There were a few items of geek-chic memorabilia on display, like a detailed replica of the Enterprise from Star Trek and a life-size copy of a British police box, which I knew just enough to identify as the TARDIS from Doctor Who, but not as many as I would have guessed, and he had a surprising number of pieces of Native American art from the Pacific Northwest, which fit well in the woodsy environs. I guess he’d become a bit of a collector in Seattle. Six years was a fair amount of time; Lee had probably developed facets I had yet to discover.

As for the database? It was awesome.

It didn’t look like a database. It looked like the interface for a video game, with extensive, colorful graphics and a Norse rune–inspired font that managed to be at once decorative and easy to read.

At the top of the page, there was an ornate scroll bearing the words The Pemkowet Ledger. Beneath it were avatars for every category of eldritch being, with fields to enter proper names, dates, location, description, strengths, weaknesses, transgressions, favors. There was an interactive map with links to the pinpointed entries. There was a calendar that automatically logged documented incidents in the past by date, as well as providing the ability to enter projected incidents in the future—like, say, the next satyr rutting cycle—complete with alerts to be sent via pop-up, e-mail, and text.

Using the phooka incident as an example, Lee showed me how it all worked. “See here, if someone was missing in the Columbine Creek area”—he hovered over that section of the map with his cursor—“it pops up. Or if you thought maybe there was something significant about the date, and you wanted to refer to previous years . . .” He clicked on the calendar, flipping backward through the months. “You can search by date or you can check it out this way, which is more visual. I thought that might be useful when looking for patterns.”

“Totally,” I said. “Did you program full-moon cycles into it?”

Lee shot me an offended look. “Of course. Now, if you know what you’re looking for, you can go directly to that entry.” He brought up the phooka’s listing. “Otherwise, you can search by keyword.” He clicked on a search box. “Abduction, missing person, victim’s name—anything you can think of. Everything’s linked and cross-referenced.”

“It’s amazing,” I said sincerely.

“Thank you.” He appeared mollified. “Up here, see where it says vault and penalty box?” He clicked on PENALTY BOX, where a red X appeared next to a link to the phooka’s entry. “Those aggregate entries from the favors and transgressions fields. So if you need to call in a favor in a hurry, maybe see at a glance who’s on the black list or who you’re in debt to, you can.”