Page 103 of Sins of the Heart

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Toronto, Canada

BONE TIRED AND ACHING FOR BED, Roxy headed along

Richmond Street. Earlier in the evening, she’d made a

dozen phone calls, putting out subtle feelers about the

dead reaper and the kid, Dana.

But no one had heard anything. No one knew anything. It was like talking to the three wise monkeys.

Except none of the Topworld grunts she talked to were

what she’d call wise.

The lack of information bugged her. Something

didn’t add up. Her gut was telling her she was missing

the obvious, but her brain couldn’t seem to connect the

dots.

Fed up with the phone, she’d tried the direct approach. Armed with a story about being referred by a

guy she’d met on the plane, Frank…Something—

Darn, she couldn’t remember his last name; maybe

EVE SILVER

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they could help her with that?—she’d walked through

the chrome-and-glass front doors of the eighteenthcentury factory that had been converted into the Temple

of Setnakht.

She’d spent the next three fucking hours getting the

grand tour. The sanctuary. The banquet hall. Even the

gleaming kitchen. They’d hustled her past the private

offices at the back of the building when she slowed to

catch a glimpse, but they were particularly proud of the

green roof garden and thrilled to linger there. They’d

been friendly and forthright, offering reams of information, none of which suited her purposes or answered her

actual questions. And, of course, they’d hit her up for a

donation.

Fun didn’t begin to describe it.

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