She had a roommate named Twiggy? I shook my head. “I just have a quick question, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“When we were meeting with Naim at Odin’s Eye, you, um … you had some MPD cases in your folder. I noticed a photo in one, and I was wondering … could I get the case file?”

“Oh?” A rustle as though Tori were getting more comfortable. “Sure.”

I relaxed. That’d been easier than—

“On one condition.”

I tensed up all over again. “What condition?”

“You tell me what’s special about that photo.”

I scrambled for an explanation that wouldn’t contradict the case details. “One of the men in the photo looked like the mythic who summoned my demon.”

A pause. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that ancient amulet thingy?”

“No.”

“Hm. All right, give me a moment.”

More rustling, followed by a thud and a muttered curse. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of packing and my place is a mess. I think I buried the folder.”

“Are you moving?” I asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh, no, not that kind of packing. I’m going on a trip.”

“Where to?”

A pause. “South.”

That was specific.

“We’re leaving soon, so I need to—” A louder thump as though something heavy had landed on the floor. “Shit. What was I … right, the folder.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Are you going with your friends? The mages?”

“Yeah,” she replied distractedly. “Aha! Got it. Let’s see … it was a photo of two dudes, right?” Papers shuffled. “Here it is. Case 97-5923.”

I scribbled that down on a sticky note. “Thank you.”

“No problem. So, you think your demon’s summoner is skeevy?”

“I know he’s skeevy. Just not sure how much.”

“Hope that case has some juicy details for you, then. Let me know if you need any help. I owe you one for taking me to see Naim.”

“He wasn’t any use.”

“Yeah, but you still shared your lead with me.” She was quiet for a moment. “Robin, can I ask you something?”

I straightened, surprised by the change in her tone from light to somber and intense. “Okay.”

“That amulet. Do you know what it does?”

“No … I’m trying to learn more about it.”

“If you find out anything, will you tell me?”

“Have you seen it, Tori?” I pressed my phone into my ear. “Do you know where the amulet is?”

A long pause. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you when I get back, okay?”

The line clicked as she ended the call. Lowering my cell, I looked up.

Zylas stood in my bedroom doorway, watching me with faintly glowing eyes. He wasn’t wearing his armor, but he’d left the dark underlayers on—sleeves that partially covered his arms and matching pieces that ran from the arches of his feet up over his knees.

“Could you hear her?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Was she lying?”

“I cannot tell lies through the … phone.”

I’d been afraid of that. Setting my cell aside, I typed “97-5923” into the MPD search bar and hit enter. The case popped up on the laptop screen, and as I read, Zylas sat on the sofa beside me. He withdrew a large book from under the coffee table and opened it at random.

Finishing my read of the case description, I scrolled down to the photos: the one showing Claude and the albino man talking; another shot of the albino man walking out of a Blockbuster; and a blurry photo of a black Ford pickup with an American license plate.

Zylas turned a page in his book. “Is it useful?”

“I have no idea, but at least I know why this case didn’t come up in any of my searches. I was looking for something local, but this is a murder case from Oregon. That’s—it’s a place far away.”

He pointed at his book. “It is a place in here?”

Yesterday, after visiting Zora at the healer’s house—she hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but Amalia and I had sat with her for an hour—I’d stopped at the bookstore on a mission to find a particular sort of book.

I couldn’t remember much of my dream on Sunday morning, but the vague impression of an alien landscape had stuck with me. My world was an alien landscape for Zylas, yet he’d seen so little of it. He was curious about everything, but I couldn’t jaunt off on vacation to show him more varied scenery.

Instead, I’d bought a copy of The Big Book of Beautiful Landscapes, which was exactly what it sounded like—the biggest, most gorgeous collection of full-spread landscape photography from around the world I could find.

“It might be.” Scooting closer, I reached across him to flip the book to its index. “Let’s see … United States – Oregon, page seventy-seven.”

I turned to the indicated page, and we leaned over a stunning photo of a craggy mountain cradled by a winding river, the warm rocks and coniferous trees bathed in the pale orange light of a sunrise.

“That’s Oregon,” I informed him.

He tilted the book up, his weight shifting the cushions. I slipped into the depression, my hip bumping his.

“This is a good place,” he decided.

Distracted over whether I should put space between us, I asked, “How do you know?”

“It has no hh’ainun.” He canted his head, appraising it. “I like the shapes of the ground. Good cover. High and low places.” He grinned and tapped the rugged mountain. “I would like to climb this.”

“You can,” I blurted without thinking the words through. “Well, maybe not that particular mountain, but if we have time while I’m figuring out how to send you home, I’ll take you mountain climbing.”

He weighed me with his gaze, as though testing my sincerity, then flipped through the book until he reached a dog-eared page—a habit he had not learned from me.

“What about here? Can we go here?”

My eyes widened at the exotic waterfall plunging down dark rocks, surrounded by lush greenery. I read the description in the corner. “The Amazon rainforest? That’s really far away … but yes.” I laughed, a little giddy. “Why not? We’ll go there too.”