One date to settle "the displaced energy." I was no stranger to casual hookups, but this took the cake. I had never done anything like this, and the idea preoccupied every free thought for the rest of the week.

On a countdown to Saturday night, I threw myself into Paul Jameson's fugitive status. He rather predictably fled the city after Mrs. Edison tweeted NOPD was dragging their feet arresting him. A part of me was glad he ran. Aurie's mom felt guilty enough to back the hell down from the case after that.

Although he went missing, there was no time to decompress. Tegan and I had our work cut out for us. I flip-flopped on whether to tell my partner about Overlay to get her help diving into Cyprian's past.

In the end, I stuck to the world she knew and conjured up a new case theory. The CEO of Corporate Investor Empire might have found Haley Edison, the rising social media star, more to his liking. Tegan and I both knew he partied with A-listers.

I suggested to my partner that Darcy Cyprian might have drugged Aurie to get to Haley. Even if Jameson was responsible for the hit-and-run, Cyprian could have been the reason she was impaired in the first place. Tegan liked the analysis, agreeing to investigate the rumors of him drugging college girls. Be that as it may, we were no closer to fresh evidence by the end of the hectic workweek.

I took a trip to my cabin to clear my head. When I returned home Saturday evening, I had just enough time to get ready for the date. The wildness that I tried leaving in the woods followed me home in the form of my distracting attraction to the two of them.

Aroused by flashbacks of intermissions with the Empath, my dreams nightly filled with impressions of the ghost's delectable body. I couldn't outrun my lust for Aurie and Mys, no matter how I tried.

But did I desire both? Or was this all-consuming investigation getting in the way of healthy sexual release and making me eager to bed anything walking? I was a powder keg waiting to blow, and the date-night seemed less and less like a good idea.

Nevertheless, this date-night was an aspect of the job, I told myself. Putting Aurie's Soul in public could tempt Cyprian to do something stupid enough to get the Council's attention.

Ajit greeted me at the door. The dog was my low maintenance way to avoid coming home to an empty house. My keys went in the coin tray, and I strolled to the en suite for a shower. I wondered what it would be like to not need a pet simply to avoid being alone.

I told Alexa to play the local radio, and the device obliged. Whistling the pop song that poured from the speakers, I lathered up and scrubbed my body clean. Admittedly, even if the date was business, I was looking forward to it. I left the shower with a big, fluffy bath-sheet wrapped around my hips and stepped to the closet for something to wear.

I chose a pair of cropped jeans, ditching my usual slacks. A stylish black tee paired with an unbuttoned grey Oxford finished the ensemble. From the walk-in came the sound of the music transitioning to advertisements.

"And, if you've got plans for the weekend, you might want to bring an umbrella with you!" the radio announcer cheerfully cut in after the weather jingle. "Let's take a look at the forecast for tonight and tomorrow. Things will get wet and blustery with a tropical storm rolling in from the gulf."

I tuned out the rest. It was that time of year again, but I wasn't worried about a dash of rain. The picture windows in my bedroom overlooked a bright, sunny evening. I stood before the dresser bureau mirror grooming my hair and beard.

"Not bad, eh, Ajit?" I said to the dog sniffing around in my bedroom closet. He lifted an ear at my ringing phone, and I grabbed it off the dresser. "This is Ravani," I answered.

The person on the other end spoke quickly and quietly. Their terse message was brief, but every word of it darkened my expression until I furiously threw the phone across the bedroom. Ajit barked in confusion when the device hit the wall. Luckily, it didn't break, but that was where my luck ran out.

My meeting with the Council of Overlay Affairs had been canceled.

Impotent rage burned through me. I slammed a fist into the mirror without thinking, and it shattered. Staring at my glass-encrusted knuckles, rivulets of blood traced down my forearm. The Council wouldn't see me. I couldn't believe it. I stormed into the en suite to clean myself up. As the cuts and abrasions began to heal, I stuck my hand beneath bracing cold water.

How had things taken such a drastic turn? My thoughts raced to piece it together. I had communicated my findings with a discreet insider. The Council meeting would have been my opportunity to share evidence publicly. It had been called off because of rumors Mrs. Edison didn't trust my competency.

Cyprian had to be desperate to resort to personal attacks on my reputation. Unfortunately, the word was out that Mrs. Edison believed Paul Jameson was the man who had hurt her daughter. The council members were eager to seize upon that as proof our Supernatural laws hadn't been broken. It was enough for them, but not for me. Not by a long-shot. What would I tell Aurie and Mys?

I marched back into the walk-in closet, Ajit on my heels. I opened a trapdoor beneath a cut-away square of carpet. Within the hidden compartment was an arsenal. I dug out the duffle bag full of weapons. Now, I fervently hoped Darcy Cyprian showed up tonight.

I selected my favorite handgun, switched the ammo out for Holy Water hollow-points. I slid a knife into my trainers. Rising, I grabbed the Damascus steel short sword on the top shelf. When I pressed a trigger, it folded into the hilt, perfect for hiding in a back pocket. More than a skimp of enchantment was involved.

I turned to my dresser and selected a crucifix ring from the jewelry chest. Where the metal touched my skin gleamed gold. The other side was overlaid with Supernatural poison-laced silver, and I didn't dare touch it. It would leave a mark on the vampire if he showed his pretty face.

I glanced at my sister's photograph tucked in the corner of the broken mirror. A shaky smile crossed my lips, but the expression turned to despair as I thought of how many years it had been. I hadn't run with the Ravani pack in four years.

One agonizing event had ignited my meteoric rise as a detective, burning away everything else. It never stopped taking from me, incinerating all chance at a normal life. There was no room for family, friends or—God forbid—a relationship. As long as Darcy Cyprian was free, that fire would drive me to chase him to the depths of hell.

That fire was how I managed to shake my melancholia and get a move on.

I left the townhouse and headed to the cathedral, weaving through traffic on my motorcycle rather than taking my truck. Mys had assured me the three of us could reach our destination on foot, and Aurie would enjoy the stroll. Belying the tropical storm watch, it was pleasant out.

I arrived at the church, crossed the courtyard, and darted around the side of the building. Mys threw the door open without me having to knock on the brick. When I saw the smile that was waiting for me, it hit the firewall around my heart, and the enmity simmering beneath the surface instantly cooled. I realized something. I had missed them.

"You felt me coming?" I asked with a small grin.

The futanari—Mys—gave me a "yeah, duh" smile and a quick hug. I could tell by how they pulled back that my feelings, including carnal ones, were on display. I averted my gaze, biting my lip as I made my thoughts blank. It worked, relatively.

"Ready to go?" Mys asked.

"Yep. Keep your senses sharp while we're out," I murmured as I showed the gun tucked in my waistband. Grinning, Mys tugged a silver revolver from a thigh holster hidden in their boot. I smiled approval. Headed to the busiest section of the French Quarter, one couldn't be too prepared.

When Aurie slipped out the door, she bobbed a cheerful nod and posed in a skin-tight purple dress and stilettos. I took in Mys' wide-brimmed black hat, traditionally masculine shirt, a provocative black skirt and thigh boots. The pair of them were imposing. And both uptight. I'm not the only anxious one.

"How do you want to do this?" Mys hesitated outside the gate to the courtyard. "Maybe I should linger a step or two behind, so you don't have to be seen with me. I mean, you two are together." They cupped hands, signing Aurie and I were shipped.

Aurie chortled amusement. "You are not walking behind. Come on. Three's company."

"It's called a ménage a trois," I corrected her with a grin. Both their laughter floated around me. I extended an arm to each, glad the comment had broken the ice. As we took off walking together, I leaned close to Mys and asked, "So, do you offer the boyfriend treatment?"

It was meant to be funny, but the lure of their skin invited a serious kiss I delivered impulsively. Mys' eyes sparkled with exasperation. Ignoring the intimacy, they pointed ahead. "When you get to the door up there, the password is 'Castor Pollux.'"

"What door?" Aurie asked.

The "doorman" in black glasses and an earpiece stood before a nondescript section of sidewall. There was no signage. Not a window or door visible. Aurie glanced at us quizzically but tried out the password on him anyway at Mys' insistence. At first, nothing happened.

"Don't tell me he can't see ghosts," Aurie said from the corner of her mouth.

The doorman let his glasses slip to reveal mirthful eyes alight with blue fire. Aurie hitched in a breath, and I grinned. "Your first time?" the djinn asked. Where the wall had been, a shadowy door opened, and Mys disappeared into the portal.

When Aurie balked, I wrapped an arm around her and ushered her forward. "Don't be afraid. I'm with you," I promised.

"What if Darcy finds out we're here?" she stalled.

Smiling, I kept us moving forward. "For once in your Afterlife, stop trying to be the safest, smartest, most responsible person in the room, and enjoy yourself!"

The narrow portal became a hallway leading to thumping music and pulsating lights in an open club. We emerged in the thick of things, and Aurie shouted over the noise: "This feels like déjà vu!"

"You've never experienced anything like this. I'll show you," I shouted back. She responded with melodic laughter.

The Empath was waving for us at the bar with two shot glasses. "From Mexico. Drink up, bitches!" said Mys.

I wasn't much into alcohol, but I needed something to blunt my senses tonight. I couldn't stop thinking about the first time I had gone after Darcy Cyprian. Four years ago. I had cracked a high-profile case, run the interview circuit, gotten featured on some true crime shows. Everyone was toasting my success.

That success had led me to naively believe a well-respected detective could discuss his sister's rape and be heard. Never mind that the bright, young art major had already told everyone loud and clear what had happened to her and nobody listened.

It was my first lesson on how things worked in this world. I learned how many people think money and power are worth more than righteousness. No matter how inaccurate they are, they're usually the loudest in the room.

On the night of Aurie's accident, I had found my bullhorn. I knew Nannette Baudelaire's daughter was too high profile of a victim to go unnoticed. Darcy Cyprian was on that surveillance video. His signature was all over the hit-and-run. He had overplayed his hand.

Don't make this personal. Both Mayfield and Tegan had warned me.

My closest coworkers knew the arrogant CEO had already slipped through my fingers once, nearly destroying my career in the process. I had taken on Aurie's case to salvage my reputation and get justice. Now, neither seemed likely. The Council of Overlay Affairs wouldn't even talk to me.

The gloves were off. If I couldn't put Cyprian behind bars, I was ready to settle for putting him in a body bag.