“Did you design the graphics yourself?” I asked him.
“No.” He took a swig of kombucha. “I used an illustrator I’ve worked with before. I didn’t tell him anything about the project,” he added. “I just sent him the specs. But if you need additional graphics, just let me know.”
“I will.” It occurred to me that between the designing and the outsourcing and the hosting, Lee really had invested a lot in this project. “You really went above and beyond, Lee. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, I promised,” he said. “And you delivered.”
“Just don’t ask again,” I said. “That’s not a favor I can grant twice. Hel’s tolerance only goes so far.”
Lee nodded. “Oh, believe me, I won’t. But . . .” Looking down, he fiddled with his bottle of kombucha. “There might be other ways I could help you, Daisy.”
“Oh, yeah?” I was skeptical but curious. “Like what? No offense.”
Lifting his head, he gave me a wry smile. “Fair enough. Can I show you something?”
“Sure.”
“Back in a sec.” Lee bounded out of the room on gangly limbs, returning a few minutes later wrapped in his black leather duster.
I did my best to raise one eyebrow at him, settled for two. “I thought we talked about this, Lee.”
“I know, I know. But there’s a reason for it this time.” Undoing the buttons, he opened his duster like a flasher to reveal a square white box strapped to his chest, then thumbed a switch on his belt. “Check it out.”
A blast of intensive white light blazed forth from the box, bright enough that I shielded my eyes involuntarily. “Gah!”
“It’s full-spectrum lighting!” Lee shouted, as though he needed to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of the light. Which didn’t make sense, but I totally got where he was coming from. “The kind therapists recommend for people with seasonal depression!” He switched it off. “Artificial sunlight, Daisy. Think about it! It’s a great weapon to use against vampires.”
Damn, that really was kind of brilliant. I couldn’t believe no one had thought of it before. Or maybe they had, but if so, I’d never heard about it. Or it didn’t work, which was also a distinct possibility.
“Have you field-tested it?” I asked Lee.
“Are you kidding?” He shot me an incredulous glance. “By myself? Hell, no. I thought maybe you could use it.”
I thought about it and shook my head. “I’m pretty sure that would be a violation of protocol.”
Lee looked confused. “What protocol?”
“Yeah, exactly.” I took a deep breath, exhaled. “See . . . it’s hard to explain, but there’s a set of understood rules that apply to the eldritch community. None of them are clear and some of them are arbitrary. It’s . . . complicated. But honoring them is part of maintaining Hel’s order, as is weighing them against what mundane law dictates. The House of Shadows is a sort of sovereign territory. Going in there armed with dauda-dagr means taking a firm stance in my role as Hel’s liaison. But if I were to go in armed with artificial sunlight . . .” I shook my head again. “That’s like a declaration of war. And there’s no war, Lee. All of us here in Pemkowet are doing our best to maintain a peaceful coexistence. And I’m doing my best to facilitate it.”
“Oh.”
“It’s still a great idea,” I said.
“Well, what about me?” he asked. “What if I wore it out on patrol with you sometime? I could be your backup. Would that be a violation of protocol?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress an involuntary smile. “Lee, I don’t want to imply that you watch too much TV, because that would totally be a pot-kettle situation, but I don’t patrol the town. That’s what the active-duty police officers do. I only get involved if there’s a reason for it.”
“Okay, now I feel like an idiot.” Lee slipped out of his duster, revealing the harness and battery pack that held the light box in place. “It’s just . . . growing up in Pemkowet, surrounded by the eldritch community, it’s like I’ve always been in it, but not entirely of it.” He unsnapped the buckle on the harness. “It’s always there, but you only ever catch sight of it in glimpses, out of the corner of your eye.”
“Hello?” I turned my hands palm up. “You went to high school with me.”
“Yeah, but you don’t count.” He backtracked. “I don’t mean that, I mean . . . you only