“By accident,” Robert said so quietly, I barely heard it. “Before the overpasses collapsed, they crossed in this spot. This is a reinforced section, designed to hold the weight of all three in case a collapse occurred. When the top overpasses crashed, the magic began eating them from the inside, and eventually the three sections of the road fused, forming this hole.”

“To what to I owe zhe pleashure?” Jardin asked.

“We’re at war,” Robert told him. “Someone in the Pack killed Mulradin.”

The wererat blinked. “Oh. I ssshaw him leave the Casino tonight.”

“How long ago?” Derek asked.

“Five houuursh.”

Mulradin must’ve bailed right after Ghastek left for the Conclave. What could’ve been so urgent?

“You said you saw him in the Warren before as well,” Robert said. “Where?”

“Corrrner of Marsharet and Joneshhboro.”

Robert’s eyebrows crept up. “The Fox Den?”

“Yessh.”

“Did you see with whom?” Robert asked.

Jardin shook his head. “But I sshaw him there twice.” He raised two long fingers.

“The Fox Den is a hit-’n’-split,” Robert said to me.

A hit-’n’-split was a lovely post-Shift euphemism. It wasn’t exactly a whorehouse and it wasn’t exactly a hotel. Most of the hit-’n’-splits were run out of converted apartment buildings. If you wanted to have sex with something that grew fur, scales, or feathers and you wanted to do it privately, you went to a hit-’n’-split, worked your kinks out of your system, and left with your humanity mostly intact. Nobody would be the wiser.

I’d run across a couple of hit-’n’-splits in my time with the Guild and the Order. Most operated under the radar. A prospective client somehow got hold of a phone number, called the management, stated their preferences, and paid the quoted price. In return he would receive a key in the mail. At designated times he’d show up at the apartments, use the key, get his freak on, then leave. It was an “at your own risk” kind of venture. No security, no front desk, no witnesses. The management charged both parties a flat fee, but there was no pimp and no madam. Everyone operated independently. If Mulradin frequented a hit-’n’-split, he had a fetish and he wanted to keep it hidden.

“Red brick building,” Jardin said. “Second one from the easht.”

“We need to get back to Centennial Park first,” I told him. I wouldn’t leave Desandra stranded. Not after what she did. As far as I was concerned, she’d earned whatever support she wanted from me.

“You can ushe the other tunnel, but you can’t leave now. The sshift change is in ten minutessh and they will do a shweep right past the entranshe.”

“How long?” I asked.

“Sssshoould be clear in forty minutessh.”

“We wait, then.” I curled against the concrete.

Ascanio landed next to me. “Are you still mad at me for coming with?”