The corners of Benicio’s mouth twitched. “No, Benoit would never be so crude. He’s a far cry from your typical street thug, Hope, and you’d do well to keep that in mind when dealing with him. Benoit is a brilliant leader. I sincerely hope to have him on my staff one day, but unfortunately he’s not eager to embrace Cabal life.”

A young woman stepped from the back room, phone in hand. Benicio motioned for her to take a message, then waited until she’d retreated before continuing.

“Guy Benoit is a sorcerer. His father started a small Cabal in Guyana twenty years ago. An ambitious project and one I would have been happy to support, if we hadn’t run into a conflict of interest. The Benoit Cabal was disbanded and Guy’s mother, a Vodoun priestess, fled with him to Louisiana. Five years ago, Benoit appeared in Miami and toppled the former leader of his gang in a masterful coup.”

“Masterful?”

“Guy has a reputation for avoiding violence. Even his coup was bloodless. Ruthless, but bloodless. That’s one reason I very much hope to hire him someday.”

“After what you did to his family? If he’s set up base in Miami, he’s obviously looking for revenge, not a job offer.”

Benicio only shrugged, unruffled by my bluntness. “In five years, Guy has given me very little trouble. Perhaps that was the calm before the storm—settling in and quietly getting the lay of the land—but he seemed to be happy to exact his revenge simply by lining his pockets at our expense, taking advantage of the Cabal’s willingness to protect the gangs. It’s only recently that he’s begun asking my agent vague questions about our security force and our general organization. That must be significant. As for what it portends…”

“Finding out is my job.”

He nodded.

FAITH EDMONDS WAS the undercover name Benicio had chosen for me. A rich college girl, Faith had quit school to enjoy a six-month stint of self-indulgence in Miami—parentally funded in exchange for a promise to return to her studies in the fall. The persona came with a South Beach apartment and a full set of ID, including platinum credit cards to buy a suitable wardrobe.

First, though, I had to pass the initiation. That afternoon, I’d meet a gang liaison who screened potential recruits. Benicio assured me the test would be only a formality. A rare Expisco half-demon would be a prize for any gang, and I was coming highly recommended by the recruiter on Benicio’s payroll. The path had been groomed for me—I just needed to follow it.