Impatient, I say to the agent, “I think this party is open invitation.”

Hernandez must sense my irritation, because he opens the door with no remark. A flood of music spills into the night to invite us in.

Halen arches an eyebrow in dare, exquisitely sultry as she turns and strides inside, her petite form engulfed in swirling lights. I touch the small of her back as we weave a path through gyrating youth, reminiscent of the night I brought her here to invoke the frenzy.

One of the revelers stops short in the middle of the throng to stare at us, his wide gaze stuck on the obvious FBI agent despite his dressed down appearance. He then points toward the back of the house before he escapes.

“I assume he’s telling us where we’ll find the adults,” Halen says, voice cast over the house music.

Once we step onto the expansive veranda, we indeed find the main attraction of the Lipton home. The entire back yard overlooks the open marshland. Dusk is a swipe of muted pinks and purples across the dimming sky. Every gothic element of the house has been captured in deliberate embellishments. Draped over the many tables, black linen drips to the ground. Vines crawl along a giant arched trellis with swirled iron tracery that matches the revival home, and white lights glimmer from its canopy. Even the pavers that cover the sprawling yard are a dark slate with similar ornate design.

While the kids party inside, the outside is an opulent gala for the adults, boasting its own cellist to serenade.

“When we were here before, Devyn said the Liptons pretty much do what they want,” Halen says, and I don’t miss the pinch of regret between her soft brows. “Point made clear with their extravagant star-gazing party amid an active investigation.”

While it’s not a black-tie event, it appears most of the townies came dressed in their Sunday finest. Mrs. Lipton has gone all out in order to distract the locals from the bleak state of affairs.

As Halen eyes a bank of expensive telescopes, she says, “I also feel the Liptons just might be a tad eccentric and out of touch.”

I press in close and lower my mouth to her ear. “If I don’t touch you soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

She angles her head back. “As opposed to the very sound mind you normally have?”

I smile at the venomous bite in her tone. She’s still a bit irritated over my deliberate evasiveness at the precinct. I brush my lips over her ear. “I plan to show you just how crazy you make me.”

A shiver quakes through her body, but before I can sink my teeth into her, she pulls away, and only glances back to send me a wink that makes my whole body catch fire.

Devious little sprite.

I watch her approach who I assume is Mrs. Lipton. “How many feds are hanging around the house?” I direct the question to Hernandez.

He crosses his large arms. “Enough.”

I nod once. His clipped responses and guarded gestures haven’t escaped me. Ever since he interrupted my altercation with Alister in the holding cell, he’s been defensive. The agent may have suspicions—but no proof.

And, considering his boss was a rapist piece of shit, he might even be a little conflicted over his loyalties.

I like Hernandez. I don’t like many people. I don’t want to have to hurt him.

“We both know it’s unlikely for Devyn to show up here,” I say to him, then step down from the deck. “But seeing as Halen keeps getting shot down on her requests, what do you say we take advantage of the gathered locals?”

It’s an obvious tactic to earn his compliance, as his loyalties do in fact lie with Halen. But once someone has agreed to one suggestion, it’s easier to get them to agree to another.

For good measure, I add, “We can see if any of them sport little antler implants.”

The tension in his shoulders slackens some. “We can’t just go around demanding to see their heads.”

“Why can’t we?”

His gaze narrows on me, then a faint smile graces his mouth. “I’ll start on the left. You take the right.”

As I work my side of the party, I actually do make an effort to collect information from the families, none of which is useful. But uncovering more of Devyn’s minions is not my sole priority.

I eat up at least thirty minutes with trivial banter, keeping an eye on the lurking FBI agents around the perimeter of the party. By the time I make my way back toward Halen, she has Mrs. Lipton warmed up enough to talk with her phone out, discretely recording the conversation.

“Devyn was here quite a bit,” the woman is saying to Halen, “overseeing our festivities, and as a guest, of course. Julian always respected her.”

Halen bristles at the woman’s use of the past tense. “How well did you know her and her brother, Colter? Her family?”

Mrs. Lipton adjusts the gaudy shawl wrapping her shoulders. “The father left when the twins were little. He didn’t care for small-town life. The mother passed away when they were just out of high school, but I mean, Devyn and Colter had been on their own pretty much anyway. I helped where I could, of course, until Devyn decided to move away for school in the big city.” She shrugs. “Following in her father’s footsteps, unfortunately.”

“The big city is…?” Halen presses.

The woman’s penciled eyebrow arches. “New York City, of course.”

“Of course. Did she stay in contact with her father?”

“I wouldn’t know. When Devyn came back after Colter went missing, she was… Well, she wasn’t the same.” A frown deepens her makeup creases. “I suppose none of us were, really.”

“Mrs. Lipton, did you ever notice a physical change in Devyn, or anyone else she was close to?”

The woman stares blankly. “Such as?”

“Such as extreme body modification, like horn implants on the head. Did your brother, Vince, ever show signs of this before he went missing?”

Her features harden. “Vince was starting to get into some peculiar interests and hobbies.”

“And this didn’t set off any alarms with you?” Halen asks.

Tightening her shawl more snugly, Mrs. Lipton turns rigid. “Why would it? Before you all arrived here, no one had any idea about rituals or any of that nonsense. Now if you don’t mind, I need to attend to my guests, and I’m sure you have more pressing matters to handle. Anything else needs to be addressed through my lawyer. Please leave my party.”

Halen stops the recording and tucks the phone into her tote bag. “Only old money can dismiss you like they’re doing you a favor.”

“As long as they say please.” But I’m no longer concerned with founding families or their peculiar hobbies. My gaze captures and holds Halen, and with the slight part of her mouth, she senses she’s been caught.

I seize her wrist and pull her against me, linking her arms around my neck as I lure her into a slow dance to the deep and melancholic notes of the cello.

“Smooth, professor.” She glances around anxiously. “But we’re the only ones dancing.”

“Does it bother you?”

Staring up at me, she tilts her head. “No.”

I tighten my arms around her, drawing her closer. Halen stopped worrying about what others thought of her a while ago. When you’ve experience true suffering, you no longer perceive the world’s trivial concerns as relevant.

“We can do whatever we want,” I say as I nudge her bag aside and cup the curve of her lower back. She gauges me carefully, my little seer reading more into my statement.

“Kallum…” I hear the disapproval in the way she trails off from my name. “Your joke to Riddick was extremely impulsive and reckless.”

I lick my lips, loving the hint of clove she’s giving off. “It wasn’t a joke.” I possessively dig my fingers into the sexy flare of her hips and drop my voice. “I never should’ve let Alister get that close to you.”

Had I done away with Alister from the start, then Halen never would’ve been alone where Devyn could get to her.