Free The Living End by Craig Schaefer

right hand. I had to admit it was a damn comfortable chair. “Only the best of everything?”
    “When Emma’s buying. She’s got an eye for design. She also just texted to say she won’t be joining us tonight. She’s been out at the ranch since Wednesday supervising construction.”
    I blinked. “Since Wednesday? Who the hell is watching Melanie?”
    “She’s almost eighteen, Daniel. She doesn’t need a babysitter.”
    “You know what I mean,” I said. “She shouldn’t be alone right now.”
    Caitlin cracked one of the Voss cylinders open. Sparkling water burbled into her glass, splashing against its curving crystal lip.
    “I know,” she said. “Tell you what. Let’s go out there tomorrow for lunch. We’ll see if we can cheer her up a little.”
    “Isn’t tomorrow a school day?”
    She shrugged, taking a sip from her glass. “And what teenager isn’t cheered up by getting out of school early? I’ll forge a note from her mother.”
    “You’re a genius,” I said.
    “So you say, but you’re the one who got us out of trouble today.”
    “That,” I said, “you can thank the shampoo commercial for. Crass commercialism to the rescue. So what’s going to happen to Pete?”
    “No human host, no possession. The house developed an unfortunate and sudden plague of roaches. Fortunately, posing as the homeowner, I was able to find an emergency exterminator. They draped the house with a tarp and started pumping in gas within the hour.”
    “Wait,” I said. “You got that kid killed? I’m not okay with that, Caitlin.”
    She waved a careless hand at me. “Hardly. ‘Pete’ realized he was marinating in poisoned meat and fled. His mortal shell stumbled out of the house, coughing himself hoarse. He’s in the hospital now, being treated for chemical exposure, but he should survive. Maybe, if he remembers any of this, it’ll teach him not to play with the occult.”
    The door swung open. Naavarasi swept into the room with her lips pursed and eyes cold. Even from my seat, I couldn’t miss the faint odor of insecticide clinging to her evening gown.

Nine
    “O h,” Caitlin said to Naavarasi, pretending to look surprised. “You didn’t come straight here, did you? No, you must have gone to the house to see about your little friend Pete. Sorry about the fumigation. But we did send him home, as agreed. Why do you look so disappointed?”
    Naavarasi took a seat at the conference table. Across from me, two chairs down from Caitlin.
    “I’m not disappointed at all,” she said, none of her words matching the look on her face. “I’m pleased. Wonderfully pleased.”
    “I’m so glad to hear that,” Caitlin said. “After all, I wouldn’t want to think there was any kind of subterfuge involved in your request. Some of the intelligence you gave us turned out to be faulty.”
    “I’m shocked,” Naavarasi said.
    Caitlin spread her hands, showing her open palms. “Let’s get on with the meeting, shall we? Baron Naavarasi, I bid you formal greeting on behalf of the eminent and merciful Prince Sitri and welcome you within our sacred borders, under the terms of the Cold Peace.”
    Naavarasi’s eyes narrowed to slits. “So very formal.”
    “We have these formalities for a reason,” Caitlin said. “And tradition is important.”
    “Right,” Naavarasi said. “Wouldn’t want to miss that. Is this what you do? Parrot pretty words someone wrote for you while you pretend you’re an automaton?”
    Caitlin tilted her head. “Greeting dignitaries, Baron, is part of my duty as Prince Sitri’s hound. And visible emotions have no place in a diplomatic conference.”
    I poured myself a glass of sparkling water, and leaned back. Naavarasi fidgeted in her chair, marinating in her unhappiness, and I could see why. Caitlin was treating the hunger-spirit like she was part of hell’s dominion, when that was the last thing Naavarasi wanted.
    “Hey,” I said, “Naavarasi.”
    Both women looked my way. I raised