Even Vampires Get the Blues - By Katie MacAlister Page 0,7

yourself at an emotional distance from women. You might as well use slags for all the involvement you have with them. I know you equate feeling affection for a woman with a Beloved, but you know, you can actually like a woman you sleep with without her saving you. Maybe even love her a little, if you're determined not to find your true better half."

"I don't have a better half," Paen said, fighting the desire to punch something, anything. "I'm whole as I am. I might be in eternal torment, but love, souls, and emotional commitments are all overrated. If I didn't know that for myself, all I'd have to do is look at you lot. Always falling in love with some woman or other, then moping around when they end up stomping all over your hearts - no, thanks. If all you're going to do is lecture me, you might as well go, too."

"I was about to ask what you wanted me to do to help you," Finn said with a grin.

"To find the statue?" Paen ran a hand through his hair, happy to change the subject of conversation. "You can't."

"Not technically, no. So what can I do to help you find it?"

Paen felt as if the weight of the world had descended upon his shoulders. "To be honest, I've no idea where to even start looking for it. I've never come across a mention of it in the family papers, and since Dad is completely incommunicado until someone tracks him down and forces a satellite phone into his hand, I'm at a loss as to where to begin searching. It could be in the castle, hidden somewhere. It could have been lost or stolen or sold over the years, and I'd have no way of knowing."

"Hmm," Finn said. "Sounds like we need some professional help."

"What sort of professional help?" Paen asked as his brother went to the phone. "If it's anything involving demons, it's right out. We're in enough trouble because of them."

Finn dug around in his jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of miscellaneous items, extracting a blue sticky note from his keys and change. "Not a demon. I met a woman last week in Edinburgh, an underwear model - man, she had great tits, just how I like them, big enough for my hands but not fake-looking - and she said her cousin was trained as a Diviner, and the two of them were just opening up a private detective business. I bet a Diviner could figure out where the statue is. I'll give Clare a ring and get the cousin's number."

"Might as well," Paen said glumly as he slumped down into a chair. Despite his protestations to the contrary, he wanted nothing more than to brood about the latest trial fate had dumped on him. As if things weren't bad enough already... "It's not like a Diviner could make things any worse."
Chapter 1
"What do you think of the sign?"

Clare set down a box of desk supplies and a bouquet of fresh cut flowers, and frowned. "Well, to be honest, Sam, I wasn't going to say anything about it, but I don't think the crow landing on your head this morning is a good omen. It means your life is about to go crisis central. But I'm here to help, and you know I'll do what I can to keep you from going outright insane."

"No... I meant the sign on the door." I nodded to where a local sign painter was putting away her stencils and paints.

"Oh. Mmm." Clare tipped her head and considered the freshly painted words on the upper half of the open office door, "EYE SCRY, SAMANTHA COSSE AND CLARE BENNET, DISCREET PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS. It's nice, but I Still think it's a bit too strange. People are going to think we're not normal private investigators."

"We aren't normal, Clare."

"Speak for yourself. I'm as normal as they come." She plucked a tulip from the bouquet and went to the window, using her elbow to wipe a small clean patch on the grimy glass. "Isn't it a lovely morning?"

I glanced out the window at the grey, sodden-looking sky, and shrugged as I arranged paper in my new printer/copier/fax machine. "It's a typical Scottish May: grey, cold, and wet."

"When I woke up this morning," Clare said dreamily, unconsciously striking an elegant pose that made her a star on the fashion runways, "the dew had kissed all the sweet little flowers just as if faeries had danced