The sound of gravel popping under the tires was loud as Lucifer drew up to the scattering of trailers and sheds that made up the little village of Hot Shot. There was a single street light towering over the place, casting a white light to show police tape pretty much everywhere. There was even a piece hanging from the light itself, probably sent up there by a wayward breeze.

It would seem sloppy except that the entire place looked like a landfill. Piles of actual garbage sat in front of each trailer and shed. There were multiple beater cars up on blocks. A chest freezer sat in front of what looked like an old barn, clearly broken and no doubt filled with something mysterious. This was the wrong side of the tracks by Bon Temps standards, it seemed.

In the cold light of the streetlamp nothing seemed to move. "They're all dead," Lucifer said. "An entire community?"

"So they say," Eric agreed.

Both men left the car, the sound of the doors shutting loud in the night. Eric led the way, seeming to know his way around the place. "Been here before?" Lucifer asked as he headed down the path toward the barn that seemed on the verge of falling down.

"These people were hooked on V for a while," Eric told him. He stopped in front of the chest freezer—which was once white, but now was the colour of years of dirt—and opened it up. He didn't recoil but the smell that came from it was horrid. He shut the lid quickly and turned back toward the barn. "I used to come here myself to sell, when the Queen of Louisiana forced me to sell, but I stopped when I . . . convinced . . . Lafayette to push V for me."

"So the gossip is not wrong," Lucifer said as he nearly stepped on the biggest pile of dog crap he'd ever seen. He hopped away from it, the idea of getting it all over his lovely loafers giving him anxiety. He would do well to watch where he was going while they were here. How could people live like this?

"Any of the things Sam and others have said about the werepanthers of Hot Shot are correct. The inbreeding is not an overstatement. They did so in an effort to keep their Were blood pure. As far as I'm aware, this was the only werepanther community in North America."

"So they kept to themselves," Lucifer mused. "To ensure they continued to produce more Weres?"

Eric nodded, disappearing into the shadows of the open barn door.

Lucifer followed, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dark. "Do you think whatever illness wiped them out was helped along by the inbreeding?"

Eric prowled around old appliances, bikes, ATVs, and what appeared to be an old tub. The vampire had no trouble looking for clues in the dark. "I think it certainly put their genetics at risk," Eric agreed with Lucifer. "Same as the drugs. It wasn't just V they were hooked on, which would have bolstered their healing abilities. I'm well aware that the Norrises cooked and dealt in their own drugs too."

Lucifer, still in the doorway, spotted a light switch and, being the kind of person who liked touching everything, flicked it on. Two bare bulbs slowly came to life above them, barely doing anything to brighten the inside of the outbuilding.

Eric paused in his search, standing directly beneath one of the bulbs. He looked good standing there, the only spot of decadence in the place. The hazy light from above made his blonde hair spark with colour, and the black leather looked scrumptious on him. Desire shot through Lucifer and he was half-tempted to forget their investigation and drag the vampire back to the car so he could have his way with him. But Eric seemed to sense something—rather, he smelled something.

The vampire moved, a blur as he swept past the junk and headed toward a rolling door that led into a back room. He disappeared into the dark, a growl rattling in his throat.

Clues! Lucifer navigated his way through the mess, eager to see what Eric had found. But it was pitch black in the room, the light from the main part of the barn not even cutting through the shadows. Lucifer moved along the wall, searching for a switch. When he finally found it, he let out a noise of success before turning on the light.

Unsurprisingly, another dirty bulb hanging from the high ceiling. This room was small though, and the single bulb lit it just fine. Lucifer hadn't expected to see a metal-frame bed in the middle of the room, and nothing else except trash and junk pushed up against the walls.

Lucifer also hadn't expected to find Eric crouched on top of the bed, sniffing at the grungy pillows.

"Viking?" Lucifer questioned.

There was no response, just Eric lifting one of the pillows to his face. His eyes were closed. Clearly he was scenting something, but Lucifer had no idea what. When Eric threw the pillow down with a scowl, Lucifer moved forward, needing Eric to see him, to focus on him. The vampire was edging on angry, and Lucifer wanted to ground him.

"What is it you're smelling?" Lucifer asked. "Whatever that green stuff is?"

Eric shook his head and then slid off the bed to stand close to Lucifer. "I thought I smelled Sookie, but I was wrong."

"Wrong?" Lucifer asked, surprised. "I find that hard to believe."

"It was Jason who slept in this bed," Eric said. "She smells infinitely more delicious, but there is a similarity." Eric frowned at the dirty bed. "For a minute though . . . I thought it was she who had been bound there."

"Jason was bound here? Perhaps he was kidnapped and brought here before they took the halflings to wherever they are now?" Lucifer asked, wondering if Hot Shot was a bigger clue to their puzzle than he'd initially thought.

Eric was shaking his head no, though. "The scent is too old," he said. "And I don't smell that rancid stench. Just Jason and . . ." he trailed off, staring at the bed. "Pretty much every woman in Hot Shot."

Lucifer blinked, processing the information, and then grinned wide. "You did say his fairy power was his dick, did you not?"

This got a snort of dry laugh from the vampire, even as he shook his head. "I don't think he was here willingly. I can smell the fear in the room." He paused to look in all four corners—not that there was anything interesting to see. "It's been a while since this happened, too. I'd say at least a couple months."

He looked back at Lucifer and smirked. "I'd say the werepanthers knew their gene pool was getting a bit too condensed and thought to dilute a bit. Maybe they knew he had fairy blood."

"So they kidnapped him? Forced him?" Lucifer asked, feeling appalled.

Eric shrugged. "It's all just a guess. But Jason was in this bed for a good long while, and he wasn't happy while he was here. Which would generally be considered an oxymoron when it comes to him."

"But all this happened months ago?" Lucifer asked, getting a confirming nod. Lucifer's shoulders slumped. "So this has nothing to do with the missing halflings and the green ooze at Ms. Stackhouse's house."

"So it would seem," Eric ground out. He blasted past Lucifer, out into the larger room and then into the night beyond. Lucifer followed, eyes on the ground once he hit the outside.

The light from the street lamp was grey when he finally bothered to look up. A fog was settling over Hot Shot, having rolled in quickly while they were inside. Eric did not seem to be in the fog. The creak of a screen door to Lucifer's right told him where the vampire had gone and Lucifer headed toward the trailer in question.

The sound of a crack told Lucifer that Eric had met with a locked door and dealt with it accordingly. It swung open just as Lucifer was coming up the steps onto the makeshift porch surrounding the trailer. Eric's eyes glittered in the dark as he looked back at the devil and then disappeared inside. Lucifer dutifully followed, pausing to see the doorknob still slowly rolling on the porch floor.

"What's special about this trailer?" Lucifer asked, stepping inside. A single, solitary table lamp was already on, lighting the main room to show a home that matched the neighbourhood outside. Empty beer cans littered every available space—floor, counters, table. A few pizza boxes were stacked on top of the stove, and even though it was the middle of the night, flies buzzed around them, telling Lucifer there was probably food still rotting inside.

There was a vase of dead flowers sitting at the centre of the table, and Lucifer couldn't help but wonder if it had once been a bright spot of light in an otherwise depressing home. Now it was just part of a dead person's past.

"Why are we here?" Lucifer tried again, watching Eric as he moved about the small main room.

"Jason was in this trailer before he ended up out back," Eric informed him. "I'm just curious if I can figure out what happened."

Ah, yes. Another mystery. Less pressing but equally intriguing. What predicament had Jason Stackhouse gotten himself into some months back? Lucifer himself had to admit he was curious—how a man could get himself kidnapped in such a fashion. And how he had gotten himself away, for that matter.

Lucifer was the first to open one of the narrow doors that led off of the main room. It was dark inside, nothing but shadows within shadows. But before he could flip a switch to see what lay beyond—undoubtedly a bedroom—one of those shadows seemed to move. Lucifer narrowed his eyes, trying to track what had moved, but admittedly his devilish senses weren't quite as honed as a vampire's for the night.

A low growl came from the room and Lucifer briefly wondered if there had been a vampire hiding in there. Except . . .

The growl wasn't quite right.

Before Lucifer could even begin to figure things out, or perhaps turn on a light, one of the shadows moved again, glittering eyes the only spot of light as it hurled itself toward Lucifer and the open door. It was shock that registered rather than fear when the massive black cat reached him and knocked him to the ground.

Lucifer's head hit the linoleum floor with a crack, but the devil hadn't been feeling very needy for his vampire while exploring Hot Shot, and rather than pass out from the concussion-inducing hit, he only felt a mild headache—and annoyance at being caught off guard.

Of course, the rather large black-furred face above him was shocking all on its own. The big yellow eyes glared down at Lucifer like perhaps he would make a delicious snack. Bad news for the kitty though, because Lucifer wasn't in the mood to be panther chow. He reached up, hands gripping a too-thin ribcage, ready to toss the creature back toward the bedroom it had jumped from. But before he could, there came a second growl, this was definitely coming from a vampire.

Eric, to be precise.

Suddenly, the panther that had been pinning Lucifer down was gone, the sound of its body crashing against the window loud in the small room. Lucifer shot up off the floor just as Eric dove through the window after the giant cat he'd just forcefully evicted from the trailer.

Bloody fucking hell!

Things had gotten exciting!

Lucifer headed for the window himself, pausing to see the vampire and panther sparring in the dirt just below the window. It seemed Eric didn't like the idea of Lucifer becoming someone else's snack. Feeling a strange sense of love, he vaulted through the window to land just feet from the tussling vampire and big cat. Was it a real panther—or was it a werepanther?

How the hell could you tell?

It became obvious when Eric finally got the panther to submit, his fangs out in a display of anger and dominance as he throttled the cat. "Shift back, you little bitch," Eric growled at the cat.

A strangled yowl was the only response he got.

Eric rose from the ground, dragging the panther up with him, his hands around its throat squeezing. The cat's yellow eyes bulged.

"Change back!"

The shift between sleek, black panther to emaciated woman was almost instantaneous. It wasn't a terrifying sight to behold, it wasn't some life-changing thing. Unlike in the movies there was no big lead up. A few moments after Eric had shaken her, the black fur disappeared, the body changed, and a small, naked woman hung in Eric's grip, tiny hands clawing at Eric's arms. Lucifer blinked in surprise, wondering if he'd somehow missed the big reveal.

But no, there she was. So skinny he could count her ribs. Dark blonde hair greasy and lank. And beautiful eyes that pleaded with the vampire to let her breathe before she choked to death.

"Let her go, Viking," Lucifer said softly. This woman couldn't fight him and hope to survive. At least not as a human.

"She attacked you," Eric growled.

"Of course she did. She was hiding and I got too close. If everyone is right about Hot Shot, she's the only one left alive. It won't do to kill the only one who can tell us anything."

Eric's growl almost turned into a whine. He clearly did not like the logic of it. The poor woman had posed a threat to Lucifer and the vampire wanted nothing more than to stop her from hurting Lucifer ever again. There was a compliment in there that eased the anxiety Lucifer had been feeling since they'd first entered Sookie's house.

Lucifer reached a hand out, resting it against Eric's arm. He could feel the tension wire-tight beneath the leather jacket. "The only one who is in danger here is the poor woman in your grip, Viking. I'm fine. You're fine. Let her go."

Eric's growling stop and he stiffly let the woman go, his hand releasing his chokehold for her to fall to the ground and crumble at his feet. He scowled down at her. "You don't fucking touch him."

The woman sat there, naked and trembling, taking deep gulps of air. She looked up, as if about to speak, but a sudden wracking cough gripped her, and she spent the next few moments hacking up a lung. She hunched over, head down and back shaking as she tried to regain control of her senses.

"She does not look well," Lucifer said, taking Eric by the arm and pulling him back. Neither one of them should be able to catch whatever the woman had, but he couldn't help but remember their conversation about Hep D the night before. Where he wasn't worried about this sick woman hurting Eric, even in her panther form, he did find he worried about the vampire getting sick.

Immortality that came with weaknesses was not immortality, for Dad's sake. Lucifer didn't like the fact that there were numerous ways for Eric to die. At least Lucifer's weaknesses were limited.

Still . . . Now probably wasn't the time to be thinking about this.

"Why aren't you dead?" Eric asked.

"Is that how we treat people?" Lucifer asked, admonishing Eric for being rude.

"She fucking tried to kill you," Eric replied. "And why the hell is she alive when the rest of her people are dead?"

The woman's coughing had subsided but now she burst into tears. "They're all gone," she agreed. "Every last one of them. Even Felton."

"And how come you're not?" Eric asked again.

"I don't know," she said honestly, still crouched on the ground, as if she didn't know what to do with herself now that she was there. "We all got sick, all of us."

"When?" Lucifer asked.

The woman shrugged. "I don't know. A week ago?"

Lucifer's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That fast?"

She nodded. "Felton was the last to go. Thought I'd feel sadder about that, but I didn't."

"How come you're the only one left?" Eric repeated for the third time, clearly getting impatient.

The woman shrugged again. "Once Felton died, I was sure it was the end of me. But damned if I was going to die in this shitty body. It took a lot out of me, changing. I passed out. But when I came to, I felt better. Just a bit." Tears began to form again. "If I'd known it sooner, maybe I could have saved some of the others. We all could have changed. Stayed wild until we got better." Her shoulders began to shake again, this time from silent sobs rather than coughing.

The two men looked at each other, and Eric gave Lucifer a sneer before disappearing back into the trailer. A moment later he was looming over the woman again, dropping a ratty quilt over her shoulders. "You're Crystal, right?" he asked, and she gave a silent nod.

"You're the only one left in Hot Shot?"

Another nod.

"Do you know how you got sick? Who brought it into the neighbourhood?"

This time she shook her head. "We all got it at the same time," she said. "First I thought maybe it was bad drugs, but when the kids started getting sick too, I knew it couldn't be."

"So you have no idea where the fuck you caught it?"

Crystal gathered the blanket about her and stood up. She wrapped the quilt around herself, but not before Lucifer could see just how skinny she was. He wondered if it was because of the sickness, but he suspected she hadn't exactly been living a healthy life before everyone in her community just up and died.

"Far as I can tell, we caught it in our dreams," Crystal said, her yellow gaze daring Eric to disagree with her.

"In your dreams?" Lucifer asked, mystified at her response.

Was she currently on drugs? Considering the neighbourhood they were in, it wouldn't be surprising.

"Our dreams," Crystal confirmed. "All of us, we had the same dreams these last few days."

"Dreams of what?" Lucifer asked, finding himself curious.

"Monsters," Crystal told them both. "Monsters that came from the bayous, dripping stagnant water and accusing us of being something I ain't never heard of before." She folded her arms under the quilt, looking from Eric to Lucifer and back again. "I ask you, how can I dream up something I never learnt of?"

"Dreams are like that," Eric said.

Crystal shook her head. "No. It weren't like any normal dream. The monster accused me of being Unseelie, whatever the hell that means. And then told me I deserved to die, for being born of bastard gods that consort with humans." Crystal screwed up her face, and for a moment it looked like she was about to let loose another volley of coughs. A second later her features smoothed out. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"The Unseelie?" Lucifer asked, the word whispering against his thoughts in familiarity. Where had he heard that before? When had he heard that before? Certainly not in the last few millennia. Friends of Dad perhaps?

"That's what I said," Crystal confirmed.

"What did the monsters look like?" Lucifer asked. Then a thought struck him, and feeling inspired, he asked a second question. "What did they smell like?"

Crystal's pointy features screwed up in disgust at that question. "They reeked of rotting fish and sea water that's been sitting in the hot sun."

"But they came from the bayous?"

"It's a fucking dream. How the hell am I supposed to make sense of any of it?" Crystal asked, glaring at Lucifer. When she gave him that look, he really could see the cat in her. Narrow features, pointy chin, small nose. Definitely a cat in human clothing. "I just know we all had it. We all got cursed—in our dreams."

"What did the monster look like?" Lucifer insisted. There was something here. A connection. He knew it—the monster smelled like rotting fish. "Did the monster have algae on it?"

Crystal's eyes lit up. "Yes! Just dripping with the nasty stuff. Like he'd been sitting in the bayou for years, letting that shit grow all over him."

Lucifer looked to Eric, giving him a meaningful look. There was definitely something going on here. He didn't know how the dead werepanthers were related to the missing halflings, but clearly they were. Probably the gators too, just as Sam Merlotte had suggested. However, despite his suspicions, he didn't think he was going to get more information out of this Crystal.

She began to cough again, clearly sick. When it finally subsided, she turned to Eric, a hopeful look in her eye. "Why are you here? To sell us some V? Maybe it would help me."

Eric took a single step back, clearly unwilling to cut his own wrist and give her what she wanted. "I don't think V will help you if it's a curse."

"We won't know unless we try," Crystal said, taking her own step forward.

"I will not heal you," Eric insisted, but then stopped. He reached into his pocket to dig out his wallet, and seconds later little pieces of facial tissue began fluttering to the ground. Each piece held a single, solitary drop of what Lucifer knew was vampire blood. "That's all I've got. I'm not sharing any more."

Crystal dove to the ground, her blanket falling away as she grabbed for the tiny samples of V that Eric was apparently carting around on his person. She immediately put one on her tongue, not even a bit hesitant about the fact it had been on the ground. She closed her eyes and seemed to relax as she let it melt in her mouth before swallowing the tiny bit of dried vampire blood. She kept the rest tightly in her fist.

"If you're not here to sell, I'd just as soon have you leave," Crystal said, as she stood back up. She wasn't the least bit bashful of the fact that she was still stark naked, but considering everything Lucifer had heard about the community of Hot Shot, perhaps that wasn't very surprising. She looked around herself at the trailers, tears brimming in her eyes again. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know it ain't going somewhere with a vampire and his friend."

Eric made a sound of agreement as he tucked his wallet back into his pants. "I suspect you'll want to go back to being a panther. You'll do better in the woods, I think."

Crystal nodded, even as she put another drop of V in her mouth.

"I've got one last question for you," Eric said.

Crystal looked at the vampire, golden eyes assessing him.

"What did you do with Jason Stackhouse?"

"Jason," Crystal nearly whispered the name. "He left us."

"Perhaps the correct word would be escaped?" Lucifer offered, remembering the sad little room the Stackhouse man had apparently been tied up in.

Crystal frowned. "It weren't like that. I loved him. But I couldn't have him unless we brought him into our pack. It was the only way Daddy would let me keep him."

Eric's eyebrows drew together over his blue gaze. "Are you saying you tried to turn him?"

Crystal nodded.

Eric cocked his head to the side. "Did it work?"

Crystal shook her head. "I don't think so. He ran away before the full moon, but he never came back. If we'd been successful, he would have returned to us, accepted us as his new family."

Eric grunted and then waved a hand as if dismissing her.

"Will you be turning back into a panther?" Lucifer asked, curiosity getting the best of him. He'd love to see her shift again.

"I think I will," Crystal said. "I felt better as a cat. Always do."

But rather than change right then, she tried her best to sashay up the steps and back inside her trailer, probably planning on stashing her new source of V somewhere. She didn't sashay very well though—the disease that had killed her family members had taken its toll on her body, and she was nothing but skin and bones. She barely had any hips, so to speak. Certainly not enough to shake her booty at the devil with.

"We need to go," Eric said, turning toward the car.

"Now? Why?" Lucifer asked, his gaze on the door Crystal had disappeared behind. He wanted to see her change again, not leave.

"Because the sun is coming up in a couple hours and we need to get back Shreveport," Eric replied. "Unless you want me spending the night in Sookie's house?"

"Point taken," Lucifer agreed, suitably distracted from his interest in werepanthers. It was clear she didn't want to see them, anyway. They'd gotten all they would from Hot Shot, which was more than he'd expected. "To Fangtasia?" he asked, as he headed toward the car.

"Indeed," Eric replied.