"Why the hell would I want the help of the Cazadors? They're little more than leashed murderers, aren't they?" A fact I knew because Uncle Quinn had once been one. He'd survived the experience, which apparently was rare in that line of work.
"The Cazadors are the most dangerous and deadly hunters ever created. Once they are unleashed, they will not stop until they bring down and destroy their target. If anyone can find the person or persons behind your mother's slaughter, it will be them." She hesitated, and that cold, cool smile twitched her lips again. "They do not have the legal restrictions that the Directorate has."
I stared at her for a moment, trying to ignore the chill creeping across my skin, the knot of fear deep inside that suggested even standing here listening to this was a very dangerous thing to do.
"I can't give you my father. He doesn't exist on this plane anymore. His recourse to flesh has been stripped from him."
"So you have had contact with him?"
"Briefly. He didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know."
If she sensed the lie, she didn't react to it. "Which means there is the possibility he might contact you in the future."
"Maybe." I shrugged. "So is that all you want me to do? Inform you when my absent parent contacts me?"
"In part, yes."
"And the rest of it?"
She tilted her head sideways and studied me for a minute. "You are aware, of course, that all three of the dark path's gates were recently opened?"
I nodded, then crossed my arms and waited for the rest of it. And tried to ignore the thick knot of apprehension growing in my stomach.
"Were you also aware that, in the brief time they were open, things came back through?"
I stared at her, then licked my suddenly dry lips and said, "Things? What sort of things?"
She shrugged. "Creatures who can gain flesh and walk in this world, and others who maintain spectral form and who can only be seen by those with certain talents."