"The clock said nearly 2 AM and all the lights were on but it didn't care. It was over seven feet tall, with a hunched back, the silhouette of a man with a tremendous head. An animal head like a lion's but I saw horns. It's that goat again, I thought. My eyes watered with fear as I punched in Cassandra's number. She'd be in the cemetery now with the exorcist." I am a private detective. I deal in forensics, in facts. A rape, a murder, a stolen painting. I am at ease with a district attorney, not with a demonologist, but in the summer of 2006, I was in serious trouble and entirely dependent upon a psychic and an exorcist. A curse? My father back from the dead? Had he been murdered? Why did my brother kill himself? Years later, in Paris, I would find the answers.