“Nothing you can offer.” She flashed me a wry grin and slipped on sleek Oakley sunglasses. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

We ended up at a house out in suburban Vancouver. It was a lower middle-class area, not particularly polished but not the kind of place you had to worry about getting mugged either. Kristin parked on the street and led me up the house’s driveway, her heels clicking on the concrete. Along the sides of the yard, someone had recently planted marigolds and geraniums.

She rang the doorbell, and a moment later, a man in his mid-twenties answered the door. He had messy black hair, like maybe he’d just woken up, and possessed the friendly, low-key feel of someone who worked at Home Depot or Circuit City.

“Hey, Kristin,” he said, voice cheerful and blasé. “Come on in.”

She stepped just inside the doorway, and I followed, offering the guy a friendly smile of my own. “I can’t stay,” she told him crisply. “I’m just dropping her off. Evan, this is . . .”

Kristin glanced at me, apparently waiting to see if I wanted to use my own name. I usually used different identities and shapes when seducing victims, but it didn’t seem worth it for this.

“Georgina,” I supplied.

“Georgina,” said Kristin. “This is Evan.” He and I shook hands. “Georgina’s one of the founders of a sister chapter in Seattle. She’s here to see how things are done and possibly form some connections between the groups.” She tipped her head down, looking at him over the tops of her sunglasses. “I want you to show her every courtesy and involve her in your activities. It’s very important.”

He nodded, still looking mild and pleasant—but a little nervous at the strictness in her voice. “Absolutely.” Cedric had said Evan knew Kristin was a power player on Team Evil, and he clearly seemed to respect her. She supposedly didn’t have the people skills to “deal with” this group, but from the way Evan regarded her, it didn’t seem like it’d take much to get his attention.

To me, Kristin said, “Call a cab when you’re done. We’ll expense it.”

With that, she headed back out to her car, leaving me with the alleged general of the Army of Darkness.

“You want anything to drink?” he asked, stifling a yawn. “I’ve got some RC in the fridge.”

“No, thanks. I’m just anxious to learn how you do things up here.”

He grinned. “Sure. I should probably show you the temple first.”

I glanced around, taking in the flowered sofa and grandfather clock. “Temple?”

“Yeah, it’s in the basement. You sure you don’t want something to drink?” There was nothing I wanted to drink that was under 80 proof, so I declined once again.

He led me down some rickety steps, pulling a chain at the bottom that turned on a bare light-bulb. We stood in an unfinished basement with rough cement floors and brick walls. Fold-up chairs were arranged in a semicircle around a low bookcase about as high as my waist. On top of the case was a propped up painting with an angel’s black silhouette set against a gray and purple nebula. It looked like it had come straight off a sci-fi novel’s cover. Half-burned red and black candles were scattered around the painting, along with an inverted cross. Off to the side of the room, more candles sat on top of a washer and dryer. Evan walked over to a light switch and turned it on. White Christmas lights twinkled to life on the brick walls.