I stashed it in the jewelry box atop my dresser, stripped off my clothes, crawled into bed, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before the unmistakable roar of a Harley chugging into the alley below awakened me, but sunlight was streaming through the gaps in the drapes.

Swearing, I scrambled back into yesterday’s clothing, opened the drapes, and flung the window wide. “Stefan?”

The black leather-clad figure on the bike below cut the engine and removed his helmet, revealing a blond ponytail. Not Stefan, but his lieutenant Johnny. “Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” he called up in a faint drawl. “Stefan’s been trying to reach you, but he’s not getting any phone reception out in the boondocks. He found out where Jerry Dunham’s gone and holed himself up.”

A spike of adrenaline jolted me alert. “He did?”

Johnny the ghoul nodded. “He sent me to fetch you.” His expression was grim. “Said to make sure you brung that dagger of yours.”

“Are they all with Dunham?” I asked. “Ray D, Mary Sudbury, and . . . the hostage?”

“We think so.” He shrugged. “Stefan didn’t want to move in on them without talking to you first. Hel’s liaison and all. It’s a courtesy, I reckon.” He didn’t sound particularly approving, but he didn’t sound particularly disapproving, either. “You coming or not, ma’am? One way or another, this is going down. And I still got to swing by Rafe’s place and pick up reinforcements.”

I buckled dauda-dagr around my waist, settling the belt on my hips. “Give me the location. I’ll call it in to the station.”

Johnny hesitated, scowling up at me. “This ain’t police business.”

I pointed at him, banging my fingertip against the screen. Smooth, I know. “Not your call, Johnny. I spoke to Hel last night and she was very clear about leaving Dunham to mortal authorities.” I didn’t mention that she had a pretty serious message for Stefan, too. That, I’d deliver to him myself. “What’s the address?”

With another shrug, he gave it to me.

I called the station and relayed the address to Patty Rogan with orders to pass it on to the chief and Cody, then clattered down the stairs.

Johnny’s pupils dilated briefly in his gray-blue eyes, then contracted to pinpoints as he wrestled himself under control. He shoved the helmet back onto his head, buckled it, and handed me a second one before straddling the Harley. “You need to hold on to something, ma’am, best you hold on to the sissy bar,” he advised me. “Not me. I don’t need no extra temptation. Okay?”

Donning the helmet, I sat gingerly behind him, trying to minimize contact between us. “Not a problem.”