Dek stepped in the door, taking in the nightly crowd at The Jewel. Something was in the air. Demon was stirring inside him, hissing, changing colors and patterns, as if Dek could feel the angry quetzal burning a bright and incandescent red. The beast was fit to burst his chest.

Rocket, too, was whispering warnings in Dek’s head. Words like “Careful” and “Danger” slipping around in his mind. He could feel the young quetzal’s presence: tense and wary.

He had spent most of the day at the landing field as the first of the Turalon shuttles set down and began offloading cargo and contractees. The only oddity had been when he’d encountered Charlotte. He’d almost run into her as she hurried down the ramp from Kalico’s shuttle. The woman had looked oddly satisfied. Hardly the expression even a well-trained valet might have, given the proximity of Chad Grunnel’s death.

“Can I help you?” Dek had asked.

The woman had fixed those designer-purple eyes on his, her smile triumphant. “I rather doubt it.” Her voice had dripped disdain. “Now, be on about your business, or I shall have you whipped.” And she’d made a shooing gesture with her hands before hurrying off, an empty bag dangling over the shoulder of her gleaming indigo suprasatin suitcoat.

He’d paused, glanced curiously up the ramp, wondering what business a valet with a dead master might have been pursuing, and with whom, in Kalico’s shuttle. Maybe Chad had given her instructions before his death? Some delivery for the IG?

It had been a busy afternoon processing people. With Talina investigating a murder, and Kalico in and out with the IG, Dek had pitched in to help Yvette and Shig process the soft meat and helped with the orientation. Then came the process of showing them their new quarters and delivering their luggage.

All of it more complicated given the heightened security necessary with quetzals roaming around somewhere in the vicinity.

Talk of the town revolved around the murder of Chad Grunnel. Every speculation under the sun could be heard—even that it had been a quetzal. Though why a quetzal would reach out and strangle someone instead of ripping them in two and eating them had never been clearly articulated.

Made Dek wonder how Talina was doing with her investigation.

Standing inside the door, he could hear the approaching thunder. Clouds had been rolling in from the Gulf. The night had the feel of a storm, that antsy electric sensation that foretold rain. The way Demon kept repeating “Yes!” in his sibilant tones sent a shiver down Dek’s spine. Didn’t matter that it was a quetzal night; he’d personally checked out the armored marines guarding the gates.