” I smiled. “I don’t think you’re going to be hurting anybody anymore.”

“You mean this.” She held out the charm. It writhed in