“Whereabouts?” said Ethan, sweeping the torch beam back and forth.
“Just there,” Gertie said, insistently, “on the pillow next to his head.”
Ethan concentrated the light where she had indicated until it reflected off the object. “What's this?” he said as he plucked the item from its position which was just poking out from between Devlin's head and the silk pillow upon which it rested. He held it up to the light.
“What is it, Ethan?” asked Stitches.
“A sweet wrapper,” said the lycan, turning the piece of plastic over. “From a Sherbet Demon.”
Three quarters of an hour later they'd checked the rest of the graves in the cemetery and unearthed another four disturbed plots, and with the help of Biddle, whom they had roused from a deep slumber, had identified who they belonged to and establi
