Honestly, right now I probably looked and smelled like I fit right in here. Sponge baths in bars just aren’t the same as a good, long, hot shower.

As I made my way deeper into the Tent District, a hand-painted sign caught my eye. “Hey, they have rent-a-showers here!” I said, my voice hushed but excited.

“I hardly think a space so densely packed with Nejerets with questionable intentions is the wisest place to make yourself vulnerable by disrobing.”

I frowned, excitement deflating. “Yeah . . . you’re probably right.”

“You could always rent a motel room.”

“Maybe,” I said. We’d had this chat a dozen times before, but the idea of a skeezy motel clerk knowing I was there made me uneasy. I wasn’t willing to let my guard down anywhere I might be vulnerable. “Or we could head to a gym after this. They have shower stalls.”

“Truly, little sister, is personal hygiene really our biggest concern at present?”

I snorted. “Says the guy who doesn’t have a body to keep clean.”

It was a little crazy, having gone from not talking to Dom for over three years to having him constantly buzzing in my ear, my own personal angel on my shoulder. Dealing with his constant companionship was a bit of an adjustment, but nearly losing him made me appreciate what otherwise might have annoyed me. I was just glad he was still in my life, and I was as determined as ever to find a way to bring him all the way back to the land of the living.

“So what’s this Dorman guy’s deal, anyway?” I asked, angling my face downward but watching my surroundings through my lashes. I knew the Nejeret in charge of this place was several centuries old and that he’d been born in Virginia around the time of the American Revolution. I knew he was of Heru’s line, a great-great-great-descendant to some nth degree. But I knew next to nothing about him, about the kind of man he was. I had no clue how I might get through to him, regardless of what bridges had been burned between him and Heru in the past.

“His deal?”

“Yeah. Like, is he an asshole? Does he have any triggers? Is he gullible? Is he cold like Heru?”

Dom laughed softly, a hushed, dry sound. “Dorman is nothing like Heru. He’s a quick-witted, good-natured man with a kind heart and a friendly sense of humor, and he has no taste for violence or killing, though he’s more than capable of taking care of himself when need be.”

I frowned. “He sounds like a pretty stand-up guy.”

“Indeed he is.”

“Which makes me oh so curious about what happened between him and Heru. Must’ve been one hell of a falling out.”

“Indeed it was,” Dom said in his patented that’s-all-I’m-going-to-say-about-that tone.

“Hmm . . .” I strolled the rest of the way in silence, thoughts tumbling around in my head. I hardly considered myself the best choice for this kind of mission, but I knew as well as anyone that we had to play the cards we were dealt. After all, I’m kind of a big deal in the tarot card world. And by tarot card world I mean Seattle’s tarot card world. Capitol Hill, specifically. That’s pretty much the only place where anyone knows about me and my fortune-telling prowess. My skill as a tattoo artist, however—that draws in clients from all over the country.