She turns back into herself. “I’m just telling you who’s strong.”
“But still, would Kain be working so hard to solve this case if he’s the culprit?”
“Cute.” She turns into me—a well-rested version, without bags under my eyes. “You’re assuming that hiring you is the same as ‘working hard to solve this case.’”
I narrow my eyes at her.
“Don’t be mad.” She turns back into her usual self. “You’re an amazing therapist, don’t get me wrong, and you can surely steal secrets when you try. But since when are you a detective?”
Up yours, lady. “You yourself called me a detective at the trial.”
She shrugs. “I was trying to save your life. If Kain really wanted a detective, he could glamour a human one or find someone on—”
“But I can tell when people lie to me. I can go into dreams and compare stories with memories.”
“There are more direct ways to figure out if someone is lying,” Kit says. “I’d say hiring you isn’t that.”
She’s probably talking about the man I playfully call Bowser, a member of the Council who’s currently on vacation. He simply knows, without a doubt, if someone is telling him the truth. If he were here, the case would be as simple as having him ask everyone, “Was it you?”
I wonder if that’s why the killer chose to strike now, with Bowser away indefinitely. It’s his or her only chance to get away with it.
“Let’s see if Kain lets me dreamwalk in him,” I say. “As a vampire, he doesn’t need to sleep, so it would have to be voluntary.”
“Good thinking.” Kit turns into a giant, albeit a small one, and says in a voice deep enough to sing death metal, “Another strong person is obviously Colton.”
“Who totally looks like the giants from the Skyrim game,” Felix says conspiratorially.
“Who else?” I ask.
“There’s Eduardo.” Kit turns into a shaggy-haired man not much smaller than the giant, who then morphs into a huge wolf.
“I think Eduardo looks like Donkey Kong,” Felix chimes in. “But never mention this to him, or I’m dead.”
Sure, I was totally about to walk up to a werewolf and tell him he looks like a video game gorilla. I’m that suicidal. “Okay, who else?”
Kit transforms back into herself. “Does it have to be physical strength?”
“What do you mean?”
She turns into a striking black-haired woman with thick dark eyebrows, a small hoop in her right nostril, and silver studs in the upper and lower lips. “Nina isn’t physically strong, per se,” she says in a melodic voice that I assume belongs to Nina. “But her telekinesis is so strong she could use that to rip someone in half.”
Oh, a telekinetic too. Fun. “I’d like to speak to her as well. Who else could rip someone apart?”
“No one I can think of,” Kit says.
I stand up. “Then let’s start with Kain, Colton, Eduardo, and Nina.”
“Sure.” Kit assumes her big-eyed, overly cute anime guise and dashes for the door.
I follow her through a couple of corridors. When we reach a massive door, her phone rings.
She pulls it out. “Hello?” She listens for a few seconds, but I can’t hear the other side. “Sure, I’ll get the usual. If they have sashimi-grade salmon, five pounds.”
“Someone’s hungry,” Felix mutters. “Or, like me, has a cat with exquisite taste.”
Kit listens for another second. “Yep, she’s with me.” She covers the phone. “Kain sent Firth shopping. Do you need anything?”
I ask for a case of bananas, six gallons of distilled water, a dozen bottles of hand sanitizer, and—just to mess with Filth—every feminine hygiene product I can think of, plus laxatives and adult diapers.
Kit doesn’t blink an eye as she repeats my list to Filth. Sadly, I can’t hear if he complains.
I sneak out my phone and text Felix:
See if you can hack into the store camera to record Firth buying all that stuff. Bonus points if the adult diapers don’t scan, so the clerk has to look up the price manually.
He chokes with laughter. “I’ll try.”
Kit hangs up. “I think I know why you requested everything except the bananas.” She turns into a monkey and scratches her head with her foot before transforming back into herself.
Felix groans. “I can’t believe she just walked into that lecture. I’m going to put you on mute.”
“If you must know,” I tell Kit, “it’s one of the very few things I feel safe eating on this world. You can carefully peel bananas without touching the inside. Even if the outside is crawling with salmonella, you can be safe.”
Kit’s eyes widen. “Really?”
I’m unable to resist the opening. “The food industry here on Earth is an abomination. Did you know there’s human DNA in hotdogs? Or that the United States FDA allows maggots, rodent hair, cigarette butts, and mold in food? Did you realize that milk is allowed to have pus and blood in it, or that every meat you can think of has fecal—”
“Stop, please.” Kit makes her ears disappear and reappear. “I don’t want to end up eating bananas for the rest of my life.”
“Sorry. Do you want to know what the sanitizer’s for?”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s pretty clear. I assume the other stuff is a prank on Firth?”
“That obvious?”
She assumes Filth’s weaselly visage. “You know how many jokes feature a vampire and a tampon?”
I grin. “You should tell me some. But only after I solve this case.”
“Right.” She becomes herself and knocks on the huge wooden door in front of us.
The giant—Colton—opens up. Unsurprisingly, he looks just like Kit’s impersonation of him, except he’s wearing an apron.
“I have a brisket in the oven,” he booms. “Is this going to take long?”
Felix snorts. “Cue the banana rant.”
I surreptitiously flick the earbud to hopefully deafen Felix. “Not long. But we can do this later.”
“No, come in.” The giant opens the door wider.
I step in but stay vigilant about touching anything that he could’ve contaminated during food prep. The aroma of fried animal flesh is unmistakable.
“Sit,” he urges as we enter a surprisingly modern kitchen—well, modern for Earth. Given the medieval ambiance of the castle, I was half expecting to see some unfortunate pig’s head on a spittle over a fire. Instead, there are white quartz countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a sleek table with backless chairs that appear to be sized for a giant. And, I guess, a brisket in the oven.
I clutch the sanitizer in my pocket for comfort. “I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” He plunks down in one of the chairs, making it creak under his weight. “What did you want to know?”
“It all boils down to one question,” I say, eager to escape the unsanitary environment as quickly as possible. “What were you doing at the time Gemma was ripped apart?”
He frowns deeply. “You think I’d—”