We listened to the rest of the set, and when the band took a break, Emmeline asked if we’d mind making it an early night since it had been a long travel day for her. I don’t think I’ve ever cleared out of a bar faster in my life. I was in such a hurry I almost forgot to leave a tip for the band in the fishbowl atop the piano. I hustled out the door into the parking lot—and then stopped abruptly.

A solitary figure was awaiting us under the lone floodlight that illuminated the lot, leaning against the pole, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. There was a motorcycle alongside him, a pared-down vintage model that looked like a prop from an old World War II movie. The light spilling from above highlighted his fair hair and the unnatural pallor of his narrow face and his skinny bare arms.

“Cooper,” I said aloud.

“Evenin’, m’lady.” He freed one hand to tip an imaginary hat to me. “Everything all right?”

I should have realized that Stefan would sense the barrage of fury I’d very nearly unleashed. “Everything’s fine. Did Stefan send you?”

“He did.” Cooper levered himself away from the pole. “The big man himself. Said he felt a surge in the Force or somewhat and sent me to have a look. I had a peep through the window.” He sauntered closer, hands back in his pockets. “Looked amiable enough to me, didn’t it? A few chums having a pint. So I reckoned I’d wait out here.”

Sinclair stepped forward to block him. “Daisy, do you know this guy?”

“Yeah.” I put one hand on Sinclair’s shoulder. “He’s okay.”

Cooper sniffed. “Faint praise, Miss Daisy!” Rocking back on his heels, he studied Sinclair. “This your bloke?”

“That,” I said, “would be none of your business.”

“Touchy touchy!” He gave me a crooked sideways grin. Neon light from the bar signs glittered in his pupils, which waxed as he turned his attention to Emmeline, and just as swiftly contracted to pinpoints. “Hello! What do we have here?”

“Emmeline Palmer.” She extended one hand to him, cool as a cucumber. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Mr. Cooper, is it?”

Cooper kept his hands in his pockets. “You’re wearing a ward, aren’t you, darling? Quite a powerful one. Don’t think I fancy a taste of it,” he added thoughtfully. “Afraid of the local hobgoblins and bugaboos, are we?”

“I’m a lawyer, Mr. Cooper.” Emmeline gave a faint shrug. Light glinted on the polished leopard-spotted surface of the cowry shell and gold chain strung around her neck. “We like to be prepared.”

He eyed her. “Right.”

I glanced at Sinclair. He looked like he’d had as much covert tension and subterfuge as he could stand and was ready to blow. “Cooper! Will you thank Stefan for me and tell him everything’s fine?”