Cody pulled into the PVB parking lot and cut the engine. “Daisy—”

“I know, I know! Sorry. Later, when we’re not on the verge of a zombie apocalypse, okay?”

His expression was serious. “It’s just . . . we’ve talked about this. And you know the bottom line.”

I did. “I’m not a suitable mate. And you care about me too much to mislead me.”

“Right.”

I sighed. “All I’m saying is that we’re good together. I don’t even know if that’s what I want, Cody. I’m just saying we are. Or at least we could be, if you weren’t on the down-low, and I wasn’t . . . not a werewolf.”

Cody took a moment to parse the double negative in my last sentence, then broke into an unexpected grin, rakish and charming. “Well, I’ll say one thing, Daise. For a demon’s daughter, you sure as hell fuck like a werewolf.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.” I paused. “That was a compliment, right?”

His grin widened, getting toothier, and green shimmered behind his topaz eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think it was a compliment.” I opened the passenger door. “Come on, let’s go talk to Amanda Brooks.”

Inside, we had to wait a few minutes while Amanda finished up some important business on the phone. Thanks to Cody’s presence, Stacey was on good behavior at first, but as soon as he wasn’t looking, she pointed at me and then at her own neck, mouthing the word “Classy!” in an exaggerated fashion, upon which I realized that the collar of my jacket had fallen down to reveal those spectacular love bites.

Great.

I flipped my collar back up and returned her gaze with what I hoped was perfect equanimity. I figured if I was going to take “fuck like a werewolf” as a compliment, I might as well own it.

It wasn’t long before Amanda ushered us into her office and got right down to business. She didn’t even bother asking why we were there. “Officer Fairfax. Daisy. Do you have any leads?”

Cody took a seat opposite her desk. “What can you tell us about the Cavannaugh curse, Mrs. Brooks?”

She stared at him for a few seconds, her perfectly lipsticked lips parted. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” he asked reasonably.

Unaccountably, she shivered. “It used to give me nightmares as a little girl. But it’s just a ghost story. You can’t possibly think it had anything to do with Talman Brannigan’s remains being stolen.”

“Clancy Brannigan does,” Cody said.

She blinked. “You actually spoke to him?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know he’s out of his mind,” Amanda said dismissively. “You can’t give any credence to a word he says.”

“Actually, he seemed pretty lucid,” I offered. “Agoraphobic, but lucid. So what’s the curse?”