Circe and Bug’s screens went dark. Lilith put her hands on Church’s shoulders and gave them a single squeeze, then she went out to deal with her teams.

Church sat back and waited, his face showing none of the tension that burned through him. His cell buzzed and he picked it up, looked at the screen display, and frowned. It read ID NOT AVAILABLE.

There were only two systems that could block MindReader’s phone trace technology: the one he had provided to Lilith years ago and which he could break if he chose to, and the one that had been used as a weapon against him by the Seven Kings.

He answered the call. “Hello, Hugo.”

“Sorry, Mr. Church” said an unfamiliar voice, “wrong monster.”

Church straightened. “Who is this?”

“Nobody.”

The accent was London, South End. That, plus the access to this kind of phone, told him a lot.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Chismer?”

“That person doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Should I call you Toys?”

“Toys is dead. He’s burning in hell where he belongs.” There was a sound. A soft sob. Then, “Can we do this without names? It won’t take long. I know you can’t trace the call.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hugo told me that you are a religious man. Was he telling the truth about that, too? Please tell me the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Hugo thinks that you used to be a priest. Was he right?”

“No.”

“I need to make a confession,” said Toys. “Will you listen?”

Church said, “Yes.”

Chapter One Hundred Twelve

Chapter One Hundred Twelve

Aghajari Oil Refinery

Iran

June 16, 6:10 a.m.

They stood between me and the tunnel that led back into the refinery. One was dressed in the orange coveralls of the refinery’s general maintenance staff; the other was the major. I’d walked on the false teeth he’d dropped, and he smiled to show me his real teeth. His fangs.

And I realized that he must have been wearing contact lenses earlier and had discarded them as well. Both Upierczi glared at me with hellish red eyes.

I had a flashlight in one hand and a plastic screwdriver in the other. My pistol was in its holster. So were theirs, but that wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.

Usually in situations like this Ghost would move to one side and slightly forward, preparing to defend the pack leader and launch the first wave of attacks. He didn’t. Instead, shivering and whimpering, he peed all over the floor. The Upierczi may be scared of white dogs, but my super-highly trained, ultrafierce attack hellhound was a whole lot more scared of them.

The two men stared at Ghost, and their smiles grew bigger.

Swell.