Inhuman by Eileen Wilks Page A

downtown, does he? But he has—had—a taste for the panty hose crowd, if you get what I mean. Women in heels with office jobs. Did pretty well with them, too."
    "How did he do last night?"
    Her smile was quick and cocky. "Just fine." The smile died. "Or not so fine, maybe, if she's the one who killed him. He left with her about midnight."
    "Who?"
    "Well, I didn't know her—don't think I've ever seen her in here before. But Ed Bates did. He's a real regular, in here every night, and he knew her, see? That's why that detective took Ed with him, so he could make a statement. Lord, but Ed'll be full of himself." She inhaled hard enough to sink her cheeks in, then blew the smoke out her nose. "If she turns out to be your killer, he's going to be dining out on his story for months."
    "Did you learn the name of this woman?"
    "I heard Ed telling the detective about her. We all did. She's the one who did his therapy after he totaled his pickup a few months ago." She paused, puffing. "Some kind of weird-ass name. I can't quite call it to mind, but it sounded foreign."
    "Kai?" he asked, his hear pounding. "Was the name Kai Michalski?"
    "That's her." Satisfied, she mashed out the stub of her cigarette. "That's the name of the bitch who did that poor boy in."
    BETWEEN patients, Kai surfed the Internet.
    Hellhounds, it turned out, did not have a great rep. Not here, anyway. Maybe in other realms they were considered upright or cuddly or commonplace. Here they showed up in role-playing games as monsters. They were popular in comic books, too, generally as minions of the devil. Of course, those weren't reliable sources—a search on her own name would suggest she was Japanese, Hawaiian, or a character in a violent video game. But they indicated the general outlook.
    Her dictionary, consulted on the run, hadn't been much help. It described a hellhound as "a mythical watchdog of hell." Obviously Nathan was no myth, but she couldn't hold it against the dictionary for getting that part wrong. When it was printed, lots of things were considered myth that turned out to be true, like dragons. But they were just as wrong with the "of hell" part.
    At least, she hoped they were. Hell. Hellhound. The connection was obvious, but had to be a mistake, a misnaming. Nothing good came from hell.
    Hell itself was misnamed, of course, if by that you meant the demon realm, not a final resting place for sinners. Anglos had long since muddied the two, but Dine tradition held that demons came from another world. Nor was it the same realm elves lived in. Kai was sure of that.
    Almost sure. It had been years since Grandfather taught her the stories, and few of them involved the far people, the Navajo term for elves.
    She liked Wikipedia's entry better. It mentioned the mythical guardian of the gates of hell, too, but it also spoke of spectral hounds who haunted spots in Great Britain. That didn't seem to apply to Nathan, who was hardly spectral. But it went on to say that hellhounds were part of the Wild Hunt.
    The Hunt was connected to Faerie, not hell. She was seriously fuzzy on what the connection was, but she knew that much. And Nathan's surname was Hunter.
    Clue, Kai.
    But she wasn't going to know, dammit. Not until she saw him again and could ask. At the time, she'd barely been able to stammer, "What? You're what?"
    Nathan had just looked at her with that sad smile and said they would talk later, when she'd had a chance to think things over. He had duties he needed to tend to. And he'd gotten in his car and driven off.
    What was she supposed to think over? She wasn't even sure what a hellhound was! Some sort of supernatural dog, yes, and she had to admit that was a breath stealer, but he wasn't a dog now.
    Or maybe he was a part-time dog. Did he Change when he wanted to, like lupi? Or according to some involuntary, arcane schedule? Full moons, eclipses, leap years, alternate Wednesdays…
    Part of the sidhe, he'd said. The wild sidhe.
    Kai was in her cubby