ZANDER'S FATHER PAUSED AT the edge of the street, taking in the scene before him. He ran a hand over his wavy brown hair, taming the flyaway strands caused by the helicopter wind before clasping both of his hands in front of him. With his jeans and teal-colored V-neck sweater, he looked more like some laid-back office manager rather than the leader of the supernatural world that I knew him to be. He even had a name befitting a megalomaniac like himself. Kasadu, or something ridiculous like that. I would have expected a power suit or military uniform, not a walking Gap advertisement. A line from Macbeth flitted through my mind. "Something wicked this way comes." Every fiber of my being urged me to run, but all I could do was stare with some kind of sick fascination.