The intercom lit up. “Hold on, damn it,” Pitt snapped.

Franks stuck his hands in his pockets. He had very little patience for dealing with people in general, and Monster Hunters specifically. Luckily for Pitt and Shackleford, they made their decision before Franks got bored. There was a loud clack as the door was unbarred.

It swung open. Owen Pitt was waiting for him; one arm was in a cast, but he had a pistol in the other hand. He was polite enough not to point it at Franks, but they both knew what it was there for.

“Don’t make me regret this . . . Come in.”

The Shackleford family estate was a very large home. Much of it was being renovated. The MCB dossier on Julie Shackleford said that she liked to fix things. Appropriate, for someone drafted by the mysterious Guardians. He doubted she understood what those marks meant, but explaining it to her wasn’t his problem. The MCB didn’t grasp the implications either. They just thought she had picked up some funky curse, which wasn’t too uncommon a problem among Monster Hunters. If she ever became an issue, then Franks would have to take action, but that particular cosmic faction wasn’t his responsibility.

Shackleford was waiting for them in a sitting room. By human standards, she was a beautiful woman, nearly attractive enough to give a succubus competition. She was also extremely dangerous. It wasn’t just the big rifle in her hands—she seemed more inclined to shoot him than Pitt was—but also the black lines barely visible on her neck. The Hunters had no idea what they were in for.

“Make it quick, Franks, and then I want you out of my house,” Shackleford said. She was decisive. Franks appreciated that.

Pitt stopped and stood in the doorway behind him. The Hunters were uneasy around him. Good. That meant they were paying attention. “I’d offer you a seat, but I’m guessing you’re not going to be here that long.”

Franks looked Shackleford in the eye. “I need that device.”

She’d listened to the conversation on the porch. “What does it do?”

“It finds demons.”

“That would have been really handy to know before. Thanks for sharing.”

These were not the sorts of things MHI should trifle with anyway. The Key would point him toward demon spirits. Not just the ones inhabiting Nemesis bodies, but the legions of eager spirits who would be congregated around wherever Stricken was growing new bodies, jockeying for position, just like he had himself so long ago.

“Why didn’t you just take it before?” Pitt asked.

“I didn’t know I would need it.” There was no need to elaborate about Kurst. If he’d turned it over to the government, Stricken would have it now and it would be useless to him. Besides, leaving it with MHI had been safer than stashing it with gnomes.