We lay there together, in that amphitheater of undead cats that she called a bedroom. My dead-cat lady lay partly atop me, running her fingers along the scar on my chest.

"How did you get this?" she asked.

"Heart surgery. When I was a boy, my family took a trip down the Amazon. While we were on one of our shore excursions, I found this brightly colored spider. It bit me. Next thing I knew, I woke up in an operating room."

"Interesting," she said. "What sort of spider?*"

"I think it was a Tijuana Unicorn Clown spider or something." I shrugged.

She laughed. "That's ridiculous. There's no such thing."

"My buddy Horatio used to say that same thing."

For several long seconds, we lay there in silence. "Did you just make a Shakespear reference?"

"Perchance I did that thing."

Nuzzling in closer, she said, "You are a better catch than I thought."

Had any other woman referred to me as her catch, I would have taken it as affectionate, but there was something unnervingly predatory about the way she said it. I'm not sure whether it was her tone or the many luminous eyes fixated on me.

"Look," I said. "Ah, I don't know how to ask this delicately--but what's your name?"

She laughed her feline laugh once more. "You can call me Tabitha, Mr. Dark."

And with that, she bit my ear.

It wasn't just a friendly little nip, either. I jumped out of bed with a yelp, cupping my hand to the side of my head.

She lay there, smiling her canary-eating grin, licking the blood off her lips, watching me. Her body lay tantalizingly half-concealed by blankets and shadows.

"What the hell?" I shouted.

"I was hungry," she said, as if this explained anything.

It seemed like a good time to run, but her scent held me where I was. I'd never given much thought to the way a woman smelled before, but Tabitha's scent gave me fever-chills. It made me want to howl and scratch something. For several long seconds I considered pouncing on her.

I shook my head to clear it, then at once began putting on my clothing. Regardless of how good she smells, when the girl starts to nibble off parts of your body, it's time to go. "You're crazy."

"Oh, please, I'm no worse than you."

She had a point. Still, I didn't like being eaten.

"Call me later?" she said.

I stopped and stared. Did I want to come back? Despite the piece of flesh she'd taken from me, I did. What did that say about me?

"Sure," I hedged. "If you can promise not to take another piece of my ear."

With a pout, she said, "You're no fun."

No fun? Did she not see me play Pop Goes the Weasel?

"There's an empty clown carcass outside in the dumpster that might disagree with your opinion."

"I didn't say you weren't useful."

But despite her sultry tone, I left.

I had demons to catch.

#

When I got to the station, Constable Beck was sitting white-faced behind his desk. Eldrad sat in his chair backwards, chin resting on hands resting on the chair-back talking to the kid.

Beck ran his long fingers through his brown curly hair. "I swear, I saw this clown whack a guy with a shovel. He--he was dead instantly. I pulled--I pulled--" here Beck paused and Eldrad handed him a glass of water. He drank half of it down at once.

"Yeah, go on, Eldrad said."

I hadn't planned to get involved in their conversation. What I'd wanted to do was go through old records to see if I could find out the name of the ghost kid I'd seen outside Pennywhistle's place. However, I had to find out what was up with Beck. So I changed course and walked over to the pair.

Beck sat there, sweating, still looking for his tongue. Eldrad squinted up at me. "Jeez, Dark, what happened to your ear?"

"New girlfriend," I said.

A foolish grin spread across Eldrad's face. "Is this someone you met at that fetishes and sex toys bar you go to?"

"It's 'Fetish and Totem,'" I corrected, feeling mildly annoyed. "The bar is actually more focused on spiritual beliefs than carnality."

"Sure," Eldrad said in a sarcastic tone. "We believe you."

"Why'd she bite you?" Beck asked. His voice quavered in an odd way. I supposed it was because of his run-in with a shapeless demon.

"She was hungry," I answered. I said it like it was a joke, hoping to deflect further stupid questions and relieve some of Beck's tension.

"So she just started eating you alive?" Beck asked. Fresh sweat moistened his brow. If anything, his pale face became whiter.

On second thought, a kid in his condition probably wasn't in a good place to get my sense of humor.

I sighed. "Look, guys, it's nothing. I was just having a bit of fun with you. I'm more interested in hearing about this clown murderer. Was he dressed as Pennywhistle?"

"Yeah," Eldrad said, still looking at my ear. "I guess there were more masks than we knew."

That was cause for concern.

It was not, however, my only worry. One had to be sure a shapeless demon was down for the count before it was safe to leave it alone. While I wasn't planning to play "Pop Goes the Weasel" a second time tonight, I wanted to make sure this Pennywhistle wasn't planning any fun and games at the morgue.

"Can I see the body?" I asked.

"Sure," Eldrad said. "If you hurry, it might still be in the back waiting to get picked up."

We had a "minimorgue" which we sometimes called a "minifridge" at the 616th Precint, with space for up to three bodies. Basically, it was little more than a special fridge for corpses.

I started toward the back.

"The clown's in the middle fridge," Eldrad said in a raised voice. "His victim is on the top. I wouldn't look at that one if I were you."

But Eldrad wasn't me. Indeed, there were very few people like me, and perhaps humanity was better off that way. I wasn't sure what my inner compulsion actually was, but I knew I liked death. Yeah, I really had no room for judging Tabitha for wanting to nibble on a person's ear. Maybe I'd bring her bag of them so she'd leave mine alone.

That made me smile. However a gift like that played out, whether it horrified her or made me happy, it should leave me safer.

I paused, partway down the hall and turned. "Hey, Eldrad. Could you bring Beck back here? I'd like to ask him a few questions."

"Sure," Eldrad yelled back. "Give us a few minutes."

I resumed walking. The room I was looking for was two doors down on the left.

The minifridge was like a thing out of a Frankenstein movie. It wasn't equipped for anything but storing, so it lacked the normal good lighting and high level of cleanliness one found in operating rooms.

The lighting was poor, and discolorations and blood stains were common. I'll bet if I looked hard enough, I might find a sliver of bone or something on the floor.

Even though the real refrigerators were in the wall, the room itself was cold. I stepped in and pulled out the long metal drawer where the clown's victim was stored.

It was immediately obvious that this was the victim of a shapeless demon. The face was flattened, almost a lump of grayish putty. The victim probably had trouble breathing or seeing in his final moments. When the demon delivered the shovel blow, it would practically have been an act of mercy.

Which troubled me.

A shapeless demon preferred to kill people by turning them into amorpheus flesh, a slow process which they appeared to enjoy. Sometimes, if it didn't get too carried away with its attack, it would use the corpse as a new host for another of its kind. Using a shovel would definitely have prevented that option.

The demon would only use a weapon like this if it were threatened, if it had no choice. Had the victim been fighting back?

That's when I noticed the other troubling thing about the mangled man in the fridge. Someone had taken a bite out of his ear. I'd a pretty good idea who it was.

A/N: * The 'Tijunana Unicorn Clown Spider' comes from 'Fall in May,' a story by @DarrenDean1, a.k.a 'Setting Sun.'