“I should have been gone today. There’s nothing left for me to do here.” Harlow ought to get going too. Tonight’s confrontation wouldn’t have happened if she had gone home on schedule. “Have the boy’s parents been located?”

“No.” She flagged down the waitress and signaled for the check. “Not yet. He’s not local. We ruled out that possibility. He could be a runaway, but with a mouth full of metal, I doubt it. Braces require a lot of maintenance, and his were pristine.” She paid the tab despite my protests. “We’ll find his family. Don’t worry about that.” She slid out of the booth. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

We hit the hotel lobby in time to hear the screams.

Chapter 6

Spine-covered rats poured like spilled marbles across the tile floor, and I hopped an instinctive step back until I spotted Harlow struggling in their midst. Nails clacking, they scurried toward the exit Thierry and I moved to block. Their pointy shoulders were packed so tightly they formed a living carpet, and Harlow flailed her arms and legs as she rode them Aladdin-style across the lobby. Every time she managed to get a hand or foot on the floor, one of them bit her wrists or stabbed her ankles until she recoiled and the procession continued. The overnight clerk quivered on top of her desk shrieking and doing some terrified variation of the gotta pee dance. That accounted for the screams.

“Cam,” Harlow squeaked, catching sight of me. “Thank the gods. Get these things off me. Their spines effing hurt.”

“Hold on.” Thierry slung an arm out in front of my chest. “Let me think.”

The incessant screaming made my back teeth ache. “What are those things?”

“They’re hedgies—hedgehogs.” She glanced at me and lowered her arm. “Or they would be if they weren’t fae. These little guys are igel, and they’re usually harmless.”

“Can we hurry this up?” Harlow kicked at one gnawing on the heel of her shoe. “I feel like shish kebab over here.”

“Why are they fixated on Harlow?” Not a one of the creatures had given us a second glance except maybe to wonder how to skitter past without sacrificing their cargo.

A sigh puffed out Thierry’s cheeks. “Jasper Rebec was an igel.”

“So this could be his family.” Sent to fetch the one his widow blamed for his death.

“Yeah.” She patted her pockets. “I don’t want to hurt them. Grief makes us all lose our heads.”

“Can you hurry this up?” Harlow asked with a yelp as a spine pierced her palm.

“Looks like you could use some help,” an earthy voice rumbled.