Christmas Day, late.

They were all here. Mary Lou, her husband and three kids. Her three kids were about Tammy's and Anthony's ages, and they mostly all got along. Except when playing video games. Then, all bets were off.

Kingsley was here, too, and he looked absolutely sumptuous in his thick sweater and scarf, which hung loosely over a chest that should be illegal in most states. Kingsley wasn't a slender man. He was thick and hulking and as yummy as they get.

Detective Sherbet and his lovely Hungarian wife swung by to say hello. He also pulled me aside and caught me up on another killing. Turns out the city of Fullerton had a bona fide serial killer. This would be the fifth body in as many months. He wanted me to come by the department tomorrow and compare notes, since I was an official consultant on the case. Sherbet was one of the few people who knew my super-secret identity. He and his wife stayed just long enough to drink some hot cider and eat some Christmas brownies, before moving on to another party.

Danny even stopped by to drop off the kids' presents. As he stood at the front door, peering over me into a home we had once shared together, no doubt taking in the dollar store decorations, the aromas, the laughter and even the corny Christmas music, he looked positively miserable and envious. I had it on good word that his relationship with his secretary was over. I also had it on good word that she was suing him for sexual harassment. Nice. But don't feel too bad for the guy. Apparently, he was now dating one of his strippers. Yes, my ex-husband, besides being an ambulance chaser, was also part-owner of a strip club in Colton.

Right. I couldn't be more proud.

As we stood awkwardly at the door, I sensed Kingsley watching us from within the living room, his hulking form backlit by the Christmas tree. Danny, it seemed, was waiting for an invitation to come in. This coming from a guy who was actively trying to ruin me. I thanked him for the presents, wished him a merry Christmas and, against my better judgment, gave him a half-hearted offer to come in, which he pounced on. He pushed past me and immediately went over to kitchen table where he began piling snacks on a paper plate.

Watching him, I reminded myself that it was Christmas, a day when even porn kings and slimeballs were given a one-day pardon.

When it came time for dinner, I thought of Fang alone in his little apartment. I had invited him, too, but was secretly relieved when he declined. He and Kingsley in the same room would have made everyone uncomfortable. Yes, Kingsley knew all about Fang. I believe in honesty and openness in a relationship. To a degree. Kingsley didn't need to know about Fang's criminal past.

I kept myself busy serving dinner, so busy that everyone forgot that I hadn't actually eaten. I would eat later tonight, with Kingsley. A rather nontraditional holiday meal, you could say.

With dinner over and dessert being served, I thought it best to step outside and get some fresh air. I excused myself, patting Kingsley's meaty thigh. He was deep in a conversation with, of all people, my ex-husband. Two attorneys talking shop.

Blech.

My house is small, but I have a big yard. I followed a curving, cement path that led from my front door to my garage, a path I had sprinted across many times during the heat of the day, each time gasping for breath and sometimes literally thinking I couldn't take another step. But I did it each and every day to pick up my kids from school.

A small price to pay.

The sun had long ago set. I felt strong and clear-headed. Cars were parked seemingly randomly outside my house. I lived in a narrow cul-de-sac, and parking here was always a challenge. Especially for Kingsley, who was a surprisingly bad parker. Even now, his black Escalade barely touching the curb, with most of the rear end blocking my driveway.

Pathetic. I expected more from an immortal with decades of driving experience.

I slipped my hands into my coat pocket and looked up into the evening sky. This would have been a good night for flying. Clear, cool skies, with Christmas tree lights sparkling far below. In fact, maybe I would try to get up tonight. Maybe fly out to see Kingsley later.

Maybe.

As I stepped out from behind the comically-parked Cadillac, I saw him standing there in the middle of the street, watching me.

Ishmael.