This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

FablePrint

Spells & Ashes, The Dark Files, Book One

Copyright © 2019 by Kim Richardson

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

in whole or in any form.

Cover by Kim Richardson

Text in this book was set in Garamond.

Printed in the United States of America

Summary: Samantha, a Dark witch, must join forces with the angel-born in order to stop an evil greater demon, while keeping her own dark secret.

ISBN-13:

ISBN-10:

[1. Supernatural—Fiction. 2. Demonology—Fiction.

3. Magic—Fiction].

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHARMS & DEMONS

CHAPTER 1

DARK HUNT

CHAPTER 1

BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

T he demon was fast. Damn fast.

It had dragged me all through the streets of Upper East Side Manhattan, snaking through the backwoods of Central Park to finally arrive in Hell’s Kitchen.

Groaning, I forced my legs to keep working, my lungs starving for air as I tried to ignore the cramp pinching at my side.

I didn’t get paid enough for this crap.

This would be my tenth exorcism this month. No, I’m not talking about heads spinning while spewing out fountains of pea soup. That’s Hollywood. This is real life, and demonic possession is very real.

It happened when a demon hitched a ride inside a person’s body, making them do obscene things and act out of character, all the while sucking on their life force until they eventually dropped dead.

There had been a sudden influx of demons the past two weeks in New York City. Rumors had it that an unusually large Rift—a tear in the Veil, the dividing line between humans and the Netherworld demons—had opened, and thousands of demons had escaped through it.

It had been a busy month for the City of New York in terms of demon parasites, but that didn’t mean the city was free of other demons. Hell no. There were a lot of creepier crawlers and things far worse than your average body-snatching demon bastards. Still, tonight I was graced with the presence of yet another demon.

There was no way in hell a fourteen-year-old human girl could run that fast for so long without having to stop and catch her breath. The demon inside her was running her down, pushing her body to an extreme no human could endure. It had stolen her body and now ran it like a puppet on strings, feeding on her life force. If I didn’t get to her soon, the girl’s body would collapse, and she would die, leaving the demon to consume her soul and then human-hop into another poor bastard. Typically possessions happened when humans were stupid enough to play at summoning demons in exchange for the usual crap—money, fame, sex. Still, I couldn’t let her die.

Unlike demons or other half-breeds blessed with supernatural speed and endurance, I had to rely on my bursts of sweet adrenaline and my profound hatred for body-snatching demons to fuel my legs. I was fit, but I wasn’t an athlete. My mortal body could only endure so much, and if I didn’t banish the demon soon, I was going to drop dead of exhaustion.

I’d been hired by the Dark Witch Court to keep tabs on the Veil, mostly on hunting and banishing whatever demon or supernatural baddy came through. The pay wasn’t great, but it took care of the bills and helped me keep my family home, which was all I needed.

Demons were always tampering with the Veil. They’d pierce it and manage to cross over to our world to feast on a few human souls. Days like the solstice or full moons, when the Veil was at its thinnest, resulted in a larger outpour of demons.

That’s where I came in.

I’d blast them back to the Netherworld. Fire usually did the trick. A couple of fireballs later, and the demons were back in their world, leaving the mortal world a little safer.

I hated nothing more than a body-snatching demon. Okay, maybe two body-snatching demons. The fact remained; I loathed them. There was something utterly disturbing about being trapped in your own body while someone else piloted it around, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I wouldn’t stand for it. I would rip that demon out of her, through her throat if I had to.

I caught a flicker of movement across the darkened street and turned to see a shadow retreat. Julia, the girl, disappeared through a door at the bottom of a six-story apartment building on West 46 th Street. Good. I couldn’t exorcise a demon openly in the streets of New York City, not without getting my ass arrested and my face splattered all over social media.

I took a deep breath and followed her.

A few humans blurred past me as I ran up the street. Humans—blissfully ignorant of the paranormal dangers and horrors that surrounded them. The Veil acted like a glamour, changing the way things looked to human eyes and preventing them from seeing the paranormal world and its inhabitants. Must be nice to wake up each morning with only your bills and mortgage and kids to worry about. Not the giant-winged ugnur demon that slipped through a Rift and decided to feast on your brain because, well, that’s what they do.

Exhaust fumes, hot pavement, and the stench of garbage displaced the night air as I ran across the street. The gathering dark rushed in to fill the spaces where the streetlights couldn’t reach. There were no lights in the windows, which was the perfect breeding grounds for demons who thrived in darkness. In turn, the darkness fed them with power. But that didn’t stop me.

By the time I reached the apartment building, my heart wanted to explode through my chest to say hello to the concrete slab at my feet. Damn.

You’d think by now I would have made a charm for endurance and speed. I made a mental note to look into that when I got home. A pair of super legs would have been golden right about now.

Pinching the cramp at my side, I gulped down buckets of air, feeling slightly dizzy, and pulled open the door. I stepped into the darkened lobby and stopped to listen. The faint whisper of water running through pipes answered back. Then nothing. The dim scent of sulfur lay on the air. I smiled. My demon.

The lobby led into an equally dark hallway—a recipe for more trouble. But I never followed recipes.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I stepped forward, and the sound of glass crunching under my boots stopped me dead in my tracks. I looked to the side wall, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the two adjacent light fixtures, their glass bulbs shattered.

Not knowing which apartment door the demon had slipped through, I ran to the first door on the first floor and checked the knob. Locked. I hissed in frustration. It would take me hours to check all the doors in this place. Julia didn’t have that long.

I made my way forward again and then hesitated for a moment at the corner of the hall. The soft click of a metal door opening and then closing reached me.

Bingo.

I was running. As I rounded the corner, I saw a door with a faded sticker denoting 6A. Soft, yellow light shone from the gap between the floor and the door. I went to the door and tried the knob. It rolled freely.

“Gotcha,” I whispered .

My pulse pounded, and I opened the door as quietly as I could to step inside. The air was filled with the stench of blood. The apartment was of moderate size by New York City standards, lit with nothing more than a few candles on the wood floor. The burning candles lit the walls with dark, vague, and creepy shadows. Great.

The ceilings were at least ten feet high, and the walls were covered with wallpaper straight out of the eighties. Chairs, tables, and a desk were strewn against the walls, as though to make a larger space in the middle of the apartment. And then I saw why.

A large stone circle lay in the middle of the room. The stones were small, the size of my thumb, and bone white. Six black chicken heads were spread evenly around the circle, and in the middle was a black lamb’s head above a blood-drawn triangle. Strange runes I’d never seen before were written in fresh blood inside the circle, suggesting more of a pagan ritual than your modern demon summoning. Creepy.

I took another step forward for a better look.

A girl stepped into my line of sight. Gone was the healthy, happy girl I’d seen in the photo. Her hair hung limp and greasy over her dirty face. Her body was thin, almost gaunt, and her limbs, what I could see of them through her clothes, were stained and dirty. Her jeans and T-shirt were speckled in blood, but I couldn’t tell if it was her own or someone else’s. The flesh on her face was sunken and the bones sharp, leaving her black eyes feral and unsettling. They watched me with unrelenting rage. She was pissed.

That made two of us.

I knew if I didn’t move I was dead. I didn’t have time for small talk. Moving on instinct, I dropped to my knees, pulled out my chalk and began to draw a circle with a seven-point star in the middle—the exorcism sigil.

Exorcisms were the highest level of hard magic. Deadly, if you didn’t do it right. With an inexperienced priest or witch, more times than not, the human died in a rivulet mess of blood and guts.

But I’d been doing this for more than a decade now, and I knew my craft. And I was going to kick this demon’s ass back to the Netherworld where it belonged.

There was power in words, magic words, just like there was power in sigils and seals. If you knew how to use them. Not many witches did, though. You needed to be precise in your drawing of them. One little squiggle out of place could send you to the Netherworld or cause you to end up with your head on backwards. Yeah, that happened to a witch down the block before I was born. Since then, witches had grown frightened of the power of sigils. They didn’t trust them, but I trusted them more than I trusted blood magic. Sigils were like math and art. You did your calculations, and then you did your drawing.

I’d screwed up a few times in the beginning, but I wasn’t stupid enough to try complicated sigils at first. No, I started with the typical easy sigil, like a hovering teacup sigil or paint-your-toenails-blue sigil. My toenails had disappeared completely the first time I’d tried. Oops. Thank God it had been winter so no one had to know or see me, Sam the toenail-less idiot.

I was now so good at my sigils that I’d scanned them into the computer and printed out copies. Yes. They worked just as well and saved me the time to draw them up when I was in a hurry.

But I had an advantage over the other witches. My grandpa always said I had a knack for them. I was an artist. I loved to draw and paint, so images came naturally to me just like breathing. My sigils were each a piece of art, and I’d put my energy and time into creating them. They were beautiful. And powerful.

But I was also lazy.

When I realized that one sigil was the equivalent in power to hours and hours of spell reciting and reading and then some more conjuring, I opted for the sigils. Why spend hours on a transmutation spell when I could draw the transmutation sigil in thirty seconds flat.

Hence came my passion for Goetia. I’d already mastered the sigils—the drawing and the energy that came from them—so it was time to turn things up a notch.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I drew as quickly as I could without making a mistake. I couldn’t screw up now because a mistake could cost me my life, and Julia’s.

I brought the chalk up and around, adding three smaller stars inside the circle and making the connections. My pulse quickened, and I strained with effort to keep my hand from shaking from the shots of adrenaline.

Next, I spelled out the word exilium, the Latin word for banishment in each of the three stars. Where I should have put the demon’s name, I left it blank. It would have been easier with its name, but I’d done countless exorcisms before, successfully, without a name. I knew it would work.

The air cracked with electricity. The hairs on my arms rose.

I looked up. Demon-Julia’s lips were moving.

Ah. Hell.

A blast of energy hit me in the chest and I shot backwards, hitting the wall at thirty miles an hour. I heard something crack, possibly my skull, as I slid to the floor.

“Ow.”

I’d yet to meet a slobbering demon polite enough to wait for me to finish setting my banishment sigils.

The girl giggled. No. Not the girl, but the demon that was riding in her body.

“You need to be quicker with your scribbles, you half-breed bitch,” said the demon, its voice harsh and guttural. It sounded disturbingly like a serpentine whisper and had the hairs on the back on my neck rising. That was not a teenage girl’s voice, but I was glad it was using English. My Enochian—the angel and demon language—was a little rusty .

“Thanks for the tip.” I pitched forward on my stomach, sliding to my circle. With my chalk, I wrote exilium in the last triangle, finishing the sigil.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I glanced back at demon-Julia. She stood in the same spot, grinning at me like I’d just finished doing her laundry. The demon hadn’t tried to stop me a second time. That wasn’t a good sign.

I shook my head. “You could at least pretend I’m scary. You know, for the overall dramatical effect that I’m about to kick your ass back to the Netherworld. A little shaking would be nice. Tears are best.”

The demon-Julia crossed her arms over her chest and showed me her teeth. “I’m going to take my time with you,” she sneered. “I’m in a good mood, see. I’m going to start with your arms and rip them off one at a time.” She showed me more teeth. “I’ll let you watch while I eat your arms and your legs. Then I’m going to suck your brain out through your eyes, witch bitch.”

Nice. Okay, then.

I scrambled to my feet and drew upon the energy gathered in the sigil. It grew along with a buzzing in my ears and a prickling along the back of my neck. I was going to fry that demon.

“In the name of our Lord Creator,” I chanted, bringing forth the energy and molding it. I shaped it into the effect I was looking for with my thoughts, fiercely picturing the exorcism sigil. “I exorcise you, Demon,” I added fiercely, my stance strong. “Every impure spirit, every demonic power, every incursion of the infernal adversary. I command you.” I raised my right palm and said firmly, “Flee this place! Flee this body! May your power issue forth from her. Be not and be gone!”

At the words, the energy poured out of me in a rush. There were no lights, no glowing energy or anything else that would cost a special effects company a crap load of money, just a tingling in the air like tiny electrical currents and a burst of wind.

I staggered as the sigil’s energy roared out of me and almost lost my balance.

It hit demon-Julia.

She stumbled back, shock replacing her smile and her features growing distant. She thrashed, her head shaking as she kept muttering the same word, over and over again— no . She froze with a frightening suddenness, and her body eased into relaxation. Then her shoulders shook as she began to laugh.

“Told you so,” said demon-Julia, a smile in her voice. “Your witch tricks won’t work on me.”

Damn. This was really not my night. I flicked my gaze back at my sigil. It was fine. Perfect, even drawn under duress. So why hadn’t it worked?

Breathing hard, I sagged with a bit of tiredness. Channeling so much energy through me was like running a marathon, and a sudden weakness in my limbs made me sway.

But I wasn’t giving up. Not today. Not ever. And not when a young girl’s life was at stake .

Jaw clenched, I took a step toward the demon until we were but ten feet apart, focusing on the energy I was still channeling through the sigil.

I took a shaking breath and said, “In the name of our Lord—”

A hard burst of energy hit me, sending me across the room. I landed sprawled on my butt with my legs in the air. Not pretty. My head smashed against the ground a moment later, complete with a burst of black spots in my vision and very real pain. My palms curled into claws as I panted through the pain and tasted blood in my mouth. My concentration vanished, and with it, some of my nerve.

Did I mention this was seriously not my night?

“You have no power over me, half-breed,” laughed the demon, a sneer to her voice.

My magic didn’t work. The exorcism that should have released the girl did absolutely nothing. Head pounding like I’d hit it with a sledgehammer, I blinked and rolled over to my side.

Demon-Julia walked over to me and snarled, “I’m going to feast on your flesh, little witch.”

Oh. Shit.

CHAPTER 2

R eal fear gnawed in my stomach. Not for me, but for Julia. My exorcism sigil hadn’t worked.

It wasn’t that I had used English. It didn’t matter what language you used when doing spells or incantations—if the meaning was the same. I could have said the incantation in Latin, but in these stressful moments, I always opted for English when I did an exorcism. In case I screwed up.

I had countless other seals and sigils I could use on the demon, but all of them would kill the girl instantly. The confident smile on the demon’s face told me it knew this. It knew I wanted the girl alive and preferably not injured, but that was asking a lot.

Damn it. I had to protect myself. If I was dead, I couldn’t really help Julia. Now could I? But first, I had to do something about the pain .

My head throbbed with the pressure of my blood, making me dizzy. From the inside of my jacket, I pulled out a pen and drew an anti-pain sigil on my left wrist. It wouldn’t save me from death, but it would help to numb the pain from broken bones or a concussion, which was probably what was making me dizzy. My mortal body had limits that couldn’t be avoided, and it appeared I had reached mine.

As soon as the sigil was finished, I uttered, “Sine dolore.”

I felt a tingling and sighed in relief as the pain in my head subsided, at least for a little while or until the ink absorbed through my skin. I took a slow breath. God, that felt good.

I glanced at the two gold rings on each hand, each engraved with powerful sigils, peeking out from where I’d cut the fingers off my gloves, at the knuckles.

Some witches used a wand or an amulet as a magical focus to create various fire and wind blasts. I used rings.

It took days of preparation to get them to work. Each ring stored the power from the sigils engraved into them, though the effects varied considerably with intent and the individual witch. The more powerful the witch, the more power she could draw from the rings.

Still, all good things must come to an end. The energy in the rings would eventually run out. When that happened, I’d just have to make new ones .

If I couldn’t use my magic without killing the girl, I’d need to resort to the only other weapon I had with me—a small dagger.

I yanked it out and nearly laughed. It was puny, a pathetic-looking weapon, barely the size of a pocketknife. Worse, I had no idea how to fight with it. I wasn’t trained in martial arts or any hand-to-hand combat. I was trained in dark magic, specifically Goetia—the practice of conjuring demons and making them do my bidding.

But I hadn’t summoned this demon. I had no idea who it was or why it was here possessing this poor, innocent girl, though I had a feeling I was about to find out. Yay me.

I pulled myself to my feet and thrust the sorry-looking dagger at demon-Julia. “Poke it with the pointy end, right?”

Demon-Julia made a gesture with her head, and my super dagger was yanked out of my hand. I watched as it flew across the room.

“Guess not.” Okay. It wanted to play hardball? I had just the thing.

I spit the blood from my mouth and pulled out another chalk as I dropped to my knees again. I drew a triangle-shaped sigil in record time of about four seconds and wrote the name Aamon in Latin in the center. Then I added a circle three feet behind it, wrote five archangel names around it within a coiled serpent, and stepped into it, my body shaking with adrenaline .

Demon-Julia laughed harder. “I haven’t decided whether to eat you now or let myself be entertained as you perform your ridiculous magic.”

“I’d prefer not to be eaten, thanks.”

“It’s all rather silly and inconsequential,” continued the demon, laughter still in her voice. “But I’m feeling generous tonight, so I’ll give you two minutes before I eat you.”

“Great,” I answered, not knowing what to say.

“You witches are all the same,” said demon-Julia, a note of casual arrogance in her tone. “Clueless with limited magic and no knowledge of how to use it, especially in one as young as you. You’re wasting your time with your scribbles. I told you. Your witch magic won’t work on me.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” But I wasn’t going to use my witch magic. The demon thought I was a regular Dark witch and weak. That was its first mistake.

But I wanted it to keep thinking that.

I had to immobilize demon-Julia and figure out why my exorcism sigil hadn’t worked. For that, I needed a little muscle help.

Demon-Julia picked her teeth with a fingernail. “You’re a little scrawny, yet I suspect there’s enough meat to pluck off your bones. Besides, mortal flesh all tastes the same—like chicken.”

I threw up a little in my mouth.

The demon started for me in long, easy strides like it was strolling through the park. It was doing that on purpose .

“What happened to my two minutes?” I asked.

The demon smiled. “I lied.”

Working fast, I willed my mind to focus while I recited the incantation, channeling the magic from the summoning circle and triangle. “I conjure you, Aamon, demon of the Netherworld, to be subject to the will of my soul. I bind you with unbreakable adamantine fetters, and I deliver you into the black chaos in perdition.”

As demon-Julia neared, her smile was terrifying, like that of a lion before it took a bite from the neck of its prey and ripped out its jugular. I had seconds.

My heart thrashed as I cried, “I invoke you, Aamon, in the space in front of me!”

The light from the candles flickered, sending looming, twisting shadows to dance on the walls. My skin prickled from a sudden wind blowing around me.

Demon-Julia froze.

It was my turn to smile.

My nose wrinkled at the added smell of sulfur, the stink of demon. Immediately, I felt a pull in my chest from the energy channeling from the circle. Heat rushed from me, leaving a sick, cold feeling in my stomach—the usual whenever conjuring demons. Do not attempt this at home.

My vision tunneled for a second. I’d been pushing too hard, but I couldn’t stop.

Over the pulsing in my ears, the power of the circle ran through me like a shot of adrenaline, but then the pull subsided .

There, in the middle of my chalk-drawn triangle was a huge black wolf with a serpent’s tail.

“Seize the girl! And bring her to me!” I commanded the demon, careful not to move from my circle, which was my only protection from the demon I’d just summoned.

Aamon growled at me, slowly pulling back its lips to show me teeth the size of kitchen knives. It was clearly pissed, but it had no choice but to obey. Hence why it was so pissed.

The wolf demon turned and lunged at demon-Julia, who was looking at me with a sour expression like I’d just set fire to her priceless doll collection.

Aamon hit demon-Julia with the force of a grizzly bear smacking a tree. Aamon wasn’t quite a blur, but he was fast as hell. The two went down in a jumble of limbs and fur and growls.

“Don’t hurt her!” I yelled again. “I need her alive.”

I let out a frustrated breath. Demons. You get what you summon.

Aamon was a lesser demon, so he didn’t always understand the subtle nuances of my commands. This being the thirteenth time I’d summoned him over the years, I was hoping he’d get the hang of things. And quickly.

“Attaboy, Aamon,” I cheered, seeing that he’d pinned demon-Julia on the floor. It was a little like role-playing if you will, and it didn’t always turn out the way I’d intended. Sometimes the demons I summoned were just a little too strong and a little too wild, and the mortals got hurt. Hopefully tonight would go my way.

A smile twisted my face. “Well,” I exhaled, “this turned out better than I’d hoped. And you said my itty-bitty magic didn’t work on you.” I mocked it with my hands on my hips.

The rest of whatever I was going to say died in my throat.

Aamon was thrown back forcefully to the floor, his serpent tail slashing and thin, greenish-black fluid spraying everywhere in a disgusting shower. The smell was nauseating, and I held my breath before I started vomiting.

Demon-Julia was back on her feet, and I didn’t like the smile that appeared on her face nor the fact that her lips were moving in a spell. A chill rolled up my spine. Shit.

Aamon shuddered and leaped at her, landing a powerful strike of his serpent tail on demon-Julia’s thigh. The snake’s maw wrapped around her leg as its teeth sank into her flesh. Great. Now she would need stitches.

But her lips never stopped moving.

And then Aamon simply burst into flames.

I had to reel back from the sudden heat. The wolf demon howled in pain, its body consumed by blinding fire until nothing was left of it but a pile of ashes.

Oops. Well, this was unpleasant.

Damn. Whenever I thought things were going my way, something always went wrong .

Demon-Julia turned to face me. “Your conjuring skills are admirable for a mortal.” She leered. “Better than most.”

“I try.”

“But a lesser demon can’t kill me.”

“Can I quote you on that?” I gave her a smile to match her own. “So, what you’re telling me is I need to summon a Greater demon?” If a lesser demon couldn’t beat her, that meant there was either a Greater demon inside Julia or something more powerful. And far worse.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Demon-Julia moved too quickly for me to block the attack. I dropped my chalk as she seized me by the throat, lifted me off my feet, and slammed me against the wall. Black and white spots plagued my vision as I gasped to try and breathe. But the air wouldn’t come.

Hundreds of spells and sigils flicked through my mind, but all of them would kill the girl. I hadn’t expected to kill an innocent tonight, but if I didn’t do anything to save my own ass, I was demon meat.

“I’ll admit, I’ve enjoyed this little visit of yours.” She squeezed my throat harder. “You’re different from the other witches I’ve killed in the past. You’ve got spunk. I like spunk. Makes for a more stimulating meal. And the meat is sweeter, more tender on the younger ones.”

“Screw. You,” I managed with tears running down my face. My vision spun. If I didn’t get any air in me soon, I was going to pass out .

I twisted and grabbed her hands, trying to pry them open so I could breathe, but it was like trying to lift a car with my fingers. My lungs were starved for air, and darkness crept into my vision.

Demon-Julia brought her face within an inch from mine and then thrust out her tongue and started to lick my face slowly, hissing in mounting pleasure. I shivered. Now that was totally gross.

“Au revoir, darling,” she crooned.

Ah, screw it. I had to save my own ass.

Closing my eyes, I channeled the power inside me, the one I had sworn I’d never use. If I was found out, not only would demons want to kill me for it, but all the half-breeds and the entire paranormal community would be after me.

But I had no choice.

Demon-Julia squeezed harder, smiling as she watched my eyes intensely while the life drained out of them.

But it didn’t.

I drew on that forbidden power, and a well of it surged in me. But I only tapped into a small amount, enough for what I needed to do. My magic flew into me, through blood and flesh and bone. It was easy—way too easy—and very dangerous and seductive.

The power grew, strong and steady, seeping into me with a sort of hungry eagerness and replacing my pain and fear with nothing but power and ferocity.

With my hands still on hers, I reached out and tapped into the demon’s chi, her will, but only a small amount, praying she wouldn’t feel it. Part of the demon’s power spilled into me, mingling with my own.

And then I spoke a single word in my mind. Dimitte . Release me.

The pent-up power hit demon-Julia, sending her across the room roaring with fury. She smashed into the adjacent wall, shattering the drywall on impact, and sagged to the floor.

I fell to my knees, coughing as I breathed, trying to fill my lungs with glorious air. I loved air. Air was my friend. My vision swam in a nauseating swirl, and I took another breath, then another, my lungs starved for air.

“What devilry is this?” cried demon-Julia, a strange use of the word, especially coming from a demon no less. She was staring at the empty space where her hands used to be. Now rings of black energy spiraled around her wrists, moving slowly and erasing them.

Crap. Either I’d used more of the demon’s own power than I’d intended, or I’d mixed up my spell. I had been deprived of oxygen. My bad.

“Damn it. See what you made me do?” I rasped, my throat still on fire. “How am I going to explain to Julia or her mother why she doesn’t have hands anymore?” I was not looking forward to that conversation. I didn’t know of any spell or sigil that could grow back limbs.

My breath caught. Shit. Now her arms had vanished .

Nice going, Sam . This was going from bad to worse.

“This is impossible!” wailed demon-Julia while thrashing about and looking like an armless manikin.

Biting down on the nausea, which happens when I channel too much energy in too little time, I got to my feet. I was going to exorcise this demon, and this time it was going to work.

And then I’d figure out how to grow Julia’s arms and hands back. There had to be a reverse curse, like a magical “undo” button.

Smiling at the demon, I gave her a little wave. “It’s time for you to go bye-bye.”

I focused on the exorcism sigil, seeing it clearly in my mind, and channeled the energy that was still there. I took a stilling breath, stepped forward, and said, “In the name of our Lord Creator, I exorcise you, Demon.”

“Die! You half-breed bitch!” Demon-Julia threw herself at me, but without her arms for balance, she staggered like a drunk, nearly falling.

The sound of scuffing on the floor reached me.

A man in black clothes appeared in my line of sight. He was roughly six foot two, dark haired, and coldly handsome. His brown eyes burned with battle lust and excitement as he drew a silver dagger, glowing in the dimness, from the scabbard at his side. I’d seen those blades before. It was a soul blade, the daggers given to the angel-born from the angels themselves, forged in Horizon and said to have metal that was poisonous to demons .

And I knew another thing. This guy was an angel-born, primarily human but blessed with angel essence flowing in their veins—a secret race of humans created by the archangels, bred with supernatural abilities to be the eyes and ears of the Legion of Angels on Earth.

What the hell was an angel-born doing here? I hadn’t come across one in years. Make that five. Our kind just didn’t mix. Like cats and dogs, we weren’t enemies, just wired differently. Probably due to the simple fact that my ancestors were demons. Just like all half-breeds, we witches had a demon parent somewhere up the line.

My exorcism forgotten, I watched the stranger as he placed himself between demon-Julia and me. What’s this? My knight in shining armor? I didn’t think so.

Demon-Julia didn’t want any part of it either, and her face twisted in recognizable hate. The demon knew what the stranger was too.

Her lips moved, and a haze of darkness rose around her, coiling like rings of smoke until she disappeared under it. The swirling mist of darkness swayed and wavered. The air shifted, and then the haze lifted, revealing demon-Julia’s hands and arms, clothes and all, as though they’d never been gone.

Ah-ha. So there was a magical “undo” button.

Demon-Julia’s eyes narrowed, and she spat on the floor. “Angel,” she snarled. Then in a burst of speed she launched herself at the stranger .

Before I could stop him, the angel-born raised his blade and stabbed the demon in the chest.

“No!” I slammed my shoulder against the stranger, knocking him off-balance for a moment.

Demon-Julia tore the blade from her chest and staggered back, holding the weapon in both hands in a panicked desperation. Blood gushed out of a wound in her chest, trickling down the front to her jeans. If I didn’t stop the bleeding, she was going to die.

“What are you doing?” cried the angel-born, looking at me like he wanted to stab me too as he pulled another one of his blades from his waist. If he tried anything, I was going to fry his ass.

“Me?” I shouted back, spindling a new sigil in my mind’s eye. “You’re the one who stabbed her.”

“She’s a demon,” he said incredulously.

“She’s a girl . She’s only being possessed.” What the hell was wrong with him?

“The girl is dead, you idiot,” he shouted back. “Look at her. She’s been dead a long time. What kind of backward witch are you?”

I narrowed my eyes. I was going to curse him for that. I didn’t care how fine his butt was.

But demon-Julia got there first. The girl seized him by the back of his jacket and spun him around, hitting him with a broad swing of her arm that literally knocked him off his feet.

The angel-born flew toward the nearest wall, half spinning in the air, and hit hard, the soul blade tumbling from his fingers. He looked up, eyes wide, and his expression stunned. Blood trickled from his nose and the corner of his mouth. And then he pushed himself to his feet, grabbed his weapon, and charged at the demon.

But I wouldn’t let this bastard kill her. Not while I still drew breath.

I stepped in front of demon-Julia, my lips moving with my exorcism spell as I began to pull the energy around me.

Demon-Julia flicked her black eyes from me to the angel-born, a mix between a winning smile and a challenge appearing on her face. “You’re too late.”

The girl’s head whipped around 360 degrees—total Hollywood stuff. There was a horrible snap of bone, and then she crumbled to the floor. She didn’t move. Empty blue eyes stared into space.

Her body shook, and for a moment I thought she was alive. But then a black, writhing mass came surging up from her body. It took on a form as it rose, vaguely human but with no eyes or mouth, and a wail of excitement and rage emitted from it.

I’d been doing this a while and had seen my share of demons, so I recognized this as a construct of its true shape. But it was distorted and ghostly, and I couldn’t tell which class of demon it belonged to.

The black shape hovered for a moment, and then another mass came up. But it wasn’t black. It was of the purest white and shimmered like a morning mist. I forgot to breathe as I looked upon the ghostly representation of Julia standing beside her body. The fear in her face was real. Her lips moved like she was trying to tell me something .

“Julia.” I stepped forward.

With a sudden, puffing sigh of displaced air, the demon disappeared, taking Julia’s soul with it.

CHAPTER 3

“W hat the hell was that?” cried the angel-born male, the whites of his eyes showing in the dim light. His hands were pressed against his head like he was trying to keep his brain inside his skull.

Hell. Precisely. “That,” I said, my voice harsh, “was a demon dragging an innocent soul to the Netherworld.” May the souls forgive me. There went my payday.

I’d seen it only once before in my lifetime, a decade ago, and the image still gave me nightmares. I’d never forget the look on that poor man’s face, the sheer and naked terror that mirrored Julia’s exactly. I had watched, transfixed as he met his end. In that final second, utter fear, terror, and a horrified realization had flashed through his eyes. Now, I’d seen it twice .

A girl dying on my watch was bad enough, but having her soul dragged to the Netherworld tipped the worse-things-than-death scale.

“But demons feed on human souls,” exclaimed the stranger, shock coloring his voice. “They don’t take them on trips.”

“I know.”

He shook his head. “Why would the demon do that?” he asked, but he sounded like he was asking himself.

I swallowed hard. “To torture her. To slowly eat her soul away. To sell it to the highest bidder. I don’t know.” I fought the bile that rose in the back of my throat, making me gag. Damn it. Not only had the demon used the young girl to conjure up some ritual, but now it had taken her soul.

But why had it done that?

The stranger moved to stand next to me, way too close and invading my personal space. “I had it.” He glared at me. “I could have killed it. But now because of your interfering, it’s just going to end up possessing someone else.”

I didn’t appreciate his tone. “ My interfering?” You pretty, pompous bastard. I moved closer until I got right in his face. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, his tension shifting from anger to speculation. “I’m the guy who’s been tracking this demon for more than a week. I’m the guy who’s been following the trail of dead bodies. ”

I felt my face go ashen. “What dead bodies?”

His dark eyes fixed on me. “You did this. Didn’t you?”

I narrowed my eyes, my anger sizzling at what I saw on his face. “And you must be high on stupid pills if you think I’d want this to happen.”

His eyes bore into mine. “You summoned the demon, and it possessed that poor girl. Is that why you were trying to get rid of it? To cover your tracks?”

My frustration had my muscles tight. I shook my head, but I was thinking of a few spells I could use on this guy. The first one that came to mind involved castration. “I don’t use little girls to do my bidding.” Bastard .

“Right.” He twisted his soul blade in his hand, making a show of its pointed tip and sharp edges. “I’d be within my rights to kill you.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? “Go ahead. Try. And you’ll be explaining to your girlfriend why you don’t have a penis anymore.”

His mouth dropped open. He regarded me for a moment, thoughts formulating behind his eyes. “Who the hell are you anyway?” His eyes rolled over me and stopped at my hands, seemingly accepting that I hadn’t had a part in all this. “It’s the middle of August. Why are you wearing gloves? Are you a germaphobe or something?”

“Or something.” I tugged the sleeves of my jacket over my leather gloves. I was not going to have this conversation with a stranger, especially one who’d just threatened to kill me.

I pulled my attention back on the dead girl, my insides twisting in guilt and anger. She’d been just a girl. Now she was just dead. This was a mess of gargantuan proportions. Nice going, Sam.

“Who are you?” he asked again. When I didn’t answer, he pressed. “I asked you a question.”

Oh. No. He. Didn’t.

I stiffened and darted my gaze back at the stranger, trying to still my anger but failing miserably. “Yes, I saw your lips moving. That usually involves speech.” The guy really got under my skin.

He frowned. I grinned.

If I didn’t dislike him so much at this moment, I might have taken the time to appreciate how pretty he was. Because, well, he was very pretty.

It seemed the Goddess herself had molded him to be her consort, and the cauldron help me, he looked the part. He had short, brown hair that looked black in the dim light, thick lashes that framed mesmerizing, brown eyes, a straight nose and a square jaw that held enough stubble to give his delicate features a more rugged—and a hell of a lot sexier—cast.

I strained to keep my hormones in check. That’s what happened when you’d been single for more than a year. Even the angel-borns started to look good.

That angel-born arrogance shimmered in him like a promise to be fulfilled. God, they annoyed me. He moved with a catlike confidence, and his smooth muscles gliding under his thin shirt were enough to make me want to run my fingertips over them. He had that “I don’t care what you think” attitude like a bad boy, totally my type and totally wrong. My eyes moved to the low V of his shirt, to the P-shaped birthmark on his neck—the archangel Michael’s sigil.

The angel-born have been around as long as man has been walking the Earth. Just like guardian angels, they monitor mortals and protect them from demons on this side of the planes. Commendable, if you took out the God complex they all suffer from.

“You’re a Dark witch. I can tell,” he said after a moment with accusation in his tone as though being a witch also made you a criminal.

“How perceptive of you,” I snapped.

All witches are born with some level of magical powers inside them, some innate energy given to us by our demon ancestors. Still, not all witches are created equally in terms of strength and magical abilities. Some are born with zero powers and are practically human. Some can turn you into a rat just by looking at you. Some rely on the help of demons by borrowing their magic, and some, well, they’re just hungry for more power and seek out demons for it. But always at a cost. No one can ask a demon for power without it asking for something in return—like your soul.

This was why Dark witches got a bad rap. Too many of them went the easy way and conjured up demons for power instead of doing the legwork themselves. The result, a few missing eyeballs, souls, years of their life, and their health.

Still, demons had their uses. If you knew how to control them like I did.

The angel-born’s face darkened. “You were trying to exorcise the demon from her. Why? Aren’t witches friends with demons? Don’t you draw your powers from them?”

I stifled a surge of anger. “My head’s starting to hurt with all your questions.”

“Why were you trying to save the girl?”

“Julia. Her name is—was Julia.” And now she’s dead. I took a calming breath. “Because,” I said, surprising myself that I was actually going to answer him. Must have been because he was pretty. I was a sucker for a pretty face. “The demon inside her was killing her. Because I hate those body-snatching demons.”

He raised a skeptical brow. “You hate demons? How can that be when you have their blood running through your veins. They’re practically your family.”

Here we go. “Not all demons are evil.”

“Right.” The stranger made a face, his features twisting. “Only a witch would say that.”

I shook my head. “I’m really not in the mood to have this conversation with you—an angel-born, no less.” I rubbed my temples at the giant migraine that had made its appearance. Channeling all that magic was getting to me, and my body shook with fatigue—payment for the service of channeling all that power. It would be worse tomorrow. It always was .

The stranger let out a puff of air. “How did you know about Julia?” The evenness in his voice failed to hide his frustration at me.

I shifted my weight. “Her parents hired me to find her.” Why was I even telling this jerk?

“Really?”

Here we go again. “Yeah. Really.”

“You a witch detective or something?” The laughter in his tone sent my anger aflame again.

I cocked a brow and gave him a dry look. “I prefer the term Paranormal Investigator.” His mouth opened, and I could tell he wanted to ask me more but decided not to.

“You said the demon was leaving a trail of bodies,” I continued. “Care to elaborate on that? Do you know what the demon was trying to do here?” My eyes fell on the runes again. It was obviously some kind of ritual. I just didn’t know which one.

He looked at me. “I thought this kind of thing was your field of expertise.” He looked about the room. “The girl’s dead. You need to move on.”

I pressed my hands on my hips. “My job doesn’t stop until the demon is vanquished. I’m not finished here.”

His eyes lingered on Julia’s body for a moment. “You should leave before someone finds you here,” he said and then looking back at me added, “unless you want to be blamed for her death.”

“How about you get the hell out of here before I spell your ass.” It was a very nice one too, from what I could spy through his jeans. Even with his fine exterior, he was seriously starting to piss me off—especially his lack of compassion for Julia, and that commanding, arrogant tone of his, so typical of angel-born.

Besides, I needed to be alone so I could take some pictures and catalog everything before I called 9-1-1 and left an anonymous tip about finding a dead girl. Julia. If he was telling the truth about the other bodies, there was more to this demonic possession than I knew. And I was going to find out.

The angel-born looked at me for a beat too long. I had no idea what transpired behind his eyes before he turned around and left.

I watched in silence as the stranger disappeared through the doorway of the apartment, leaving me with only the overwhelming scent of blood and sulfur to keep me company.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, watching Julia’s face, wishing it had gone differently. Because it had gone so terribly wrong tonight. I felt defeated and tired and angry—not at the smug angel-born, okay, maybe a little—but at myself. If I had found a way to exorcise that demon, Julia would still be alive.

Part of me had hoped the angel-born would give me the demon’s name. He’d been after it, so it was possible he knew. But maybe he didn’t.

I pulled out my phone and knelt next to Julia’s body. There was blood on both of her wrists that I hadn’t noticed before. I reached out and turned over her left wrist gently. Then her right. The same symbol was carved into her skin, the cuts deep and fleshy on both wrists in the form of a sun with a triangle in the middle. I let her wrists fall. I didn’t recognize that symbol, but whatever it was, it had something to do with her death.

A quiver rose through me and tightened my gut. Why couldn’t I exorcise the demon? And why did the demon take Julia’s soul with it back to the Netherworld?

I had no idea. But I knew somebody who might.

CHAPTER 4

I trudged my way through the streets of Mystic Quarter, the paranormal district in Manhattan where witches, vampires, werewolves, faeries, trolls, and all manner of half-breeds mingled—away from human eyes.

Every major city in the world hosted a paranormal district of its own. Here, it was in the East Village, in Orchard Park and hidden behind thick walls of fruit trees and shrubbery. Humans could walk right past the three blocks of the paranormal haven and never see it, never knowing what lay hidden beyond those trees. With the help of glamours, spells, and enchantments, humans couldn’t see it, and that’s how we half-breeds liked it.

Yes, I was a half-breed. Being a witch classified me as a half-breed, beings that had once been human and had been subjected to one of the demon viruses, which then turned them into the different demon races—witches, vampires, werewolves, faeries, leprechauns, trolls, warlocks, and so on. If you had a demon ancestor, you were a half-breed, no matter how diluted the demon essence was.

So, how did we get here? A long time ago, in a dimension far, far away, demons escaped through the Veil and came to our dimension. We’re half-breeds, hybrids, which is why the purer demon species, like the lesser demons and Greater demons, despise us.

Mystic Quarter was my home, residence to all us freaks, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I turned left on Odin Boulevard and headed south. Overhead, clouds were thickening, building up for a thunderstorm no less. The street angled down, bearing more jumbled buildings that lined the street, all squeezed together as though from lack of space.

The strong scent of sulfur and demon magic pulled me in every direction, and I shivered in delight as it coated me like a warm blanket.

I strolled past a pack of drunk, shirtless werewolves, the rise and fall of their voices warning all within earshot that a fight was about to break out. I knew better than to stick around until they tore off their pants and decided to get naked. Not a day went by in the Quarter that I didn’t see a naked, well-endowed, muscle-bulging, running werewolf. Guess they didn’t like their human clothes.

A blur of golden skin rushed by me, leaving a trail of musky, male perspiration and wet dog. There you go. A naked werewolf. Like I said, not a single time.

Echoes of rich voices reached me as I made my way past the night market. A few gnomes had set up shop already, their booths spilling over with glittering jewelry. Damn. Was it really that late?

I headed for the tallest brownstone, whose stones were cracked and peeling as though it had been hit by a hurricane. It was sandwiched between VIOLET’S SPELLS & CHARMS and BLACK CATS INC. with bottles and boxes of poisons, potions, and charms sitting in the windows.

This area was known as Witches Row, an entire block dedicated to all things witches, broomsticks, and magic. Even in Mystic Quarter, different factions were allocated to each half-breed species. I lived in this one.

The small front yards were cramped with gardens bursting with sage, rosemary, basil, mint, and other herbs, and numerous plants. As I walked toward the front door, motion to the left caught my eye.

Vera Wardwell, my next-door neighbor witch, was bent over her garden, picking out some sage and lemon balm. A glowing white sphere hovered next to her, illuminating a small patch of garden as she worked. Her face was hidden behind her very large posterior, though I knew it was her. I knew only one witch with hair the color of boiled carrots. Yes, it was the middle of the night, but that didn’t stop us witches from tending to our gardens and spells. Most of us preferred the tranquility of night. I did. It’s when I did most of my work.

Vera lifted her head and glanced at me as I neared, but I knew better than to expect a smile or a wave. Her green eyes were cold and hard.

“Evening, Vera,” I greeted. The witch’s face wrinkled in scorn making her drawn-on eyebrows twist severely and giving her a clownish look. I laughed. Her face darkened in anger. I couldn’t help it. It was the only facial expression I’d ever known her to give since I was a child.

Vera’s face took on an ugly expression at the sight of my clothes. “Despicable. You’re filthy, just filthy,” she accused, pointing a long finger at me. Her face shifted, and she gave me a nasty smile. “Keep playing with dirt, Samantha, and you’ll never find a male witch.”

I smiled. “Guess we have that in common.”

Ignoring the witch’s sudden intake of breath, I stepped up to the front door of the brownstone cottage. A peeling sign on the black front door read:

SAMANTHA BEAUMONT.

PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR. OCCULT SPECIALIST.

Sighing, I pulled open the door and stepped through.

I walked into a darkened foyer, shut the door behind me, and turned on the lights. The air smelled of polished wood and musk from the antique Persian rugs that covered the wood floors. Beyond the foyer lay the entire first floor—richly colored sitting room, living room, small bathroom, kitchen, and dining room—all lined with antique wallpaper from the 1930s and wainscoting, featuring large wood furniture and tables of dark, polished wood.

It was my family home, which I’d inherited from my mother’s side of the family, the Beaumont Witches.

Beaumont was my mother’s surname. As witches, it wasn’t uncommon for witchlings to carry their mothers’ last names. For us, it went both ways. You could either have your father’s last name or your mother’s. It was a choice. Not an obligation. As such, it had been my mother’s choice to give me her last name. She did carry me inside her for nine months. It just seemed fair that I should have her last name. Plus, I identified more with the Beaumont surname It felt right. It felt like me.

Balancing myself with the help of the wall, I kicked off my boots and walked down the hallway, past the staircase that led to the upper floors, and made my way toward the kitchen at the other end of the building.

“Gramps! Poe! I’m home!”

I didn’t realize how hungry and dehydrated I was until I reached the kitchen. Channeling magic will do that. It was why I usually carried protein bars with me. But tonight I’d run out of the house so fast after I’d gotten a tip on Julia’s whereabouts that I’d totally forgotten to grab some.

After I peeled off my gloves, I pulled out a loaf of brown bread, cold meats, tomatoes, lettuce, and some mayo, and then hit the fridge door closed with my butt. I settled my food on the granite kitchen island and began making my sandwich.

The scent of sulfur reached me followed by the flutter of wings.

A large raven flew into the kitchen and landed on the island next to the loaf of bread.

“You look like hell,” said the raven, ruffling his black feathers. “Long night?”

I sighed, anger and guilt simmering in my gut. “You have no idea.”

Poe was my familiar, my spirit animal, my magical aid, and demon companion. Every witch is paired with his or her familiar as soon as they show signs of magic at an early age, usually at around prepubescence. Typically, familiars were given from family members who’d passed on, where the young witch inherited her familiar. Yet, not all witches used familiars either. It’s a personal choice.

Familiars came in all shapes and races of demons. Poe was a Malphas demon, a mid-level demon in the shape of a raven. The most common animal spirits or familiars are cats. But old Finny, the cat familiar who’d belonged to my mother and her mother before her—wanted nothing to do with me. He hissed and spat and wished me dead.

Well, that just wouldn’t do. Why would I want to pair myself for the rest of my life with a familiar that hated me? I didn’t.

As a result, I did what other Dark witches did before me. I went out into the nearest woods, which was New York’s Central Park, on a full moon, and worked out the Familiar Summoning Spell to call one.

Poe showed up a minute later.

Not only were ravens not your typical familiar, but he’d come on his own, which made it more special and our bond iron-tight.

With a great flap of his wings, Poe flew to my shoulder.

And then he bit down on my ear, hard.

“Ow!” I glared at the raven as he sprang down my arm, my fingers pressed over my throbbing ear. If I was bleeding, I was going to boil him in my cauldron. “Are you crazy! Why the hell did you do that?”

The raven raised a brow in challenge. “That was for leaving me behind. How could you do that to me, Sam?”

“Me?” I yelled incredulously. He was asking for it. “You weren’t even here when I got the call.”

“You couldn’t wait?”

“No.” I narrowed my eyes. “And where the hell were you? Thieving again? I can’t wait to hear whose necklace or expensive watch went missing in the middle of the night. Damn it, Poe. You’re going to get me in trouble.” I checked my fingers. No blood. He was a lucky bird.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The raven turned his head. “I’m a bird. I went for a few flaps around the neighborhood. A few occasional droppings. That’s what we do. ”

“You’re a demon,” I cursed. “And a very temperamental one. It was just one night.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“Don’t push it, bird.”

Poe laughed but decided to shut his beak. Smart bird.

He jumped to the table. “I would have liked to be there though,” said the raven, as he picked up a slice of meat and swallowed it whole. “I could have helped.”

“Maybe.” I cut my sandwich in half and just stared at it. Poe was great at helping me with spells and sigils. But exorcisms were my thing, and I’d never failed at one before. Until tonight.

“Sam. What happened?” asked the raven, noting my discomfort.

I looked up and met Poe’s black eyes. “I—”

“Damn those witches! By the cauldron, I swear! Can’t even spare a little mandrake!” came a muffled voice.

An old man came strutting into the kitchen, six feet tall with a headful of thick, white hair past his ears. His light-blue bathrobe billowed behind him, revealing his pale chest and white briefs.

I cocked a brow. “I thought we’d agreed you’d put on some real clothes from now on.”

My grandfather made a face. “I’m ninety-two years old, my girl. How am I supposed to remember everything you tell me? ”

“Please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Your memory is better than mine.” I took a bite of my sandwich and nearly moaned. God, that was good. I took another.

“True.” My grandfather grinned wickedly, his eyes widening.

I swallowed. “Why do you need mandrake?”

My grandfather’s eyes widened further. “For a new spell I’m working on. I call it”—he moved a hand dramatically in the air for an added effect—“Gordon’s Broomshine.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “What is it?” I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew.

My grandfather straightened and thrust out his chest. “It turns water into gin.”

Poe spat the meat from his mouth and started coughing.

My grandfather turned on him, glaring. “What? You don’t think I can do that, bird ? Don’t think I’ve got the stuff enough to pull it off?”

The raven gave a little shrug. “I didn’t say anything,” answered the bird, a smile in his tone.

My grandfather made a disapproving noise in his throat and then turned to look at me. “So? How did it go? Did you find Julia?”

Oh, hell. I set my half-eaten sandwich on the counter, having lost my appetite suddenly. “Yeah. I found her.”

“And?”

“And it was a royal disaster.”

My grandfather crossed his arms over his chest. “Do tell, Granddaughter. ”

“I couldn’t exorcise the demon,” I answered, feeling like a giant asshole, and I quickly recapped the events leading to her death. I left out the part of the angel-born, though I didn’t know why exactly.

“I’ve never not been able to cast out a demon,” I said, feeling ill and angry. “But I couldn’t. Not this one.” I slammed my hand on the granite countertop. “Damn it. Now that girl is dead because of me. I failed her. I failed her parents.” I’m going to find you, Demon. And when I do. I’m going to kill you, very slowly.

“Did you check your sigil,” asked Poe, his head tilted to the side in a questioning gesture. “Maybe there was a gap in your star or circle.”

I shook my head. “I checked it. It was fine.”

“I’m afraid that could only mean one thing,” informed my grandfather, his face twisting in distress. He planted his hands flat on the granite counter and said, “The demon was more powerful than you.”

“That’s what I figured.” Of course it was. I took a deep breath, feeling more like a failure. I really had to get my act together, or I was going to lose paying customers. Who wanted to hire an exorcist if they couldn’t do the one thing they were hired to do—cast out the demon?

I picked at my sandwich with my fingers. “Of all the seventy-two demon races in the Ars Goetia—which I know by heart, by the way, and have used hundreds of times—this one I didn’t recognize. Its aura was different. More powerful. More dangerous. ”

Thick white eyebrows furrowing, my grandfather took a breath and said, “Why don’t I like the sound of that.”

“Because it gets worse.”

My grandfather frowned, his expression intent and pensive. “How much worse?”

“What is it, Sam?” Poe hopped closer to me. “Spit it out. What’s worse?”

Bracing myself, I pursed my lips and said, “The demon dragged Julia’s soul back to the Netherworld.”

Silence.

My grandfather cursed. “By the cauldron! That poor child. What a horrible, horrible thing to have happened to her. First her possession, and now her soul?” He stood still for a moment, and I could see his mind working by the shifting in his expressions and his concerned intensity. He looked like a mad scientist as he tapped his toes on the wood floor, a hand rubbing his chin. “What’s your working theory?”

“The demon was performing some kind of ritual before I interrupted it.” Sadly, not with my foot up its ass. I yanked my phone from my pocket and scrolled through the pictures. “Poe. Have you ever seen these symbols before?” I asked, angling my phone toward the bird.

The raven shook his head after a moment. “Looks like the scribbles of a four-year-old trying to write his name,” said the demon bird, and I gave him a frown .

“Grandpa?” I leaned over the counter to show him.

The old man inspected the images on my phone. “Old. The etching is too spindly and curly to be Enochian. Pagan, perhaps? I’m afraid I don’t recognize them. The old languages were never my strong suit. Neither are witches, apparently,” he added irritably.

I looked into my grandfather’s blue eyes, seeing my mother’s eyes, and said, “I’ll get you some damn mandrake if it’s that important to you.”

“You will?” he said, beaming. He did a little dance, twirled, and finished with a bow. I was glad he’d remembered to tighten his bathrobe. “Samantha Beaumont, you spoil me.” He showed me teeth, which surprisingly, he still had. “Did you know that you’re my favorite grandchild?”

“I’m you’re only grandchild.”

“Exactly,” he answered, pointing a finger in the air as though I’d gotten the right answer to a question on a test.

I narrowed my eyes, seeing some of my own mischief on his face. “But it’ll have to be tomorrow,” I told him, pulling on my gloves. “I think I know who can decipher these runes.”

My grandfather frowned at what he saw on my face, looking annoyed for the first time tonight. “At this hour?”

My heart slammed against my chest with excitement.

I smiled, my gaze settling on Poe. “Demons never sleep.”

CHAPTER 5

T he top floor to the Beaumont brownstone was a thousand square feet of a witch haven—a witch’s dream. Well, it was to me.

It was a loft of sorts. One giant space to practice magic, Goetia, curses, divination, transfiguration, transmutation, and every spell you could find in a Dark witch grimoire. It was large enough to even practice defensive magic and spells without damaging the neighboring homes or incidentally hitting a witch with a vanishing spell. I could conjure up ten demons, all evenly spaced in their own triangles and still have room to do a few cartwheels.

Gramps and I had separated it into two parts; the left side was for him, and the right was all mine. That way we didn’t accidentally get our spells and potions mixed up because that would be bad .

As it turns out, my dear old grandpa’s side of the room looked like he’d conjured up a miniature tornado. Maybe he had.

The floor was a mess with several chairs sporting broken legs, containers and vials cracked and broken, spilling out their entrails on the floor, and everything shoved out of place. His table, where he did most of his work, had disappeared under layers and layers of books, herbs, and bowls. How he found anything in that mess was a mystery to me.

We both had our own cauldrons. His was significantly larger than mine and could fit two witches comfortably—if you were into that kind of thing—but we both shared the colossal library that lined the entirety of the far wall. We had spell books, Dark witch grimoires, necromancy arts, Goetia encyclopedias, occult books, and books on demonology that dated back to the original Beaumont family, Dark witch William Beaumont who’d sailed over to the Americas in the sixteenth century.

The windows were all stained glass, depicting the first witches battling demons. Each window told a story of how the witches defeated the demons and remained here, on this side of the world. It was a glimpse into the past, and it was my history.

I took a deep breath. It was by far my favorite spot in the entire three-story home. Plus, there was a rooftop patio that was killer at night, with a glass of wine, staring at Manhattan’s skyline. It didn’t get any better than that .

Poe swooped in and flew across the room with what looked like a coin hanging from his beak. He landed on a bundle of cloth nestled on the sill of the highest window. The raven coughed up a brooch with an emerald in its center, which looked very familiar, and dropped it.

“Where did you get that brooch, Poe? Did you steal it from Vera? Why are you giving her more ammunition to hate me?”

The raven didn’t make eye contact. “Found it. Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

I snorted. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

Just as I crossed the room to my work area, my grandfather popped in front of me and planted his feet. I halted and narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack,” I said through gritted teeth.

“There are other ways to get information, Samantha,” said my grandfather, his features wrinkled in annoyance.

“There isn’t when you needed that information like yesterday,” I said, moving around him headed toward my work area. “I can’t let this happen again.”

“Again? It’s happened before?”

“Maybe.” The angel-born hadn’t specified about the bodies. I didn’t know whether the bodies were more possessed humans the demon had left in its wake or if it was Julia, in her possessed form, doing the killing. Either way, I couldn’t let it happen again. I needed to find that demon. And I was going to kill it .

But first I needed to figure out what those runes meant and why the demon had taken Julia’s soul. If I didn’t start getting some answers to these questions, I had a bad feeling it was going to turn around and bite me in the ass.

Grabbing a chalk, I knelt on the floor and began to trace the Goetia triangle. To summon any demon, one must first draw the Circle of Solomon, followed by the Triangle of Solomon. I could make out the faint traces of my previous triangle I’d used three days ago as a guide, not that I needed it. I drew the demon’s unique sigil and wrote its true Latin name in the center.

Poe cawed loudly and landed on the floor next to me, careful not to touch my chalk with his claws. He looked at the name I’d written and cocked his head. “Really? Him again?”

I nodded. “Him again.”

“I should have never taught you to use those books,” grumbled my grandfather.

“It’s too late for that.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “You did because you knew I needed to learn. To protect myself. Because of what I am.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s true.” Worry pinched his brow. “I just never imagined you’d be so proficient .”

I gave him a smile. “I’m an excellent student.”

A deep frown masked his face. “You shouldn’t be smiling. I didn’t mean that as a compliment. Summoning demons is a dangerous business. Very dangerous.”

“Not if you know what you’re doing.” Like me .

“Too many witches have perished in the name of demon.” He hung his head. “Well, just last week, Brendan Townsend summoned a beleth demon to help him with his and his wife’s luggage for the cruise to Alaska they were about to take.” He looked at me and said, “The beast ate him.”

“Brendan was an asshole,” I said, finishing up a star outside my circle. “He liked to use mice, squirrels, and other small rodents for his experiments. I’m glad the beleth ate him.”

My grandfather pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Samantha. You can’t mean that.”

“I do. He got what he deserved.”

He glanced at me, his expression thoughtful. “I just wanted you to have more ammunition. I needed you to be strong because of what you might face.”

I finished drawing my circle and stood. “I am strong.” I was. Especially tonight. I was high on adrenaline. I stared at the name in the triangle. When in doubt and in need of information, find a demon and squeeze him with everything you’ve got.

Showtime.

He sighed and looked at me. “If your mother were alive—”

“She would have done the same thing.”

My grandfather muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite catch.

I drew the energy from the circle and triangle, channeling the magic, and closed my eyes to let that dark, wild power spill into me while I focused on the incantation .

“I conjure you, Farissael, demon of the Netherworld to be subject to the will of my soul. I bind you with unbreakable adamantine fetters,” I continued, “and I deliver you into the black chaos in perdition. I invoke you, Farissael, in the space in front of me!”

My pulse quickened at the sudden surge of magic, sending my skin riddling with goose bumps. The feeling of strength and power was intoxicating, and I knew I had to be careful if I didn’t want to surrender to it. We all knew the witches who lost control lost their lives. That would never happen to me.

The lights flickered and went out. A sudden wind blew around me. There was a buzzing as the lights came back on.

And there in the triangle before me rose a figure, one every bit as solid and real as me, out of nowhere and dressed in black. A man.

He wore black pants and a matching shirt, though open and baring a chiseled, tanned, and hairless chest. He wasn’t the typical handsome man, not as striking as the angel-born I’d seen tonight, but his features were pleasant, in a sort of classic, dark-tall-and-handsome kind of way. He had intense, dark eyes with thick lashes that would make any woman envious, and his short, black hair was styled in shining perfection.

Farissael was a mid demon—higher than the average lesser demons but not quite up the demon hierarchy to have the same power and privileges as a Greater demon—but he still had his uses.

“Sam, darling,” said the demon Farissael. As he began to button his shirt, I noticed a dark bruise in the shape of lips on his neck and three on his chest next to his right nipple. “You look positively scrumptious tonight. That’s twice this week you called me. If this continues, I’m going to assume you’ve finally agreed to sleep with me.” His smile turned wicked as he stopped buttoning his shirt and instead flopped it open again. “I promise you’ll be begging me not to stop,” he purred. “And then you’ll be begging me for more.”

“Spare me, Faris,” I sighed, though heat rushed to my face. Why was it always about sex with this demon? “My grandfather is right there,” I said, angling my head to the left.

“And me,” commented Poe, ruffling his feathers as though he were trying to shake something vile off of him.

Faris made a face, his eyes to my left. “Gordon,” said the demon in way of greeting. “I see you’re still around. Haven’t kicked the bucket yet, eh, old boy? And still wearing your hospital gown, I see.”

“It’s a bathrobe, you half-wit,” growled my grandfather.

Faris’s smiled widened. “Honest mistake.”

My grandfather’s face darkened. “Why don’t you choke on a cauldron, Demon. ”

The demon raised his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, dear. I’m shaking in my pants. At least I have the decency to wear pants.”

“Faris,” I exclaimed, trying to keep the anger in my voice to an acceptable limit. This was going to be a very long night. “Give it a rest. Will you? I need your help.” I opened my mouth and closed it again. “Is that... is that lipstick on your chest?”

The demon smiled, revealing his straight, pearly whites. “Why yes, darling. I was in the middle of a performance, if you will. The ladies loved it.” He looked down at his crotch. “ Standing ovation.”

God help me. “That’s nice.” Not really. “Listen, I didn’t summon you here to hear about your... whatever it was you were doing. I called you because I need you to look at this, and tell me what it means.” I handed the demon my phone.

Faris took the phone and began to scroll through all the pictures. “Who’s the dead kid?”

Right, I had taken a few pictures of Julia too. My chest tightened at the memory of her neck snapping again. “Her name was Julia. I tried to perform an exorcism on her, but it didn’t work.” I didn’t see the point in lying to Faris. Besides, he had a knack for seeing through my lies.

The demon raised his brows. “Obviously.”

Now he was starting to piss me off. “What can you tell me about those symbols? I’ve never seen anything like them before.” I took a breath and added, “Do you know of any demon that resisted an exorcist lately? ”

Faris looked up from the phone. “And what do I get in return for my... services?”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you want?”

The demon’s face lit up. “You know what I want.”

“Something else,” I warned and heard my grandfather mutter something under his breath. When the demon said nothing, I added, “Please, Faris. This is important. I can’t have a demon going around possessing little girls and killing them. It’s bad for business when my skills as an exorcist are being questioned.”

“Naturally,” muttered the demon. “And what else?”

“And,” I continued, suddenly feeling tired and hungry again. “I want to be prepared the next time I face the bastard. Because I will go after him.” I swear it on the cauldron. “I want to know how to kill him. No fooling around. The next time I see the son of a bitch, I’m going to fry his ass back to the Netherworld. No. I’m going to kill him.”

Faris flicked through the pictures on my phone again. “And you’re sure the demon’s a he and not a she?”

“Yes.” I don’t know why, but I knew the demon who’d possessed Julia was male.

Faris looked questionably at me. “What else can you tell me about the girl’s death. Were there any other demons involved? Was she the only victim?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered truthfully. “The angel-born said he’d followed a trail of bodies, but I’m not sure if he meant that the demon possessing Julia killed someone or more possessions had gone bad—”

“What angel-born?” shrilled Poe, coming close. “Have you been holding out on me?” The hurt in his tone had little daggers of guilt stabbing me. Why hadn’t I told Poe?

“You never mentioned anything about an angel-born?” My grandfather’s face pulled into a deep frown, making Faris’s grin widen with interest.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, remembering the pretty Operative and how he’d placed himself in front of me to protect me from the demon. “I don’t know who he is. He just appeared while I was trying to cast the demon out. If he knows something, he didn’t want to share. He left before I could get anything out of him.”

“Awww. The angel-born,” said Faris and he shivered, “don’t like to play with others.” His dark eyes met mine. “Not like my Sam. Right, Sam?”

This was taking too long. I stifled back a sudden burst of anger. “Come on, Faris.” I put my hands on my hips and exhaled long and low. “If you know something, tell me.”

“And you’ll give me what I want, yes?”

“If it doesn’t have anything to do with me naked, then yes.”

Faris shrugged, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. “ You don’t have to be naked.”

“Samantha,” warned my grandad, but I waved him off with my hand. I could handle this mid demon if things didn’t go as planned. It wouldn’t be the first time either .

“No sex of any kind, Faris,” I cautioned. “Then, yes.” I hope I’m doing the right thing.

“Fine.” Faris straightened and handed me back my phone. “I want the night out.”

Damn. Not this again. “You want out of the summoning triangle. Out of the binding contract?” Shit. And from the satisfied smile on Faris’s face, he knew I had no choice.

“Yes, darling,” he drawled and brought his hands together before him. “Out of the confinements of my triangle, if you please.”

“Absolutely not!” My grandfather appeared next to me, pointing a finger at the demon. “You foul abomination! How dare you ask for such a thing. You belong in the depths of that pit you call home!”

Faris regarded my grandfather like he’d just soiled his nice shirt. “Think your old age can save you?” sneered Faris. “Think I won’t kill an old man?” He made a show of his hands. “Let me out of this triangle, and I’ll show you the depths of my pit.”

My grandfather didn’t move. Then he clapped his hands together, muttering some incantation. Blue sparks flew about his hands and then balls of blue fire hovered above them. The smile he gave the demon said it all; I might be old, but I’m still a badass witch.

I smiled. Loved my granddaddy.

My eyes flicked back to Faris. Emotions crossed his features too fast to be recognized.

“I’m not asking for a bloody virgin to be sacrificed at the altar,” said the demon, smoothing out his features. “I just want a night out into town. No big deal.” He blinked, his expression cold and calm. “Do you want my information or not?”

I thought about it. “Just one night?”

“One night.” Faris’s dark eyes were fixed on mine. “That is all.”

Every summoned demon experienced the twin problem of having no free will and being constantly in pain. Their slavery and suffering fueled their desire to go back to the Netherworld or Earth. One method, and the most direct, to return home involved killing the summoner.

My pulse slammed against my chest and I felt suddenly hot. My armpits were moist, damn it. If I let a demon out of its binding contract, I was responsible for it. If the demon I released into this mortal world went on a rampage and killed thousands of humans, including children, I was responsible.

Too many witches had succumbed to the promise of power, seduced by their summoned subordinate demon to let them out of their binding contract. So they did. And then the demons in turn killed and tortured and wreaked havoc in the mortal world, killing thousands of innocents, draining them of their life forces and their souls—right after killing their summoner. Yeah, the witches died. But then, they’d been stupid witches.

For that simple reason, it wasn’t allowed. The Coven Law forbade it. But I didn’t care for laws or rules. Never had. Never would .

I knew Faris. I’d known him for more than a decade. Yeah, he was a demon, but that didn’t automatically make him evil. I hope.

Over the years, Faris had asked to be let out of the binding contract many times over, and I’d always turned him down. But this time was different. If he could help me find this demon, it was worth it.

“You’ve got till the sun is up.” Shit, did I just agree to this? What did I just get myself into?

The demon looked shocked for a second but quickly recovered. “Excellent. Thank you, darling.” Faris smiled and motioned to the drawn triangle around his shoes. “There’s nothing like the present.”

The air moved next to me, and I looked over to find my grandfather standing there.

“Samantha,” he said, worry pinching his brow and his eyes wide with fear. “It’s forbidden. You can’t do this. Think of what he’ll do. Think of the innocents he’s going to kill.”

“Oh, come on,” expressed Faris, rolling his eyes. “You’ve watched too many movies, old man. Newsflash. Not all demons want to spend their time torturing and killing innocent humans. I prefer the company of humans, with a little drinking and lots of sex. Maybe a little role-play. All consensual. Okay? That’s all.”

“Samantha. Think of your reputation,” shrilled my grandad.

“Think of my reputation,” voiced Faris, which awarded him a laugh from Poe. Great, now they were bonding .

I looked into the worried eyes of my grandfather, my gut clenching. “I trust him. God help me, but it’s the truth. He won’t harm anyone.” My eyes found Faris. “Don’t make me a liar, Faris. You screw up, and I’ll find you. And then I’ll kill your ass.”

The demon grinned and then shivered in delight. “Sounds exciting. Will there be some foreplay? A little spanking, perhaps? Oooh. I do love spanking.”

“Faris,” I growled. I took a breath, my harsh words hesitating on my lips.

The demon had the nerve to shrug. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Witch . I promise.” He’d said the word witch like it was something he’d like to play with.

Right, like a promise from a demon meant something.

I’d done my share of stupid things in my life, but this one topped my stupid list. “Okay,” I said, willing to risk my reputation at the memory of the fear on Julia’s face before the demon dragged her away. I knew I’d never get over something like that. Her eyes would haunt me until my very last breath.

My eyes found Faris. “Tell me about the runes and the demon.”

“The demon you’re looking for is, without a doubt, a Greater demon,” he said, dark brows rising.

“By the cauldron!” shrieked my grandfather. “Why would a Greater demon possess a little girl? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice hard. “But I’m going to find out. ”

“This is ill business, Samantha.” My grandfather’s voice was worried, and the few bites of my sandwich churned in my stomach.

I looked at Faris. “Do you have a name?” Please, give me a name.

The demon shook his head. “I can’t tell you which one from just looking at a picture on your phone. But it’s definitely a Greater demon. Your exorcism sigil would have cast out a lesser demon. That, I am certain.”

Shit. I hated being right. “What about a mid demon?” I asked, seeing a flinch in his expression.

“A mid demon would have succumbed to your magic, Sam,” answered Faris. “The real indicator is that only Greater demons have the power to trap a mortal soul and take it back to the Netherworld. That’s real powerful stuff.” Faris twisted his face up, impressed. “Even I can’t do that. Any lesser demon would have fed on the soul. It just proves that you have a Greater problem on your hands.” The demon flashed me his teeth.

Ah, hell. A chill rolled up my spine and settled around the back of my neck in tiny pricks. A Greater demon was running around Manhattan, killing innocents and possessing little girls for fun. It was worse than I thought.

Greater demons were the princes of the Netherworld, of Hell. They were next in line with archdemons, the most powerful of all the beings in the Netherworld. I’d sent my fair share of demons back to the Netherworld, casting them out during ritual exorcisms. I’d even vanquished a crap load of them too, giving them a true death by killing their demon soul, the very essence of what made them demons.

But as far as I knew, a Greater demon couldn’t be killed. Not really. I could kill its temporary body, its shell, but it always returned to the Netherworld.

“What about the runes? The symbols?” I was hoping to get some answers with the symbols. Or at least figure out what the hell the Greater demon was doing.

“It’s Mesopotamian,” said the demon, his voice flat, as though commenting on my decor.

My face wrinkled into a frown, trying to make sense of what Faris had just said. “Isn’t Mesopotamia the birthplace of religion? Where the first written records of religious practices were found?”

Faris raised his brows, seemingly impressed. “Yes.” His eyes widened, matching his smile. “Yes, it is.” He lowered his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to have sex? I have a thing for nerdy girls.”

I stared at Faris, my pulse hammering. I was suddenly nervous but I didn’t know why. “The demon was performing some kind of religious ritual.”

“It appears so, yes.”

I bit my bottom lip, shaking my head. “I didn’t think demons believed in religion, it being man made and all.” This was getting more and more confusing.

Faris adjusted the collar of his shirt. “They don’t. Demons believe in demons. That is to say, power and domination, and then some more power. ”

I looked at my grandfather, his face cemented in confusion mirroring my own. I flicked my eyes back to the demon. “What did the symbols say?”

Faris lost his smile. “Forgive me, but my Mesopotamian is a little rusty. I could only make out a few words.”

“Which are?”

“Darkness, death, destruction, and war, I think.”

“Demons,” I growled, and my grandfather nodded. “Why does it always come back to them fighting their stupid war? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“No idea,” answered Faris.

I let out a long breath through my nose, feeling as though this had been a giant waste of time. Worse was that I had agreed to something that might come and bite me in the ass later, literally.

“Pagan rituals aren’t my forte,” informed Faris after moment. He tugged at his sleeves and said, “You’re better off asking one of your elder witches. Preferably really wrinkled and bald. The bald ones always know more.”

I sighed. Why me? “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Faris rubbed his hands together, a giant smile returning to his face. “Your turn, my little witch. A deal’s a deal, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Bracing myself and ignoring my grandfather’s wide eyes, I stepped out of my circle and stood before Faris as the demon finished buttoning up his shirt, looking way too pleased.

There was a sudden flap of wings, and then Poe settled on my right shoulder. “You sure, Sam?” he whispered in my ear. “You don’t have to do this. It’s not like he gave us much.”

I swallowed. “I’m sure.”

“Samantha,” urged my grandfather, looking like he was about to throw up. “If the Dark Witch Court finds out about this, you might lose your place here. There are repercussions for going against our laws. You’ll be shunned.”

“What? And lose all those warm welcomes they’ve been giving me every day of my life? It’s not like they love me anyway. I wouldn’t be losing much.”

But he wasn’t giving up and got right in my face. “You will lose a lot. Believe me. You know what they can do to you.”

I sighed. I didn’t like seeing him all worked up like this. “It’ll be fine,” I soothed. “Faris’s not so bad.” God, I hope I’m right.

I pulled my attention back to the mid demon, my insides twisting like a tight rope. I knew what I needed to say and do. I just needed to say three words.

With my pulse jackhammering, I opened my mouth and said, “I release you.” And then I dragged my foot across the chalk-drawn triangle, breaking the contract and the binding.

The effect was instantaneous .

Energy flashed through me, expanding upward from the triangle I’d drawn on the wood floor. My aura touched it, and the power flowed out of the triangle and into me. Lessening my will, my hold, I let go of the energy.

The pulse of energy faded, and Faris stepped out of his confining triangle.

“Much better,” said the demon as he shook and shivered like a wet cat trying to get the water from its coat. He looked at me, his lips forming a devilish smile. “Thank you, darling.”

“I’m not sure I should say you’re welcome,” I said, and my grandfather scowled. Damn, I’d really done it this time. I stifled a nervous giggle. I’d either really cursed myself or I’d just made a friend for life. I scrunched up my face, not appreciating the swagger in the mid-demon’s steps, like a predator on the hunt for new prey, knowing it was right around the corner.

Poe rubbed his head against my cheek, seemingly trying to calm me after having probably sensed my tension. It wasn’t working.

“And Faris,” I called as the demon strolled toward the door. “Try not to impregnate anyone, okay.”

The demon flashed me a brilliant smile and said, “Can’t make any promises.”

And with that, a mid demon from the Netherworld, that I’d just released into our world, vanished through the door.

CHAPTER 6

I ’d barely slept last night. I kept tossing and turning with images of Faris drinking the essence of some poor naked and drunken female—possibly females . But even releasing Faris from my summoning triangle—which, if found out, would probably grant me a spot on a burning stake—couldn’t remove the real issue here; the Greater demon that had left a trail of dead bodies had been performing some ancient pagan ritual and had killed Julia to steal her soul. Not ingest it, not feast on it like all normal demons, but had actually taken it back to the Netherworld.

The way the Greater demon had smiled at me had me on edge, like a challenge. He had mocked me, thinking I could never beat him. Perhaps he knew I couldn’t .

My hatred for the demon had me burning up like a fever. My body broke into a sweat, and I had to get up to take a cold shower. But it did nothing to dampen my mood. I was mad as hell.

I had no clue what the demon wanted. I didn’t even have a name. And yet I knew I’d not seen the last of the Greater demon. He would be back. I’d bet my life on it.

I spent most of the day going over what happened in my head. Why had the Greater demon taken Julia’s soul? Was it part of the ritual? Faris hadn’t been a giant help, but he’d confirmed my suspicions and now I knew who to ask for more information.

Only one witch could decipher those symbols—Evanora Crow.

Evanora Crow was as old as dirt and a skilled Dark witch, probably the most powerful Dark witch on the entire North American continent. Yes, her methods were questionable, but that’s one of the things that set her apart. She feared nothing. In my book, she was a badass witch.

She was also my maternal great-aunt and lived just down the street from me.

After a quick bite from my veggie pizza, I pulled my messenger bag over my head and started out in search of my aunt; Poe perched comfortably on my shoulder. My grandfather was nowhere in sight, and that had me worried. I’d checked all three floors of the house, but no gramps. He’d left early in the morning and hadn’t been back since. He was probably up to some mischief. Damn that old man. He was going to get himself into trouble again.

I locked the front door and stepped off the front steps onto the walkway.

“Hi, Vera,” I told the redheaded witch as she stood up from her front garden at the sound of me exiting, her hands covered in black earth with a garden shovel on the ground next to her.

Her face was her usual large frown accompanied by an ugly pinched mouth. The woman barely had any lips, so it was just a weird slice under her large nose. The bonus was how round her eyes were at the sight of me. Did I just hear her hissing?

I smiled and waved at her with my fingers. I didn’t know why I bothered being so nice to her. If it weren’t for my grandfather asking me to be, I would have told her to go screw herself a long time ago. I turned and walked away.

“I saw a man leaving your house last night,” came Vera’s accusing tone, which made me freeze mid step.

Oh.

Shit.

“A man leaving my house?” I repeated, playing dumb though my heart was slamming so hard against my chest I was sure Vera could hear it. Damn. Damn. Damn. This was bad. Had she been spying on me? If she knew Faris was a demon, I was in deep shit.

Poe leaned toward my ear and whispered, “You want me to take care of her? ”

“It’s fine,” I whispered back, keeping my face neutral.

Vera’s eyes flicked to Poe and back to me again. “Don’t patronize me,” accused the witch, the slit to her eyes giving her a catlike look. She pressed her dirty hands on her hips. “A man left your house at one in the morning. And he wasn’t a witch.”

I swallowed. “Really? And how would you know that?” Damn, Faris. What did you do?

Vera smiled without warmth. “I pride myself in knowing every young, bachelor, male witch, white or dark, in the city. He’s not one of us.”

Okay, her keeping tabs on single male witches was creepier than her spying on me. Still, I would have expected Faris to use some sort of demon glamour to hide his true scent from the witches. Damn it. This was getting worse by the second. I thought about just making a run for it, but that would look odd, not to mention a little stupid.

Mind racing, I forced my face to go blank and my breathing to be slow and even. I’d no doubt in my mind Vera could smell fear too.

The witch’s face was riddled with contempt. “He’s not a witch. His scent was different .”

Thank the cauldron . Faris had somehow masked his scent. He wasn’t as stupid as I thought.

“He’s human . Isn’t he?” she added, with a triumphant tone to her voice, like she’d discovered my deepest secret. I resisted the urge to whack her with her garden shovel. Gramps wouldn’t like that. It would make a mess .

It wasn’t illegal to fraternize with humans, just very unlikely. I breathed easier. She had no idea Faris was a demon.

My turn. “Are you spying on me? You dirty, old woman.”

Vera’s mouth dropped open, her face turning a shade of red to match her hair. “How dare you—”

“How dare you ,” I said, my voice rising as I resisted the urge to curse her. “Who comes and goes in my own house is my own business.” Why am I even arguing with this old witch?

A puff of annoyance came off of Vera. “It is my business when it affects the community.”

I knew she meant the community of witches. You hear about these kinds of situations in small towns all the time, everybody knowing everybody else’s business. It’s awesome. Mystic Quarter was no better. It was a small town of sorts, a tiny, secret community in Manhattan. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Okay, so I was being snappy, but she was looking at me like she was just about to spit in my face, and I hadn’t done anything. Well, not to her. Vera knew how to push my buttons, and right now, she’d pushed all of them.

The witch pinched her face. “Humans have no business mixing here. We have enough problems with the other half-breeds. How could you bring that man here? The very presence of a human in Mystic Quarter is a direct insult to our community. Mark my words. They will hear about this. ”

“Fantastic,” I mumbled, wondering if her front garden was large enough to bury her body.

“That’s it. I’m taking her pearl necklace next.” Poe’s low voice drifted in my ear, his claws pinching my shoulders and echoing my anger.

Vera’s eyes snapped to the raven and she glowered. “I saw your raven outside my window yesterday. And now my family brooch is missing.”

I smiled thinly. “Are you accusing Poe of stealing? Do you have proof?” The proof was upstairs on the third floor.

“It’s why ravens don’t make good familiars,” said the witch, her expression still pinched. “They’re too wild. Too unpredictable.”

“Nothing wrong with being unpredictable,” remarked Poe, loudly enough for Vera to hear. “Keeps Sam on her toes.”

Vera’s face twisted in an ugly grimace. “Keep your familiar on a leash.”

“He’s a bird.” I nearly laughed. “That’s not likely to happen.”

Vera snarled, showing teeth. “What does your grandfather think of all this?” she added. “Does he know what you’re up to? Does he know human men come and go in the middle of the night?”

Damn. She just wouldn’t let it go. “Okay. You caught me. I used him for sex, if you must know. He’s great. Best lay I’ve had all year. Takes his time, you know. Makes sure I’m satisfied. You know what I mean?” Yup. That shut her up .

Vera let out a series of huffs and puffs, her face reddening.

“Getting laid feels good. You should try it sometime.”

I turned and left her with her mouth hanging open in an expression like I just whacked her with her shovel.

My mood was dark and furious as a winter storm. My steps were louder than usual with my stride wide like a soldier’s. I wanted to hurt something. Preferably Vera’s face. Preferably with her shovel.

That’s it. I’m never letting Faris out again. That had been way too close.

At the corner of Twilight Avenue, I crossed the street toward a strip of haphazard, mismatched buildings. They had lost their architectural integrity with all the additions over the years, making it look like the builder had lost his mind in the middle of construction. I made for a three-story, brown-brick building that had looked like mine, once upon a time, but now looked more like it had gone through a few hurricanes. Too much dark magic could do that to buildings. Payment had to come from somewhere when just a witch wasn’t enough. Dark drapes hung over the first-floor windows, and a sign in big bold letters over the front door proclaimed:

EVANORA CROW. DARK WITCH EXTRAORDINAIRE.

SPECIALIST IN THE DARK ARTS.

MANAGEMENT .

My boots slapped on the asphalt and I stepped up to the front cement steps.

“I just remembered I have something to do,” informed Poe, a slight edge to his voice.

“Now?” I turned to look at the raven.

He turned his head away, rolling his shoulders as though preparing himself for flight. “Yup. Now. It’s important.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t do it.”

The raven looked back at me. He blinked and said, “Do what?”

“You know what,” I told him. “I know you, Poe. You’re going to go over to Vera’s and do something stupid. She’s not worth it. Just forget about it, okay?”

Poe raised a brow, his beady eyes gleaming. “I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Poe,” I begged. “Don’t.”

The raven took off, his large wings beating. The gust lifted my hair and sent a strand into my mouth.

“I’ll be back soon,” called the raven. He turned his head and let out mocking caws of laughter as he flew higher and away, circling around a clearing before disappearing behind a building.

Vera was a nosy, old witch. It was no secret that I had no love for her. But I hated that she’d been right about one thing. Poe was wild.

Damn that bird .

Jaw gritted, I wound my long, dark hair into a messy bun with my spare elastic. Then, without knocking, I reached out, pulled the door open, and went inside .

A sudden, cold tingle of dark magic energy rippled over my skin, making it riddle in goose bumps. Yup, she was home.

“Aunt Evanora?” I called as I stepped through.

I wrinkled my nose at the scent of incense and candles. A musty smell of old rugs hung heavily in the air. Hefty, black drapes hung over the two front windows, and soft, yellow light spilled from the six candles splayed above a counter on the far right. It was only half past six in the evening, but inside the shop it felt like it was eleven at night.

Cobwebs stretched out in the small shop. Shelves and racks lined the walls, packed with an assortment of jars with unidentifiable objects, all covered in a thin layer of dust. The usual stuff: Tarot cards, Ouija boards, candles, animal bones, crystal balls, pendulums, chalk, scrying mirrors, every size of cauldron, wands, and every book of spells you could imagine. A glass cabinet with an assortment of skulls, human and animal, bloodstained daggers and bolines, and a selection of glass eyes, stood in the corner. Masks with distorted human faces, looking disturbingly as though made of dry flesh, stared down from the walls as though to scare off intruders. Rusted spiked and sharp instruments hung from the ceiling like decorations.

A flutter of excitement rushed through me. It was always a joy stepping into my aunt’s shop. There was always something new and deliciously, magically dark delivered to her shop once a week .

I walked up to her shelf, which proclaimed with a large banner stretched across the upper wall: FRESH OFF THE CAULDRON! and searched for my prize.

A variety of objects lay before my eyes: A Spell-Casting Kit for the Up-and-Coming Witch; Wynona Craven’s Fabulous Wart-Begone Cream; No-Nonsense Love Potions in tiny, pink vials, in the shape of hearts; Fast & Furious Fat-Burning Elixir (very popular among us witches); a couple of transmutation vials (drink at your own risk!); and six bags of what looked like tiny pebbles. I read the label. Instant Bubble Protection. Interesting. Never used one of those before.

The real prize was the Gypsy No. 5 Skin So Soft Healing Balm. This was it—what I’d been waiting for—for six months. My heart thumped as I snatched it up. It had to work this time.

With the healing balm in my hand, I grabbed two bags of those pebbles and one Fast & Furious Fat-Burning Elixir. No judging.

With my new merchandise in my hands, excitement filled me as I crossed the room toward the back of the shop.

The thick, metallic odor of blood was heavy in the air mixed in with the faint stench of rot. My aunt was definitely working magic.

I pushed aside a curtain door and stepped into the back room—my aunt’s magic lab, if you will—where she performed most of her spells, enchantments, and her demon conjuring. The back room was even smaller than the shop, maybe half its size.

An old woman, bent with age, looked up at me as I entered. There was a powerful quality to her. Wisps of white hair fell loosely around her face, her arms and legs hung weakly, and she was painfully thin. Her small eyes were lost in the heavy wrinkles, but I could make out one, milky-white eye rolling around in its socket until it focused on me.

I heard a moan, and then I knew why the air had such a strong smell of blood. A blood circle marked the wood floor, along with burning candles and the remains of three dead chickens.

And in the middle of the blood circle, his mouth stuffed with a dirty cloth, arms and legs bound, was a young man.

“Oh, shit,” I breathed.

CHAPTER 7

“W ho’s the guy?” I asked as I crossed the room and came closer for a better look. He was in his early thirties and built like a wrestler with shoulder muscles that melted into his neck. His thick build and faint scent of wet dog was all I needed. Werewolf.

The old woman lifted her chin haughtily and pointed a gnarled finger at him. “He stole a strength charm from Evanora. Evanora doesn’t take kindly to thieves.” Yes, my aunt referred to herself in the third person. She was that eccentric.

I snorted, my eyes back on the werewolf. “You dumb bastard. Don’t you know you can’t steal from witches? That you’ll always be found out?” A faint orange mist shadowed above the werewolf, the thief-indicator spell .

“And in her shop, no less,” I added, pursing my lips. “It’s almost as though you wanted to get caught.” Man, he made it way too easy. Of all the other witch shops in the district, this werewolf had to pick my aunt’s, the most powerful Dark witch in Mystic Quarter and the most unforgiving. Dumbass.

His eyes widened, and a sound came from his gag as he tried to form unintelligible words.

I leaned over him. “Sorry? What was that? I don’t speak dumbass.” I had no sympathy for thieves, especially those who took advantage of old ladies who lived on their own. I had to restrain myself from kicking him.

“Everything in here is spelled. Can’t you read?” I said pointing to the large sign hanging by the front door:

ALL THIEVES WILL BE CURSED! STEAL AT YOUR OWN RISK!

“You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t sacrifice your penis to Mataba, a sex demoness.” There was no such demoness, but he didn’t have to know.

The werewolf’s face paled, and I swear I saw tears in his eyes. Idiot. Why were men so sensitive when it came to their penises? I stepped over the werewolf and stood by my aunt. “How much for these?” I asked as I showed her my newly acquired items in my hands.

Evanora’s milky-white eye fixed on my hands. “Fifty dollars.”

“What?” I cried, incredulous, realizing that she could make up any price she wanted since there were no price tags on them. “I’m your niece. What happened to family discounts?”

“Fifty dollars,” repeated the old witch, her face peacefully blank.

I frowned. “I’ll give you twenty.”

“Deal.”

I pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet and gave it to her. The old witch snatched it and stuffed it into some secret pocket inside her gown. “The Gypsy Balm won’t work.”

“I have to try.”

My aunt made a disapproving sound in her throat and turned her attention back on her prisoner.

“Aunt Evanora. You’ve got a minute?” I asked, slipping my new purchases into my messenger bag. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Evanora’s face twitched and pulled. To anyone else it would look like a grimace, but I knew this was my aunt’s smile. “What is it you want, Samantha? Be quick about it,” she said, her milky-white eye angled toward her captive. “Evanora has work to do.” The werewolf squirmed, and I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t start laughing. Would she kill him? I wasn’t sure. Would she sacrifice some of his most precious pieces to a demon? Probably.

I yanked out my phone and showed my aunt the images. “What do you make of these?”

Evanora leaned forward until her nose practically grazed my phone. “Mesopotamian,” she answered, and pulled back. “The old languages.” One point for Faris .

“There’re two symbols carved on her wrists. Do you recognize them?” I edged my phone closer to her for a better look.

My aunt shook her head.

“And the ritual? What does it all mean?” I asked, flipping through the images. My heart clenched when I saw Julia’s body in one of the pictures.

My aunt’s jaw moved like she was gnawing on food. “Hmmm. A ceremony. A ritual to summon a powerful demon. One who will seek death and destruction upon the world. One that will claim our world as its own.”

I let out a breath. “Just great.”

“Samantha,” began my aunt, and I recognized that tone in her voice, the one right before she was about to tell me not to do something. “What have you not told Evanora? What happened to the human girl?”

I told her about my exorcism gone wrong, watching her face for a reaction but getting none. Something didn’t make sense. “You said this is a ceremony to summon a powerful demon. But the one doing the ritual was one—a Greater demon. I know because I would have been able to banish him otherwise. So why would a Greater demon summon another Greater demon? It doesn’t make sense.”

Evanora’s eyes narrowed. “There are more powerful and more dangerous monsters in the Netherworld, fouler and more evil than your mere Greater demons. ”

I knew by the tone of her voice that she’d had firsthand experience in the matter. “Like what?” I asked. “An archdemon? Something else? Can you tell which one by looking at those symbols? Or can you tell me why it took her soul?”

Evanora made a sound in her throat. “Evanora will need time to do a proper translation of the texts. There’s paper on the table,” she ordered, a twisted finger pointing.

I moved to the table, grabbed some paper and a pen, and began to copy the texts. “How long will it take you?” I asked once I’d finished copying the last of the runes, knowing it was the wrong thing to say by the deepening frown on my aunt’s face.

“It will take as long as Evanora needs,” said the old witch. She turned and shambled a few steps closer to her captive, her shapeless, forest-green gown dragging behind her as her knees crunched and popped like a crackling fire. “Now go,” she said, her fingers twitching in a dark spell. “Evanora has work to do.” A wicked grin materialized on her face, a homicidal gleam in her one good eye.

A chill scuttled up my spine. Damn. I wouldn’t want to be that guy right now.

I gave my aunt a kiss, saw her smile widen, and then walked over the werewolf and through the curtain door.

I’d barely closed the shop’s front door when the screaming started.

CHAPTER 8

I had time to kill while my aunt translated the texts, and I wasn’t the type to just sit and wait. I had a Greater demon to find. And I had to find him before he killed another human.

I needed information. Witches were like the CIA of Mystic Quarter. They had spies everywhere. If there were other victims who’d died under mysterious circumstances, with a supernatural element in the city, there was a witch who knew something.

One of the most popular witch hangouts was a pub. Luckily for me, it was just down the street.

Nighttime was quickly approaching. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and Poe was nowhere in sight. Knowing him, it would probably be the last I’d see him tonight. Damn bird .

With a new hop to my step, I made for a decrepit building that looked like it had seen its share of fires. The sign above a heavy wooden door read THE WICKED WITCH BREWERY. STOP IN FOR A PINT AND A SPELL!

I grabbed the door knocker in the form of a wailing witch’s head, her face screwed up in pain and torment, and pulled open the door to step in.

The noise hit me first followed by the stink of fried food, beer, and piss, all mixed with the lingering aroma of old vomit and perspiration. Black paint smeared the windows, blocking out most of the light from the streetlamps. The only illumination came from the fixtures on the ceiling that spilled a feeble, green glow.

The pub leaned toward the rowdy side. It was a healthy mix of male and female witches, and packed. Not just with witches but with all manner of half-breeds; vampires, werewolves, faeries, trolls, gnomes, gremlins, and leprechauns were strewn about the space.

I worked my way deeper into the pub, around a cluster of tables and witches, past a long, gleaming wooden bar that stretched the length of the room fitted by a row of tall stools. A couple of leprechauns stared into their drinks on the far end. An Asian vampire sipped on her glass filled with a red liquid that was too thick to be wine.

The barmaid nodded at me. Lean and composed, her ebony-colored skin was a sharp contrast to her green metallic bustier as her long, elegant arms slung drinks along the bar.

My eyes scanned the back of the pub toward the privacy booths farthest from the door and rested on a dark-haired male witch in a leather motorcycle jacket.

My lips quirked into a smile. Gotcha.

I adjusted the strap of my messenger bag and made for him. He had company. A voluptuous brunette in a tight, black cocktail dress sat across from him. She sat primly with her elbows on the table, squeezing her already ginormous breasts until they looked like they might pop. I didn’t care. He must be really into her because he didn’t even see me coming. He made a show of staring openly at her enormous cleavage.

“Alex!” I cried, my face screwed up in a mock shocked expression as I stood next to his booth. “Who is this?” My lips trembled for an added effect. “You two-timing witch! How dare you do this to me. Your wife!”

The brunette leaned back, her mouth slightly opened as she shot daggers with her eyes at Alex. “You’re married?”

“I’m not,” said Alex, his face reddening with the sudden attention of everyone in the pub on him. He sat straighter. “She’s lying.”

My eyes welled with tears. “What about little Sarah? And Jimmy? You don’t love them anymore?” Yeah, that should do it.

“Bastard.” The brunette slid out of the booth, glowering at Alex. I could almost see the spells she was conjuring up in her mind. She might even hex him right here in front of everyone. I’d love to see that.

“Don’t ever call me again.” And with that, the sexy brunette witch sashayed her way out of the pub, all male eyes following her like a piece of juicy steak.

Grinning, I let myself fall to the orange, faux-leather seat and stretched out my legs. “Miss me?”

“What the hell did you do that for?” Alex glared at me, his jaw clenched, making his pretty face a lot less pretty. He was a handsome witch. And the females took notice. I’d never seen him with the same female twice. Alex was a playboy. He liked to play with women. It didn’t matter if they were witch, human, or faerie. As long as they were female, his game was on. He was a male chauvinist creep, but he also had his uses. And, well, we females liked to blab, especially after a few glasses of wine. That was how he got most of his intel. Through his lovers.

“Take it easy, Casanova,” I said. I yanked the strap from my bag over my head, grabbed a card from it, and settled the bag on the seat next to me. “It’s not like there won’t be another hot brunette in this seat as soon as I leave.”

Alex’s face smoothed out, his gaze on mine. “You better have had a good reason to do that.” His hands dropped under the table, groping for a hex bag or moving his fingers in some dark spell.

I felt the prick of dark wild magic brush across my skin like sandpaper. I cocked a brow. He shouldn’t have done that .

Moving fast, I slapped the card on the table in front of Alex. “Do anything stupid, and all I have to do is say one word—and you’ll be pissing blood for months.”

Alex’s eyes moved to the card, tracing the lines I’d drawn, his features shifting to a frown. “A malaise sigil.”

I smiled. “And I know how to use it.” I always had my pack of pre-drawn sigils with me. They came in very handy for these kinds of situations. I’d already tapped into the magic of the sigil, feeding off my anger and my desperation to find the Greater demon. I really wanted to hurt someone, and if it ended up being Alex, then so be it. The guy really ticked me off.

Alex watched me. His eyes widened as he sensed the magic influx. His face twisted, his expression hard. “You try anything in here, and I’ll fuck you up later.”

I grinned. “Is that a promise?”

Alex’s handsome face creased in anger, but he said nothing.

His eyes met mine, and my predatory instincts stirred. “Go ahead, Alex. Try something. Give me a reason to whip your sorry ass,” I said, laughing. “All the witches you screwed will thank me. Come on. Do it.”

He laughed softly. “You’re crazy.”

“Possibly.” I gestured with my chin. “Let’s see your hands. Hands on the table where I can see them. ”

Very slowly, Alex rested his hands on the table. “What the hell do you want?” he asked with a nasty smile on his face.

I shifted in my seat. “Well, I’m not here to discuss how many lays you’ve had this week.”

He took a long breath, his dark eyes turbulent. “What do you want to discuss ?”

“I’m here because I need information. And you’re going to give it to me.” Yes, I was being a little aggressive, forward even, but the guy was a creep, so some rule in the universe made it okay.

Alex leaned back and stretched his legs. “Who says I’m going to give you any,” answered the witch, trying to salvage some shred of dignity.

“I do.” My eyes flicked to the card on the table. “That’s just the beginning. I’ve got lots more.” And I would love to use them on you.

Alex’s face broke into a snarl. “I’m sick of you ordering me around like a slave. You think you’re better than me? Because of your family name?”

I shrugged. “No,” I said, smiling. “I know I’m better than you.”

He looked at me, his face rigid with frustration. “You might have a knack for drawing sigils that actually work. I’ll give you that. But you don’t have that much power.” And then he added with a winning smile. “Without them, you’ve got nothing. You’re practically human.”

I kept my face blank. “Heard it all before.” All my life. “But we’re not here to talk about me. I’m here because I want to know what you know about a couple of recent human deaths. Deaths that have the mark of the supernatural about them.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile, giving him away. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Sure you do. And you’re going to tell me about them.”

He smiled bitterly. “Is that so?”

I flicked my gaze to the card and back to him. His face twitched. Good. He knew I would use it. I leaned forward and said, “I want to know about these deaths. I want to know how many were killed and where they were killed. I want to know who they were. Were they male or female? And whatever else you think I would want to know.” I glared at him. “Now, Alex.”

Alex showed me his teeth. “Why you so worked up? Is it that time of the month?”

God, he was asking for it. What did all these women see in this asshole? “For you, it’s always that time of the month.” I let out a breath. “I’m losing my patience. Spill it.”

His eyebrows rose. “What if I told you that I don’t know anything about any human deaths? That you came here for nothing.”

“Then I’d tell you I know you’re lying.”

“You owe me a date,” he said, a creepy smile on his lips. “She’s a complete animal in bed.” And then he added in a lowered tone, “She likes the kinky stuff. ”

I tried hard not to get a mental image, but the nasty picture was already branded on the backs of my eyelids.

“I owe you shit.” I gritted my teeth. “Get on with it.”

“Temper, temper.” He watched me for a moment. His smile grew seductive, and he leaned forward on the table. “I know what this is. You’re angry because I never asked you out. You’re jealous.”

I choked on my air. “I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than go out with you.” Damn. That witch was vile. Now that was a horrible thought. “Hurry up before I put a stop to that enormous ego of yours.” I tapped my index finger on my card. “The sooner you tell me what I want to hear, the sooner I’ll be gone and out of your way, so you’re free to resume your creepy female mongering.”

Alex smiled like I’d given him a compliment. “There were three human murders, whose deaths had some supernatural flair to them,” he answered, his handsome face marked with amusement. “Bodies were found surrounded with ritualistic elements.”

So the angel-born had been telling me the truth. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“When?”

“Last week. I don’t have dates, so don’t ask.”

My heart raced as I leaned forward. “Who were they? Do you have names?”

Alex shook his head. “No idea. It’s not like I keep tabs every time a human dies. This is New York City. Do you know how many humans die every month? A lot. I have other more important things to do with my time. I have a life.”

I rolled my eyes. “What else?” I asked around a sigh. “I need more than this, Alex.”

The witch shrugged. “I know two were females. Old, like fifty.” Fifty was not old, but Alex thought anything past twenty was pushing it. “One was a male,” he continued. “Early twenties.”

I crossed my ankles and leaned slightly forward. “And you’re sure they were involved in some sort of ritual? Signs of a séance or ritualistic behavior?”

Irritation flickered across his face. It took a moment for him to answer. “That’s what I heard. Yeah.”

“Where were the bodies found?”

“The guy’s body was found in Queens,” he answered. “One female was recovered in Brooklyn. The other was right here in New York.”

I sat in silence for a moment. “One more thing. Do you know anything about an angel-born who’s been asking questions about these murders?”

The smile on his face faded. “Angel-born?” He stiffened ever so slightly. But I saw it. “Why are you asking about an angel-born?”

I thought about it. “Because he was snooping around.” If an angel-born was involved, it was because it was damn serious. “And he knows something.”

A muscle feathered along his jaw. “What does he know?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t say. ”

“Then he knows shit.” Alex rose in a fluid motion, his eyes on my card. “I’ve nothing else to say.”

I realized he was waiting for me to let him go, so I grabbed my card and slipped it inside my bag.

Alex stepped next to me, leaned over, and said to my ear, “The next time you pull this shit on me, I’ll kill you.” And then he left.

Figures . I waited until I saw him exit the pub and made my way to the bar.

“The tallest glass of red wine you have, Sajana,” I told the barmaid as I pulled my ass onto a stool. I needed a drink. Possibly three.

I had pissed off Alex, and in doing so, probably lost him forever as an informant. A part of me felt guilty that I’d threatened him. But the larger part reminded me that he’d just threatened to kill me. Did that make us even? Not even close.

What Alex had given me wasn’t much, but now that I had the number of bodies, sexes, and where they were found, I could work with that. Counting Julia that made three dead females and one dead male. All different age groups. I didn’t see the connection. Was there even one? There had to be. I doubted a Greater demon was picking off humans at random. But maybe he was. The day had not been a total waste.

“Here you go, Sam,” said Sajana, as she put a large glass of red wine the size of a tall glass of beer in front of me.

“You’re a lifesaver, Sajana. ”

My lips had barely touched my glass when another witch bumped against the bar. She was short and plump with a mane of glistening, black hair that reached her waist. She looked about fifty and mad as hell.

“Your angel is back again, Sam,” said the witch, her dark eyes staring at me intensely.

Oh. Crap. Not this again.

“He’s not my angel, Rosaleen,” I said, matching her tone perfectly.

“Got himself all beaten up again,” said Rosaleen, clearly not listening. “Drinks himself into a stupor and then harasses the hell out of everyone. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose. What kind of angel wants to get beaten up so close to death? By the cauldron. You need to do something about your angel.”

“He’s not my angel.”

Rosaleen looked at me with an expression like I’d lost my puppy on purpose. “He’s out back. Get your angel out of here before the leprechauns find him and kill him. It’s bad for business.”

“He’s not my angel.” I opened my mouth to tell her off, but she’d disappeared behind the bar toward the kitchen.

Cursing under my breath, I took the largest swig of wine that would fit in my mouth without having it dribble down the corners, swallowed, and made my way toward the back of the pub. A sign appeared over the back door. EXIT. EMPLOYEES ONLY .

I pushed the metal bar and stepped out into a darkened alley. A moan escaped me.

There, sprawled in the middle of black garbage bags, beaten within a few inches of death’s door, was an angel.

CHAPTER 9

“D amn it, Kyllian,” I cried as I rushed over to him. I cringed. He was way worse up close.

His face was bruised and swollen, and his right arm was visibly broken, one of the bones in his forearm protruding from the skin. One side of his face was puffy with dark purple bruises, his left eye swollen shut. Pink liquid spilled from a large gash on the side of his head—his angel essence mixed in with his human body’s blood.

Ah. Hell.

Kyllian was the epitome of what an angel should look like, as though God himself had sculpted him. If you looked up angel in the dictionary, you’d find his picture with a detailed description: Tall, beautiful, broad shouldered, and built like a Roman God statue, with blond hair cut close to his scalp, skin the color of golden sand, mesmerizing blue eyes that could look almost gray, and a body that made every woman drool and every man envious. To top it off, he glowed. That’s right. All angels emitted a soft, white glow from their skin. It was faint. Humans couldn’t see it. But all us half-breeds could. Kyllian was a golden angel.

But he didn’t look like that right now. My heart broke at the sight of him. He was too beautiful, inside and out, to look like this and to be lying in the middle of trash. He was dressed in his usual black of some stretchy material. He carried two daggers sheathed along his baldric, each long and silver and glowing. Soul blades. I couldn’t see his jacket anywhere.

“Kyllian?” I pressed a hand on his left shoulder. “Kyllian, you need to wake up.”

His right eye blinked and focused on me. “Sam?”

“Yes. It’s me.” My nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol on him. I could get drunk just on his breath. “Why do you always do this to yourself?” I knew why. He’d been doing it for more than two years.

Tears welled in his eye. “They’re all dead, Sam. Because of me. All of them.”

I reached out and clasped my hand on a spot on his face that wasn’t swollen or bruised. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay. I’m here now.”

Giant tears spilled over the angel’s face. The pain I saw in that one eye had my own eyes burning. “It’s not right. Not right. It shouldn’t be this way. Why? Why does the Legion do this?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know.” Which was the truth .

Two years ago, the Legion of angels had sent Kyllian on a mission. He was ordered to kill a group of demon shifters. Turns out the demons weren’t so much demons but humans practicing some ritual. It was a massacre. Two kids had been killed along with twelve other humans.

Kyllian had never forgiven himself after that.

Completely understandable. That was bound to mess anyone up. That was the downside of being an angel. They were tools, soldiers, belonging to the Legion. On the whole, they’re an adaptable sort of being. But just like us witches, not all angels were created equally. And not all angels were heartless killing machines.

I felt his pain. I couldn’t get soul-Julia’s frightened face out of my mind. And I’d tried to save her.

A shiver prickled my skin. Not because of her memory but because I knew what it could mean, when you forced yourself to live with that amount of guilt. It changed you. Maybe not all at once. But it would. And I didn’t want to think about what it meant for my friend. But he was scarred, and he thought of himself as something horrible.

His guilt was eating away at him. I didn’t think angels could die of alcohol poisoning, but one day he was going to piss off the wrong half-breed crowd, and they were going to kill him.

“Can you walk?” I asked, knowing that even with a strength spell or sigil, there was no way I could carry this huge angel. He probably weighed over two hundred pounds. That’s two hundred pounds of angel muscle. “I need to get you to the water fountain. It’s deep enough.”

I knew angels masqueraded on Earth using temporary human vessels. Not as actual humans, but more like a disguise. Angels required a large amount of water to transition their bodies back to Horizon. Kind of like getting a “beam up” in Star Trek . Though their bodies were superficial, they mimicked all the sensations of a human body. Meaning, they felt pain.

“No. Horizon,” he said, his voice labored as though it took every bit of strength left just to utter those two words.

My pulse hammered. “Damn it. You’re going to die if you don’t go back. I don’t have any healing spells or ointments to heal you, you idiot. You need to get your angel ass back to Horizon.”

Kyllian shook his head stubbornly, his eye widening as he started to shiver. Great. A shivering angel was a very bad sign.

“No. Horizon. Take. Me. Your. Place.”

I cursed loud and low. “You damn, stubborn angel!” I was furious, but I was also scared. I couldn’t deal with an angel dying on my watch. I’d already had a human girl die. I wouldn’t let Kyllian die. But what did I know about healing a broken angel? Absolutely nothing.

We’d stumbled across each other five years ago while I was investigating a lead on a demon baby snatcher. Turns out the demon was a Teko demon, a revenant female demon who feeds on the souls of infants. The demon nearly killed me, but Kyllian came out of nowhere, a brilliant angel force, and saved my ass. We’d been friends ever since.

I searched his face and tried not to cringe at the mountainous welts that were forming on his left cheekbone. “I’m not taking you if you’re going to die on me. You hear me? Do you know how to heal yourself?” Say yes, or I’m going to dunk you in the fountain myself.

His lips trembled as he said, “Yes.”

No shit. Of course he was going to say yes.

“You’re going to have to help me out a little, okay? I’m going to wrap your left arm around my shoulders and pull you up. But I’m going to need your help. Can you do that?” God. I can’t believe I’m going through with this. I’ve clearly lost my mind.

Kyllian moaned a faint, “Yes.”

A surge of adrenaline went through me. With a Herculean effort on my part, Kyllian staggered up, dazed and choking on his own blood. That was just fantastic. I staggered from his sheer weight, and for a horrifying moment I thought we were both going to collapse until I found my footing.

The smell of lemons and oranges hit me, the scent of angels, all mixed in with the scent of alcohol and male perspiration.

“My God, you’re heavy,” I said through gritted teeth, sweat already forming on my forehead. It was like hauling a furless grizzly bear.

Together we left the alley and headed down toward Twilight Avenue. We made an interesting pair. I caught the disapproving scowls of a few witches and vampires as we waddled by. I was pretty sure they weren’t whispering about how cute a couple we were.

I tried hard not to look at the piece of bone that was poking out of his arm, but bile rose up the back of my throat whenever my eyes landed on it. Puking now was not an option. I just hoped he wasn’t lying about being able to fix himself.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” I panted, my thighs shaking from the effort of supporting most of his weight. “If you were ugly, I would have left your ass back there.”

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I. Know.”

I was tall for a woman, five nine, strong, but I was still a woman. I lacked the upper body strength that most men had. Not to mention super strength that female werewolves and vampires were born with.

“Stupid angel.” And stupid me. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. My grandfather was going to have a fit.

I only lived around the block from the pub, but it felt like I’d been dragging this giant angel for hours. When my house bobbed into view, I nearly collapsed in relief. I didn’t even know how we managed to get up that flight of steps, but we did. Even in his battered state, we managed.

Vera’s front yard was empty. Thank the cauldron. I did not want to have to deal with that gossip-hungry witch right now. I might kill her .

“I’m going to lean in and open the door,” I said. “Try not to let yourself fall. I won’t be able to stop you.” And then I’d be crushed under his weight.

The angel gave a nod. I took a strained breath, leaned forward, and tried the knob. It was unlocked. I pulled back. Then I kicked the door open, and we staggered into the dark hallway like a drunken couple. My body was drenched in sweat. By the time I’d dropped him on my couch, it looked like I’d taken a shower with my clothes on.

Kyllian’s body twitched, and his left hand came up as though he were trying to catch some phantom. “The children!” he wailed. “The children.”

Crap.

I dropped my bag and knelt next to the couch to brush the hair from his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Kyllian?” I examined his face. “Kyllian?” I said louder. Damn it. He’d passed out. How was I supposed to help him now? Angel bodies were nothing like ours. Or were they? Taking him to a hospital was out of the question. And I didn’t think magic would work. I had a first-aid kit in the bathroom. That would have to do for now, or until he woke up again.

Behind me, the floorboards squeaked.

With my heart in my throat, I spun around and found four pairs of gleaming, yellow eyes staring at me. A blast of cold terror struck me like a mallet.

Demons.

CHAPTER 10

D id I mention this was not my night?

A nauseating stench of rotten flesh hit me. I gagged, my eyes watering. They had adjusted well enough to the darkness to see them.

Lean and wiry like Dobermans, they had thin, leatherlike skin the color of moss. Large paws ended with sharp, black talons. Chunks of rotten flesh fell, revealing white bones and oozing orange-and-yellow, putrid juices. Maggots and flies poured from the open wounds. Nice. Now I’d have to fumigate the place.

The light from the street spilled in from the bay window, reflecting off their skinless, wolflike, elongated skulls. Deep-sunken, dead eyes fixed on me. Maws opened, and they let out a collective eerie wail, unnatural and unworldly, making my skin erupting in goose bumps. Their yellow eyes gleamed with hatred and intelligence. I knew that look. It was a “I’m going to eat you look.” Great.

Still, I felt a small moment of relief. Their attention was focused on me. They didn’t seem to care about the angel. Strange. A wounded angel was like free candy to a demon.

The closest demon lunged.

I threw myself to the side and heard the sound of talons scraping the wood floor. Pain tore at my leg, and I staggered as it flared up like I’d stuck it in a fire. I kept going. I ran down the hall and into the kitchen, pulling on the power of my rings as I went.

“Kyllian! Wake up!” I shouted as loudly as I could as I galloped down the hall, blood pounding in my ears.

The scraping came louder.

I reached the kitchen island and spun around.

Channeling the magic from my rings, I flung out my hand and shouted, “Feurantis!”

A ball of fire shot from my outstretched hand and hit the demon in the chest.

It burst into flame.

Yellow-and-orange flames as tall as me flared up and covered the demon. Wailing, the creature thrashed, trying to run away from the fire. But there was nowhere to run. The flames took on rims of red and gold as they grew, warming my face. The heat from the fire made me take a step back.

I gagged as the scent of burnt flesh assaulted me, and then the heat vanished. The flames subsided, and a pile of ash was all that remained of the demon .

One down. Three to go.

As though reading my mind, two demons appeared in my kitchen, stepping into the ash and leaving a trail of their dead brethren behind them like muddy paw prints.

One of the demon’s jaws hung open, exposing rows of fishlike teeth and a thick, gray tongue. It licked its lips, as if to show it was going to taste my flesh next.

“I don’t think so, puppy.”

They were lesser demons, by the looks of them, with slightly higher intelligence than the average Border Collie. Someone had sent them to kill me.

The lesser demons watched me, their yellow eyes gleaming with the promise of pain and death. The air moved about me, carrying the scent of rot.

Using those mere seconds, I channeled the energy from the rings, willing it to me, and bending it to my will. The air cracked with the sudden inflow of magic.

The demons charged me.

With inhuman speed, the creatures came at me like a pack of hungry wolves. I jumped back, my focus lost, just as a head hammered into me, the force knocking me off my feet. I fell hard. I looked up and saw teeth and eyes above me, bugs spilling from their wounds like water from a tap.

Vomit threatening, I scrambled backwards, trying to come up with a spell but failing as my concentration was replaced by primal fear. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be torn apart and eaten by these ugly bastards.

I spun and got to my feet amid a flash of teeth and talons. I slipped on something crunchy yet liquidy. Bugs—yup, very gross—and went headfirst into the kitchen table and chairs. Chairs flew, and pain exploded on my forehead, the throbbing already foreshadowing a giant bruise. Great, now Kyllian and I would be twins.

Instincts kicked in. I rolled over to the side and grabbed the legs from the nearest chair and came back up swinging in time to catch one of the demons on the side of the head.

There was a loud crack, and the demon went down. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew it wasn’t dead. It would be back on its feet in a matter of seconds.

My hip burned with pain, which I supposed was better than the dull numbness of more serious injuries like death. But at the moment it was the least of my worries. Movement flashed in my peripheral vision.

My instincts suddenly screamed, and I flung myself around. With the chair still in my grasp I swung it like a baseball bat and smashed it against the open maw of another demon. The chair exploded into pieces, but this time the demon didn’t go down.

It shook its head, eyes gleaming with lust and fury. It snarled and then lunged.

Shit.

I clutched the chair’s leg, the only piece left of my pathetic weapon. I swung and missed .

The demon crashed into me with the force of a moving truck. It pinned me to the floor with one paw, cutting off my ability to breathe. Its supernatural strength told me it could have just as easily pushed its paw right through my chest.

Putrid breath assaulted my face as the demon leaned forward, opening its maw like it was gauging how to get my entire head inside. Yellow drool dripped on my face, streaming from its teeth. I retched. It hovered above me, its body quivering in anticipated delight at eating me. Swell. This wasn’t going so well.

I was pissed. First because a demon had pinned me to the floor of my own home, and second, because I was certain I’d just swallowed some of its spit.

I might not have been able to move, but there was nothing wrong with my brain.

I gathered the energy from my anger, my fear, and my aching head, and spun it into the rings. Reaching out, I pressed my free hand on the demon’s front leg and shouted, “Glacis!” as I let out the pent-up wave of energy from the rings.

The rush of energy hit the demon. Its yellow eyes widened in shock and then fear. It leaped off me and then froze as its body slowly began to fossilize, a thin coat of ice spreading over its legs and growing until it reached its head. My breath turned to frost in front of my nose.

I didn’t wait to see the final effect. I pushed to my feet, surprised at the now-frozen, stiff demon that stood before me, its entire body covered in a thick sheet of white ice, looking every bit like a demon popsicle.

“You forgot the stick.” And then I swung my makeshift bat at the block of demon ice, shattering it into thousands of pieces.

“Didn’t see that coming. Did you?” I told the shards of ice. Hell, I didn’t even know I could do that.

Of course that’s when the other one decided to show up.

Searing, white-hot pain exploded in my back as I literally felt teeth sink into my flesh and back out again. Yikes. That hurt like a bitch.

In a blur, I was yanked across the room, the wall acting as my savior when I hit it instead of crashing through the window. I slipped to the floor like a ragdoll.

“Well. That went well,” I panted, hurting all over. “Grandpa!” I shouted. “If you were planning on a grand entrance, the time is now!”

I listened for his voice but only got the horrid hissing and growls from the two ghastly beasts from the Netherworld.

Bracing myself, I shot to my feet, blinking the black and white spots from my vision as I tried to focus on a spell, but my head felt like it was full of water. I was so tired.

I could hit one, but by the time I conjured up another fireball, the other demon’s teeth would be pulling out my jugular.

I knew it. They knew it .

I looked at the demons and made a face. “You know, this isn’t how I expected to die. I had pictured more of a celebration. Me and a couple of hot guys soaking in a hot cauldron.”

The demons raised their heads in unison, seemingly scenting my fear and desperation, but I couldn’t tell since they had no skin on their heads.

I’d come close to dying a few times in my line of work. But I’d always managed a curse or spell that got me out of sticky, deathlike situations.

But not this time. I’d never felt scared before, but this fear, well, it was everything.

I stared at death in the faces of the demons, and I felt a sudden surge of anger.

I twisted my face in a snarl to match their own. “Come on, you stinky bastards,” I cried, standing with my hands apart.

Together the demons leaped. Claws and fangs flashed.

A shadow appeared over them. A glowing shadow.

The demons halted.

Kyllian swooped in with preternatural speed, his face bone white. He seized the first demon by the throat and slammed it into the wall, again and again, until I heard its spine snap. Then with his injured arm holding a blade, he sliced it across the neck.

The demon slipped to the floor in a slop of guts, blood, and insects before exploding in a cloud of ash.

In a frenzy, the last demon threw itself at the angel, but it was no match for him .

With a blur of fangs and claws, the creature attacked. It screamed, front legs thrashing and its maw going for the angel’s neck.

And then the angel sliced the creature in half as neatly and simply as if he’d just cut through butter. The demon shrieked in pain, an eerie, bellowing sound that bore the depths of its physical agony. Then the two halves slopped to the ground and exploded into a cloud of ash.

It was over in five seconds.

And for a moment, I saw that great and terrible warrior standing before me. Kyllian. A soldier from the Legion of Angels.

“Got him,” said the angel. Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed to the floor.

CHAPTER 11

“W hat in the bloody cauldron is going on here!” shouted my grandfather, who’d showed up the moment Kyllian hit the floor. “Look at all this mess! Why are there cockroaches and centipedes all over the floor? Are those maggots? By the cauldron! It smells like a grave in here!”

“Will you stop shouting!” I yelled. “I can’t think.” My head pounded like I’d smashed it against the wall for an hour. My T-shirt was drenched with my own blood, and I hurt in places I didn’t even know could hurt. But none of that mattered now.

Kyllian had saved me. Then collapsed. And I couldn’t wake him up. Nor could I move him. I’d tried that, and it was like trying to pull a refrigerator with your pinky .

The skin around his face was pasty, and he looked like he had a fever. But when I reached out and touched his forehead, it was ice cold. A deep panic rose in me. I had to do something.

My grandfather stood next to me, hands on his hips. “Why were demons in my house?” he cried. “And why did they attack you?”

“I wish I knew.” I wish I knew a lot of things. “Is Poe back yet?”

My grandfather made a face. “I thought he was with you.”

Poe, being more than a thousand-year-old demon, might have had some input on how to heal an angel. But I couldn’t wait for him. I got to my feet and ran toward the couch.

“Where are you going?” cried my grandfather. I swear I was going to kill him if he didn’t stop yelling at me. I didn’t care that he was family.

Grabbing my bag with trembling hands, I rushed back to Kyllian’s side. Heart pounding, I turned my bag upside down and shook the contents out onto the floor. Sigil cards, candles, chalks, two vials, dried belladonna, and snakeskin in small, transparent zip bags, a paper notepad, Dark Magic Volume 2: Rituals in Necromancy , Gypsy No. 5 Skin So Soft Healing Balm, two bags of Instant Bubble Protection, a pen, three black markers, and my phone all looked up at me from the floor.

“You carry all this crap around with you in that bag?” came my grandfather’s voice behind me. “I never understood why women find it necessary to haul half their lives with them in these bags.”

A round, metal disk peeked from under the notepad, and I let out a sigh as my fingers grazed the metal medallion. I pulled it free, and a long silver chain followed. The soft pounding of power vibrated on my fingers as I wrapped the chain around Kyllian’s neck and let the medallion drop on his chest.

I looked at his face. No change.

“I don’t think your magic can help him,” said my grandfather, and I noticed how much calmer his voice was, with a tenderness to his tone that seemed to imply my actions were futile.

I swallowed hard and kept my eyes on Kyllian because if I looked at my grandfather right now, I’d lose it.

“I have to try. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.” While he’s dying... “Where the hell were you anyway? I could have used your help, you know,” I snapped, my voice harsh.

When he didn’t answer I turned to look at him. A sheepish grin creased his face. I raised a brow. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

He shrugged, the movement taking years off his life. “If you must know, I was with the widow Camelli. And before you say anything—she’s helping me. Helping me with my broomshine.”

I let out a breath through my nose and stilled my anger. This wasn’t his fault. What he did and with whom he did it with were his business. Plus, I didn’t want to know what kind of “help” the widow witch was supplying my grandfather.

There was that same worried wrinkle above his eyes. I’d seen it before when he’d talked to me about my father, and my pulse quickened.

“You need to stop bringing home strays, Sam,” he said, earnestly.

“He’s my friend. I couldn’t just let him sleep in an alley. Besides, he saved me. If Kyllian hadn’t killed those two demons, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation.”

“Let’s draw him a bath,” my grandfather encouraged. “He can heal in Horizon.”

I shook my head, feeling the cold desperation filling my chest. “He doesn’t want to go.”

My grandfather raised his arms in exasperation. “He’s unconscious. We can move him together. I have a hover spell we can use.” He frowned when he looked at Kyllian. “Make that two hover spells. Trust me. He’ll thank you later.”

“He wouldn’t,” I said, my eyes back on the angel and my tension spiking. “And I don’t have time to explain, but he doesn’t want to go back. He wants to stay here.”

“And die?” asked my grandfather, incredulous. “If he stays here and we can’t save him... you know what’ll happen. Even angels can suffer their true death, Sam.”

“I know,” I said dryly. “But I won’t betray him either.”

“Even if he dies? ”

Shit. He was right. I was being an idiot, but I didn’t have time to argue with him either. How the hell had it gone so wrong so quickly?

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ears, I grabbed a black marker and lifted Kyllian’s shirt to expose his chest. I leaned over him and froze for a moment. My eyebrows rose. I’d never actually seen his chest before—the golden ripples of muscle, abs of steel, and a massive, perfectly carved chest. Every part of him was lean and strong and flawless. And there wasn’t a fleck of hair on his chest.

A wicked part of me was tempted to rub my hand over his chest. I shook my surge of hormones off and strained to focus.

After staring for an inappropriate amount of time, I squinted at the felt point of the marker and drew an anti-pain sigil, the same one I’d used last night on myself. It wouldn’t cure him, but I was hoping it would take some of his pain away until I could figure out what to do next.

The ink glistened wetly as I strained to form the spindly letters and symbols as smoothly as I could.

I finished the last symbol and muttered, “Sine dolore.”

Ribbons of energy darted between us and rushed into the angel. I held my breath as I watched for any sign of improvement. Usually the anti-pain sigil worked immediately.

Kyllian lay without moving, his skin turning toward a gray color and looking more like a corpse .

“Damn it,” I hissed. Tossing the marker, I pulled off my gloves, reached out and grabbed the Gypsy No. 5 Skin So Soft Healing Balm. I popped it open and smeared all of the contents over and around his broken arm and his chest.

I sat back, my blood pressure reaching new heights. “It’s not working,” I said feebly, feeling like I was going to have a heart attack.

“Let’s take him to the bathtub.”

“No.”

My grandfather gave me a chiding glance. “You don’t even know what’s wrong with him. Do you?”

“He got beat up.”

“I can see that. But his body, his mortal suit, is deteriorating. It’s what’s killing him. Our magic works, but it works on the living, on mortals. He’s not mortal.”

And then something occurred to me. “Grandpa,” I said, grinning. “You’re a genius!”

His eyebrows rose, and he looked shaken and pleased at the same time. “I am.”

Pulling on my gloves, I whirled on my knees, grabbed a chalk, and drew a triangle on the floor next to Kyllian.

“Sam,” warned my grandfather. “No.”

“Yes,” I said. I was practically beaming as I began to draw a circle around me. “This is going to work.”

“Sam, don’t—”

“I conjure you, Farissael,” I summoned as I stood, “demon of the Netherworld to be subject to the will of my soul. I bind you with unbreakable adamantine fetters, and I deliver you into the black chaos in perdition. I invoke you, Farissael, in the space in front of me!”

My heart throbbed at the sudden surge of magic. My hair flew around me at the rise of a wind.

“Sammy, baby,” said Faris, who’d appeared in the triangle before me, dressed in a black kimono. “I’m not sure what to think anymore. That’s three times you call me this week. It’s positively stalking. I love it.”

“There’s no time for chitchat,” I said quickly. “I need your help.”

Faris’s dark eyes moved from me, to my grandfather, to finally settle on Kyllian. “Sammy.” He tutted. “Did you kill an angel? Why you wicked, wicked witch. You deserve a good ol’ spanking.” At that moment, his kimono fell open revealing all of him. He was hung like a horse. And I was the idiot who looked. He saw me looking and winked at me. Heat rushed to my face. This was just great. Just great.

I pulled my eyes away from his nakedness, which I was sure he’d allowed to escape on purpose. “Can you save him?”

Faris lost his smile. “What? You mean this miscreant is still alive?”

“Yes.”

The demon cocked a brow. “And why do you want this?”

“Because he’s my friend. And because he saved my ass just now from some lesser demons that came to kill me tonight.” I glared at him. “Know anything about that?”

Faris looked offended as he raked his fingers through his hair and then flattened it into place. “Why would I? You’re my only link to the outside world. Why would I want to kill you?” He flashed me his perfectly white teeth. “I want to have sex with you. Not kill you, you silly girl.”

“Whatever.” My eyes fell on my grandfather. His face was lost in the folds of his deep frown. “Can you save him?” I asked again.

Faris let out an exasperated sigh, and his eyes darted back to Kyllian. “The idiot’s been in this world too long. His body’s starving. And when it dies, so will his soul.” His eyes found mine. “Just throw the beast in some water and he’ll be saved. Voila. It’s like throwing out the trash.”

“He doesn’t want to go back,” I said and raised my hands to stop him from interrupting. “Can you save him or not?”

His smile turned wicked. “What’s in it for me?”

“Another free night.” The words were out of my mouth before I even had a chance to think about it. Yes, Vera had seen him, but the demon had been smart enough to use a glamour to make himself appear human to the half-breed community. And I hadn’t heard of any recent deaths. I had to take that chance again, the cauldron help me. I hoped this wasn’t a mistake .

My eyes found my grandfather again, and I was surprised that he remained quiet and hadn’t objected this time.

“Deal.” Faris grinned, and I wasn’t sure what I saw reflecting in his eyes. “Release me, and I’ll heal the beast—”

“I release you,” I said, and then dragged my foot across the chalk-drawn triangle, breaking the contract and the binding.

Energy flowed out of the triangle and into me. I let it go, and the pulse of energy faded.

Faris stepped out of his confined triangle and tightened the belt around his kimono. “Well,” he said, eyes widening. “This is exciting. Where do you keep the booze? Have anything vintage?”

“Faris!” I hissed. “Heal Kyllian first, or so help me, by the cauldron, I’m going to castrate you!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” lamented the demon. “There’s no need to raise your voice.” He moved to stand over Kyllian. He stood there for a moment, watching him. “Sad-looking beast, isn’t he? What would drive an angel to let himself die?” He turned to look at me and cocked an eyebrow at what he saw on my face. “You know. Don’t you?”

“Just heal him, please,” I said, my anger returning.

Faris made a noise of disapproval in his throat and knelt next to the angel. “I must really want to bed you because I can’t believe I’m about to heal a blasted angel. ”

I opened my mouth to tell him off again, but at that moment the mid demon pressed his hands on the angel’s chest. He closed his eyes, his face deep in concentration. After only a few seconds he pulled back and straightened.

I didn’t know what to expect. Maybe some Hollywood light effect or some crackling energy or something. But the demon had just laid his hands on the angel, like a human doctor might on a patient.

Just when I thought it hadn’t worked, Kyllian’s face shifted, and a frown appeared on his face. Then the bone that stuck out from his arm slowly pulled back in with a pop. I almost threw up.

It was like watching a video where the images were being played backwards. I was mesmerized as the bruises faded slowly until they were all gone and only his smooth, golden skin remained. He looked perfectly fine, apart from the dried blood around his nose and arm.

My knees shook, and I nearly fell over in relief. “Is he okay?”

“He’s still going to need to go back to Horizon eventually,” said the demon, just as Kyllian’s eyes snapped open. “This was a one-time deal. If the beast wants to kill himself, do it on your time.”

Kyllian pulled himself up on his feet, alert and healthy looking, not like he’d just come close to dying moments ago. I was surprised at the loathing I saw on his face for Faris. I didn’t know why I was surprised. They were sworn enemies, each created to smite the other .

Kyllian’s lips parted into a very werewolf-like snarl. Damn. The second he was back on his feet he was looking to pick a fight. Still, there was an equally loathing crease on Faris’s face.

This was just freaking awesome.

And when the angel saw that the demon was out of his binding triangle, well, all hell broke loose. Literally.

Kyllian lunged with inhuman speed at the demon.

“No!” I dashed forward, aiming to grab his arm. But I missed and landed face-first on the floor instead.

I heard someone laugh and blinked up to find my grandfather with his arms crossed over his chest, giving me an “I told you so” look.

The house shook as Kyllian slammed Faris into the wall next to the kitchen. Chunks of plaster and dust fell around them like snow.

Kyllian pinned Faris by the neck. The demon’s face was screwed up in a vicious snarl, muscles from his neck and shoulders bulging as he struggled under the angel’s hold.

“Guys, come on. We’re all on the same side here,” I voiced. But it had no effect.

Faris moved fast, knocking Kyllian’s hold on him, and kicked him in the gut with a powerful blow. The angel staggered back, his blue eyes wild and manic with a visible smile on his face.

Ah, shit. Here we go .

Kyllian lurched himself at Faris. Matching the angel in both speed and agility, the demon leaped in the air and hit the angel with a powerful blow to the jaw. Impressive. I had no idea the demon could fight like that—a demon of many talents.

The air was filled with the sounds of fists hitting flesh and grunts. I even saw some dark strands of hair drifting in the air. Kyllian’s face was creased with effort as he slammed Faris into the kitchen cabinets, glass and wood exploding with the impact. There goes my grandmother’s antique set.

Faris’s face wrinkled from the strain as he pulled some martial arts move, and the next thing I knew, he had Kyllian by the throat.

In my kitchen, an angel and a demon battled. This was a brute show of strength. And so typically male. The lion against the wolf. I didn’t know which of the two was stronger. And I didn’t care.

Cauldron be dammed.

If they kept it up, they were going to ruin my house. It was the only thing I owned that was truly mine. And like hell was I going to let these two idiots destroy it.

Rolling to my feet, I drew the energy from my rings, willing the power from them and bending it to my will.

“Stop!” I bellowed. Blood pounded in my ears as two balls of fire danced in my palms. “Or I swear by the cauldron, I will fry both your balls off and feed them to you!”

That did the trick .

Faris let go of Kyllian, both males’ eyes still simmering with open hatred as they moved away from one another. The air was so thick with testosterone you could practically see it.

I let go of the magic, and with a breath I felt it leave my body.

And then the angel turned on me.

“Sam. What the hell did you do?”

I didn’t appreciate his tone. “Me? We just saved your ass, you stupid angel,” I seethed through gritted teeth. Yeah, I was pissed. I didn’t go through all this to have him get all messed up again. “I could have dumped your sorry ass in a pool. I could have sent you back to Horizon, but I didn’t. So show some thanks. Without Faris, you wouldn’t be here.”

And that seemed to work to knock off some of the angel testosterone. Kyllian’s glare dropped a smidgen. But a growl escaped his throat.

I rolled my eyes. This was going to be a long night, and I wasn’t finished with either of them. Not yet.

“I guess that sobered him all up,” said my grandfather. When I finally looked back at him, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well,” said Faris, adjusting his kimono, which had surprisingly stayed closed. “I’d love to stay and chat, but the night is young, and the women won’t be forever.”

“Just a minute, Faris,” I called as he headed down the hallway. “I need one more thing.” My thoughts drifted back to Julia. I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

“That wasn’t part of the deal, darling,” said the demon as he turned around clearly annoyed.

“I’m making a new one,” I said. “Besides. If you want more of these ‘free days’—which I’m assuming you will—you’re going to need me alive. And something tells me that whatever Greater demon I pissed off sent those lesser demons to kill me. I don’t think he’s going to stop. So, you don’t have a choice.”

“What Greater demon?” asked Kyllian, eyes on me, and I could see some tension returning to him.

I sighed. “The one that possessed a young girl called Julia,” I told him and quickly recounted the events leading to this moment. His face was blank, but I could see the anger seething behind his eyes. “But there’s a problem,” I went on. “I was a witness to it. I saw what the demon was doing. I saw him take Julia’s soul back to the Netherworld. So that makes me a target. It’s pretty clear now that whatever the Greater demon was planning with the ritual is substantial. Otherwise he wouldn’t have sent the lesser demons to kill me tonight.”

Faris cocked a brow. “What do you need me for?”

“Did you hear of any Greater demon collecting human souls recently?” I asked.

“I’ve made some inquiries,” answered Faris. “But I’m afraid I don’t have the information you want. There’s nothing out of the norm. The human-soul-collecting scheme is not uncommon in the Netherworld. There’s a huge market for it. It’s how most demons make a living. They trade. They sell. It’s a big business.”

I felt ill. “It’s disturbing.”

The demon shrugged. “Perhaps. But I didn’t make the rules. And I don’t trade human souls either.”

“And we’re supposed to believe that?” Kyllian crossed his arms over his chest.

Faris’s gaze moved to Kyllian and then flicked back to me. “At the moment, there are hundreds of demons collecting souls, perhaps thousands. It would be impossible for me to find the one you want. Not without more to go on.”

“But this one is different,” I insisted. “I don’t think he wants to trade the souls. I think he was using the soul with the ritual somehow. Maybe he still needs them.”

Faris thought about that for a moment. “Yes. I see your point. I’ll have to make some inquiries. May I go?” He gave me what he must have considered his erotic smile.

“Not yet.” It wasn’t enough to merely know that a Greater demon was stealing human souls. I had to know what the ritual was for and why it had picked those particular humans.

I needed to find the connection.

“Three other bodies were found with similar supernatural overtones recently, just like Julia’s,” I told them, seeing my grandfather’s attention snap back to me. “Two women in their fifties and a young man. And I need your help. I need you to investigate, and see if the markings match Julia’s. If we split up, it’ll go faster. I need names and addresses, anything that can help us make a connection.”

“Where are the bodies now?” Kyllian leaned forward more, letting the moonlight fall on his face from the kitchen window.

“The young man’s body is in a morgue somewhere in Queens,” I answered. “They found the women in Brooklyn and here in New York.”

“I’ll take Queens,” said the angel, and I beamed at him. It was nice to see him alert and not with a bottle in his hand.

I turned my attention on the demon. “Faris? You in? I could use your help with this. Like I said, if I get killed—”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Faris rolled his eyes. “With you dead, I’ll have no more free passes,” said the demon, waving me off. “I’ll see about the female in Brooklyn. I actually have a special lady friend there, so the outing might not be a total waste.” A frown creased his face. “But that’s it. No more favors. Yes?”

I gave him a tight smile and his frown deepened. I wasn’t going to answer that.

“Okay,” said Kyllian, checking his baldric. “We can meet up at the pub—”

“No.” I practically growled the word. “I think it’s best that we all meet back here.”

Kyllian’s lips parted like he was about to object, his gaze firmly fixed on mine. “Fine.” The angel walked away without another word, though his face had been dark with emotion. The front door opened and closed, letting me know he’d left the house.

“I’ll see you later, Sammy darling,” purred Faris as he headed down the hall, his kimono billowing behind him. “And when you do, I’ll be expecting something in return for my information.”

I don’t think so. I thought about mentioning to him that he was about to leave in a kimono with nothing underneath. But he was demon. He knew what he was doing. I smiled at the thought of Vera getting a full frontal.

“I never thought I’d see the day when an angel and a demon worked together,” said my grandfather, as he moved to stand next to me. “And both working for my granddaughter. I’m not sure what to say.”

Yes. Both agreed to work with me. My life was so weird.

“Don’t get too excited,” I said, feeling the beginning of a giant migraine. “I’m going to need all the help I can get to solve this case.” And that was an understatement.

There were so many questions still unanswered. Too many unknowns. What did Julia have in common with the other murder victims? What was the connection between them? Was there even one?

But what I really wanted to know was the name of the Greater demon bastard who’d sent those demons to kill me.

CHAPTER 12

T here were a total of four morgues in Manhattan, all with similar buildings and night staff, which made it really easy to use the same glamour sigil for all of them. Still, the first three morgues turned up nothing, and when I’d finally reached the last one, it was one in the morning.

I was tired, hungry, and angry. Angry that there was a Greater demon in my city hunting innocent humans, and it had sent its demon thugs to try and kill me. Yeah, that was a big fat no-no. No one tried to kill me in my own home. It had been the only place I’d ever felt safe.

And now the demons had taken that away.

Bastards .

Worse, Poe was a no-show, and I was beginning to get worried. What if Vera had caught him? What if he was boiling in her cauldron at this very moment to later serve him as Poe-stew?

I let out an exasperated breath. That bird was going to give me an ulcer.

I pressed the buzzer on the wall, the glass door buzzed, and I pulled it open.

One tends to think that morgues in New York City are all filled with homicides. But most are your usual heart attacks, construction accidents, motorcycle crashes, and a few poor souls in need of further testing. They all lay there, with the calm of sleeping children, stacked on racks inside the coolers, waiting for a turn beneath the knife.

I’d Scotch-taped my glamour sigil card—yeah, I didn’t have time to get fancy—to my jacket front. Glamour sigils worked on a conscious level, projecting what the persons were familiar with seeing in their environment. Like another guard or coworker.

I passed a few night guards. And my glamour sigil, well, it worked like a charm—literally. They barely even looked my way. To them, I was one of their colleagues, not some trespassing witch.

The morgue was almost an identical version of the other three I’d seen—boring white walls with matching boring white tiles, cold, unnaturally clean, all lit with fluorescent lights.

The night security guard at the front desk barely gave me a glance as I walked past him toward the elevators. After one floor down and the ding from the elevator, I stepped into a cold basement and pushed open the door with a square of frosted glass, the word MORGUE painted on it in large, black letters.

It was like stepping into a man-sized refrigerator. The cold hit, and my skin erupted in goose bumps. A few degrees colder, and I would be a witch popsicle.

The air had the harsh scent of cleaning products overlaying the sweetish odor of decay. White light flooded down from the fluorescent lights overhead.

Heart thumping, I searched the room. Metal refrigerator doors lined the opposite wall, like safe-deposit boxes in a bank but much larger. A stainless-steel autopsy table sat in the middle of the room, a white sheet covering the body, next to a metal stand with a scale on it for weighing organs. A rolling medical cart stood next to the autopsy table topped with an assortment of medical devices that looked like they belonged in a horror movie.

Moving fast, I made my way to the autopsy table and pulled the sheet off.

Julia’s blank expression stared back at me.

Shit. I stood there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open, and the guilt hit. Buckets of it, until I felt like a rope was tightening my insides and then slicing my intestines.

“Julia, I’m so sorry,” I breathed, staring at her now pale, grayish face and sunken eyes, with a tinge of dark gray on her lips. I hated that her eyes were open. They were lifeless, but for some odd reason they were staring at me. It was almost as though they were accusing me.

Creepy .

I’d seen my share of corpses in my line of work, but I’d seen more than enough to last me a whole month tonight. All these bodies left a sour taste in my mouth. I’d had enough dead bodies for tonight.

The Y-incision of the autopsy had been closed, but they’d done a poor job of it. Its lines carried the precision of a monkey, the stitches uneven and grotesquely large, like a five-year-old had done it. Her head was a little off to the side with a jagged edge to her neck that shouldn’t have been there. A very visible cause of death, a broken neck.

I let go of the table’s sides when I realized I was gripping them.

“I’m going to find your killer, Julia. I swear it on the cauldron.”

The memory of her ghostly soul, frightened and confused, hit me hard. Was there a way to save her soul? I had no idea. Another question to add to my bucket list of questions.

After I’d covered Julia with the sheet, I moved to the back of the room, took hold of one of the metal refrigerator door handles, and pulled. It slid out on rollers.

It was a male. I pushed it back and pulled open the next one. Another male, this one was a black man, and judging by the folds in his face and gray hair, he was past seventy.

I looked at the wall of doors. There were at least nine more.

“Just great.” Frustrated, I moved over, reached up, and yanked open the next one. My card with the glamour sigil got caught on the corner of the door, the force ripping it off my jacket and sending it flying and floating to the white tile floor.

But I barely took notice because the body I’d pulled was female.

Adrenaline surged. I moved to the side to get a good look at her face. Yup. She was in her fifties, but from the looseness of her cheeks and the amount of age spots and sun damage, I’d guess she was closer to sixty. Caucasian with light auburn hair. Her eyes were closed, thank the cauldron. I couldn’t see a cause of death on her. Her neck looked fine. But I wasn’t here for that.

I reached out, grabbed her wrist, and twisted it.

There, just like Julia, was a carved sun with a triangle in the middle. I let go of her wrist, moved over to the other side and checked her left. Another carved sun stared back at me.

So she had them too. But why? Why her and Julia? And what did it all mean?

I grabbed the cardboard toe tag attached to her big toe. Susan Young. Could there be a relation to Julia Martinez? It didn’t seem likely. This whole thing didn’t make any sense. Yes, I’d wanted to see if the victims had the same sun carving on their wrists. But now what? Why them? If they weren’t related, what was their connection to each other? Why had the Greater demon killed them?

“You again,” came a voice behind me.

I started. Then I spun around, my heart in my throat as I tapped into my will and channeled the energy from my rings, my lips moving in a dark curse—

And then I frowned.

The same, insufferably rude angel-born Operative was standing in the doorway, a surprised look on his face.

Damn. My eyes flicked to my glamour card on the floor between us. Nice going, Samantha. Now the pretty angel-born knows you’re here.

I kept my face blank. “What the hell are you doing here? You following me or something?”

The angel-born screwed up his face in a sour expression, like the idea of him following the likes of me would give him an STD. He crossed the room and stood right next to me. Well, next to poor Susan.

Still very, very close. So close, I could smell the musk from his aftershave and his soap. I could even see how much fuller his bottom lip was than his rather thick top lip. Those looked especially fun to nibble on.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” His irritation was palpable. God, he was fun. His eyes moved over the body as a silent tension surged between us. “We already know about Mrs. Young,” he said. “I told you there were more bodies.”

We? Okay, wiseass. “I needed to check for myself. I don’t know you. You could have been lying.” I needed to see for myself if I’d been right about the marks on the other victims’ wrists. I put my hands on my hips. “Why are you here, then? ”

The angel-born gave me a severe look. If I’d been a lesser, scaredy-cat kind of female, I might have run away. But thank the cauldron I was a tough witch. I matched his glare and didn’t look away. He looked away first. I won.

He turned, walked over to Julia’s table, and pulled the white sheet off of her, exposing her naked body.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” I was next to him in a flash, thinking up new ways to spell his ass. A couple of warts on his pretty face would do wonders for his complexion.

I didn’t know why, but I felt protective of Julia, even her corpse. She’d suffered enough in life, and now her body had suffered its share of cuts and pokes. It was enough. I didn’t want his angel-born fingers on her.

He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Don’t worry. She’s dead.”

“No shit, wiseass.” I shoved him out of the way with my shoulder and pulled the sheet over her, all the way up to her armpits. I looked at him and said, “Uncover her like that again, and you’ll be choking on your own blood.” I was surprised he didn’t stick me with his soul blade right there and then. I had just physically touched him.

A flicker of irritation crossed his face. He looked at me for a moment, frowning. “Why are you still working her case?”

“Why are you still drawing breath? ”

His jaw tightened, his brown eyes squinting as I saw him visibly force the tension out of himself. God, I enjoyed pushing his buttons. Why was that?

He let out a sigh, his eyes on Julia. “I’m here because I needed to follow up on the latest death. For one, making sure she doesn’t come back as a revenant. I’m here to make sure she stays dead. So I can close her file.” He flicked his gaze back to me and rested on my gloves. I resisted the urge to put my hands behind my back. “I’ve shared some information,” he said. “Now it’s your turn. Why are you here?” he asked again.

Is he for real? “I’m not telling you anything. I don’t work for the angel-born. And you haven’t exactly told me anything I hadn’t already figured out—without your help. Thank you very much.”

“I told you there were more bodies.”

I frowned at the tone in his voice, like he expected me to tell him everything I discovered because he’d mentioned the bodies . I took a step back and looked up at him. “Right. Like that helped.”

“You’re here. Aren’t you?”

I cocked my hip. “Because of my extraordinary investigative skills. Not because of you.” Thank you, Alex . “As I recall, you don’t like sharing information.”

“Maybe.”

My temper flared. “Look, whatever Greater demon you’re after, well, he tried to have me killed tonight. So, yeah. I want him dead too. So, maybe now you could do the right thing and share. ”

He looked mildly surprised. “The Greater demon tried to have you killed? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I took a breath. “Lesser demons just don’t show up out of the blue in your own home and attack you. They don’t have specific targets. They just attack whatever’s there. This Greater demon sent them to my house. He wants me very dead.”

He watched me for a beat longer. “Do you know what these markings are?” he asked, gesturing to Julia’s wrist and making the muscles on his arm flex. Not that I was looking.

I pressed my lips together, feeling like a child, but I wasn’t going to tell him anything.

The angel-born was eyeing me questionably. “You cared about her?” he asked.

“I still care about her,” I snapped. I cared about her soul. I swore I was going to hex him. I didn’t care how pretty he was. I could fix that.

We stood in silence for a while longer. Then he asked, “You spoke to her parents?”

I was surprised at the sudden change and gentle tone in his voice. I let out a deep breath. “I did. And I don’t want to talk about it.” My throat closed up. Damn. I could still hear Mrs. Martinez’s heart-wrenching wail through the phone when I’d called her that night, right after I’d placed an anonymous 9-1-1 call. My ears ringing with Mrs. Martinez’s undulating cry, I’d broken down after I’d hung up. I couldn’t help it. She’d just lost her only child, her baby girl. I never wanted to do that again. And I never wanted another mother losing another child, nor any other innocent life, to a murderous Greater demon.

My eyes flicked to Julia’s face. Eyes burning, my heart lurched in my chest.

What was I still doing here? I needed to get home before Kyllian and Faris showed up. “It’s been great talking to you and all. Really,” I added, blinking fast. “Very informative. I’ve got to go.” I turned to leave and snatched up my glamour sigil from the floor. Wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, like a stupid human who thought they could tamper with magic.

“He’s not going to stop,” came the angel-born’s voice behind me.

I whirled around. “He?” My heart thumped like it was wrestling with my lungs. “You know who he is. Don’t you? What’s his name? Tell me.”

The angel-born flicked his gaze back to Julia’s body, lost in thought for a moment. “I thought I could catch him. I thought I had enough to go on. But I don’t. I was an idiot. I know that now. I know I need more to vanquish him.”

“What’s his name?” I asked again, my pulse fast as I stood next to him. “If you don’t tell me...”

Anger flashed on his face. “You’ll what? Spell me? You do know that’s against your laws to hex an innocent person.”

Unrepentant, I shook with my own anger. “I never cared for our laws.” And if you don’t tell me, I’m going to make you tell me. That’s a promise, pretty boy .

He took a deep breath, brow furrowed, and straightened. “Maybe we can help each other.”

I forced out a laugh. “So, now you want to play nice?” I asked with a grimace. “I don’t think so. No.”

“No?” he said, his eyes wide and his expression pinched in disbelief. “You’re just going to let this demon kill more innocents? Haven’t you figured it out yet? He’s not going to stop. And he’s going to find another Julia and kill her. Is that what you want?”

“Don’t you dare blame this on me,” I seethed. My voice was rising with my temper, but I didn’t care. Bastard.

He sighed and shook his head. “I just want to find the demon. Just like you, apparently. Why else would you be here? You want to kill him. Just like me. I can’t defeat him on my own, but together”—his eyes flashed—“we might stand a chance.”

The guy had a point. This wasn’t a normal demon-possession case. This was a badass Greater demon, and I needed all the help I could get.

Still, I worked alone. I never teamed up with anyone, well, not unless you counted Poe. And asking Faris and a couple of other demons I’d summoned to help me didn’t count either. They were more like informants than partners.

He was staring at my gloves again. “Does your council know what you’re offering?” I asked, seeing as I’d never heard of angel-borns working with witches before—a Dark witch at that.

If the angel-borns requested the help of other half-breeds, they usually went to the Gray Council, consisting of one member from each half-breed court—vampires, faeries, werewolves, and witches—and including the leaders of the angel-born. It was created after centuries of conflict between the half-breeds and the angel-born. All half-breeds were allowed to live in the mortal world and govern themselves if they followed one strict rule—never harm a human.

The angel-born flashed me a smile, and I had to do a double take at how handsomely it transformed his face. Oh boy.

“They don’t have to know,” he said and edged closer. “I’ve been given carte blanche to kill this demon. If it means I might ask for help from an unlikely source, then I will.”

I pursed my lips. He was sort of a badass. I liked that.

“Fine,” I said, surprising myself. What the hell am I doing? “I’ll tell you what I know, but first I want his name.” So that I can commit it to memory and then burn his demon ass.

He waited for my full attention, as though to add to the full effect of the name he was about to utter, and said, “Vargal.”

Vargal , I repeated. I’d never heard of that name before. It was either because the Greater demon was ancient, or worse, really, really powerful. Most likely both.

My gaze fell on Julia. Perhaps with his name, I could get her soul back somehow. Faris did say that demons loved to trade. Now, that I had its true name, perhaps I would trade it for her soul. It would be worth a try.

I twisted my face. “How do I know it’s really his name and not one you just made up? He wouldn’t have just offered it to you. It would make him weak and stupid, and I seriously doubt he’s either.”

“He didn’t,” said the angel-born, a smug smile on his face. “I overheard a demon call to him. Right before I cut its head off. It’s his name.”

Okay. Made sense . Vargal, I’m coming to get you, you bastard.

The angel-born crossed his arms over his chest in a casual gesture, and I couldn’t help but stare at the muscles bulging under his shirt. “And the markings on her wrists? The symbols? The weird letters?” he asked again. “I can tell you know something about them.”

“It’s Mesopotamian,” I told him and watched his eyebrows as they reached new heights. “I haven’t deciphered all the text yet, but the carved sun on her wrists is all part of some ritual.” And to quote my aunt, I added, “To summon something powerful who will seek death and destruction upon the world. One that will claim Earth as its own.”

“So they’re being killed as some kind of offering?” he said, his face twisting in question.

“That’s what I’m thinking.” I licked my lips. “Is there a connection between the victims?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to link them together. They’re all human, as far as I know, but it’s all I have. ”

“It’s not enough.” Damn. What about them made them special to this Vargal? The angel-born was staring at me like he was about to ask me something but wasn’t sure how to ask it.

“What?”

“Can you track him?” he asked, his voice smooth and even. “Now that you have his name, his true name.” He hesitated for a second. “I know Dark witches are skilled with tracking spells.”

“Oh, do you now?” Damn. Who was this guy? “Yes,” I said, wanting to kick myself for not thinking of it first. I blamed it on his pretty face and his fine behind.

Tracking the Greater demon with his true name was a hell of a lot better than trying to summon him with it. The thing with summoning Greater demons was it didn’t always work, and in turn, the summoner generally died. Greater demons came in different classes. Some were too powerful to fit within the class of generally summoned demons. Sometimes they were so powerful that summoning usually took two witches, and even then it didn’t always work.

Which is why tracking Vargal made a hell of a lot more sense.

“We track him and then kill him,” he said suddenly, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

“Excuse me?”

“You just said you could do it.” He watched me intensely. “Or maybe you can’t. Maybe you don’t have the skills. ”

I got right in his face. “Oh, I’ve got the skills. But I can’t track him with just his name. It’s not that simple. I need something tangible. Something linked to him, from him. Like a piece of clothing or better yet, his blood.”

The angel-born raked a hand through his hair. “We don’t have that.”

“No.” My eyes flicked to Julia, and my heart gave a start. “But maybe we don’t have to.” My pulse throbbed in my veins as I leaned over the dead girl. From my bag, I yanked out a pair of miniature scissors and cut a lock of her hair.

“It’s not the demon’s blood,” I said as I dropped my scissors in my bag and took out a piece of paper, which I then proceeded to put Julia’s hair on, folded it carefully and slipped it in my bag. “But I’m willing to bet there’s still a demonic imprint.”

His eyes narrowed. “A what?”

“A demonic imprint, like a small part of his aura. Demons can leave a mark on the person’s soul, but I’m willing to bet it goes to the mortal body first. Leaving his imprint there too. Which means—”

“Julia must still have some of it in her,” he said, his expression thoughtful.

“Exactly,” I answered, glad he was using her real name now. “Her blood’s been exposed to chemicals, but her hair should be fine.”

He looked at me, his face blank in wonder, and I almost smiled. “How do you know all that?”

“I’m a genius,” I huffed. “Demons are my thing.” And have been for most of my life .

“Let’s track him now,” said the angel-born, his hands on his hips and a grim determination on his face.

“Now?” I said, incredulous. “Forget it. I’m tired. Hungry. Not to mention that a tracking spell takes a while to prepare. High magic. Difficult and complex stuff. I need to focus, and I can’t focus if I’m tired and hungry. All kinds of things could go wrong, and you wouldn’t want that.”

His face wrinkled in a frown, and for a minute I thought he was going to argue with me. “Tomorrow night?” he asked, and something flashed behind his eyes that I couldn’t quite catch.

God, how did I get into this mess. “Tomorrow night.”

“Your place?”

There wasn’t a better place to perform a tracking spell. “My place.” Why did that sound weird leaving my lips?

He blinked slowly, his features smoothing out, and a real smile curved over his face. “It’s a date,” he said, turning around and making his way toward the door.

My mouth dropped open. “Wait. You don’t know where I live.”

“My name’s Logan,” said the angel-born over his shoulder. “And I know where you live. It’s nice to meet you, Samantha.”

And with that, Logan, the angel-born, disappeared through the doors, leaving me staring stupidly after him. And yes, he did have a tight butt .

But something was off. I had never told him my name. So, how the hell did he know it? And who told him where I lived?

CHAPTER 13

T his time I’d really gotten myself into a tight spot. And I wasn’t talking about the time when my skinny jeans got stuck halfway up my thighs and I had to cut myself out before I lost all blood flow through my legs. I was talking about a real mess. The kind that has a droolworthy face and perfect behind.

An angel-born was coming over to my house in a few hours. My house. Breathing my air.

Not only were angel-borns a rare commodity in Mystic Quarter, not to mention even rarer strolling down Witches Row, they weren’t especially popular nor liked among half-breeds. The fact that they had angel essence and we had demon essence had a part to play in it. The light and the dark didn’t always play well, or nicely .

His hotness wasn’t what had me all hot and bothered. Okay, maybe a little. But he’d practically invited himself over. And he’d probably called it a date just to shake me.

He’d known my name and where I lived. The sneaky bastard had inquired about me. Just that merited a few dark hexes. I might even throw in a “going-bald” spell because I found him annoying, and his hair was too perfect.

And I, the idiot, had said yes.

The only men who had ever stepped foot in my house were my grandfather, Faris, and Kyllian—which didn’t count since technically they weren’t real men. Well, not mortal men.

Still, Logan had given me the Greater demon’s name, and without it, I wouldn’t be able to conjure up the tracking spell, so we could finally vanquish the demon bastard before he killed anyone else. Without his name, I had nothing.

But it’d all be worth it just to see the look on Vera’s face when she saw Logan march up those steps.

Tonight, I couldn’t think about how the witch community would react to an angel-born in our midst. I had a Greater demon to find.

“You need to update your liquor cabinet, Sammy, darling,” said Faris as he strolled across the room with a drink in his hand. He eased himself into the chair facing me, next to my working table on the third floor. “There’s bad alcohol, and then there’s rubbing alcohol.” He lifted his glass toward me. “This is somewhere between the two.”

I exhaled noisily. “There’s nothing I can do about that now.”

His dark eyes fixed on me. “You could let me out of your home. I could get a decent drink at this new nightclub that just opened up on West 47 th Street.”

“No. I need you here. Just in case.” If you had told me five years ago that I would have a mid demon in my employ, or kept as my backup, I would have said you were crazy. And yet, here we were.

“We had a deal, Faris,” I told him and placed my hands flat on the table, looking at him. “You get another free night out on the town— after I successfully perform the tracking spell. It’s like you said, this is a Greater demon of incredible power. Your job is to make sure I don’t screw this up.”

He took a sip of his drink and said, “Whatever you say, master .”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me put you back in your triangle, Faris. You know I will.”

“Don’t make me put you back in your triangle, Faris,” mimicked the demon, matching my voice to an eerie perfection. I wasn’t in the mood for his drama right now. My blood pressure was already through the roof.

Last night, both Kyllian and Faris, true to their word, had come back to my place with what I’d already suspected. The other victims had the same sun symbol carved into their wrists .

Faris had showed me the pictures he took with his cell phone. Yes, some mid demons carried cell phones. But I was more surprised when he came back wearing the exact same clothes as Kyllian, matching baldric, and matching face and body. The demon did have a sense of humor.

Kyllian, though, had not been impressed by Faris’s doppelganger skills, and it took every bit of soothing and blackmail with a beer to get him to forget about it. He’d drunk the beer and left.

Faris, though, had a specific request before dropping the Kyllian doppelganger glamour. “I wouldn’t say no to a nice dip in a hot cauldron. That one there could fit two people, very cozy.”

He’d only returned to his true self after I’d threatened to never let him have another one of his nights out.

At that moment, a raven swooped in through the open window in the top floor, a silver chain hanging from his beak. He flew to his nest of treasures, dropped the chain, and then dove back down, landing on my table with a bounce.

I cocked a brow. “Do I want to know?”

The raven ruffled his feathers and shook his head. “Nope.”

I frowned at the laughter in his tone. Damn that bird. That was Vera’s necklace. I’d swear it on the cauldron. Having Poe as my familiar was like having an uncontrollable teenager on my hands. I never knew what that bird was up to .

“Where’s the old man?” asked Faris as he swirled the contents of his drink.

“No idea,” I answered, my flash of annoyance slipping. “He upped and disappeared this morning without a word.” Probably sharing that widow’s bed again.

“Has the old witch figured out what the ritual says?” inquired Faris. He crossed his legs at the knee. He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of black leather pants, a cowboy hat, and flip-flops. I wondered if this was his true self, what he truly looked like, or was this just another glamour. Maybe he was really red skinned and had giant, black horns on the top of his head. Maybe even a tail. It wouldn’t surprise me.

“Not yet. I went to see her this afternoon. She said she should have it ready by tomorrow.” I took a small dagger and sliced the inside of my palm. Wincing at the pain, I then squeezed some of my blood into a ceramic bowl. I needed “blood of the summoning witch” to start the tracking spell. It was the fuel to start the magic engine.

I’d been preparing the spell all day so I wouldn’t mess it up. I’d spent hours subjecting Julia’s hair to pre-spells and aura-detecting spells—adding the compass link, if you will, to her hair. If I failed. It would be disastrous.

One outcome would be that the tracking spell just simply wouldn’t work. The other, well, the other would act like a very loud car alarm. It would let Vargal know that I’d tried to track him, leaving a nice trail of residue back to me. Not good .

I had to make this count. It had to work. Also, I’d already subjected Julia’s hair to the pre-spells, which meant her hair wouldn’t work a second time. I had one shot at this. I couldn’t screw it up.

My heart thumped, and my hands shook. My stomach twisted and churned like I was on a roller-coaster ride. I hadn’t eaten anything since that morning because I had a feeling it wouldn’t stay down.

Next, I grabbed Julia’s hair and dropped it in the bowl, Poe following my every move with a frightening intensity. “Ut sphaeram,” I muttered, binding the hair to my blood. My eyes widened when a rush of energy flowed into me. Good. That part was done. Now came the harder part.

Grabbing my ceramic bowl, an amulet, and chalk, I turned from the table and moved to the center of the room to kneel down and draw a circle.

Poe landed on the floor next to me. “Vera won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Ah. Crap. I looked over to the raven, my mood souring. “What did you do, Poe?”

“Me? Nothing,” said Poe, and then he actually smiled, well, the corners of his beak curved upward a little, but I knew that was his way of smiling. “Because I know her secret.”

“What secret?” What the hell was he talking about? “No. I don’t want to know. I need to concentrate right now.” And it was really hard with a raven staring at me with a smile on its face .

Poe gave a little laugh. “I just thought you should know.” And with that, the raven took off and flew back to the table. Why me?

Focusing on my spell, I then drew the tracking sigil in the middle of the circle, which looked like a half-moon with the number six hanging down from its edge.

“So we still have no idea why Vargal killed those mortals and took their souls?” asked Faris as he took a swig of his drink.

I noticed how he said “we” like we were a real team. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “No. But it won’t matter after tonight. After I find him.” And kill the bastard.

“You are a clever witch, Sam, the cleverest among many, but I’m not sure you comprehend the complexity of this demon,” he offered over the sound of blood pounding in my ears.

I finished my circle and leaned back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said and leaned forward in his chair. “How do you plan on killing Vargal? That is the plan. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“The demon is considered extremely powerful in the Netherworld,” said Faris. “One of the Old Ones. A king of kings. A death spell or killing curse won’t do.”

Of course he was right. I split my time preparing the tracking spell and researching through my grandfather’s collection of books on demons, demonology, and his Netherworld encyclopedia. After eight hours of research, I’d concluded that my killing curses wouldn’t work. They would incapacitate the demon, perhaps banish him, but not vanquish him.

I needed something stronger.

“I need the help of a divine weapon,” I said, having discovered that as well in my research. Faris’s eyes widened in recognition. “A soul blade or something like that.” If I could incapacitate the demon long enough, a stab of a soul blade would kill him, his true death.

Faris thought about it a moment. He took the last gulp of his drink and said, “And you’re just going to stick it to him while Vargal the Great stands there and lets you?”

God, that demon was infuriating. “I will if I have to. But I’m going to have help tonight.”

“Right.” Faris leaned back. “And where is this infamous angel-born I keep hearing about? Took the night off, did he?”

I pursed my lips. Logan should have been here by now. Maybe he changed his mind. Didn’t matter. I was going to do this, with or without him.

Faris sniffed loudly and adjusted his hat. “Do you have a soul blade?” he asked sarcastically.

“No.” I exhaled in annoyance. “But I know where to find some if he doesn’t show. Turig the troll keeps them in his shop. They’ll be expensive, but I’m sure I can make a deal with him.”

“You won’t have to. ”

I looked up to the sound of the voice to find Logan standing in the doorway. I frowned. He liked to do that.

“How did you get in? I didn’t hear the doorbell,” I asked, rolling my eyes over the angel-born. He was dressed in black again. Four blades were sheathed in his baldric that I could see, peeking through a black military-style jacket. He finished the look with steel-toe boots. He was heavily armed, looking like a merc about to go in search of his mark.

“The door wasn’t locked,” answered Logan, his eyes moving to settle on Faris.

“So you pushed in.” Figured. These angel-borns thought they owned the world.

Logan moved his gaze to the chalk circle on the floor. “See you’ve started your tracking spell already,” he said as he crossed the room with the sleek grace of a black panther.

Faris tossed his glass on the floor, which surprisingly didn’t break, and jumped to his feet. He got right in Logan’s face.

“Well, well, well,” purred the demon. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow?” He flashed his teeth and glanced back at me. “Should I be jealous?”

Here we go. “Sit down, Faris.”

Logan went rigid as Faris walked around him, very slowly, his eyes rolling over every inch of the angel-born. A pained expression creased Logan’s face at the proximity of Faris, which in turn, the demon just loved, I was sure. The huge smirk on his face didn’t help .

“Faris, stop torturing my guest.” Guest? That was appropriate, right? Not partner? No, never partner.

Logan clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a demon. I can smell the stink on you.”

“Just like I can smell the stink of angel on you, boy,” drawled the demon.

The angel-born didn’t move, but his eyes found the chalk triangle with a smeared edge a few feet away from my previously drawn circle, the gap where I’d broken the binding spell with my foot.

When Logan looked at me again, his face was livid. “I knew you were a Dark witch, but I didn’t take you for one stupid enough to deal with demons.”

I raised my brows. “Did he just call me stupid?”

Faris clapped his hands and bounced on his feet. “He did. Can I kill him now? Oh, please, please, please.”

“No.” I glared at the angel-born. “Look. Faris is a... friend of sorts. He’s here as an adviser. In case I screw up or need more guidance. You don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

Logan’s anger was dark and heavy, tight in his expression. “I’m staying.”

“Good,” I exhaled.

“Tell it to back off,” said Logan, his voice low and threatening. “Or I’m going to cut it up into tiny demon cubes.”

Faris threw back his head and laughed. “I like him. I know of a few demonesses who would just love him to bits . Maybe if he survives tonight he’ll get to meet them.” His eyes widened. “Claudina is to die for.”

I let out a frustrated growl. “Now both of you shut up so that I can finish this.”

Suddenly, Faris straightened and stuck out his chest at something he saw on Logan’s face. “Sam is mine. She’s my witch. You can’t have her.”

What the hell. “Excuse me? I don’t belong to you, Faris.” What was wrong with this demon? He was acting like an overprotective dog who didn’t get his belly rub.

“Faris,” I growled and waited for the demon to look back at me. “Sit down, or I’m sticking you back in your triangle. Got it?”

He made a face. “Fine.” Then he took off his hat and placed it on Logan’s head, just a tad too forcefully. “Here you go, cowboy. You’re a real John Wayne now.” Looking pleased, the demon walked back to his chair and let himself fall into it, his eyes forever on the angel-born.

This was going to be a long night.

Logan tossed the cowboy hat off his head and moved to stand next to me, more like hovering.

I took a quick breath, my frustration turning to anger. “Do you mind not hovering like that?” I said. My voice came out a little louder than I’d anticipated. “You’re breaking my concentration.”

He said nothing but took one step away, still too close, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t budge. At least he wasn’t breathing down my neck anymore. Why the hell had I agreed to let him come ?

I took another deep breath and calmed my emotions. I placed the ceramic bowl with my blood and Julia’s hair in the middle of my circle. Then I grabbed the amulet.

“Is that what you’re going to use to track Vargal?” asked Logan, and at what he saw on my face the guy actually had the nerve to smile.

I raised my brows in annoyance. “Yes. Now if you will please shut up. I mean it this time. One more word”—my eyes darted to Faris—“from either of you, and I’m kicking you both out.”

Once I was satisfied that they’d taken my threat seriously, I shifted closer to my circle, the amulet still grasped tightly in my right hand. The amulet was the receptor, which I’d carved the receptor sigil on the back, like a signature. The amulet was going to help me find Vargal.

Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I reached out with my left hand and dipped my fingertips into the bowl, careful not to soil my glove.

“Monile sanguine ligaveris,” I breathed, channeling the energy from the sigil and into me. I felt a tug on my aura as I willed the power, holding it in place like a light switch waiting to be turned on.

Spindling the energy inside me, I let it simmer for a moment as I gathered more emotional strength from my fury and hatred for Vargal. With my other hand still wrapped around the amulet, I hurled my energy into the spell and cried, “Dominus invenire sanguinis! Invenies eum Vargal! ”

There was a rush of energy overflowing my aura. My breath caught, and energy from the sigil flooded me. Groaning, I held it. Damn. That hurt. It burned. All tracking spells burned. It took a piece of you, your aura, and made it its own, aiding in the spell. I let it.

A gasp slipped from me as, with the feeling of being poured out of myself, a shimmering wave of translucent red swam up from the sigil on the floor. Shaking, I watched as the spell made its way around the circle to the bowl and reached my fingers. I stilled as it continued to spread all the way up my arm, to my other arm, and finally to the amulet.

My breath came fast as another torrent of energy surged in me—larger this time—with a force that sent me shaking. Then the energy exploded into existence.

And then I was blasted back on my ass.

Fantastic.

Worse, my body ached all over, like I’d lain under a bulldozer and let it back up and run over me a few times. It was a miracle the amulet was still in my hand. A shadow appeared in my line of sight with a strong jaw and mesmerizing, dark eyes.

“Did it work?” Logan was staring down at me, his eyes expectant, but I could see some disbelief there as well. I hated that I was looking up at him like some poor, incapable female. I was not.

I stood up, aware of Faris watching me intensely. He hadn’t moved from his chair. Good boy.

I turned the amulet in my hand, letting it rest in my palm, and then I stepped toward the northern part of the room. And waited. And nothing .

Then I took a few steps south. Still nothing.

“Maybe you did it wrong?” said Logan.

“Maybe you should shut your piehole, cowboy, and let the witch do her magic,” warned Faris. I didn’t have to look at him to know the scowl that was on his face.

I’d done it right. I was sure of it. So why wasn’t it working?

Shit. And I had witnesses to my failure. Nice one, Samantha.

Pulse fast, I turned and stepped westward toward the window—

And then it came to me, quite strongly. The amulet pulsed. A soft throbbing pulsated around my palm and fingers, and the metal of the amulet grew steadily warmer. It was as though it was alive, with a heart of its own.

I gripped the amulet and turned around, a slow smile forming on my lips as I looked at their faces and said, “I’ve got him. He’s somewhere in that direction. That son of a bitch is probably already stalking his next victim. And I won’t let that happen.”

I let out a long breath, my own heart thumping fast in rhythm with the amulet. I had the son-of-a-bitch Greater demon. I was going to use my tracking spell to find him.

And then I was going to kill him.

CHAPTER 14

W e were running.

Adrenaline surged, mixed with an intoxicating high of magic as I ran down West 86 th Street, pointing my amulet in front of me like a compass.

Angry New Yorkers cursed me as I plowed into them, not stopping to say sorry, and rushed down the street. Logan was running alongside me like a seasoned runner and annoyingly managed to not hit a single human. The angel-born had moves, I’d give him that. But I was prettier.

Yes, I looked like a fool, a crazy woman to the eyes of humanity, but none of that mattered when there was an innocent life at stake. And I still hadn’t discovered what ritual Vargal was performing or what it was for. And that had real worry forming tiny icy pricks up my spine .

We’d been tracking the Greater demon for about an hour now, going at a slow pace on foot first, following the amulet’s direction. And well, since I was the queen of impatience, I’d opted to use the local subway to reach the demon faster. That had gone terribly wrong terribly fast. The amulet had gone cold and silent.

So, we had only one option—follow the amulet’s route on foot through the streets of Manhattan.

I sprinted in pursuit of my quarry, bolstered by anger and adrenaline and determined to catch the demon bastard before he killed any more innocent humans.

I was not used to running for long periods of time. Yes, I had to run down the occasional demon now and again, but I’d always ended up cornering the demon so I could use a sigil on it.

Now, my thighs protested at the increased speed, and my lungs began to burn. As we passed the next block, I vowed to go running more. I was woefully out of shape.

I cut a glance at Logan. He was almost gliding now, his breath even like he was taking a walk. I was certain he was doing that on purpose just to piss me off.

A raven cawed from above, and I caught a glimpse of Poe as he flew above us, like a giant fruit bat in an inky-black sky. He was doing his surveillance from above and would warn me if he saw anything out of place .

We turned right on Columbus Avenue and went north. Where the hell was this Vargal?

Different muscles worked as I ran, like gears shifting as I pushed into a faster pace. My heart pounded with the air slicing in and out of me, my lungs on fire.

And when I thought my lungs had exploded into chunks and I was about to spew them from my mouth, the amulet went cold.

“Wait!” I cried and halted, my heart thrashing against my ribs.

Logan moved up next to me, a frown on his face. “What?”

I pinched the cramp at my side. “The amulet,” I panted. “It went cold. I’ve lost the trail.”

“How could you have lost the trail?” he cried, his face slightly red and his eyes wide.

“I don’t know.” I circled around, waiting for a pulse from the amulet. “We went too fast maybe. I think we passed him.” Worry had me wired tightly. Crap. This could not be happening, not when I was so close. This was our only shot at finding Vargal. Jaw clenched, I circled around again and doubled back.

The flutter of wings brought my attention upwards. Poe landed on the nearest bench. “Let me guess. You’ve lost the trail?”

“Not now, Poe,” I hissed. Worry colored my anger, and I moved back a step and turned the amulet like a dowsing stick searching for water, waiting for a pulse .

“You think my soul blade can kill the Greater demon?” Logan stepped into my line of sight.

I looked up at him. “Yes.” God, I hoped I was right. “Your blades are made of some special metal forged to kill demons. Right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll immobilize him. You stick him with your blade. Preferably in his heart.” Did demons have hearts? I was pretty sure Poe did, or something close to a heart. Or the brain. The brain was always a winner.

“I’ll get him,” assured Logan, his expression tight with a reckless determination. “That bastard’s mine.”

Just as I took another backstep, the amulet pulsed to life again, warmth tingling my fingers. I turned slowly and moved in the direction of the signal, toward a dark alley where the streetlight couldn’t reach it, taking slow steps this time. The amulet throbbed, harder, faster.

“There,” I said, excitement making my voice loud. “The alley. Come on.”

Not waiting for Logan, I walked as fast as I could without it being considered a run and hauled myself laboriously into the alley. Of course Vargal was away from the more populated areas; this one totally unlit. Darkness fell on the alley. I looked up seeing the reason for the darkness. The streetlight bulbs were broken.

With each step closer I got to the Greater demon, my pulse increased, and I stood a higher chance of running into something I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t going to have another Julia on my hands.

The amulet pulled me through the alley into a small parking lot. I stood and waited. Listening. Only the thrum of engines two blocks away answered back. Parked cars were lost in shadow. The tall buildings that surrounded it added another layer of darkness, looming over us like metal and stone mountains. A dull, orange light flicked in a corner, and the scent of candles reached me.

That was the Greater demon’s first mistake.

Adrenaline hit so hard my body shook as I angled the amulet toward the flickering lights. I tried stilling my hand. I didn’t want Logan to think I was nervous. Okay, maybe I was. But only because I didn’t want to screw this up. I was not afraid to face Vargal. In fact, I was looking forward to seeing him again.

Admittedly, I wasn’t what you would call a self-sufficient street fighter. My hand-to-hand combat skills were limited to the one year of karate I took when I was a teen. That’s why I had magic, so I didn’t have to face my quarries with my bare hands. But sometimes the magic didn’t work, and I had to rely on my own body strength to get me out of some tight situations. I hoped I wouldn’t have to tonight.

Poe flew above me in a clatter of wings. Knowing he was there, that he had my back, gave me a renewed sense of courage. Logan moved into my line of sight, his eyes on the orange glow, and then his gaze slid to me. We stared at each other for a moment. The slight press of his lips and the nod of his head told me he was ready. It was as though I knew what he was thinking, like we’d worked together for a long time. How did that happen?

I pocketed the amulet. The pulse of magic thrummed heavily in the air and coated my skin like a thick mist. Whatever magic this was, it was ancient and powerful.

A scream cut through the silence—the voice of a child.

I sprinted across the parking lot, Julia’s terrified ghostly face flashing in my mind’s eye. No. Not this time, you bastard.

“Samantha, wait!” hissed Logan behind me, but I barely heard him over the killing spells I was preparing in my mind. I was going to fry the demon’s ass.

Call it maternal instincts or just the overwhelming need to protect any child, but that scream triggered some sort of primordial sense of protection in me, a feeling born ages ago, before reason, before logic—a maternal instinct, ruled by the overwhelming drive to protect our young. That instinct shackled me.

I felt the flutter of wings near my ear, an indication that Poe was right there with me.

As I dashed in between two cars, I felt it, the cold haze of energies that accompanied a supernatural being when it came into the mortal world, disguised until now by the darkness of the alley and parking lot .

I hurled around a parked car and came face-to-face with what I’d call a hell of a lot of pagan, ritual magic. I skidded to a stop. There must have been at least fifty candles placed around an empty parking space. The same Mesopotamian letters and symbols marked in blood were painted on the pavement and on the cars.

A boy of about ten years of age stood in the middle of a circle lit with black candles. A figure stood next to him, hunched over, whispering in his ear. Even in the semidarkness I could see the boy’s pale, petrified face, too scared to move.

I knew what the demon was doing. Demons couldn’t just possess a body, human, or half-breed. A person needed to let it in. And demons, seemingly the most treacherous tricksters of all beings in the Netherworld were master manipulators. They knew how to play with people’s emotions. They knew exactly what to whisper in the person’s ear—the would-be tortures of loved ones, the promise of fame and glory—to let them in.

I could only imagine the horrors a demon would have to whisper to a boy to take control of his body. Rage shook me so violently that I nearly lost my footing.

I knew who was whispering in the boy’s ear.

I knew the creature I was staring at was Vargal, a Greater demon from the Netherworld.

CHAPTER 15

T he demon turned his head at the sound of our approach, and I nearly vomited the few remains of my morning breakfast.

The demon’s flesh was pale gray, pasty, and wrinkled like a newborn. Through his seeping skin, black bones protruded, cracked and filthy. There was something wrong about his shape, something that just wasn’t a part of this world. He was tall, at least seven feet, and large horns protruded from his head like a goat, but thicker, the ends sharp like talons. His face was somewhat humanoid in shape but too big to be considered normal by our standards; his jaw was just a little too big, his cheekbones too high and protruding, his nose just too wide and flat. A tuft of black hair sprouted from the top of his head and disappeared down his back. Thin, skeletal arms, dripping with black sores hung at his sides.

The last time I’d seen him, he’d been nothing more than a specter, a shadow of himself. But now he was solid. Though I had a feeling this wasn’t his true shape at all, merely a creature he’d created to scare the kid.

Vargal darted his gaze to me, his red eyes gleaming with a deep hatred that scared the crap out of me. He was not a happy camper. Too bad.

Still, why a boy and not a man? Wouldn’t a man give the demon more strength? Seemingly, this had nothing to do with physical strength. This was something else I hadn’t figured out yet.

Vargal stared at me, sizing me up probably. I was sure he’d recognized me, and in those mere seconds, I took a better look at the boy. He was small with light brown hair cut close to his head. Blood trickled from his nose, and behind thick glasses were round eyes as big as saucers. His eyes darted from me to Vargal, looking petrified, as though Vargal in this form was the root of his nightmares. Perhaps he was.

But from what I could tell, Vargal hadn’t possessed the boy yet. There was still time to save him.

I gave the Greater demon my best pageant smile. “Looks like we’ve crashed the party.” I stood close enough to him to smell the rot and carrion. Feet wide for better control, I said, “Leave the boy alone.”

“Or what, little mortal?” Vargal grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him closer, almost as though he was using the boy to shield him. Demon scum. “What do you think you can do?”

I frowned at how human the demon’s voice was, even in that ghoulish shape. Unnatural. Totally creepy.

Vargal’s gaze flicked to Logan. “What’s this? The same angel-born who’s been following me like a puppy? The darkness has brought me gifts. It has blessed me tonight.”

Logan pulled out one of his soul blades and let it slide into his hand with some fancy finger work evident of an exceptional swordsman. “Yeah,” said the angel-born. “I’m onto you like stink on shit. You got a problem with that?” His jaw was set in a hard line, and he looked as pissed as I was.

He took a few steps forward, his stride smooth, gliding easily on fluid joints. He moved with the grace of a predator, a killer. Strong, supple, and deadly—I liked it.

The demon pulled back his lips to reveal two rows of yellow teeth, sharp like Ginsu knives. “A problem? The two of you are an irritation. Insufferably annoying. Your deaths will profit me, grant me standing with others of my kind.”

My body shook with adrenaline, and Vargal made an ugly noise deep in his throat. The long exhalation set my insides to quiver.

“I am curious, though,” continued Vargal, and a whimper escaped the boy as the demon’s grip on him tightened. “How did you find me? ”

“Google Maps,” I told him. Crap. Now the boy was way too close to the demon. If I tried to hit him with one of my spells, I might hit the kid accidentally. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you. Oh, wait. We are going to kill you.” But I wasn’t about to reveal my secret.

Vargal’s eyes moved to my bag. “A tracker spell. I give you points for ingenuity, half-breed. How you attained something of mine is a mystery, but it will no doubt reveal itself before too long. But you are a stupid witch if you think you can kill me.”

Somehow the demon could sense my amulet. It didn’t matter.

Feeling bold, I took a step forward. “I’m not going to ask you again, Vargal ,” I said, waiting to see the full effect of my words. “Let the kid go.”

But then the Greater demon did something I wasn’t expecting.

He threw back his head and laughed, long and deep. “Ignorant, idiotic witch. You half-breeds should have never been created. You are but a mere representation of our weaknesses and flaws. Deficient creatures of blood and bone. You are nothing.” Then he let out a rasping giggle. “I can smell your fear, witch,” he rasped, baring his teeth. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Not as much as we’re going to enjoy kicking your ass,” commented Poe from above, perched on the nearest telephone wire.

My gaze darted to the boy. His cheeks were wet with tears, and his red-rimmed eyes had my pulse racing. “Okay, so I might not have been around for centuries—”

“Try millennia,” said Poe. “He smells old. Like an old Persian rug.”

“But I do know that you can’t possess this boy without him letting you in,” I continued. “And by the looks of it, I’m guessing it’s not working out like you planned. Now is it?”

Vargal narrowed his gaze. “You know nothing.”

“Says the clichéd, two-bit beast of the Netherworld,” cawed Poe as he ruffled his feathers.

I cocked a brow. “Enlighten me,” I told Vargal. “What’s this all about? What’s with this ritual? Who are you trying to summon?” I needed to distract him somehow to get to the kid. But his grip on the boy was way too tight, too close.

For the first time, the demon looked taken aback, his expression hard. His red eyes shimmered with the promise of death, but he recovered quickly. “You can’t stop this.”

“I can,” I said, willing my power in my gut. “And I will. You’ll never get the boy, so you might as well give him up now.”

Vargal growled, straightening. “I am a Greater demon of the Netherworld. Mine are the screams on the wind and the howling darkness. I am a king of the night. Shadows bend to my will. I am as unlike those mewling things you call demons as a bear is unlike a cat. You cannot hope to defeat me. Leave now or die. ”

“I choose neither,” I said, my fury seeping out of me through my pores. “I choose the boy.” I was done talking. Talking wouldn’t save the boy. My legs moved of their own volition as I closed the distance between me and the Greater demon from the Netherworld. Maybe I was being stupid, thinking I could face a demon like that and win. But it would be much worse if I sat back and did nothing while he killed the boy and took his soul to the Netherworld.

I began gathering my focus for the spell. The air tightened on my skin, and I felt the hairs along the back of my neck rise as the power grew around me. I needed to get closer.

Vargal moved his fingers in a subtle, demonic charm that made my skin prickle. There was a pop of displaced air, and the night air suddenly dropped by twenty degrees. My breath escaped before me in a swirl of white mist.

“Oh, look,” called Poe. “He brought his friends.”

I turned around at the sound of nails scratching pavement. A collection of yellow eyes glowed with rage in the shadows of the parking lot. They were more apelike than humanoid, their talons grazing the earth as they advanced. Their features were twisted grotesquely to make them look like a cauliflower with a massive mouth that could fit a turkey. Their flesh was red and raw as though they were turned inside out. Some were naked while some had the remains of what looked like pants.

My heart lurched in sudden terror.

Ghouls.

CHAPTER 16

E verything happened really fast.

One second I was about to clobber Vargal with a fireball, and the next, we were surrounded by ghouls.

By definition, ghouls were not the brightest bulbs in the Netherworld box, but they were big, mean, and wickedly strong. They were also a regular foe, springing up every week or so from some cemetery where they fed on the flesh of the dead—their preferred food source.

I could kill them, but I’d never faced that many before. That was a problem.

“Showtime,” said Logan, a dangerous gleam in his eye, as though he was looking forward to killing some ghouls.

Okay, then .

“Heads up!” Pulling on the magic from my rings, I shouted, “Feurantis!”

The energy rushed out of me, and I hurled a fireball at the nearest ghoul.

The ghoul didn’t even move or duck as the ball of fire sailed toward it. Yeah, not too bright. The fire exploded over the ghoul. The creature wailed, thrashing as the fire grew until it consumed it entirely. The fire crackled, drawing a scream of rage from the ghoul. The next second the ghoul fell to the ground in a heap of burning flesh and guts until there was nothing left of it but a pile of ash.

I wrinkled my nose at the stink of sulfur and carrion. I hated ghouls. Cemeteries were their favorite go-to locations when they escaped from the Netherworld, hosting what I liked to call all-you-can-eat dead buffets. There was something seriously disturbing about eating the flesh from dead humans long buried in a cemetery.

Movement to my left caught my attention as Logan whipped another blade from his baldric. He threw himself at the nearest ghoul, his blades up and thrashing with frightening speed. I heard hacking sounds of impact. With a downward motion, both blades sank into the ghoul’s abdomen, and then he pulled them up and out in two wide arcs. The ghoul howled as its entrails spilled from the two huge holes in its abdomen to land in a slopping mess around its feet. It opened its mouth to wail, but Logan struck out with his blades in a scissor-like motion just above its shoulders. There was a soft thud as its head fell on top of its slopped entrails.

I gave him an approving smirk. “Not bad, for an angel-born.”

“I’m just getting started, witch.” Logan beamed, and then he ducked as another ghoul came swinging at him. He rolled and bounced to his feet with the flexibility of a cat and attacked with his blades in quick succession. I would have loved to watch him fight, but if I stopped spindling my magic, I was a dead witch.

I threw my gaze back at Vargal. His disgusting face was distinct before me with preternatural clarity, his eyes indifferent. He was still standing at the exact same spot, clutching the boy against him like a prize. Oh no you don’t.

I shot toward him, spindling another spell as I pumped my legs faster. I couldn’t use fire or any spell that might hurt the boy, but I knew just the thing. Vargal was going to be pissed.

A ghoul stepped out of the shadows and I crashed right into it.

Well, my face made contact with its chest. Nasty. Never mind how gross it was to touch its sticky flesh with my own hands, like the slime of a decomposing corpse that had been lying in the sun for weeks. I had to physically yank my face back, and a stretch of yellow film snapped back with it. I shivered. I think I just threw up in my mouth.

No time to focus on the unsanitary nature of it all as an eight-foot ghoul stood before me. It was a big sonofabitch. It opened its mouth in a growl, chunks of rotten flesh from its previous meal still stuck between its flat, brown, and blackened teeth.

“Kill. Eat,” it said.

“Nice.” Told you they were stupid.

I tapped into my will, summoning the power from my rings.

But not fast enough.

The ghoul slammed into me with the force of a bull on steroids. I flew back and hit the hard pavement, my breath knocked out of me.

The ghoul’s head appeared above me.

I found my breath and yelled, “Vento!” and blasted him with a gust of wind.

The ghoul flew back and slammed into its companions like a bowling ball knocking down pins.

I rolled to my feet. Fiery pain raked my back and shoulder, biting deep. But there was nothing broken.

Again I looked through the wall of streaming ghouls and my breath caught. Vargal was dragging the boy away from the fight and away from the parking lot. The kid didn’t even resist. With his eyes wide, he looked like he was in some kind of trance. Shit. I’d never reach him in time. Not with the wall of ghouls that lay between me and them.

Son of a bitch.

“Poe! He’s taking the kid!” I screamed as I caught a glimpse of the raven slamming his beak into the eyes of an unsuspecting ghoul. There was a pop and the ghoul’s eyes burst in putrid, yellow liquid. Then Poe took flight again .

Poe cawed in answer. The large raven dove like an arrow toward Vargal. Then he collapsed in a flurry of ravens, fifty strong, all sharing the same intent to kill. They launched at Vargal like a deadly black cloud of feathers and claws and beaks.

It was called Splitting, the ability to replicate or split your body into many other copies, like clones if you will, and all still you, all sharing a collective mind. It was extremely rare. Only a few Malphas demons had this ability. And Poe was one of them.

The Greater demon screamed in fury, lashing out with his free arm, but the ravens were too fast, their sharp beaks perforating the demon’s flesh like knives, over and over again. It worked.

With a howl, he let go of the boy and the kid hit the ground.

Vargal roared in another language, the tones dark and guttural, probably one of the old demon languages. He slashed at them, spitting wordless growls like a rabid dog.

I gave a little laugh. Good. The Poes would keep Vargal occupied for a while until I could reach him.

“Samantha! Behind you!” came Logan’s voice.

I spun. Channeling the magic form my rings. “Feurantis!” A pulse of energy lit through me, and a ball of fire hit the oncoming ghoul right in the head. The ghoul fell to its knees, writhing and screaming madly.

I didn’t have time to see the fire’s full effect as another ghoul came at me from the right .

“Vento!” I blasted the ghoul with another gust of wind, and it slammed onto the side of a parked car. But that bought me only enough time to turn my head as two more ghouls came at me.

The ghouls let out howls of hungry glee, their talons scraping the ground as though they were sharpening them in anticipation. They came at me in a blur of limbs and claws and rotten flesh. But I was ready for them.

Magic flowed through me, intoxicating, rich, seductive. It mixed with my hatred for Vargal and my fear for the boy.

I was on fire. I was tossing out spells like a semiautomatic weapon. I wasn’t going to lose the kid, but I also knew I couldn’t keep going like this. I couldn’t keep on channeling so much power. Eventually my magic would run out. Panting, I staggered with a bit of weariness.

Straining with effort, I flung out a hand. The energy from the rings rushed through me in a ripple of warmth down my arm and to my fingers.

“Turbinis,” I shouted, willing the energy to flow.

Wind flapped at my hair as something that looked like a miniature tornado formed in front of me. It grew as it whirled, sucking in air and gaining speed and size. It hit the ghouls, scattering them into bits of meaty chunks of flesh like a giant blender. Watery, yellow liquid and black blood splattered the pavement in a slippery mess of ghoul soup.

“Ghoul smoothie,” I said. “I’m going to put that spell in my jar of favorites. ”

The ghouls started forward again, a roiling mass of raw flesh and teeth and claws. I choked on the reek of rotten flesh, the sound of their strangled screams growing higher in pitch.

Air pushed at my left, and a ghoul danced in my line of sight.

Its details were obscured, the proportions slightly off, as if I was looking at a creature that hadn’t completely formed yet. Its features were warped with hollow, gaping eye sockets within a sunken, nearly skull-like face, and a wide, empty mouth that hung open as if the tendons attaching the lower jaw had stretched out like old elastic bands.

It came at me, moving with a kind of shuffling grace, as if it had no real coordination with its legs.

My heart pounded as I channeled the energy from my rings again. A tall, black shadow with gleaming blades in its hands threw itself between me and the ghoul. Logan.

The ghoul shrieked as the end of one of Logan’s soul blades pierced its skin. With a growl it struck out with inhuman speed, its talons catching Logan with a vicious blow that lifted him off his feet and hurled him against a car.

I darted forward, my adrenaline pulsing as I willed energy in, filling my aura and readying it in my head.

The ghoul threw itself at Logan just as he got back to his feet.

But I never stopped spindling the spell in my head .

I flung out my hands. “Vento!”

My blast of wind sent the ghoul spiraling in the air and out of sight across the parking lot.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you,” said Logan, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. He lashed out at another ghoul with his soul blades. It struck the ghoul’s rotten hide, and a yellow gash appeared, welling blood.

My mouth fell open at the nerve of this angel-born. “I just—”

Something hit me on the back of my head, and black spots marred my vision as I fell to my knees.

My anger flared as I looked at the approaching ghoul, my eyes narrowed. “Feurantis!” I flung out my hands—

And nothing happened.

Oh. Crap. My magic was spent. The rings were empty. It was one of those moments when I wished I’d prepared more magical rings.

The ghoul flung itself at me. Hot pain exploded on my shoulder as teeth sank into my flesh. I cried out, tears blurring my vision. The ghoul let go and tossed me to the ground with incredible force. Just as I landed, it hit me with a powerful kick on my side. I rolled over on my back, coughing as I tried to gulp some air.

The ghoul was on top of me in the next second. My instincts kicked in, and I threw up my hands, grabbing its face between them. My arms trembled, and my arm muscles burned as I fought to keep it from tearing out my jugular .

I gagged at the foul-smelling breath, like the smell of the city sewers on a hot summer day. My hands slipped on its wet flesh. I was faltering. I wasn’t strong enough. I tried to think of a spell, but my fear was overwhelming. I couldn’t focus. And without my rings or a sigil, I had nothing. There was nothing in my mind but the instinct of survival. I just wanted to keep the beast from killing me.

My hands slipped again, the ghoul’s teeth were inches from my cheek.

“Sam, let go,” came a voice from above.

I lurched my hands away. The ghoul atop me jerked as its head fell from its shoulders, spraying foul-smelling, yellow and black blood everywhere before it exploded into a cloud of ash.

Nasty. Worse, I’d gotten some in my mouth. I rolled over and spat out as much as I could without prompting myself to vomit. That would be embarrassing.

“You look like shit,” said Logan and gave me a thin smile.

“Thanks.” My jacket, T-shirt, and face, though I couldn’t see it, were covered in the ghoul’s blood. Worse was that now the ashes were sticking to me like feathers on glue.

Logan stepped above me and stuck out his hand. “Now we’re even.”

He pulled me to my feet. Heart slamming against my rib cage, I searched the parking lot. Piles of ash, and spills of ghoulish entrails, like slimy gray ropes, scattered the ground, all that remained of the ghouls .

Vargal was gone.

And there, standing in between two parked cars with a large raven on his shoulder, was the kid.

CHAPTER 17

“Y ou hungry?” I asked the kid sitting across my kitchen table. “I’m no chef, but I could whip up some eggs or grilled cheese.”

The kid, whose name was Colin, had only uttered two words since we brought him to my place. He’d said, “Okay.” And then, “Colin.” I didn’t blame him. He was scared and traumatized. I knew I would be if I were in his shoes right now. Human kids didn’t belong in our world of paranormals and supernatural baddies, especially not mixed up with Greater demons.

I thought it best to keep him with me until I knew he was truly safe. There was also the possibility that Vargal had possessed the boy and was playing along just to screw with us .

But after a few demon-detecting spells, I’d gotten nothing. Also, Colin didn’t show any of the possession signs—gaunt features, a sickly, sulfur-like smell. There were dark bags under his eyes, but that was from lack of sleep and food and water. He was just a scared kid.

Colin sat in one of the kitchen chairs, his feet barely touching the floor. His face was flushed and sweaty, his hands in his lap looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. I pushed down my guilt. Taking him back to his parents now would only make things worse. Knowing humans, their first reaction would be to take him to a hospital, not realizing he needed another kind of healing—the supernatural kind. The kind that only witches had. From what I could tell, Vargal had pushed Colin, fed him lies and played with the kid’s head with demonic magic. He’d need to be free of any residual demon magic before he could go home.

Not to mention that Vargal hadn’t taken the kid’s soul, which meant he could still be in danger. Until I could figure out what Vargal did to him, if anything, he needed to stay with me. Sorry, parents, but it was for their own good too. It’s not like I was going to keep him. I’d probably take him to his parents in a day or two and in one piece.

There was still the issue of why the Greater demon picked the boy. It wasn’t a random pick. I was certain of it. Now I just needed to figure out why.

With Logan’s help, we’d hailed a cab and taken Colin back to my place. Logan had left with the cabbie without even saying goodbye. That had stung a little.

“Give him a shot of gin,” said my grandfather, raising his own glass. “That should loosen his tongue.”

I shot my grandpa a look. “I’m not going to give him alcohol.” Especially when I had the feeling this was my grandfather’s broomshine he was drinking. God knew what was in there.

I looked back at the kid. He was just a freaking kid. “Colin. I have leftover pizza from yesterday. I can heat it up. I think I’m going to have some too.” Realizing I was starving, I was already salivating at the thought of pizza.

I pushed my chair back and went to the fridge, pulled out the pizza from the box, and stuffed it in the oven. Then I poured a tall glass of water, sprinkled in some rosemary and sandalwood, mixed it with a spoon, and placed it next to Colin.

“Drink this,” I instructed. “It’ll help you feel better. I promise. Drink it all, please.”

The boy looked at Poe. The raven was perched on the backrest of the seat next to him. Colin seemed to have formed an attachment to Poe, and he seemed more relaxed with the raven close to him.

“She’s right, Colin,” encouraged Poe. “It will help. Drink it.”

Colin took the glass as soon as I sat back down and drank it all. The poor kid was thirsty. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the glass back down, his large brown eyes on me .

I cocked a brow. That went a lot easier than I thought.

Still, for a human kid, he’d taken the “talking raven” thing fairly well. Sure, some ravens were known to say a few words, but not carry out full sentences or participate fully in a conversation. Because that would be weird .

And the boy seemed at ease with it all, as though he and Poe were longtime buddies. Strange.

My grandfather made a noise in his throat. I darted my gaze to him. He was eyeing me in the manner of “ask him already.”

I scowled at him and then folded my hands on the table. “How old are you, Colin?” I began, thinking this line of questioning was a warm up for the more serious stuff.

“Fourteen,” answered the kid.

“Really?”

“I know.” He let out a sigh, telling me that I wasn’t the first person to react that way. “I’m small for my age.”

Yes, he was. I thought he was about ten.

“Don’t worry. You still have lots of growing to do,” said my grandpa, a smile on his face. “I was small too. But then when I was seventeen, I sprouted like a weed. Tall and lean.”

Colin eyed my grandfather. “You’re a witch too.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

“Born a witch,” said my grandfather proudly and took another swig of his gin before smacking his lips together .

“Are you powerful?” asked Colin, his face blank. “Can you kill monsters with your magic?”

Ah-ha. I knew where he was going with that.

My grandfather leaned his elbows on the table. “As a matter of fact—”

“Colin,” I said, cutting off my grandfather. “I know you’re tired. You’ve had a long night. A scary night. But I need you to tell me everything that happened. Starting with when you first saw that monster.”

The kid was silent and pensive as he stared without blinking at his empty glass. “Through my bedroom window. Then in my room.”

I clenched my jaw. Bastard. He took the kid from his bedroom.

“I was playing video games. I always play video games at night, after my homework’s done.” He pulled his eyes to me. “I’d never seen a real monster before. Just on TV, you know. Never a real one. Never in my house.”

“Your parents. Do they know you’re missing?”

Colin shook his head. “I don’t think so.” His face scrunched up into a frown. “I didn’t scream. I didn’t even fight back. I just... I just let him take me.”

My heart clenched at the pain mixed with defeat I saw in his eyes. “Listen to me, Colin. This isn’t your fault. He probably put a demon trance spell on you. It makes you feel like you’re in a dreamlike state and not in control of your own body. There was nothing you could have done. ”

“You did,” said the kid, frustration set in his jaw. “You fought him. He didn’t put a spell on you.”

I took a breath. “No. But that’s because I was ready for him. I was prepared. I knew what he was. You didn’t.”

“Who is he?” asked Colin, a slight tension in his voice.

I shared a look with my grandfather. “His name is Vargal,” I said, turning back to the boy. “And yes, he’s a monster, but he’s what we call a Greater demon.”

“A Greater demon,” repeated the kid. “He’s a demon , demon. Like the ones that live in Hell?”

“The very same,” answered my grandpa as he poured himself another drink. “But we call Hell the Netherworld. And Vargal is like a CEO there. He’s a boss. And a real bastard to be kidnapping kids.”

“So, if demons are real, it’s only logical to think that angels exist too,” inquired Colin, looking a little older than before.

“Unfortunately,” muttered Poe, and I shot him a glare.

“The other guy that was helping me tonight,” I told Colin. “That was Logan. He’s an angel-born, which means he has angel essence running through his veins. Just like we witches have demon blood.” I saw the kid frown so I added. “Forget what you’ve been told or read about demons. They’re not all bad. Some are good. Just like some angels are bad.”

“Worse than demons,” interjected my granddad .

“Worse than demons, yes,” I agreed. I let out a sigh. “There’s so much you don’t know, and we can’t get to it all in one night. For one thing, humans don’t usually see demons. Just us half-breeds and angel-borns, the paranormals. But Vargal appeared to you, to frighten you. He wanted you to see him in that form.”

Colin’s gaze became sharp on mine. “Could you teach me some spells?” asked the kid. “Like the fireballs? To protect myself?”

Damn. My chest tightened. He wanted to learn magic. I really liked this kid. “The demon blood in our bodies help us conjure magic. It’s in us. Humans don’t have magic in them, unless one of their ancestors was a witch, then yes. But there are basic spells that you can draw on the powers of the elements. I’ll teach you those. But I can’t teach you the fireball spells. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Colin’s eyes went back down. “I understand.”

With a clatter of wings, Poe hopped on the backrest and moved closer to Colin. “It’ll be okay, Colin. Don’t you worry.”

Not if I didn’t figure out why Vargal wanted the kid. “Colin. Can you think of any reason why Vargal took you tonight?” Please, give me something. Anything.

The kid’s eyes went wide as he stared at me. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. ”

“What did he say to you?” I tried again, remembering how Vargal had been whispering to the kid when we got there.

Colin paled. “He said he would kill my parents.” He slumped back in his chair. “The demon said that if I didn’t let him inside me, he would kill them. He kept repeating it, over and over again. And he told me how he would kill them.” He swallowed, the memory obviously too painful to talk about. “I felt like I was in a dream. I just wanted to wake up. For the monster to be gone. But when I didn’t say yes, he started to hurt me. It was like... I was on fire, but from the inside. And that’s when you showed up.” He pressed his lips firmly together. “I... I almost said yes.”

“But you didn’t,” I said, impressed at this kid’s will. “You resisted, which is incredible for someone so young.”

“And human,” said Poe, pulling the words right out of my mouth. “It’s why Vargal was so frustrated. He couldn’t break him.”

Poe was right. But did it mean Vargal had given up on Colin and was looking for his replacement? Or would he come back for him? I hated not knowing. I hated that Logan had left without even a word.

“The kid’s got balls,” said my grandpa, raising his glass. “I like him.”

That rewarded him a small smile from Colin. He was polite and sweet and well-mannered, every parent’s dream. What a cute kid. He didn’t deserve what Vargal had done to him tonight. But at least he was alive. Thank the cauldron. I wanted to keep it that way.

Julia’s frightened face flashed in my mind’s eye. Guilt flared up, and I squashed it.

“Colin,” I said, my tension rising again, “do you remember anything else Vargal said to you? Something that might be important? Something about a ritual maybe? Or a name? Did he mention a name?” If I knew more about what ritual he was performing and for whom, I could work with that. But it still didn’t explain why he took Colin, or Julia, or the three other bodies still in the morgue.

Looking dejected, Colin shook his head. “He didn’t mention anything like that.” Panic creased his features making me regret that I’d asked. I was pushing him too hard too soon.

“It’s okay,” I told him, trying to reel in my emotions as to not let the kid think he had done something wrong. “We’ll try again tomorrow. It’s late. You need some rest.” A ting came from the stove, and I pushed my chair back and got up. Grabbing two plates, I topped them both with a slice of peperoni-and-cheese pizza.

I placed Colin’s plate in front of him and then sat down. Taking my slice in my hands, I bit in, the juices spilling from the corners of my mouth. I nearly moaned. It was heavenly. I always thought pizza was even better the next day.

I took a napkin and wiped the edges of my mouth, just as Colin took a bite of his pizza. I felt some tension leave my body as I watched the kid chew on his pizza. “I’m going to prepare the guest bedroom for you. Tomorrow I’ll get you a change of clothes. I think it’s best that you stay here with us for a while. Until we know why Vargal took you.”

Colin shifted in his seat. “Okay,” he said between chews, surprising the hell out of me. He’d accepted us, this place, and the community really fast. Who was this kid?

I took another bite of my pizza and watched Colin chew his. I didn’t get any witch vibes or any paranormal senses from him. He was definitely human. Still, there was something about him. Something Vargal wanted to kill for.

Silence descended, and I shoved the last piece of crust in my mouth. “I don’t have video games, but you’re welcome to borrow my laptop or any books you might like to read.”

Colin brightened at the idea. “Thanks.”

I smiled at him. “You’ll be safe here.”

“Absolutely,” said my granddad, and he leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs. “There’s no safer place than right here in Witches Row. That wretched demon would be a fool indeed if he thinks he can reach you here.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. Vargal had proven himself very capable indeed to snatch a human kid from his home.

Colin put his slice down silently. And then he looked at me said, “You’re right. I’m not safe anywhere. ”

I leaned forward. “Colin, I won’t let that demon hurt you again.” I promise.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” said the kid.

I froze. Then frowned. “How did you... did you just...”

“Read your mind?” Colin shrugged. “Yeah. I can read people’s minds. I’ve been doing it since I was little. It’s annoying and gives me migraines. But I learned to shut them out. Mostly.”

“You read minds,” I repeated, floored, and blinking like an idiot as my grandfather made a strangled sound of surprise and then fell off his chair and hit the ground with a loud crash.

Poe looked as impressed as a raven could look.

Holy Hell. Colin was a psychic.

CHAPTER 18

N eedless to say, the following morning I read everything I could about psychics. I knew the basics, well, just one actually—the mind reading—but after spending hours reading, I found out that not all psychics shared the same abilities. And not all were created equally, just like witches.

And I’m not talking about the fortune tellers or what I’d like to call, fortune scammers. I’m taking about real clairvoyants.

Some psychics had the ability of precognition or premonition, the ability to perceive future events. Not to be confused with prophecy, the ability to predict the future, or Second Sight, which allowed them to see in the future and the past. Other psychics could communicate with the dead, able to tune in to the spirit world. They called it Channeling, and it was very popular with the police department on cold cases or when a child went missing. Some were even skilled with astral projection, the out-of-body experience, in which the astral body is felt to temporarily separate from the physical body.

There was also Dream Walking, the ability to enter people’s dreams, and Hallucination, the ability to cause mental hallucinations, which sounded like a disturbing and very dangerous skill to have.

Another ability was aura reading, the ability to perceive the aura or energy fields surrounding people. Some were just sensitive to the aura of a person, which enabled them to access information from the emotional, physical, and spiritual parts of the auric field containing all the information about a person’s life.

After hours of reading and research, I’d discovered that most psychics only possessed one ability. Having more than one was extremely rare and almost unheard of.

Colin had four.

I’d seen with my own eyes that one of his abilities was telepathy, the ability to read or sense another person’s thoughts, to communicate with them mentally or affect their minds and thoughts.

According to Colin, another one of his abilities was telekinesis, the ability to manipulate objects with his mind. I would have killed for that kind of ability. No more kinetic spells to move air. I just had to think about blasting a demon out of the way, and I could .

He also had the gift of reading people’s auras. It explained how he felt such at ease with us and how he quickly warmed up to us. He could sense we weren’t evil and only wanted to help and protect him.

The last one was Mind Control, the ability to manipulate the minds of others via thought process—probably his most powerful ability. It also explained how Colin could resist Vargal’s demonic influence. Was his mind too powerful for Vargal to open? I didn’t know, but I was glad we’d found him in time to prevent it.

Colin was a psychic, not just a telepath, because he’d demonstrated more abilities. That made him a very strong psychic.

They were so rare I’d never even met one. And by the way, my granddad had been ogling the poor kid: he hadn’t either.

Poe, on the other hand, had met a few in his existence, and he was going to tell me everything he knew.

“So, if psychics are human,” I began, and tossed the book I was reading, “they don’t have any demonic essence in them. Then how did these abilities manifest? There’s nothing about that in any of these books.”

Poe stood on a chair facing me. “There’s a simple reason for that,” he said, plucking out a feather and spitting it out.

“What reason?” I said, frustrated, as I looked at the raven’s black eyes, not seeing a damn thing .

He reached over and clasped a sunflower seed in between his claws. Using his beak, he snapped it open and then popped the kernel into his mouth and said, “It wouldn’t be in any of your books.”

I rolled my eyes and pressed my hands on my hips. “Poe. Do you know where they got these powers? If you do, you have to tell me.”

“What do you give me in return?” he demanded, pecking at another seed.

If his information wasn’t essential to this case, I would have plucked him like a chicken. “What do you want?” I sighed.

“A month’s supply of sunflower seeds.”

“Done.”

“And two nights off a week.”

I frowned. “You’re pushing it. You’re my familiar. You go—”

“Who’s entitled to a little time off once in a while,” said Poe. “You give Faris nights off. It’s only fair that I get some too. It’s good for the soul, and I need to stretch my wings,” he added, rolling his shoulders. “Work my pectoralis muscles. I won’t be good to you if I can’t fly anymore.”

“Fine,” I said, “but only if you promise not to bother Vera anymore.” God help me, I was still wondering what he’d meant about knowing her secret.

Poe spit a shell from his mouth. “Fine. I’ll leave the old hag alone. But if she attacks first, I’ll be within my rights to defend myself. ”

“You’re so such a drama queen, and you know it.” I didn’t know why he wanted two nights off, and I didn’t ask. “And only when this business with Vargal is finished, and only if I don’t need you on any other cases. Deal?”

Poe looked at me with his raven eyes. “Deal.” He cracked open another seed. “Psychics are fundamentally human, but they were given their powers from the angels.”

“Really?” Now I was really interested. “Why?”

“It started out as just a manner of communication between the angels and a few selected humans. They were gifted with divination, the ability to communicate with the angels. Either to spy on the angel-born or for other reasons that I don’t know. But I do know that over time, this ability manifested and changed. It evolved into other abilities. Stronger abilities. Other psychic powers.”

“And Vargal knew this. It’s why he took Colin. I’m sure of it.” Colin was a psychic. That was the missing clue. It was why Vargal had been bold enough to snatch him from right under his parents’ noses.

“Yes, I agree,” said Poe, as he chewed on another sunflower seed.

My pulse sped up with excitement. I was onto something. I could feel it.

“And if my working theory is correct, that means Julia and the others were psychics too. It would explain why the Greater demon took them.”

Poe nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking too. ”

I bit my lower lip. “We know he took them for their souls. Which means whatever ritual he’s trying to do requires the souls of psychics.”

“Powerful psychics.”

“Powerful psychics,” I agreed, my heart pounding. “Like Colin. But we still don’t know how many he needs. What if Colin was the last of these powerful psychics? It would mean Vargal would still need him. He could come back for him.” And I’d be waiting for the bastard.

“True,” said Poe, his mouth full of sunflower seeds.

I let out a breath. “So, who is he trying to summon? What entity needs the souls of powerful psychics?”

Poe shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe your aunt knows. Shouldn’t she have deciphered the text by now? I think your aunt is losing her touch.”

“She’s not losing her touch.” I scowled.

The doorbell rang.

I gave Poe a winning smile. “See? She’s here to tell me what it all means.” I turned and headed for the staircase. Just as I hit the first stair, a raven fluttered past me and swooped down the staircase.

“Damn it, Poe!” I cursed. I hated when he did that.

By the time I hit the bottom step, Poe was already perched above the clothes rack and staring through the small glass window above the door. I made my way past the dining room area where my granddad and Colin sat facing each other, their hands on the table. They’d been like this for hours.

“You’re wearing him out, Gramps,” I called as I headed down the hallway toward the front door. “He’s had enough adventures for a while. Leave him be.”

“Nonsense,” answered my grandfather. “The delights of my mind are every man’s dream.” There was silence and then, “What am I thinking now?” challenged my grandfather, a frown on his face like he was trying to put a wall up in his mind.

Colin shook his head, his brow high on his forehead. “You have a dirty mind.”

Oh. Boy.

A laugh escaped me as I pulled open the door. “Thank the cauldron you’re here—”

Logan stood on the platform.

I gave him the once-over. I’d forgotten how tall he was. He practically graced the top of the doorframe. He wore a motorcycle-style, black leather jacket over his black clothes. I counted six soul blades on him—four sheathed along his baldric and two from the scabbard at his side. He had that smoldering look, dangerous and sexy as hell. His brown eyes met mine, and my heart did a little summersault. Damn. I was not going to fall for this guy. I didn’t care how pretty he was. Besides, he didn’t seem to like me all that much. I was a witch, after all. We loved to torture the pretty angel-borns for fun.

I stilled my emotions and kept my face blank. “Logan. What are you doing here?” My voice came off a little rough. Guess I was still pissed at how he’d just left without saying goodbye. I looked up to give Poe a “why didn’t you warn me” look. I swear I saw that raven smile. I was seriously going to pluck some of those feathers later and use them for a new pillow.

“I came to see how Colin was doing,” said Logan, looking over my shoulder.

No. He was here because he thought Vargal would be back for the boy. Just like I did. A flicker of annoyance went through me. “You’re mighty geared up for a social call, and just before sundown.” He knew Vargal couldn’t do anything until the sun was down, which was in less than an hour.

Logan looked at me, and his dark eyes simmered with a little mischief. “You never know who might show up uninvited.”

“Like you?” said the raven.

I put a hand on my hip. “You think I can’t look after a fourteen-year-old boy?”

Logan’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “He’s fourteen? You’re kidding.”

“Yes, he is,” I said proudly, like I’d had figured it out all on my own. “He’s fourteen.”

“And a powerful psychic,” informed Poe.

Logan’s eyes went from Poe to me. “A psychic?” I saw his eyes going through the stages of gathering information, connecting the dots. “The other victims are psychics too.”

“Look here. He’s not that stupid for an angel-born,” cawed Poe. “One might even consider him to have above-average intelligence. ”

Logan eyed Poe. “And you look like you might be tasty over the barbeque, crow.”

Poe made a strangled hissing noise. “I’m a raven, Skippy, and I’d like to see you try.”

“Both of you. Shut it,” I yelled angrily. “This is really not the time.”

“What I’d really like to know is,” said Logan, a sour expression appearing on his face as he turned to look at me, “why there’s an angel passed out at the bottom of your stairs?”

Cauldron help me! “Kyllian?” I shoved Logan to the side, perhaps a tad too hard, and my eyes met a mammoth-sized bundle with blond hair, curled up in a ball at the bottom of the stairs.

Damn. He didn’t look good.

I leaped off the front steps and landed next to him. “Kyllian?” I shook his arm. “Kyllian? Damn it. Wake up!”

A flash of red appeared, and I looked up to find Vera with her hands on her hips, her face pinched in contempt around her substantially large nose. Great. Just freaking great.

“Vera,” I said in way of greeting. The witch didn’t answer, but she kept throwing me dirty looks. Swell. Now I was in for it. She hadn’t uttered a word, though, and that was surprising. Did it have anything to do with her alleged secret? Still, her meddling was starting to really piss me off.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than to spy on your neighbors?” I snapped, my hand still on Kyllian, who refused to wake up .

Vera’s mouth made a little “o.” Her eyes narrowed and she said. “A drunk angel and an angel-born? The Dark Witch Court will hear about it.”

I guess Poe was wrong about her leaving me alone. “I don’t care,” I hissed. I was practically shouting. “You can shout it down the block for all the community to hear, for all I care.” My pulse throbbed. I was going to curse that old bag. I knew it.

I shook Kyllian again. “Kyllian. Wake up.” And then I slapped him hard across the face.

His eyes fluttered open. “Sam?”

“No, the tooth fairy.” Okay, that was a bit harsh, but I was livid and stressed out. “I need you to get up and get inside. Can you do that?”

Kyllian blinked. His eyes were distant and not focusing on anything. He seemed lost. He could probably light up the entire block in flames with just his breath.

Something brushed against my shoulder, and I found Logan standing next to me.

“What’s the matter with him?” Concern shown in his dark eyes.

“It’s a long story. I need to get him inside.” Before Vera makes a scene. I yanked the angel’s arm, feeling hard muscle and nothing else.

“I’ve got him,” said Logan, and he reached down and wrapped Kyllian’s arm around his neck. With surprising strength, the angel-born lifted the large angel to his feet. Kyllian swayed for a moment, Logan anchoring him, and then the two of them climbed up the steps .

I followed them but stopped at the landing and turned.

Vera stood at the bottom of the stairs, a sour look on her face as she shook her head in disapproval.

“By the way,” I said, and her eyes met mine. “Your roots are showing.” And then I slammed the door.

CHAPTER 19

T hree hours later, I stood with my back against the dining room wall, my fingers moving as I recited the same spells over and over again until they became second nature, a single thought.

It was the perfect spot to have a view of the entire first floor should Vargal decide to materialize in my home. My tension was on the verge of giving me a stroke. Worse, I was sweating, and I would probably start smelling any minute now. I’d forgotten to mark my pits with an anti-sweat sigil. It worked wonders under stressful conditions like these.

Calm down, Samantha . I let out a breath through my nose. Keeling over now from hypertension would be embarrassing. I was a Dark witch, after all. I could handle a Greater demon. Plus, he owed me Julia’s soul. I was going to kill him for that. I swore it on the cauldron.

I’d spent the first hour marking out protection wards on all the doors, doorframes, and windows, all entry points that demons used. The house was so damn protected it would take something with the strength of a god to break them. Vargal wasn’t a god, but I didn’t underestimate him. The bastard was clever. And I doubted he would just give up on Colin, knowing what and how rare the kid was.

No. Vargal would make his appearance. And when he did, I’d be waiting for him.

I’d also snuck in an hour of spindling new magic and energy into my rings. The process was surprisingly faster this time since I didn’t have to make the rings and sigils from scratch. Instead I just powered them up again like recharging batteries.

I wasn’t what you’d call the most patient witch in Witches Row. In fact, I hated waiting. Three hours was a long time to wait for a demon to show up. All that pent-up hatred and emotions were making me dizzy. If I didn’t kill something soon, I just might pass out.

And still, three hours after the sun had gone down, Vargal was a no-show.

Everyone was on edge. Especially Colin, who sat in the same chair, trying so hard not to look scared. But his complete shutdown and lack of conversation for nearly an hour spoke volumes. The kid was terrified. He kept pushing his glasses up his sweaty nose and tossing more sunflower seeds to Poe. I think he felt safe with Poe next to him, like he was his personal watchdog, or rather, watch-raven.

The raven was particularly concerned for the boy’s well-being. Familiars were very protective of their witchlings when they were first matched with one. But here it seemed that both Poe and Colin had formed an attachment. It also helped me ease a little tension, having the raven look after Colin.

Warmth tugged at my chest. I couldn’t have asked for a better familiar. Yes, Poe was a little overdramatic and sometimes wild and immature, but his heart was in the right place.

Even my grandfather was silent, which was totally unlike him, staring at his empty glass of gin, lost in thought. A slight tap of his finger was the only indication he was still breathing.

“What’s his deal?” Logan settled next to me with his back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were on Kyllian, who stood next to the front bay window, staring out into the darkened street below.

After four cups of coffee, Kyllian had sobered up and was finally himself again, though perhaps a little withdrawn. No doubt he was a bit embarrassed at being found passed out at the bottom of my stairs, with an angel-born present, no less.

“He’s done things for the Legion, things he regrets deeply, things he can’t take back.” I left it at that. It wasn’t my place to tell Logan the sufferings of Kyllian. If the angel chose to tell him, he would do it .

Logan seemed to catch my meaning and dropped the subject. He stood close to me, our shoulders nearly touching. The scent of his aftershave drifted over me, pleasant and musky. With his eyes still on Kyllian, I took the opportunity to look him over—tall, handsome, sexy, and dangerous, like poison dressed up in a pretty bottle.

The bastard was pretty and he knew it. He probably had all the angel-born females swooning after him. Too bad I wasn’t angel-born. After tonight, I doubted I’d ever see him again. It was better that way, to stay away from him. Safer. He might have helped me last night, but I couldn’t drop my guard. Clearly, Logan was here for his own purposes.

“Vargal should have been here by now,” he said, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

My breath came out in a puff of air. “I know.” Where the hell are you, Vargal?

“You think he changed his mind?”

“I doubt it.” My gaze went to Colin as he teased Poe with a sunflower seed. “He needs him. He’ll be here.” I turned and looked at Logan. A bruise marred his jaw that I hadn’t noticed before. “Why? You need to be somewhere else tonight?” In a warm bed next to a warm, naked woman?

He frowned at the tone in my voice. “No. Why do you say that?”

I looked away. “Just a hunch. Seems like you’re a little edgy. Like you want to be somewhere else. ”

Logan was silent. “I’m not edgy. And I want to be here when Vargal shows up. You said my soul blade could kill him.” At that Kyllian turned our way.

“With the help of my magic,” I told him. Like hell he was going to get all the credit. I didn’t care how kissable his lips were. Because they were extremely nibble-worthy.

Logan turned his body toward me. He searched my face for a moment silently. His eyes tightened, and then something flashed across his face, and he turned and leaned back against the wall.

Oh, hell, no. “What is it?” I demanded. “Spit it out.”

“Spit what out?”

“What were you thinking? You were thinking of something. I saw it on your face.”

Logan gave a mock laugh and turned his gaze toward Kyllian. “I’m not thinking anything. Can’t I just stand here and not think?” An amused expression creased Kyllian’s face as he turned around and stared out the bay window, looking large and out of place in my small house, like a gladiator.

“You’re lying.” I crossed my arms over my chest to mimic him. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“I know what he’s thinking,” said Colin suddenly as he pushed up his glasses with his index finger.

I leaned forward a little. “Really? What?” A smile twitched my lips. Oh, this is going to be good.

“He’s thinking about a girl,” said the kid, and I felt Logan stiffen next to me .

“Is he now? What girl?” I teased. My gaze fell on Logan, but he was looking at Colin, shock cemented in his features and his lips parted like he was about to say something.

I found myself suddenly really interested. So, Logan had a girlfriend. That wasn’t surprising. Not with the way he looked. She was probably gorgeous, leggy, and voluptuous. The men did like their women curvy. But why settle for just one? He probably had a different girl every week. Just like Alex.

Colin looked at Logan and shook his head. “He doesn’t want me to say.”

Something fluttered in my stomach, and I forced myself to breathe normally. The fact that Logan still refused to look at me made me a little nervous. Emotions wavered at the edge of my thoughts, and I squished them down. There was no time to even entertain the idea of me and him. Besides, it’s not like Colin said it was me. It could have been someone else entirely, someone who Logan didn’t want anyone to know.

But still...

“Someone’s coming,” said Kyllian suddenly, and he whipped out his blade.

My heart leaped, and I pushed off the wall and ran to the bay window just as a hooded shape climbed up the steps. The large silver maple on the front lawn obscured the view. I couldn’t see who it was.

Shit .

“Is it him?” came Colin’s terrified voice from across the dining room, and my insides twisted with fear and rage and guilt.

“I don’t know,” I said, drawing my power as I stood there. Was the Greater demon so bold as to use the front door?

Bastard. He wasn’t taking Colin. I tapped into my will, my powers bubbling inside me and ready to blow—

And then the front door crashed open.

CHAPTER 20

E vanora Crow stood in the threshold. “You need to weed out your garden, Samantha,” she said as she shuffled past me. She didn’t give so much as a flicker of acknowledgment of the big angel pointing his blade at her, the angel-born next to him with two similar blades gleaming in the soft light, or me with a dark spell on the tip of my lips.

Logan whipped his head in my direction, the corners of his eyes tightening in question.

I raised a placating hand. “It’s okay. This is my Aunt Evanora.”

Though his face creased in concern, Logan sheathed his blades. After a moment, Kyllian did the same.

My aunt shuffled forward slowly down the hallway. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “You didn’t have to walk all this way, Aunt,” I muttered, feeling especially guilty at the sounds of pops and cracks from her knees as she wobbled by. “I would have come to you.” I noticed she wasn’t using her cane either. Stubborn old woman. Guess that’s where I got it from.

Evanora made a grunt of dismissal as she hobbled forward, stepped into the dining room and stopped when she saw Colin. “The boy’s a psychic,” she said, and my mouth dropped open.

“How did you know?” Damn, my aunt was just creepy sometimes.

“Evanora knows. Evanora sees,” she answered in a way that should have explained it all. Her head cocked to the side as she came closer to Colin, wisps of white hair spilling through the corners of her cowl. The kid stiffened in his chair, still, like he’d been hexed with a freeze spell.

The old witch stopped within an inch of the boy, her head moving up and down as her milky-white eye rolled around in its socket as though it were trying to focus on something but couldn’t find it.

She drew back and pulled off her cowl. “Boy’s a strong psychic. Many abilities. It is why he is so special to the Greater demon.”

“No shit,” I said and moved to stand next to her. Patches of her white scalp peeked through her thinning hair. “This is Colin. The Greater demon tried to possess him, but somehow Colin resisted. Long enough for us to intervene. ”

“Hmmm.” My aunt continued to observe Colin as though he were the missing ingredient to one of her spells.

“Colin, this is my Aunt Evanora.” The kid’s eyes were round, and the same fear I saw on his face last night washed through him. Yeah, my aunt had that effect on people. She scared the crap out of them.

Evanora tilted her head, her good eye focused on my grandfather. “Blood and bone, skin and nerve. May you get, what you deserve.” Her face twitched. “Still sleeping with all the witch widows, Gordon?”

Smiling, my grandfather raised his glass at the old witch. “And you, Evanora, are still as ugly as a hatful of arseholes.”

Oh. Hell.

Logan snorted, and Poe cawed angrily at my grandfather, who sat back looking smug as he took another swig from his glass.

“Grandpa,” I warned. Damn it. I didn’t need this right now. “Be civil, will you?”

“She started it,” he growled, pointing a finger at her.

“Just stop it! Both of you!” I yelled. “Vargal could be here any minute. I need you sharp.” My blood pressure rose, steaming my face, and giving me hot flashes. Kyllian and Logan were standing back, watching the exchange with smiles on their faces. Even better.

“Aunt Evanora,” I said, glad my voice was even though my mind raced as fast as my heart. “Please tell me you deciphered the text. ”

The old witch nodded. “Evanora did.”

My pulse leaped at the chance to see this through. I grabbed an empty chair and helped her settle in it. “Go on,” I urged, standing next to her.

“The ritual your demon is performing,” she began, and shifted in her chair until she was comfortable, “is to raise an ancient and malevolent pagan god.” Her good eye focused on me. “Nergal. The Mesopotamian god of death, war, and destruction.”

I felt Kyllian’s and Logan’s eyes on me, but I focused on my aunt. “He sounds charming.”

“But to do so,” continued the old witch, “the demon must have, in his possession, the souls of five powerful psychics. Exceptional psychics.” Evanora lifted a gnarled finger and pointed at Colin. “Like this one,” she said, making the kid pale. “Very, exceptional.”

I took a steadying breath. “What happens if he goes through and succeeds with this ritual?” End of the world. End of everything. It was always the same with gods. They hated humanity more than demons.

Evanora moved her lips as though she was preparing what to say next. “That must never happen. If the demon gets his hands on the five psychic souls, he will complete the ritual, and Nergal will rise from the depths of darkness to scorch the Earth and everything living in it.”

Of course he would. I hated being right. “So, as long as he can’t touch Colin, Vargal can’t raise this god. ”

Evanora made a grunt in agreement and focused her one good eye on Gordon across from her. The two old witches glared at one another in a silent challenge. My grandfather shifted in his chair, looking like he was about to jump up and throw himself at her. And Evanora looked like she wanted him to.

I brought my gaze back to Colin. He couldn’t live like that, looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. That wasn’t a life. He was so young, and he had his whole life ahead of him. This was just wrong. But what choice did we have? Vargal would kill him, take his soul, and a nasty pagan god would rise and kill us all. This night was just getting better and better.

“So we put teams around the clock to protect him,” said Logan, yanking me out of my thoughts. “I can have a team of angel-born Operatives here in less than a half hour. We can protect him.”

“Angel-born?” snorted my aunt, her eyes lost in a deep frown and looking at Logan as though it were the first time she’d ever seen an angel-born. “Evanora does not require the help of the angel-born,” she added, her voice dripping with disdain and abhorrence. “The Dark Witch Court can protect him. The Dark Witch Court is all he needs.”

Fury crossed Logan’s expression. His posture was stiff like he was trying really hard to stay calm, but it was a tremendous effort. Logan’s dark eyes went from me to Evanora and then to Kyllian, who was standing back and watching it all in a rather clinical way .

I shifted uneasily. “I’m sure that’s true, Aunt Evanora,” I said, before a war broke out around the dining room table. “But we’ll need all the help we can get. At least until we figure out a way to stop Vargal. Colin can’t live like that forever.” My eyes found the boy again, and my insides twisted at the open fear I saw written on his face. “Until then, maybe we should take Logan’s offer.”

“I can look after the boy,” said my grandfather, and he winked at Colin. “Me and Poe.”

“You?” mocked Evanora, a slight shake to her shoulders. “When was the last time Gordon Beaumont produced a spell? From what Evanora recalls, you cannot even evoke a decent glamour to save yourself. Your magic is spent, old fool. You are practically human.”

My grandfather’s wrinkles deepened as his jaw clenched, and his blue eyes were hard. He jumped to his feet. “I’ll show you just how incompetent I am, you insufferable old cow.”

“Who are you calling old,” spat Evanora. “Mark Evanora’s words. You will be food for the worms very soon, Gordon Beaumont.”

“Will you two just shut up!” Yes, that was rough and rude, and technically I was brought up to respect my elders, but they were acting like children, so I had veto. “Sit down, Grandpa.” I glared at him until he fell back into his chair, looking like a child whose favorite toy I’d taken away.

“Cauldron help us all if Vargal decides to show up now,” I barked. “He’d have it way too easy. We’re all so strung up on our own stupid and selfish ideas that we’re not focusing on what really matters. Colin’s life.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and rubbed my temples. When I looked up again, my eyes darted to Kyllian. “Do you think the angels would help?” If we had the help of the angel Legion, we might even defeat Vargal for good.

The angel nodded and then drew himself up proudly. “Yes,” said Kyllian, his face honored and determined, like he was waiting for this chance to redeem himself from past horrors. “The angels will help. You can count on us.”

“Ha!” Evanora smacked an open hand on the table. “Over Evanora’s dead body.”

“I can arrange that,” exclaimed my grandfather. My heart pounded at the raw hatred in his eyes for her. Damn. Damn. Damn.

Faster than I thought possible, Evanora flung out a hand and cried, “Feurantis!” A ball of fire blasted from her open palm and shot toward my grandfather.

Oh. Crap. She was going to kill him.

“Murus!” shouted my grandfather as he leaped to his feet. A shimmering wall of light blue rose up before him all the way to the ceiling just as the fireball hit. There was a powerful boom and then the ball exploded into thousands of tiny orange sparks before going out.

“Fight! Fight!” cried Poe and pushed off into a flurry of wings. He flew up to settle above a tall armoire, safe with a view .

I couldn’t help but notice that Logan and Kyllian had stepped back, giving the two old witches a wide berth. I didn’t think our angel relations would prosper if one of them got hit with a dark spell. Only Colin looked mildly entertained and excited. It was obvious the boy was drawn to magic. If we all survived this, I was definitely going to teach him some.

Evanora, still sitting in her chair like a queen of magic on her throne, smiled wickedly and shouted, “Conlidam!”

A wind rose suddenly around us, and then my grandfather’s protection wall shattered into a thousand tiny shards of glass. Now, that was impressive.

My grandfather’s face was beet red, his hatred for Evanora seeping out of his pores in thick droplets. This wasn’t going to end well for either of them. This time they’d gone too far.

I didn’t care if these two idiots killed each other, but they were not going to destroy my house.

Just as my grandfather’s lips moved in a spell, I rushed over and put myself in front of him. “Enough,” I said, raising my hands. “That’s enough. I swear, if the two of you ruin my house, you’re going to pay for a new one. And I hear New York’s real estate’s not cheap.” My breath was fast as I challenged them, my eyes darting from my aunt to my grandfather.

“You finished?” I prompted yet gave them another minute until I was certain their folly had passed before lowering my arms. “Good. Now,” I said with my hands on my hips, “where were we?” I’d had enough family drama for one night. The mental stress was so thick I could almost taste it.

“The Greater demon must never get the fifth soul,” commented Evanora. Her gaze turned severe.

“He won’t,” I answered.

“Something’s wrong,” said Colin suddenly, and my gaze snapped to him at the sound of utter fear in his voice.

“Colin?” I flung myself around the table to get closer to him. “What is it? What’s the matter? Is it Vargal?” I asked. My hip bumped against the edge of the table as I searched his face.

“I don’t know.” His face was paper white and pasty like he had a fever. Strings of blood trickled down his nose, thick and dark and scary.

My pulse skyrocketed. “Colin?”

And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed to the floor.

CHAPTER 21

“C olin!” I pitched forward and grabbed his head with my hands before it smacked on the hard wood floors. On my knees, I cradled the kid onto my lap. The flutter of wings reached me, and Poe landed on the floor next to Colin.

The kid’s eyes were open, but unfocused, as though he were somewhere far away and not lying on my dining room floor.

“Colin?” I wiped his forehead, sticky with sweat, my fingers shaking with adrenaline. Oh. God. What was going on?

“What’s the matter with him?” asked the raven, his voice full of worry that only added another layer to my own tension. “Why is he bleeding? Why does he look like that? ”

Fear hit, real and hard and undulating. “I don’t know.” The kid had the same trance look when Vargal had him, but the demon wasn’t here. My wards would have warned us if the Greater demon set foot inside my home. So what was happening to Colin?

Desperation filled my chest, and I looked at my aunt. She was already on her feet shuffling toward us. Family, sometimes you didn’t even need to be a mind reader to know what they were thinking. And if anyone could tell me what was wrong with Colin, Evanora was the witch.

With tremendous effort, the old witch knelt next to us, her knees, a cacophony of snaps and cracks and pops. With her head tilted to the side, she pressed her right hand on the boy’s forehead and closed her eyes, her lips moving in a silent spell.

Logan and Kyllian loomed over us, sharing the same shocked and worried expressions. Gramps, well, with his eyes red, he looked like he was about to cry.

“Is it Vargal?” questioned Logan, his eyes shining with concern. “Is he doing this to the kid?”

I clenched my jaw until it hurt. “He’s hurting him. How is that possible?”

My aunt released her hold on Colin and leaned back. “The boy is in the Awakening.” At my confusion she elaborated. “It’s where his consciousness travels to another parallel plane of existence where his mind is strongest. Where he can manipulate and exist in another’s mind.”

Okay, now I was confused. “Then why is he bleeding?” My pulse was racing, and I forced my breathing to slow, knowing that freaking out right now was not an option.

Evanora focused her milky-white eye on me. “Because,” said my aunt as she took a labored breath. Her quick spell had taken a toll on her old bones. “He is sharing someone’s consciousness, and that person is bleeding. Perhaps worse. In the Awakening, he feels what they feel. They are linked.”

My head spun, and I thought I was going to be sick. “So if they die,” I began, looking down at Colin’s pale face. “Will he die?” My heart thrashed against my chest, and as if hearing it, my aunt slowly turned to me. I watched her face, my own face going slack in panic.

But Evanora said nothing, her jaw gnawing at some nonexistent chunk of food in her mouth. Yet, she didn’t have to say anything. A sick feeling twisted my gut at what that might mean. I knew the answer.

My aunt grunted with effort as she tried to push herself up, and then Kyllian was there, helping her to her feet. I think my aunt was too surprised to say anything. I’d never seen her look so shocked before. Somehow, it didn’t suit her. My Aunt Evanora was never surprised.

“Then let’s wake him up,” said my grandfather, his eyes wide with fear, mirroring my own. “We can’t let him die like this. He’s just a kid. And I happen to like this kid.” He threw his arms in the air. “Not even you, Evanora, are that cold a bitch. I know under all those wrinkles and folds, there’s got be a heart, or something. ”

My aunt’s face twisted in an ugly anger as she exhaled slowly. Her white eye was on Colin when she said, “Only he can leave the Awakening. If Evanora tries to break the link, it will kill him.”

Logan cursed, raking his hands through his hair. Is it normal to be beautiful even when you’re mad? Well, he was. “There’s gotta be another way.” His eyes met mine and I felt a jolt. “If this kid dies...”

“Then Vargal wins.” I looked back down at Colin. “If he dies, the Greater demon can easily track his soul and take it. And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

A black feather fell from the raven and floated to the floor. Then another. I looked at Poe, and the bird demon looked like he might keel over from sadness. He was losing his feathers.

Damn it. I could not have a kid die in my arms and do nothing about it. I just couldn’t. Because I knew that would throw me over the edge.

Poe hopped over to Colin’s shoulder and gently stroked his beak on the kid’s cheek. “Come on, buddy. Wake up.”

Colin’s eyes flashed open, and he jerked out of my arms, eyes wide and confused, sending Poe in the air in a frantic beat of wings. “He’s got her. He’s going to kill her!”

I rolled around on my knees so I could face him. I was so shocked to see him conscious that it took a moment before I found the words. “Do you mean Vargal?” The dining room tilted. I blinked fast. Oh, crap. “He’s got another psychic. Doesn’t he?” A sliver of ice licked up my spine as the words escaped me.

If Vargal had found another psychic, he’d have no need for Colin anymore. He’d have his five souls to raise the pagan god Nergal. And then we’d all die.

How did everything go so terribly wrong so fast?

The boy nodded, his eyes wide with tears. “She’s in pain. She’s screaming. He’s hurting her. We have to help her!”

Logan practically stepped over me as he handed Colin a napkin, for which I was very grateful and felt stupid that I hadn’t thought about it first.

“Here, your nose is bleeding.”

Colin took the napkin with a trembling hand and dabbed at his nose. “Thanks.”

“How do you know this, Colin?” asked Logan, his voice higher than usual, the only indication of his tension. Kyllian moved closer, the same question plastered over his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Because I was there with her,” said the kid. Red blotches marred his face. “I felt what she felt. It was like I was inside her head. Like we were the same person.”

“Now that’s got to screw with your head a little,” said Poe, landing next to Colin on the floor.

“And you’re sure she’s a psychic?” asked Logan. “Maybe you’re wrong.” The skin around his eyes tightened, and I knew he was hoping Colin was wrong. I think we all were .

“Yes,” answered Colin, his brow furrowed for a moment. “She’s like me.”

“Then we’re too late,” announced my grandfather, speaking what we all feared.

I tensed in a sudden panic. This couldn’t be how things ended. It couldn’t. There had to be a way to stop Vargal. A thought occurred to me.

“Maybe there’s still time.” I looked at the kid, my heart pounding. “Is she still alive?”

Colin met my eyes. “Yes,” he said and scrunched up the bloody napkin in his palm.

Thank the cauldron. “If she’s still alive, there’s still time,” I said. “If she’s strong, and I think she is, she’s fighting him. But she can’t keep fighting Vargal forever.” I felt some tension leave my shoulders. But I couldn’t shake a new, nasty feeling.

“What is it, Sam?” Kyllian searched my face. “What’s up?”

I looked into the angel’s eyes and saw only a fierce determination. “How did Vargal find another psychic so quickly? He’d found Colin’s replacement in less than twenty-four hours. How, when the demon’s reach had to wait for sundown?” An uneasy feeling settled in my gut and started to fester like an infectious wound.

“He has someone working for him,” said Logan, pulling the words from my mouth. “A half-breed. An angel-born. It would explain how he found this new psychic right after Colin.”

“And who’s the bastard who’s doing this?” Anger rushed and hit hard. I was going to find them. And when I did, I was going to cut them into cubes and boil them in my cauldron.

But first, I needed to find the Greater demon.

Pushing to my feet, I ran to the entrance and grabbed my bag. The tracker amulet hung from my hand as I rushed back into the dining room.

Logan’s eyes dropped to the amulet. “Does it still work?”

“I really don’t know. Let me try.” It was a long shot, knowing that I’d felt the magic spent already. “Maybe I can jump-start it again.” Perhaps it worked like my rings. Please work. Please. Please.

I let out a long breath, closed my eyes, and worked the spell. Reaching out with my will, I tapped into the energy from the amulet. With my hand clasped around it, I cried, “Dominus invenire sanguinis! Invenies eum Vargal!”

There was a tiny surge of power, a buzz of energy emanating from it in rippling waves against my skin. It hung within me for a moment, but then it seeped out of the amulet as fast as it had entered.

Then nothing.

My breath hissed in through my nose and I stiffened.

The amulet lay in my palm like a cold stone. It was dead.

“It didn’t work,” said Logan.

“I can see that,” I sassed. Part of me wanted to smash his head against the wall. I looked at my aunt, her expression telling me that it had been a giant waste of time. But I had to try. I had to be sure .

So, the amulet was burned out. I wasn’t about to give up. Hell no. I wasn’t going to let Vargal kill this woman nor let him summon his pal, the pagan god Nergal.

Something stirred in me, and I pulled my gaze back to the kid. “Colin,” I asked, my pulse hammering. “How was it that you shared her mind? Do you know her?” Maybe all the psychics in New York knew each other like us witches. Maybe there was a whole community of them that we’d never heard of.

“I don’t know her,” said the kid, shaking his head. “I’ve never met her before. But I know her name is Trish, and she’s your age, twenty-five,” he told me, and I knew better than to ask how he knew my age. And then I wondered how much the kid knew about me? Did he know everything? Just by looking at me, did he know all my dark secrets?

“I know she works at Chase Bank,” continued Colin, and I yanked myself out of those morbid thoughts. “It’s like one minute I was here with you, and the next I was with her. I don’t know how it happened. It just did.”

“Evanora knows,” said the old witch, and Colin stiffened. “The boy shares a connection with the Greater demon. When the demon entered his mind, he created a permanent link.”

I perked up. “Really?” That, I could use. “Then the same is true with Trish. So when Vargal started to hurt her, it opened the connection to Colin. And Trish being a psychic, she joined her mind to Colin’s. She then latched on to him,” I said, as I continued connecting the dots, “and begged him to help her. Hoping he would tell someone. Hoping someone would save her.” Like me.

With a slight nod of her head, my aunt made a noise of agreement in her throat. She knew I was onto something.

“What does this all have to do with anything?” expressed Logan, his face wrinkled in a frown. “It doesn’t solve our problem if Vargal has a new psychic. He has his five souls now. What’s to stop him from summoning the god tonight?”

“It has everything to do with this,” I snapped. My tension spiked making me light headed. “Colin. When you shared Trish’s mind, did Vargal see you? Or sense you were there with her?” A plan started to form in my head.

“No,” answered the kid and then he shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“Good.” I let out a breath. “That’s good enough for me.”

Logan turned his eyes on me again, his features still holding doubt. “What are you thinking?”

“Vargal doesn’t know that we know he’s found another psychic,” I answered, my breath fast. “And I think he doesn’t know that Colin and he share a connection.”

Logan stared at me for a moment. “So?”

“So?” I almost laughed. My heart pounded with excitement. I was almost smiling. Looking at my aunt now, the tiny smirk on her lips told me she knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Colin,” I said, turning back to the kid. “Do you think you could find out where they are?” I heard Logan’s intake of breath, and now my grandfather was smiling proudly. “Can you ask Trish? I know it’s asking a lot, and it might even risk Vargal finding out. But if you do this, we have a real chance at finding Trish and stopping Vargal.”

“Sam,” interjected my grandpa. “That could hurt Colin. Even kill him if what that old bag said is true,” he added, winning an angry grunt from my aunt.

“He’s right, Sam,” said Kyllian. “You’re putting the boy at risk.”

“I’m not a boy,” said Colin, looking flustered. “I haven’t been a boy since I was five.”

“What would you have me do?” My voice rose as I stared up at the tall angel. “I don’t know how else to find him. We need to stop the demon, Kyllian. The world’s at risk if we don’t.”

“He could die.” Kyllian glowered at me, and I could see he was taking this way too personally. “Find another way.”

I sighed. “Kyllian, listen—”

“I’ll do it,” said the kid before I’d finished my sentence.

I beamed. “Thank you, Colin.” This was going to work. I could feel it.

I watched as Colin slowly got to his feet, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He stood there for a moment, and part of me wanted to ask him later what woman Logan was thinking about. The other part told me to shut it and concentrate.

Colin opened his eyes and turned to me. “But I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not!” Kyllian and I chorused together.

Colin looked unabashed. “Either you let me come with you, or I’m not telling you where they are.”

The little shit. The sneaky, little shit. “Why would you want to risk your life? You saw what he is. What he’s capable of.” And on his face I saw my own answer. That was exactly the reason why.

“I’m coming,” repeated the kid.

“This is dangerous. Deathlike dangerous.” I could spell him to tell me. Then I’d force him to stay here where it was safe with Gramps.

“Don’t even think about spelling me,” said Colin, startling me.

Damn. “Stop reading my mind,” I warned, pointing a finger at him. Having a mind reader in my home would take some getting used to. I looked at the others. “If you guys have a problem with Colin coming with us, now’s the time to speak up.”

Colin crossed his arms in challenge. I was really starting to like this kid. He had more balls than a lot of witches twice his age.

I cast my gaze around the faces. “No objections? Fine. Then Colin, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Okay,” said Logan, his expression intent. “So what happens when we find him? ”

I searched Logan’s face and saw that same fierce determination I felt. “We stick to the plan. You,” I said, pointing to Logan and Kyllian, “with your celestial blades, and me with my magic.”

I took a steadying breath and said, “We find Vargal, and then we kill the son of a bitch.”

CHAPTER 22

T en minutes later we were out of the house and all sandwiched inside a New York City cab, going north on the NY-9A to Yonkers, New York. Kyllian was in the front with the driver because, well, he was just too big to fit in the back. Me, Logan, and Colin were in the back while Poe was perched on my shoulder.

A team of badass, supernatural fighters and killers, who’d killed our share of demons and other supernatural baddies, and none of us had a car. Yup. We were a sorry bunch.

The driver, a dark-skinned man, kept throwing nervous glances at Poe through his rearview mirror. I had to pay the driver an extra twenty bucks so he’d let Poe in with me. He kept on rambling about the bird flu. I couldn’t explain to the idiot human that Poe was a demon and therefore could not transfer any kind of virus. Then he’d never let us in. So I’d paid the man to shut him up.

The cab stank of cigarette smoke, old vomit, and mildew, all mixed with the overbearing scent of pine coming from the hanging, tree-shaped air freshener. I rolled down the window a few inches. Even the scent of hot pavement and exhausts was better.

“If that bird shits in my cab,” came the driver’s voice from the front.

I let out an exasperated breath. “He won’t,” I told him, for the fourth time in the space of twenty-five minutes.

“If I get sick,” shrilled the driver as though I hadn’t spoken. “If I catch the bird flu and die, it’ll be your fault! I’m a family man. I have children. Who’s going to take care of them if I die?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to die,” I answered, my voice flat. “You won’t get the bird flu. Trust me, if my bird was contagious, don’t you think I’d be showing some symptoms?”

Poe leaned in and whispered in my ear, “If he wants a virus, let’s give him one so he can shut the hell up. Smallpox would be a real kicker.”

I smiled, having thought of doing just that. But hexing the idiot driver would be way too much fun and way too easy, not to mention that it wouldn’t help us if he fell ill. We still needed the driver to be healthy to drive us.

“Next time, Poe,” I whispered back, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I saw the driver frown at me speaking to my bird .

The mix of fear and exhilaration filling me grew from the undeniable fact that I was going to find Vargal and make him pay for Julia’s soul and the other souls he took.

Colin sat between me and Logan. I looked at him now. He’d been quiet since we got in, hands in his lap and picking at his nails with his lips pressed in a thin line.

The kid might be small, but he made up for it with strength of mind. He was tough. Back at the house, he’d closed his eyes and contacted Trish through his mind as soon as our deal was made—though I was already starting to regret it. He told us where to find her, or rather she told him, which explained our driving north to Yonkers, New York.

Vargal had taken her to what Colin described was an abandoned power plant. Cold and wet, he’d kept repeating, and I wondered if he was describing how Trish was feeling.

My blood pressure rose. Trish was still alive, but not for long. Vargal wouldn’t miss his chance again. He was doing this tonight. I was sure of it.

I didn’t know what to expect once we got there. I didn’t even know, between the five of us, if we could actually vanquish a Greater demon. But we had to try.

Frustration hit me, and it must have shown on my face because I saw Logan snap his attention to me. Our eyes met, and a tingling jolt rushed through me. I couldn’t help it. There was just something about how he was looking at me, almost as though he was enjoying what he was seeing .

I don’t know why, but I just kept looking at him—his dark, sensual eyes and kissable lips. I studied them with the breathless understanding that he was dangerous now, whereas before he’d been simply annoying.

Logan looked away first and stared out the window, leaving me even more curious as to what the hell had just happened. Did he find me attractive? Or did he just want to see what it was like to have sex with a witch?

At the thought, Colin looked up at me and gave me a knowing smile.

Kid, you’re starting to freak me out.

“Get used to it,” answered Colin smugly, a far cry from the scared little kid we’d rescued last night.

We both laughed, and I felt some of the tension in the cab roll out the window.

Three minutes later, the cab pulled up to the curb.

“Out. Get out!” cried the driver. “Out! All of you!”

I frowned as I opened the door. “Man. He’s asking for it.” I stepped out and walked up to the driver, paid him, and waved as he sped away as fast as the car would go.

Kyllian shook with laughter. It was nice seeing him sober again with a smile and purpose shining in his eyes.

“Humans,” said Poe, and he shifted on my shoulder. “Afraid of a tiny bird. And I didn’t even get the chance to drop a little souvenir. ”

I gave the raven a rub under his chin and looked around. We stood on a narrow street lined with warehouses and apartment complexes that looked like they’d survived a world war. Across from us was a vacant lot blocked off with a drooping chain-link fence. Tall grass grew up through the cracks in the pavement, and garbage littered the street, along with shattered beer bottles and cigarette butts.

And before us loomed a massive red-brick building.

Two tall chimneys jutted from the top like giant horns from Hell. Half the building sat in the Hudson River while the other half stood on land, like it just wanted to get its feet wet. Rows of blackened windows stared back at us, and darkness gaped in the arches and doorways of the building, like empty eyes of a giant beast. No lights shone from the inside to give any hint of the glow of candles. The only light came from tall streetlamps that lined the street, casting spidery shadows over the road.

“What a cheerful place,” I said, a mock smile on my face. “Perfect for the winter solstice. Makes me want to take off my clothes and dance around a fire.” Logan looked at me, but I kept my eyes on the structure.

“A beast of a building,” muttered Poe, still perched on my shoulder. “Must be thousands of square feet.”

He was right. It was humongous—six stories high and the size of a large hospital. Vargal could be anywhere. It would take us hours to scout the entire building, but Trish didn’t have hours.

“One hundred and sixty-five thousand square feet,” said Logan, coming forward to stand next to me. “Built in 1907 to hold electrical generators that provided power for the railroad.”

I looked at him. “I’m impressed. How the hell did you know that?”

He grinned. “Google.”

Together, the five of us crossed the street toward the main building of the abandoned power plant. The gravel in the front entrance shone in the half light from the distant streetlamps. Walking among its buildings was like exploring a post-apocalyptic ghost town. Graffiti littered the exterior walls like giant, mismatched murals, but the bright colors did nothing to improve the dilapidated structure.

A doorway lay open in silent invitation into the mouth of the beast. Even in the semidarkness we could still make out faded, black letters just above the frame that read ENTRANCE. A large piece of plywood lay beyond the opening, the middle cracked as though it had suffered a great blow.

“Looks like someone kicked it open,” I said. Like a Greater demon called Vargal.

Kyllian moved next to me, his face covered in shadow. “I’m sensing lots of demon energies. This is definitely the place.” Smiling, the angel whipped out his blade, a wild look in his eyes.

Yeah. This was going to be a fun night .

“Is it me, or does he look a little too excited,” commented Poe.

I had to agree. The tightness in my gut reappeared tenfold and I turned to Colin. “You still sure you want to do this? There’s no shame in waiting out here for us.”

Colin gave me a look like I’d just slapped him. “I’m coming. You said I could. We made a deal.”

“I like this kid,” cawed Poe.

I sighed and adjusted the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder. “I know I did. I just want you to make sure you understand what’s going to happen.”

“We’re killing the demon,” answered the kid in a voice that said we’d already taken care of it. “That’s what’s going to happen.”

I frowned, wondering if the boy could see into the future. That wasn’t one of the many abilities he’d shared with us. Perhaps there was more to Colin than he let on.

“Colin, can you pinpoint where she is? With your mind. Like what you did before at Sam’s place?” Logan moved to stand next to the boy.

“It’s too risky,” I said before Colin could answer. “We can’t risk tipping off Vargal that we’re coming, or that Colin is here.”

“He might already know,” said Logan. “And this could be a trap.”

“I thought about that.” I looked at the raven. “You ready?”

Poe made a caw of approval and flapped his wings. “You kidding? I’m always ready. ”

“Poe,” I said as twin feelings of fear and excitement lit through me. “Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“I’ve got this.” The raven took off in a flutter of wings and feathers and shot straight through the entrance of the building like a black arrow. I kept my eyes on him until he was swallowed by the darkness.

I turned to the others. “Poe’s going to scout for traps. Trust me. He’s the best at sensing magical traps and wards. We’re basically blind and deaf by comparison. He’ll also look for Trish. Let’s move.”

Kyllian was second through the entrance, galloping into the darkness beyond. No doubt he had super night vision aided by his angelic abilities.

But I had something better.

I shoved my hand inside my bag and pulled out a small crystal globe the size of an apple and said, “Inluminent.”

The globe shone with a brilliant white light, like a miniature star, bathing me and twenty feet beyond in its luminance.

“Cool,” said Colin. The smile on the kid’s face made my heart melt. “Here.” I reached for his hand and placed the globe in it. “You carry it.”

“Thanks.” Colin stared wide eyed at the spelled globe, his face covered in white light, making him appear so much younger.

“But I want you to stay behind me and Logan,” I commanded. “Got it?”

Colin made a face. “Yes, Mother. ”

I cocked a brow. “You’re lucky you look like you’re ten. Otherwise I would have kicked your ass for that.”

Logan leaned over my shoulder. “What else have you got in there?”

The guy was all in my personal space. “Female stuff, you know, the personal kind. Tampons, Maxi pads—”

“Okay, okay, stop.” Logan’s face creased as he backed away from me. That was too easy.

“Come on,” I said as I stepped through the entrance. “Kyllian’s probably all the way to Canada by now.”

Even though my senses weren’t as acute as Poe’s to demon energies and the vibrations of magic, I still felt a cold transition of energy as soon as I’d stepped through the entrance, a shift in the air that had nothing to do with the wind that moved through the broken glass.

Magic was here. And lots of it.

My pulse raced as we moved inside, meeting darkness and shadows and nothing else. Colin’s globe gave off just enough glow to cast the walls and surroundings in a dim light, letting our mortal eyes see. Still, I wished Poe was back. The globe wouldn’t warn us if a demon jumped at us from the shadows, but Poe would.

Debris, dust, chunks of concrete, and red bricks scattered the floor, and rusted pipes hung from the walls. The place was the size of a large warehouse. Whatever machinery used to exist here was gone. The place was empty and cold like a tomb.

“Kyllian?” I whispered. “Poe?” I stood for a moment, straining my ears for any hint of the flutter of wings or the heavy tread of the angel. Nothing.

Damn it. Where the hell were they?

An uneasy feeling settled in my core. It wasn’t like Poe to disappear on me like that. He should have been back by now.

“Come on,” said Logan, his breath coming out in a rush. “The air smells fouler this way,” he added, moving ahead. Somehow he’d decided to take the lead. I let him. I wanted to stay close to Colin.

Together, Colin and I followed the angel-born. We climbed rusted stairs to the middle tier, where the far door had been left open. We darted through and came to an exterior metal bridge, a pass-through connecting to the neighboring building.

In silence we took the bridge. Blood pounded in my ears, and I felt like I was walking on a plank on some pirate ship, about to meet the dark waters of the Hudson River rippling beneath the moon.

A full moon. Crap. Not only did all the crazies come out on a full moon, but it was when rituals were most potent, when magic was its strongest, and when the Veil that kept the demons from entering our world was the weakest.

Logan glanced up at the moon, shifted his soul blade in his left hand and reached with his right to pull out another .

We emerged into the next building. As I walked through, I felt the tingling presence of dark magic, and something much stronger. I took a deep breath and let it out, exhaling anxiety with it.

Damn it, Poe. Where the hell are you?

We stood in a cathedral-like hall. An atrium of metal, broken glass, and brick loomed above us. Metal latticework led up to the ceiling, woven in complex designs. Moonlight shone through the broken glass, illuminating the walls in soft hues of silver and blues. The hall below us loomed, emanating malice, its walls decorated in a canvas of runes and arcane symbols that glowed red and yellow in the semidarkness.

Their intricate patterns were the same as those decorating the walls of the apartment where I’d last seen Julia alive.

Logan cursed at something below. With my heart thrashing, I moved to stand next to him and peered below to the first floor.

A large stone circle sat in the middle of the floor with six black chicken heads spread evenly around it. A woman lay in its center, above a blood-drawn triangle. Trish.

I couldn’t see her face, but her arms and legs were bound with rope. A red-robed figure knelt next to her, broad shouldered, and definitely male.

Four vials, each the size of a perfume bottle, sat next to the circle. They shone with shimmering white light. Souls. One of them was Julia’s soul .

My eyes moved to a bundle on the far left. A soft, white illuminance emitted from its skin. Kyllian. Shit. What the hell had happened?

A shadow moved into the light of the candles. A man.

When his face came into the light, I hissed out a breath.

Alex. He was completely naked, his body covered in the same runes and Mesopotamian symbols, all painted in blood.

And in his hands, limp, with his head lolled to the side, was Poe.

CHAPTER 23

“Y ou son of a bitch!” I howled. All of my rage rose to the surface, a hot, unstoppable tide of fury. “I’m going to fry your ass! You’re dead, Alex. Dead!”

I didn’t know what was stranger, me yelling at the top of my lungs or me yelling at the top of my lungs at a naked dude.

I hadn’t known what to expect. Demons yes. Lots of them, of course. But a naked witch? Not so much.

My mind blanked, and all I saw was white-hot rage and Poe’s lifeless body hanging in the bastard’s hand. My eyes burned. I forgot why I was here, or who was here with me. All I wanted was to get to Poe. If he was dead, I’d smash Alex apart like a piñata .

And then I was running, down the slippery stairs, two at a time, my mind already spindling a dark curse—one of the illegal ones to use on another witch. The killing ones.

Logan screamed my name from above, but I barely heard him. Poe. My Poe. Oh, God, Poe.

I leaped down the stairs, channeling the power from my rings and driving it into me. My emotions added an extra layer of power, and I gritted my teeth as it flooded into me.

I’m going to kill you, Alex.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, my hands splayed out before me and my magic oozing from my pores, tingling around my fingertips.

“Any closer and I’ll break his neck,” warned Alex. His other hand moved around Poe’s neck. “You might be fast, but not faster than me, bitch.”

Did that mean Poe was still alive? Alex could just be screwing with me.

My body shook with unspent power that wanted, needed, an outlet. Preferably Alex’s head. But if I hit Alex with anything, Poe was right there, and I knew I’d hit him too.

“What did you do to Poe?” I seethed, my voice harsh and breathless. Fury radiated from me, hot and undulating, and every fiber of my body was ready to do violence.

Alex’s features broke into a wicked grin. “The bloody crow came at me after I hit the angel. A big, crazy son of a bitch too. So, I hit him with a dark combustion curse. I think I killed it. But I can’t be sure.”

Tears fell freely from my eyes. I couldn’t help it. “I’m going to kill you, and it’s going to get really messy. I’m going to boil your insides until your eyes melt out of your skull and your skin peels off your bones like hot wax.” I clenched my jaw until it hurt. I had to figure out a way for him to release Poe.

The hooded figure stood and turned. It had a humanoid shape, wearing a heavy, red cloak and cowl that hid any possible details of its face. Though it did nothing to hide those gleaming, red eyes. Vargal.

I was sure of it. The bastard barely took notice of me as he continued his ritual around Trish, a dark chant coming from him.

My eyes flicked back to Alex. I used to think him a handsome witch, but now the skin around his eyes was thin and dark, almost giving him a racoon effect. His cheeks protruded, and his eyes were sunken like he’d skipped his meals for the past month.

“Lay off the drugs, Alex,” I told him. “You look like shit.” Poe, wake up. Poe!

The witch showed me his teeth. “I’ve never felt better.”

My eyes rested on his crotch. “Are you praying for a larger size? It’s pretty damn pathetic. The size of a tampon. Teeny weeny. No wonder you had a different girl every week. They never felt a thing.”

Alex stared at me for a moment, his eyes flat and empty, before he said, “Laugh all you want, you stupid bitch. After tonight, no one will ever order me around again. I’ll be doing the ordering.”

“Really?” I cocked a brow. “Looks to me like you’re the demon’s bitch. Who’s the idiot now, eh, Alex?”

A small laugh came from Alex. “I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m more powerful than you now. I’m the better witch.”

I glowered at him, imagining him screaming as I burned him alive. It was a really good visual—special effects and all. “So you brought this asshole innocent victims. Psychics. All for what? For more power? You stupid, stupid, little witch.”

“What do you know?” Alex mocked and shifted his weight. “With your seals and sigils, it’s all a big waste of time. I don’t even need to prepare spells anymore. It’s in me. I’m all powerful.”

“Like a god?” I laughed. “You spineless prick.” But I didn’t like this new confidence in him. It was obvious. Alex sought out the Greater demon for power in exchange for the psychics. And the psychopath gave them to him. Did this mean Alex had this new power in him already? It would explain his nakedness.

Footsteps reached me and Logan, and Colin appeared at my side.

Alex laughed. “You’re the pathetic one. You bring a kid and an angel-born for backup? What kind of Dark witch are you?”

I matched his smile. “The kind who’s going to enjoy watching you die. ”

Logan leaned closer and whispered. “Why’s he naked?”

“To better castrate him,” I said, my voice loud and enjoying the ugly frown on Alex’s face.

There was a smash, like the sound of a glass hitting the ground, and I turned to see my glass sphere in pieces around Colin’s shoes.

But I was startled when I saw his expression. He was looking at Alex with a fury matching mine, possibly more. He’d hurt his friend Poe.

Alex was wrong. Colin wasn’t just a kid.

A faint moan filled the air, and I saw Vargal kneel next to Trish, his lips moving as he worked her mind. He was trying to possess her so he could then kill her and take her soul, finishing the ritual to raise the pagan god. We were running out of time.

But to reach her, I’d have to go through Alex first.

Okay, then.

“Half-breed. Take care of them,” came Vargal’s voice from the circle, flat and uncaring as though our presence was barely registered, like an obstacle easily removed.

Yeah, like that was going to happen. Hell no.

Alex’s teeth showed as his lips curled into an ugly smile. “With pleasure.”

Before I could move or even say the spell I’d been conjuring, Alex’s hand twisted around Poe’s neck with inhuman speed, like he was about to break it. I could only stare as my friend was about to be killed right before my eyes .

But then something extraordinary happened.

His hand stilled. And then slowly, it withdrew.

“What is this?” shrilled Alex, his eyes wide in utter shock. His hand shook as it pulled away from Poe. “How are you doing this?” howled the witch. Alex gritted his teeth in what seemed to be excruciating pain. But it wasn’t from me.

I stood in shock as I watched the scene unfold. It was almost as though he were fighting with his own body. He didn’t have control of it. Alex’s left hand shook as he strained to regain control, but it still moved away from the raven as though it had a mind of its own.

My gaze fell on the kid. Colin’s focus was on Alex. The kid looked livid with his jaw set. He stood still with clenched fists, a deep frown creasing his face, but his eyes never left the witch.

Colin was controlling Alex’s hands. He was making him release Poe.

I saw the realization on Logan’s face. Just when Alex’s right hand opened, and Poe’s limp body slipped from it, I moved.

“Attrapere!” I shouted, my hands outstretched. An invisible force shot out, wrapped around Poe’s body before it hit the ground, and flung it back to my hands like an elastic band.

I caught the raven. He was still warm. My knees wobbled with a sudden surge of relief. Thank the cauldron. Without stopping, I slipped him inside my messenger bag and prayed to the cauldron he was going to wake up .

I looked up. Colin was still focused on Alex. He still had control of the witch. The kid ran the witch like a puppet. More like a naked Ken doll.

Now this was going to be fun.

“Cover me,” I told Logan, and I rushed forward, skidding to my knees next to Kyllian. My knees burned, and I knew I’d torn my jeans and was probably bleeding.

“Kyllian!” I shook the big angel. His soul blade lay on the ground next to him. He wasn’t bleeding from any wounds I could see, which meant he’d suffered a curse. Knowing his angel body was specially designed to withstand some demonic energies and magic, I was hoping it had repelled most of the blow.

“Kyllian!” I shouted and smacked him across the face, hard, making my hand throb.

He sat up with a start, blinking fast. “Either I’m losing my mind, or a naked witch spelled me,” he said, eyes wide.

“You’re not losing your mind,” I told him and reached for his arm, which was solid like a tree trunk. “Get up.”

The large angel snatched up his soul blade and sprang to his feet without my help, light on his feet as though he hadn’t just been hexed.

“Half-breed fool,” came Vargal’s voice, and Kyllian and I turned around. “Must I do everything myself,” yelled the Greater demon.

In a flash, Vargal stood and removed his cowl. His skin was still that pasty white, but his face was human. He was bald and hairless, no eyebrows or eyelashes that I could see. He looked to be in his early forties, fit, like someone who spent hours at the gym. But I knew I was looking at an ageless creature from the Netherworld. He could be thousands of years old for all I knew. And right now, he looked pissed.

His frustration was clearly visible in the wrinkles around his eyes and forehead and the tightness of his jaw. I could almost taste his desire to kill us himself, but he controlled it. He still had Trish to possess, and from the looks of it, things weren’t going as well as he’d planned.

Tough shit.

“Let’s kill the bastard,” said Kyllian, a wicked gleam in his eye as he flexed his shoulder muscles. Nice.

I spared a quick look at Colin. His face had broken into a sweat, but Alex was still snarling, both index fingers stuck in his ears as he hopped on one foot. I cracked a smile. This was one of those moments when I wished I had the time to take a few pictures.

Colin was impressive with a far greater mind control and mental mastering than I had imagined. I wished I had a spell that could control minds, like Vera’s.

My gaze flicked to the red-eyed bastard.

Vargal was alone. His naked helper was indisposed, bouncing around like a fool.

I shot a glance at Logan. Our eyes met. With his blades out, his stance widened, becoming more aggressive and confident. He bent his body low. He was ready and waiting for my signal.

All righty, then.

It was now or never. Heart pounding, I moved toward the Greater demon, Kyllian on my left while Logan came up on my right. I lifted my hands. Summoning my will, I called to the power in my rings, shaping the magic I wanted to create, the magic I needed to restrain the Greater demon.

And then Vargal opened his mouth, flung out his hands and howled, “Mangghom tjha’Di yirz ju’bbe tzebris Hor!”

A black haze rose up and around him until he’d disappeared under it, like some sort of shield. I cursed as the haze grew and grew until it looked like a wall.

Shit. I didn’t like this. Across from us, the black wall shifted and moved, and when my eyes focused to the dim light, I knew why.

A chill fell over me.

Hundreds of demons stepped from beyond the wall. Ghouls, imps, shadow demons, morax demons all shifted and paced with guttural grunts and moans as they thrashed their talons on the ground, waiting. The sound lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. I faced an impenetrable deadly wall of demons.

And then that wall came crashing down on us.

CHAPTER 24

“I ncoming!” yelled Kyllian as he took a stand, soul blade at the ready with the eyes of a madman.

I admired his courage, but when faced with hundreds of demons, the right course of action was to flee. But we still had Trish to save and Vargal to kill. We weren’t going anywhere.

Plus, Vargal had vanished in that black haze, but I knew the bastard wasn’t far away. He’d be back. And I was going to kill him.

The demons moved until they circled around us, trapping us. There was nowhere to run and nothing to do but fight their scraping claws, staring black eyes, and hissing, terrible laughter.

The first wave of demons hit, and I was ready .

The scent of rotted flesh and sulfur burned my eyes and my lungs. I coughed, tasting the bitterness on my tongue like I’d swallowed some sewer water.

Kyllian hurled himself at the nearest ghoul, slicing its head right off with a single swipe of his blade. Show-off .

Logan chopped and diced, moving with preternatural quickness, light on his feet.

The noise of a battle drifted up, the blasts of magic with the hacking of flesh and bone.

A shadow demon leaped at me, all writhing darkness and shadows and glowing red eyes. The thing with shadow demons was that they could take on a solid form for a short period of time, showing fragments of their corrupted and twisted bodies. And that’s when we killed them.

The shadow demon shifted into its solid form, a grotesque, squid-like, giant rat with too many mouths and teeth.

“Feurantis!” I shouted as I flung out my hand. The ball of fire hit the demon in an explosion of yellow-and-orange flames. Then came a burst of ashes, all that was left of the shadow demon. Gotcha, you shadowy bastard.

A cry sounded behind me.

I spun. Colin was going around in circles, his fists clenched in the air in front of him and his eyes flicking over the mass of nasties coming at us from every direction. Shit. He’d lost his focus on Alex.

The kid was scared. But to hit a demon with a fist was like hitting a rock with your hand. It would only harm you in the end. You needed something more substantial, like a blade or magic. And he had neither.

Checking that Poe was still secured in my bag, I ran to Colin—

A ghoul rushed at me from the side.

“Vento!” I blasted it with a gust of wind and sent it sprawling across the room.

I kept running.

A shadow demon leaped at Colin. The kid froze.

Shit. Terror-fueled adrenaline rushed through me and kicked me into high gear.

I hurled both hands out and cried, “Murus!” A see-through, twenty-by-twenty, simmering blue wall rose in front of Colin, just as the shadow demon hit it and bounced off. The spell would probably only last a few seconds, but it gave me enough time to reach the kid.

A blur of limbs caught my attention as an imp came at him from the left. “Colin. Behind me,” I shouted as I pulled the kid by his shirt and yanked him behind me.

The imp, a vile creature that stunk of feces with tuffs of black fur, a mouthful of fishlike teeth and the size of an ape, hurled itself at me.

“Stinky bastard.” I pulled on my power and raised my hand—

Logan lunged, thrusting both swords deep into its chest. The imp howled, hissing as it swatted at him with its talons. Logan cut and sliced, twisting on his feet with the grace of a dancer. With a final thrust into the demon’s chest, its eyes widened, and then its body went slack.

A ghoul sprang from the other side. Logan’s blade ripped through the air with an eerie whistle and plunged into the ghoul’s right eye. Black blood spurted, and the ghoul collapsed.

The protection wall fell.

My heart throbbed against my chest as demonic energies flooded around us. The shadow demon moved like a cloud of black mist. It slipped around Logan and shot straight for me. Of course it would.

I pushed Colin farther behind me. “Stay back,” I yelled and ran to meet the shadow demon head-on.

The black mist swarmed me. Enormous pressure clasped me. I couldn’t breathe.

“Conlidam!” I cried, my head pounding with the effort.

The black mist shattered and recoiled, like a cloud of black snow. It hovered for a second and then reformed, solidifying into a wormlike creature with a suction-cup-like mouth. Yikes.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Feurantis!” I thundered, unleashing my will as I thrust my hands at the shadow demon. The fireball exploded into the demon, lighting it up like a giant wiener. I gagged at the smell of burning, rotting flesh.

I whirled thinking of the kid and felt a surge of relief as I spotted Logan planted in front of Colin, using his body as a shield. Damn, I was starting to really like that angel-born .

A flash of beige skin appeared in my line of sight, and then a naked witch came at me.

Great. Why did I have to fight the crazy, naked guy?

Alex snarled, all his parts flinging, penis and all, as he lunged. Just freaking great.

The witch halted, but his lips moved in a spell. The bastard thought he was going to hex me?

Oh no you don’t, dick.

“Sphaeras,” I cried, and a sphere-shaped shield of golden energy rose up from the ground and arched to a close just over my head.

Through the shimmering, golden energy, I saw Alex standing with his legs and arms splayed, tendrils of darkness dripping from his hands. That’s new . Alex didn’t have that kind of magic. He couldn’t even get his own cauldron to boil let alone conjure something that strong.

My breath caught. I knew what that was. I’d seen it only once before. The darkness that coiled around his hands was a direct result of when a witch traded his or her soul in return for the ultimate power—demonic magic.

And Alex had traded his soul for a taste of it.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” I swore.

And then Alex hurled a ball of black, demonic energy at me.

It hit my sphere and then spread over it, like oil, until it covered it completely, leaving me in total and utter darkness. The air tightened around me and pressed against my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Gasping, I gagged at the choking smell of rot and sulfur.

And then my protection sphere exploded.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Alex laughed. “A bubble of protection?”

Anger shocked through me. “Screw you, you naked bastard.” Yes, that was all I could come up with at that moment.

Drawing himself up, Alex whispered Latin, his hands taking on a sinister mien. He gestured with a flick of his wrist.

The witch was fast. I lurched to the side, but searing pain flared up my back. The pain struck deep. Doubling over, I crashed onto the hard ground, convulsing. The demonic curse hit, and I curled into a ball as it spread through my bloodstream, burning. My head felt like it was splitting in two, and my vision blurred as the pain swelled. The scent of burnt flesh filled my nose. My flesh. I was burning from the inside.

And then the pain stopped.

My muscles quit seizing, and I sucked in a ragged breath of air. I took another breath and then another. My muscles relaxed, leaving only my pounding head and the taste of something metallic in my mouth.

I threw my gaze around the building. We’d moved to the left side of the room, away from the battle. Either the demons weren’t interested in me, or they were giving Alex some space. Maybe the witch could control them now with his demonic magic .

I could barely see anything through the multitude of demon bodies, but I caught a glimpse of Kyllian as he sliced the head off an imp. A ghoul came up behind him, but the angel spun around and hit it with a succession of quick stabs. Buckets of black blood sprayed him in the face but he never slowed—a fearless soldier sent from the heavens.

I strained my eyes, but I couldn’t see Colin or Logan through the masses of twisting demon bodies, claws, and teeth.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time,” said Alex, and I looked up to see him breathing heavily, a smug grin on his face as tendrils of darkness spilled from his outstretched hands. “I’ve been fantasizing about this very moment. Planning how I was going to do it. How I was going to take the life of the great Samantha Beaumont.” He laughed. “Lovely Samantha. I’m going to take my sweet time killing you.”

Prick. But I wasn’t done yet.

A new rush of adrenaline poured into me. Pulse fast, I spit the blood from my mouth, rolled over onto my knees, tapped into the magic in my rings, and shouted, “Feurantis!”

Twin fireballs hurled at the witch.

Alex’s eyes went patronizing. And with a flick of his wrist, he deflected them like he just swatted some flies. They hit the far wall with a thundering boom.

My eyes widened. Crap. This was bad .

His grin expanded at what he saw on my face, possibly shock and a little envy.

“You can’t beat me, Sam,” said Alex, his hands on his hips, speaking to me as though we were old friends having one of our usual conversations. “You have no idea of the power I wield now. Limitless.”

“Spineless is more like it.” I struggled to my feet, my head still swimming with pain from his curse. “You traded your soul for a piece of demonic magic? You do realize it’s going to kill you in the end. Demonic magic always claims its payment. And that payment is always your life, dumbass.”

He laughed. “Stupid witch. You don’t know anything.”

The bastard was cocky. He thought what? He was immortal or something? He wasn’t. He was just a witch with a temporary power boost. Nothing more.

And I was going to blast his ass to the Netherworld.

Seething, I tapped into my will, letting my anger fuel me. Power flowed in, familiar but painful in my sudden rush.

“Hasta Feuro!” I cried, and a yellow-orange, spear-like fire hurled toward Alex. I’d only just learned the spell a week ago, but it was effective, nonetheless. I would even say it was pretty. The fire spear shot straight and true.

Lips moving, Alex flicked his wrists, and my flaming spear burst into a shower of orange particles.

Oh. Shit .

Instincts kicked in. If he wanted a battle, he was going to get one.

Alex’s lips moved in a dark chant, but I had already tapped into my well of power.

“Vento!” I howled, releasing my will, and a gust of powerful wind burst from my outstretched hand.

It hit.

Alex flew back with the force of the blow and then hovered in the air like a poor imitation of Superman. Correction. A naked , poor imitation of Superman. My life was getting stranger every day. Alex could fly?

“Now that’s not fair,” I told him as he hovered like gravity didn’t affect him. “Do you know how hard it is to do a levitation spell?”

The witch clapped his hands together once, sending forth a gust of darkness from him, rippling like a wave of death.

“Sphae—”

Darkness slammed into me. The same pain hit. Only more intense. And everything went dark.

I didn’t know how long I was out, but when I woke from the excruciating pain around my neck, I couldn’t breathe. I blinked into a set of dark eyes. Alex. He was way too close and way too naked. My body rubbed against his as he held me up by the neck and off the floor.

Damn. I was going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.

Panic filled me. I hit and pulled at his hand around my neck, trying to pry his fingers apart, but it was like trying to bend steel with my hands. His grip on me was iron tight.

Alex’s face swayed as a dizzy spell hit me. Crap. I was going to pass out again. I knew it would be the death of me. I needed to do something, and I needed to do it fast.

Alex pulled me closer until his nose was almost touching my face. “Stupid, stupid witch,” he sneered, his breath like carrion on a hot summer day. “I told you, you were no match for me.” Beads of sweat shone on his forehead and nose.

“Screw. You,” I wheezed, my voice hoarse and low, barely a whisper. My head pounded with the effort.

He moved his face next to mine and licked the side of my cheek, all the way up to my forehead. I gagged, shivering at the repulsiveness of feeling his tongue against my skin despite the hot pressure around my neck and face.

“I’ve always wanted to know what you tasted like.” Alex smiled, showing his brown-stained teeth. “Not much. Like a dead witch.”

I gathered all the spit I could muster and spat in his face.

Alex’s face twisted in anger. He narrowed his eyes and said, “You’ll pay for that.”

The witch pulled his free hand back, and I braced myself as he backhanded me. Stars exploded on the backs of my eyelids.

Alex squeezed harder, and black spots marred my vision .

“En tot qu’azar alatz,” chanted the witch. Through my obscured vision, I saw tendrils of inky darkness drifting out of his left palm, coiling around his hand, and moving up his arm. This time his demonic curse would kill me.

I closed my eyes and drew my will, calling out to the rings. And nothing happened.

The panic was too deep. It clouded my focus. Without air, there wasn’t much I could do. But maybe...

I slipped my hand inside my bag—

Alex yanked my bag with brute force. The strap snapped as he tossed it on the ground.

“Your bag of tricks won’t save you now,” said Alex, an ugly scowl on his face. “Nothing will.”

It was impossible not to panic in this kind of situation. The lack of air started to wear me down, and I couldn’t think clearly. I didn’t know whether Colin, Logan, and Kyllian were still alive. The sounds of battle sort of all just muffled out as though I had cotton balls stuck in my ears.

I was a powerful witch, but I was no match for such demonic power.

And yet there was still a fight left in me.

With all my remaining strength, I grabbed his face with my hands, jabbed my thumbs into his eyes, and pressed as hard as I could. The witch wailed as he thrashed me around like a ragdoll, but I never let go. I pressed harder and harder until I felt a release around my neck .

I fell to the ground on my knees, coughing. I took a huge gasp of air, my lungs burning like I’d swallowed acid. I could still hear Alex screaming. I’d gotten him good. And I didn’t even have to use magic.

I took gasps of air between the dry heaves that left my lungs screaming in pain. My body hurt everywhere. I looked up to find Alex coming at me, bloody tears marring his face. Yup, I’d gotten him really good.

“Bitch,” he hissed, darkness coiling around his palms. “You fu—” Blood spattered from his mouth, and he staggered, a mere two feet from where I was.

What the hell?

The silver tip of a blade perforated his trachea, and then it withdrew, leaving a spout of dark blood in its place like someone had turned on a sprinkler inside his throat.

Alex’s eyes went wide, and a startled look appeared on his face as he turned halfway. “What?” He coughed out another mouthful of blood.

Logan stepped from around him, the tip of his soul blade stained with blood.

Alex’s face creased with rage, blood gushing out of his neck and mouth. “You. You.” He raised his hands, his bloody lips conjuring a hex. His fingers were a blur as they moved in a demonic curse.

Logan moved, spinning in a blur of motion and stabbed the witch in the heart.

Alex let out a high-pitched gasp of pain. He fell to his knees, sheets of blood covering his chest all the way down to his thighs. He wrapped his hands around the hilt of the soul blade. His eyes were round, his face creased in confusion and white with pain or shock or both.

The witch opened his mouth and made a choking gasp to say, “But, I’m immortal.”

He fell over to the side and never moved again.

A hand waved in front of my eyes, and I reached out and grasped it, finding Logan warm and rough and liking it. He pulled me to my feet. Our eyes locked for a heartbeat and I looked away.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice coarse and rubbing my neck.

“He’s about to kill the woman,” panted Logan, speaking fast. Black blood spattered his face. “Come on. We need to stop him. Can you still do magic?”

“Yes,” I answered, knowing it to be true. The ground glistened, slippery with the blood and entrails of demons. My gaze shot past him over the piles of dead bodies and ash to my messenger bag on the ground. Poe was still inside. Poe.

“Wait. I need to get Poe.”

My own pain forgotten, I made a dash for it—

“Stop, or he dies,” boomed a voice.

Panic filled me, but I already knew what to expect.

I looked over Logan’s shoulder and a cry escaped me.

Vargal stood in a clearing of demons.

And dangling from his grip, held by the throat, was Colin.

CHAPTER 25

A doglike snarl escaped me. The bastard demon had the kid by the throat, just like his minion witch Alex had done to me a minute ago.

I didn’t like it.

Kyllian stepped into my line of sight, barely recognizable with his face covered in black blood, making his blue eyes stand out. The big angel stood next to a mountain of dead bodies and clumps of ash—his doing, no doubt. A look of pure hatred marred his face as he looked upon the Greater demon.

I shared his hatred, but I hated the bastard more. We had a score to settle. Julia’s life and her soul. He was not going to get Colin’s. Not while I still drew breath .

I stepped forward, only to feel the iron grip of Logan’s hand on my arm.

“Wait,” he said. “You’ll never reach him in time.”

I knew he was right. Vargal could snap Colin’s neck in half a second, before any of my spells could reach him.

Only then did I realize how quiet the inside of the building had become. Whatever demons remained were clustered around Vargal, like twisted versions of guard dogs.

“You are an insufferable, meddling witch,” accused Vargal, his tone as cold as his white skin and remarkably human. His voice hinted at an accent I couldn’t place. Light from the candles reflected off his face and bald head, leaving shadows and deep crevices. His skin took on the gray tone of a corpse, dark hollows forming under his eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said, my voice high with tension as I ran ways to kick his ass without hurting Colin through my mind.

Vargal laughed and dragged Colin some more. “I’ve always hated witches. Ever since you were created by the folly of my brethren. You are weak. Mortal. Despicable creatures that need to rely on our magic because you barely have any of your own. And with such a thirst for power. So easily manipulated for souls. What stupid creatures you are.”

“You speak of power like you have a lot,” I argued. “But it looks like you don’t. Why else would you try to summon a god if not for power?” His eyes narrowed and I knew I’d hit a mark. “What’s the matter? Did your power run out? Are you going to exchange your soul for a taste of the god’s power? Is that it?”

The Greater demon continued to circle around, his robe brushing the ground behind him like a cloak. His gait was confident and oozed power. He looked like a monk from Hell.

Vargal’s smile was cold, and it had my skin riddling in goose bumps. “I really must thank you, witch,” said the Greater demon as he moved around his summoning circle, hauling Colin by the neck with him. The kid fought in his grip, uselessly beating at the demon’s arm. “Delivering me this prize,” he added, giving Colin a shake. “One would think that you were working for me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “In your dreams, asshole.” Wow. A cocky Greater demon. This was just great.

The Greater demon pulled back his lips, which looked red and bulbous in the candlelight. Very creepy. “You did kill my witch. And now I’m in need of a replacement. I’ll make you a deal.”

Here we go.

“You work for me, and I won’t kill you and all your friends,” added Vargal with a smile. His eyes gleamed with an orange-red glow of an inner fire. “Starting with this filthy boy, right here. A fair exchange, is it not? Considering that you’ll all be dead in a few minutes.”

I gave a mock laugh. “You should stop smoking that demon crack.” Adrenaline made my head hurt. “ You’re even dumber than Alex if you think I’ll ever work for you.”

Vargal pulled his hairless brows up. “Oh. But you will.”

Colin’s face was turning blue. Tears streamed down his cheeks and I almost lost it. Rage hit me, hard and deep. Emotions were also a source of power. They fueled my magic like a surge of adrenaline, a boost.

Be cool, Sam. Think. Damn it. Think.

I shifted my weight. “Let him go.” I knew this was a long shot, but it was the only thing that popped into my head at that moment.

Vargal smiled without humor. “Or what?”

I shrugged. “I’ll throw you a party?” Idiot. He knew how the line went. “You know the rest, you ugly, white bastard.”

He laughed harshly. “And what can a witch do to a Greater demon?”

“Plenty,” I answered, seeing Logan roll his shoulders next to me, anticipating a fight. “How long you got?”

Vargal’s red eyes were expressionless. “You really should have brought more of your friends. Then it might have been a fair fight. More or less. This”—he raised his other hand—“will be an extermination. Nothing more.”

“If you let the kid go,” said Logan, surprising me as he stepped forward, “I’ll think about giving you a quick death, Demon. ”

Vargal threw back his head. “What’s this?” He gave Colin a twirl, lifting him off his feet like a third arm. “It speaks? I think I’ll save you for last.”

Logan flashed a smile. “You’re going to pay for those lives you took, Demon. You know... an eye for an eye, that kind of shit.”

Vargal made an excited sound in his throat, his eyes wide. “You are a treat. And with a pretty meat suit.” He showed his perfectly white teeth. “Your soul will be like honey on my tongue.” He made a rude gesture with his tongue.

“Manners, Demon,” I said, shaking my head. “Or does that not exist in the shithole you crawled out of?”

Vargal pinned his eyes on me, his lips moving, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Let Colin go,” I said again, pulling on the power of my rings and feeling them pulse in answer. “I won’t ask you again.”

Vargal’s gaze moved to my hands for a moment, and I thought I saw something flick behind his eyes, like recognition, before focusing back on me. The demon flashed me his teeth and said, “You didn’t say the magic word.”

I cocked a brow. “Bite me.”

Vargal gave me a pointed look. “Now who’s being rude? I’ve wasted enough time. On with the show.” The demon snapped his fingers.

Trish’s back arched, and she let out a strangled cry. Then with an unnerving, wailing scream, she convulsed on the ground in the middle of the circle. Between screams I could hear her bones crack. At least, that’s what I thought the sound was.

Before I could stop him, Kyllian charged and was met with an onslaught of ghouls, imps, and shadow demons. The ground shook as hundreds of demons rushed at the angel.

The angel attacked with command and precision. A roar arose from the angel as he collided with the demons. A ghoul swung an axe at the angel. Kyllian parried and came up swinging. He disemboweled the ghoul, almost in passing, and moved on to the next one. He sliced and cut, his blade biting into the foul demon flesh and his eyes wild, hungry for their deaths. He kept moving, and the demons kept falling, but it failed to satiate the hunger in his eyes.

Kyllian was an unstoppable machine. He cut them down, unthinking, unrepentant. He spun and lashed out, every strike hitting its mark. Every cut found its victim.

But there were too many. For every demon Kyllian struck down, another took its place. They kept coming, enclosing him in a tight ring of putrid flesh, claws, and teeth.

Kyllian cried out as a ghoul bit into the back of his neck. He reached over and slammed his fist into the ghoul’s head. It slammed to the ground, just as two imps crashed into him from the other side. Then another ghoul jumped him from the back.

The angel staggered, his face twisting in pain as he fought the demons.

“Screw this.” Logan shot forward .

“You help him,” said Vargal, his tone casual like he was commenting on the fabric of his robe, but somehow it reverberated over the sounds of Kyllian’s cries and the shrieks of demons, “and the kid dies.”

Vargal lifted Colin off the ground by the neck again. Colin kicked and hit at Vargal’s arm, trying to break free, but his face turned a dangerous shade of purple.

Logan yelled out in frustration but stayed where he was. A pained expression marred his face as he watched Kyllian getting slashed and cut by imps and ghouls. The angel swayed on his feet.

“One less angel in the world the better,” said Vargal.

A wail of pure rage sliced across my mind. “Damn you! I’ll kill you!”

Vargal cocked his head to the side, his red eyes on me. “You won’t.” He snapped his fingers again, and Trish let out another scream.

She thrashed on the ground, her scream turning into a gargle as she began vomiting blood. I stood there helpless, watching the Greater demon torture an innocent woman.

My plan had seriously gone down the crapper. It had gone so wrong, so quickly.

“Stop it! You bastard!” I yelled, my own eyes burning at the pain I saw reflecting in Trish.

Trish’s scream faded into a weeping, gurgling moan, and she fell to the earth, body curling into a shuddering fetal position .

Vargal leaned over Trish, his free hand to his ear. “What was that? You want me to make the pain stop? Well, of course I will. You just have to agree to let me in. And the pain stops. I promise.”

Trish’s eyes were wide as she stared at Vargal. Colin was held helplessly next to him, his face set like he was trying to pull some mind control on Vargal but failing miserably.

“Say yes,” pushed the Greater demon. “And the pain will go away.”

No. No. No. My heart throbbed. “Trish, don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t!” I felt a surge of raw panic, overwhelmed by the tremors of restless fear. I saw her lips move, but I couldn’t make out what she said.

And I didn’t have to, judging by the winning smile on the Greater demon’s face when he pulled up.

His red eyes met mine and he said, “Now, that’s a good girl.”

There was a pulsing in the air, and Vargal’s red robe fell to the ground in a heap of fabric, like a discarded, old coat.

Colin fell on his side, and I tensed at the sound of his head hitting the hard cement floor. His eyes closed, and an ugly bruise ringed his neck.

Fear hit me. I stiffened in sudden panic.

And then Trish stood up.

CHAPTER 26

I stared at the woman standing before me in the stone circle. Dirt and blood stained her jeans and light gray top. She was tall, perhaps almost as tall as me, but where I lacked in curves and bust, she had plenty. Her face was hidden by strands of light brown hair that stuck to her sweaty face and rested just below her shoulders. At first glance, I’d think this was just a normal, average woman. But the black eyes that stared back were the complete opposite of normal or even human. Thousands of years of intelligence simmered in those black eyes.

My breath slipped from me. Trish was gone. And now the bastard demon possessed her. It was over. We were screwed.

Vargal-Trish lifted her wrists and the ropes that bound them and her ankles burst into clouds of ash and fell to the ground at her feet. “Much better,” she said, her voice a mix of rough lightness. The sweetness of her perfume gave way to a rotten meat stench.

Blood ran from her mouth, and she licked it. She smiled at me, a twisted expression that was somehow wrong on her face.

Shit. What do I do now? The question sent a shiver through me. Think, damn it. Think!

Logan seemed to have a plan.

There was a brush of air and the angel-born dashed for Vargal-Trish with supernatural speed, a soul blade in his hand. The look of disgust and utter hatred on his face was a clear indication that he was going to kill Trish to get to the demon inside.

There was a peal of mocking laughter, and Vargal-Trish lifted her right hand.

A furious blast of wind slammed into Logan, catching him in midair and driving him across the room into the wall with a horrible thud. His head snapped back in a whiplash of impact as he dropped his blade and slid to the ground.

My stomach clenched at his tangled limbs. With my heart in my throat, my pulse was fast as I stared at his crumpled body. Get up, Logan.

He didn’t move.

Vargal-Trish took a deep breath and released it. I saw her other nature coming over her like a second skin. Her skin grew paler, and her face thinned, making her black eyes bulge and her jawbone and cheekbones protrude under a paper-thin layer of skin. Black talons sprouted from her fingers, long and sharp and deadly, and she waved them at me in a promise of pain.

My gaze fell on Kyllian. The angel was still swinging his blade at the onslaught of demons. They hadn’t pulled him down yet, but the angel wouldn’t last forever, no matter how big and powerful he was. Sooner or later he would tire, and then his soul would be a nice juicy filet mignon for the demons.

I’d had enough.

I’m sorry, Trish.

Fury surged through me, so scarlet and bright that I could hardly believe it was mine. I drew in my will, focusing it through the rings and into a sudden rage. I pulled everything I had left into taking that smug smile off of her pretty, false face.

I released it.

“Feurantis!” The word thundered from my lips.

Twin fireballs lashed out of my palms and shot at Vargal-Trish.

They hit.

I straightened, expecting to hear screams and maybe even a little thrashing. Nothing. Just an eerie stillness.

Vargal-Trish just stood there, her body aflame in sheets of fire. Yellow-and-orange flames reached high above her head, and still nothing. The Greater demon didn’t even move.

And then with a hollow boom of displaced air, the fire disappeared. Vargal-Trish stood in the exact same place, unscathed, not a single burnt mark, not even one goddamn burnt hair.

Her face creased into a wicked smile as she said, “My turn.” A dark glee simmered in the backs of her eyes, unholy and absolute. And then she raised her hand, sparks of black electrical current dancing along her fingers.

Oh. Crap.

These were the moments when it was perfectly acceptable to panic.

So I did.

Panic welled, and I pitched forward on the ground, knowing what would come. It hurt when my hip made contact with the concrete floor, but it was nothing compared to the pain that followed.

The sharp strike through my body was like an electric shock. Believe what you hear. Being shocked hurts like hell .

I screamed. And then I screamed again. A hideous, rushing force invaded my body. Every nerve in my body was alight with fire, scorching me from the inside. My stomach twisted, and I panted to keep from vomiting. The undulating surges of demonic power grew and grew until I felt like there’d be nothing left of me but my clothes. A band tightened around my chest and I couldn’t breathe. That, or all the air had disappeared.

The Greater demon’s power pressed me down while I struggled and screamed uselessly, my mind too full of terror to focus or defend myself. The demonic magic burned through my clothes to my skin and my insides, sending searing pain screaming through my body and making me crumple to the ground in agony.

The pain vanished, and I took a gasping breath.

But I wasn’t going to lie there while Vargal-Trish attacked me with her tendrils of black demonic power.

Jaw gritted, I reached out and pulled myself up. Anger growing, I straightened, reaching into my will and calling to my rings. Okay, so I hurt everywhere and felt like I’d fallen into a meat grinder, but I could still spindle some magic. I wouldn’t go down like coward. I was a Beaumont Dark witch, damn it. We boiled cowards in our cauldrons.

Vargal-Trish smiled at my obvious pain, ticking me off all the more. “You should know when to stay down, witch—”

“Dis caeli!” I shouted and let out the pent-up wave of energy from the rings. A blast of kinetic energy pushed toward the Greater demon.

But Vargal-Trish simply lifted a finger, and the kinetic force stopped in mid-push, like it had hit an invisible barrier.

The Greater demon raised one eyebrow. “I can do this all night, little witch. But you can’t.”

“Try me,” I snarled, feeling both brave and stupid all at once.

Vargal-Trish’s mocking laughter rang out through the building. “Give up now and die with the little shred of dignity left in your wasted witch body. Why are you resisting? Haven’t you had enough? ”

“Not even close,” I said, trying to match her smile but not feeling the muscles of my face at all. I might have grimaced instead.

My eyes found Colin, and the kid was still lying on his side. Fear pulled at me. Please don’t be dead.

“Then give it your best shot, little witch.” Vargal-Trish smiled, thinking she controlled me, and my anger hardened. She lifted her hands in a mock surrender, daring me to try and kill her.

Okay, then.

Heaps of anger replaced my fear and sanity, cementing in my gut. I pushed the magic from my will into my rings. It burned, but I held it, pulling more energy off the rings until my outspread hands felt like they were charring. Furious, I compressed the raw energy in my hands.

If I couldn’t burn the Greater demon, I’d do the next best thing.

“Gracis!” I cried, stumbling as I threw it at her.

The rush of energy struck Vargal-Trish right in the chest, and she didn’t even try to deflect it. Which could only mean one of two things—one, she didn’t move because I’d been too quick, or two, she didn’t move because she knew it would have no effect. Given that I was about to die, I hoped for the first option.

Vargal-Trish’s body began to fossilize, and then a thin coat of ice spread over her chest and neck until it reached her head and began to cover her face .

And just when I thought it had worked, the ice shattered and fell into a puddle of water around Vargal-Trish’s feet.

Double crap.

“A cute trick, little witch,” purred the Greater demon, his face creased in amusement. “I’ll give you points for ingenuity, but you fail in strength. Without strength, you have nothing. Whereas I am strength and power and darkness. But, I am less disposed to tolerate the stupidity behind these mindless provocations. Child of the lesser demons, I will destroy you tonight.”

With a flick of her wrist, Vargal-Trish sent a volley of black tendrils at me.

Shit. I barely had time to brace myself as they hit. And hit was an understatement.

The pain struck like hammers at my head and body while I screamed against it. Excruciating pain surged and then nothing.

I blinked through tears and saw a smiling Vargal-Trish. She didn’t want to kill me just yet. She was playing with me, like a cat plays with a mouse until it eventually dies. Swell.

And suddenly I felt very stupid. What the hell had I been thinking? A Greater demon, even the least of them, had demonic powers, something that was simply out of the league of any witch.

Vargal-Trish stared at my hands, and I didn’t like the smile materializing. “I know what you are, Samantha Beaumont. I’ve always known. ”

“Really?” I hedged uneasily. “What’s that? The witch who’s going to kick your ass?” Okay, I was asking for it, but I couldn’t help myself.

Vargal-Trish’s eyes twitched, and then a ball of black death hurled my way.

It was pointless to move or even try to save my ass with a shield. It was too damn fast. Too damn powerful.

It struck. The blow drove me back, and I crashed to the ground. My vision blurred with scarlet and black. Is it possible to hurt everywhere? I did.

Still, this time I knew there was no getting better from this. No healing amulet, sigil, or ring could mend me. This time the pain settled deep inside my core and stayed there.

I’d really done it this time. This time, I wasn’t getting out alive.

I took the pain, the fear, the anger, and willed myself to my knees. Like hell was I going to die on the ground like some beaten-down animal. I would stare the demon in the face. That’s how we Beaumonts did it.

Though right now there were two Vargal-Trishes. Shit, I was going to pass out. I took a deep breath, willing my eyes to focus until there was only one version of her.

A wicked smile spread over Vargal-Trish’s gaunt face. “You were born on a blood moon on Hallows’ Eve, twenty-five years ago. A very rare thing indeed for a half-breed child to be born on such a night, one in a millennium, I believe.” Her smile widened. “And you never knew your mother because she died birthing you out. Didn’t she?”

I started. My lips parted, and I felt as though she’d just hit me again with her dark energy. My heart thrashed madly against my chest until I thought it might explode through my rib cage.

No. It couldn’t be. How could this demon know?

“And,” continued the Greater demon, brows rising, seemingly enjoying what she saw on my face, “I know why your own father tossed you into the flames.”

I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

Vargal-Trish gave me a lazy, fiendish smile and said, “I know why your daddy tried to kill you.”

CHAPTER 27

T he world suddenly started to spin as the memories of that night, those seventeen years ago, starting flipping on the backs of my eyelids, like watching my own homemade movie.

I’d only been eight years old then. Just a kid. And my own father had grabbed me and tossed me into the flames of the fire out in our backyard.

I would have burned to death if it hadn’t been for my grandfather, who’d pulled me out just in the nick of time. The pain of the burns came back to me. Burns were the worst kind of injuries you could suffer. Every nerve set off on fire, undulating scorching, the throbbing, the feeling of never being rid of the pain. I’d suffered second and third-degree burns to my hands and arms, but the burns were nothing to the suffering of knowing my father hated me to the point of wanting to burn me alive. No kid should have to go through that.

But I did.

It had changed me. Hardened me. It explained why I didn’t have a lot of friends and why I had trust issues. Having my father try to murder me would do that.

Subconsciously, I stared at my hands, seeing the scarred tissue peeking from where I’d cut the fingers off from my gloves at the knuckles.

If the Greater demon knew my secret, I was dead. Even if Vargal-Trish didn’t kill me, soon all the other demons would.

“Baked like an overdone marshmallow,” sneered Vargal-Trish. “It’s why you wear those ridiculous gloves,” said the demon pointedly. “Not only to hide your true nature from the rest of us, but also to hide those hideous scars. What’s the matter? Too painful to look at?” She laughed, long and deep. “Face it. You killed your own mother. It’s no wonder your dear old papa hated you. And rightly so. You shouldn’t even exist. A freak of nature, that’s what you are.”

“Bastard,” I snarled. I shook with barely contained rage. Any minute now I’d be foaming at the mouth.

Pain that didn’t have anything to do with the Greater demon’s magic hit me hard in the heart, like someone had stabbed me with a soul blade.

“Tell me,” inquired Vargal-Trish, “did it hurt when the flames ate at your flesh? More than the pain of your own father trying to kill you? ”

“Go to Hell.” My jaw was clenched, and my hands were fisted. “You don’t know anything about me.”

The demon’s eyes widened. “Do you remember the stink of your own skin melting away? Tell me,” she said, and cocked her head, her black eyes gleaming with delight. “Did you like it?”

“Screw you, you sick bastard,” I hissed, bile rising at the back of my throat.

Vargal-Trish pressed her lips in a mock pout. “Poor little Samantha. Do the nightmares still keep you up at night? Can you still hear your daddy screaming for you to die? The little bitch that killed his wife?”

“Fuck you,” I said, my voice hoarse, lips trembling as hot tears fell freely down my face past my chin to pool around my clavicles. Waves of pain came in the rhythm of my beating heart. It hurt. God, it hurt.

Vargal-Trish lifted the sleeve of her hand to expose her wrist. “The forces of the worlds granted you a mighty gift, little witch. The ability to borrow and pull another’s magic into you is something that most demons would kill for.” Her black eyes settled on me. “Still, this great and unique gift,” continued the demon, “will not save you tonight. Tonight you will die.”

A dark chant formed on Vargal-Trish’s lips, and when she held out her wrist again, the same sun-like symbol was etched into her skin, wet and dripping with blood .

There was a shuffle of feet, and I turned to see Colin running toward the exit. Damn, I’d never even noticed him getting up.

“Z’ac ick na’im,” called Vargal-Trish. Colin was lifted off his feet and flew into the Greater demon’s outstretched taloned hand. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse? I’m not finished with you. No. No. No. Don’t you want to stay and meet a true god? The only one that matters? The god of death, war, and destruction? You see, he’ll need some replenishing when he arrives. And you, little mouse, are the perfect meal.”

Colin thrashed in Vargal-Trish’s grip, but the kid was no match for her strength. A sharp talon stroked Colin’s neck, leaving a trickle of blood.

Shit. I should have left the kid home. I could deal with me dying, but not another kid, and especially not Colin.

Vargal-Trish stepped away from the circle, a dark chant emitting from her lips.

A wind rose violently, sending dust and debris scattering throughout the room. I pulled the hair out of my eyes trying to see. Beneath the circle, the earth sighed and then opened like a hungry mouth. Shoots of ice crawled up my spine as I stared into an endless, black pit, the doorway to an abyss. The Netherworld.

My heart pounded in my throat. I could see forms and shapes coiled around it like misty clothes.

And then I heard it, the sound of a waking call, like a thunderous, great yawn. The god was waking .

The ritual was nearly complete. When Vargal took Trish’s life, the fifth soul, the god would climb through the hole, and then it would be all over.

The wind rose to a howl, and still Vargal-Trish chanted. Louder and louder, until shapes and things began to crest the top of the opening, the mouth of Hell.

A savage desperation hit me. It was all over. I’d failed. Everyone I cared about was going to die.

And then I heard it. The impossible over the roaring of the wind.

The flutter of wings.

Could it be? Or was I going mad?

Blinking through the debris, I stood up, hope filling me with a surge of energy as I stood on my feet.

A small speck flew toward me, its wings beating fiercely against the wind. Poe.

My buddy was alive .

My knees wobbled in relief. I raised my right arm, and the raven swooped down and perched upon it.

“I thought you were dead,” I said over the rustling of wind, trying to hold it together when my knees felt like they were made of Jell-O.

“Nah. I just took a little nap,” said the raven, his feathers lifting in a gust of wind. His eyes flicked to Alex’s body, and an angry caw erupted from his throat. “How’d he die?”

“No time to explain.” I stilled my face so that Vargal couldn’t read the excitement that pounded through me .

The Greater demon had the nerve to laugh when he saw Poe.

Big mistake.

I wasn’t finished yet. Not by a long shot.

I lacked the power to defeat Vargal. I needed more magic. Dark witches before me borrowed magic to make them stronger and give them abilities they normally didn’t possess.

And it just so happened I knew where to get some.

Yeah, I was a different breed. Yes, my own father tried to kill me because I was gifted with something special, and I was going to use it.

I stood, legs apart, and stilled my breathing.

Vargal-Trish danced around the hole in the ground, dragging a terrified Colin with her as she chanted. Her voice took on an edge of vicious, spiteful satisfaction, and she continued the incantation. Dark, demonic syllables thundered from her lips.

I took a breath. “It’s time to play. You ready, Poe?”

“Always.” The raven shifted on my arm, and his claws dug into my shirt “Now?”

“Hang on.”

I kept my eyes on Vargal-Trish.

Colin , I said in my mind, hoping the kid could still read it even under duress. If you can hear me, I’m about to do something stupid. Really stupid. But it’s the only way to save you .

Okay , came Colin’s whisper in my mind, and it took all of my willpower not to react. It wasn’t every day I heard someone else’s voice inside my head. It was a tad freaky. Scratch that. It was really freaky.

When I say go , I continued, my heart in my throat as I strained to keep my breathing even. I need you to stomp on her foot as hard as you can. She’ll let you go. Then you need to run. Get as far away from her and that damn hole in the ground as fast as you can. Can you do that?

Yes , answered Colin.

Relief spilled into me. Good. Okay. Get ready.

I waited and watched as Vargal-Trish took another a step around the hole and then settled next to it.

Colin! Now!

True to his word, Colin slammed his shoe on Vargal-Trish’s foot.

It worked like a charm.

Vargal-Trish yelped in pain, releasing the boy. Colin sprinted across the room. He never stopped moving. He might be small, but he had some cheetah legs.

“Now, Poe.”

I tapped into my will and funneled my anger and my pain into my well of magic, to the core of power within me. With a burst of will, I pulled on Poe’s magic, combining it with my own.

My back arched as the power flooded in, painful and delicious and abundant. Poe leaped off my arm and flew into the air. My body quavered as a giant slip of energy ripped through me. High on its power, I held nothing back.

I tapped into Poe’s magic and found what I needed.

My body fell apart into a tempest of bodies, of exact replicas of me, until I was pulled and separated into forty other copies of me.

And forty-one mes were a hell of a lot stronger than just a mere one.

Holy crap.

I’d never used Poe’s Splitting before. It was the creepiest thing in the world to see other versions of yourself. But at the same time, it was amazing. I’d always wanted to try.

We felt strong. Invincible. I laughed—we laughed—together. The room descended into a cacophony of my voices growing in laughter. It was awesome.

But the real kicker was that we, I, were one of the same. Our minds were one, a collective of Samantha Beaumonts. Slowly, my clones and I formed a line and stood facing the Greater demon.

We met Vargal-Trish’s gaze across from us, her disgusting, white face distinct before us with preternatural clarity. Her eyes were shocked. We drank in that shock. We reveled in it and laughed.

We were a tide of destruction, and Vargal-Trish had nowhere to go.

Together we knelt, and with a chalk, drew the exorcism sigil in the space before us. Then we drew upon the energy gathered in the sigil. “In the name of our Lord Creator,” our voices thundered, “we exorcise you, Demon. Every impure spirit, every demonic power, every incursion of the infernal adversary. We command you.”

“What are you doing!” cried Vargal-Trish, her voice rising to a high-pitched shriek. “No! You can’t do this!” Her eyes darted over all of us, never really settling. Her face twisted in horror. She looked over at the remaining demons still fighting Kyllian and shouted, “Kill them! I am your master! Kill them. Kill her!” The Greater demon howled in rage and turned her burning glare to me.

As one, the last cluster of imps, ghouls, and shadow demons abandoned the angel and turned their attention on us. Their eyes were wide and searching as though trying to decide who to devour first.

It didn’t matter. The exorcism was almost done.

Together, we pulled on the energy, raised our right palms, and said firmly, “Flee this place! Flee this body! May your power issue forth from her.”

Vargal-Trish cursed us in an ancient language, spit flying from her mouth. She staggered back, turned, and ran in the opposite direction.

We took a collective breath and said, “Be not, and be gone !”

At the words, the energy poured out of us in a rush.

The energy hit Vargal-Trish in the back. She stumbled and fell on the ground, thrashing. She whipped her head around, her face contorting in fury. Her lips moved in a curse to kill us. But then she howled, her back arching as she screamed again and again, raging and tearing at the ground. She struggled one last time, and then her body eased and was still.

Howls split the air, and then the twisting mass of demons charged.

“Feurantis!” we shouted, and forty-one fireballs blasted out of our palms, lighting up the room in an array of fireworks.

The balls hit. The room shook as the mass of lesser demons flared up, the heat of the flames warming our faces. Piercing wails thundered around us, and the ground shook as hundreds of bodies hit in unison. The demons squealed in pain, their arms and legs shuddering as they went down like flaming chunks of meat on a grill. Their bodies scorched and blackened like burnt firewood. And then they all crumbled and exploded into ash.

Our hearts thumped together in exaltation.

But it wasn’t over yet.

The same black, writhing mass we’d seen with Julia came surging up from Trish’s body. Its form was vaguely human, distorted. A wraith of the Netherworld. A Greater demon’s soul.

Vargal’s specter rose, a faded, warped shadow-image of his true self like a wisp of cloud swallowed by the light. It poured forth with frenzied agitation, a slithering blackness that recoiled from the light. It soared in the air, toward the top of the atrium and the night sky .

Anger rushed us. Dark and fierce. He’d killed Julia and tried to kill Colin. The bastard wasn’t going anywhere.

“Conlidam!” we roared, lifting our hands as we poured our will and the power from the rings into the spell.

A raw, invisible force of pure will focused into a violent burst of kinetic energy and shot toward the black specter.

The shockwave slammed into the shadow that was Vargal. It shimmered, solidifying into a humanoid shape, and then exploded into chunks and shards of black, crystalline ice that fell to the ground, smashing into thousands of black shards as they collided with the cement floor. The shards dried until only flakes of ash remained. The darkness itself simply devoured it, swallowing it into nothingness.

Holy shit. We’d just killed a Greater demon.

The ground shook beneath our feet. Our pulse raced as lightning flashed along the rim of the hole in the ground, lit with a sudden eerie, green fire that slowly faded away.

And then with a pop, the hole in the ground pulled and yanked chunks of earth, rock and concrete, filling itself up until it was covered completely as though it had never existed.

With a huff of exhalation, I let go of the spell, the magic, and the power. And then my clones disappeared.

I collapsed to my knees, and my body shook with the aftermath of working so much power. I had a brief feeling of being alone and remembered that was probably just remnants of having forty extra replicas of myself. I blinked the black spots from my eyes and tasted the bile in the back of my throat before swallowing it back down.

I did not want to ruin my moment by spewing all over the floor.

“Samantha,” I heard Logan’s voice and looked up to see him standing next to me, a huge welt on the side of his forehead. It was bleeding. “Are you okay?” he asked. A twinge of fear marked his handsome face.

“I will be.” I didn’t know if he’d seen me use Poe’s magic, but there was no time to worry about that now. Pushing my fatigue aside, I struggled to my feet and ran to Trish.

The woman was splayed on the floor. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t look like she was breathing. A twinge of fear hit me.

I pressed my fingers against her neck. A strong pulse answered back.

“Thank the cauldron.” I sighed in relief.

“She’s alive?” Kyllian stepped toward me. His face was haggard and dust streaked, and his clothes were sticky with demon blood and topped with ash. Though his face was bruised and scratched, his eyes were alight with hope.

“She is,” I told the big angel. A smile pulled at my lips just as Trish stirred, and her eyes flashed open. They were a beautiful hazel color .

Kyllian moved forward and scooped her up in his arms, holding her as though she were a precious jewel, fragile, and cherished, like he’d never let her go.

Trish looped her arms around his neck, looking up at him like, well, like he was the most beautiful man who ever was. What warm-blooded female wouldn’t when she had just been saved from the big, bad, ugly demon by a glorious celestial creature molded to perfection? And yes, by the way, she was looking at him openly; I had a feeling psychics could see the supernatural. Trish knew Kyllian was an angel.

“You saved me,” she said, her big hazel eyes locked onto Kyllian’s with a love-at-first-sight expression. “You fought those demons to get to me.”

“I did,” answered the angel with a smile that would have had naked women flinging themselves at him. “You’re safe now,” he added. His voice carried a tone of comfort and safety. “I’ve got you.”

Yes, he did.

The two of them had their eyes locked on one another, and a flicker of discomfort rolled through me, like I was spying on an intimate moment.

A familiar weight pressed on my arm. “That was badass,” commented Poe. I pulled my eyes away from the angel and Trish. “You totally rocked the Splitting.” The raven cawed in approval. “Everyone saw, you know,” said the bird, answering my suspicions. “Everything’s going to change now.”

I knew it would. “Doesn’t matter,” I answered with a growing sense of unease. “It was worth it. ”

I turned to find Colin making his way back with a smile on his face as he settled himself next to Logan. The kid had been awesome.

The raven fluffed his feathers. “Let’s go home. I’m starving.”

“Not yet. There’s still one thing left to do.”

I straightened and rushed over to the vials. Poe’s claws bit into my skin as he balanced on my arm.

They sat on the ground, each with a shimmering light bouncing on the inside as though each vial had a trapped pixie inside. White light kindled, like a cloud of fine pixie dust, and a flickering glow spread inside the glass vials, sparkling in steady, pulsing waves.

I reached out and grasped the four vials.

“Is that?” asked the raven, his voice filled with wonder. “Are those souls?”

Heart racing, I stiffened and clenched my teeth. “They are.” I didn’t know what kind of magic was used to trap human souls in the vials, and right then I didn’t care.

“For Julia,” I whispered, my eyes burning, and then I smashed the vials on the ground.

The vials exploded into thousands of shards of broken glass. I felt a tingling on my skin as though some dark spell had lifted.

And then four small brilliant white globes the size of golf balls rose from the debris. They hovered for a moment, so close I could have reached out and touched them. One of the globes broke free of the others and came up to my face. I blinked the brightness from my eyes as it floated there for a moment as though it were trying to tell me something, as though it were thanking me.

Goodbye, Julia.

The globe drifted back to join the others. And then as one, they soared up into the air like miniature stars, up through a gap in the atrium’s broken glass ceiling and disappeared into the dark sky.

CHAPTER 28

B y the time we dropped Colin off at his parents’ place, Trish to her apartment in Upper Manhattan, and made it back to Mystic Quarter, the sun was up and bathing the sky in pinks, oranges, and blues.

I had to perform a memory sigil to soothe his frantic parents, who’d called the police thinking he’d run away. I was tired and drained, but I’d managed to make his parents think he’d spent the two days at his friend Mat’s place, and I was Mat’s older sister dropping him off before I went to work.

“Will you come visit me sometime?” Colin had asked, making me feel all fuzzy inside.

“I will,” I promised. “There’s a lot I still don’t know about your abilities. And I’d love to learn, if you’ll let me. ”

The kid had answered with a huge bear hug, leaving me flushed and not knowing what to do. So I tapped his head.

I really liked that kid. I was going to miss him.

A half hour later, we were back in Mystic Quarter, in New York’s East Village. We drove up Doom Avenue, through the paranormal district, rolling past a few strolling vampires and witches who’d stopped to look at the cab as we drove by. To the driver, they were just normal human couples going home after a late night in the city. He didn’t see the vampires’ fangs or their black eyes, nor did he see the cluster of pixies fighting over a gleaming gold watch.

A New York City yellow cab was a rare commodity in the district, and we stuck out like a blot on the landscape. We drove through the quiet streets, a recent rainfall covering the pavement in puddles and reflecting the sun like mirrors. The cab’s engine was barely an audible purr over the ringing of thoughts and emotions in my mind.

I felt a great sense of relief at vanquishing a Greater demon, not just any regular demon, but a king of demons, a powerful being from the Netherworld.

And I, Samantha Beaumont, a simple, yet resourceful, Dark witch, had done it—with the help of Poe’s magic, of course. I loved that bird.

And through all those gratifying emotions, there was that nicking bit of fear that had settled deep in my core. No matter how hard I tried to push it down, it just kept growing until it tightened so hard it made me nauseated.

My shoulders tightened with tension.

My secret was out.

How long would it take before another demon heard about what I had done? How many of those imps or ghouls or shadow demons had seen what I’d done before their bodies had been destroyed in this world only to return to the Netherworld to blab about my secret? Or maybe Logan would spill the beans to the angel-born community.

I didn’t regret what I had done. I’d done it to save a life, many lives. Perhaps it was better this way. I didn’t have to hide my magic anymore or hide who I was. There was a deep sense of relief in that. A weight had been lifted. But it also meant I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

Either way, it was out, and I couldn’t take it back. For me, there was only forward.

“Stop here,” announced Kyllian to the cab driver, yanking me out of my thoughts.

The cabbie stopped the car beside a large water fountain on Odin Boulevard, and we all clambered out. Kyllian paid the driver. I had no idea how he got his hands on human cash and I didn’t ask. I stood on the sidewalk with Poe perched on my arm and watched the cab drive off, turning back onto Doom Avenue before it was gone.

Though Poe was technically a demon, he could go out during the daylight because of the shared magic between him and me. Being a witch’s familiar for thousands of years, through their shared magic and life energy, most familiars could stay in the mortal world indefinitely.

The water fountain, the size of a small ten-by-ten pool, stood silently at the center of a small park, decorated with four stone benches and two crabapple trees. It was one of two in the entire district. Water poured silently into a shining pool in the display’s center, sparkling in the early morning sun.

Kyllian turned to me. “Thanks for everything, Sam. I mean it. For picking up my drunk ass—”

“Many, many times,” interrupted Poe, a smile in his tone.

“Many times,” agreed Kyllian, looking slightly abashed. “You’re a great friend. A true friend. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.”

My lips curved into a smile. “You’re welcome.” Damn, was he going to get all mushy? I didn’t do mushy.

“And for tonight,” continued the big angel. “Tonight was quite the trip. It was great. It made me feel alive again. Well, you know what I mean. It made me realize a few things too, things I’d forgotten.” His gaze went past me. “I’m ready,” said Kyllian, his eyes on mine again and his face easing into a smile.

“It’s about bloody time,” grumbled Poe.

I knew exactly what he meant. “That’s great to hear. I’m happy for you, Kyllian.” I’d been worried about his overdue trip back home. He’d suffered many cuts and lost a lot of his angel essence last night. The only reason he’d lasted this long was because Faris had healed him with some demonic magic, and that had been a onetime deal. The angel’s hatred for the Legion was almost palpable, and I understood why he didn’t want to go back after the killings. He’d never forgiven himself. But he’d changed tonight. He’d fought the demons like a well-oiled machine, unstoppable with purpose and a fierce determination. And in doing so, the angel had helped save Trish and this world from an evil pagan god.

The big angel moved toward the fountain and stepped into the pool. His face eased away the few wrinkles, as though he’d finally accepted his past as he knelt, the water coming up to his chest.

The air moved behind me and then Logan appeared next to me. We stood side by side, watching in silence as the angel’s body began to glow with fluorescent, white light. With a final burst of light, Kyllian’s body disintegrated into millions of brilliant particles. The water shifted, and then the last of the angel’s brilliance melted into the water and disappeared.

Kyllian was back in Horizon.

“You think you’ll see him again,” asked Logan.

I turned, only just noticing now how close we were. For some strange reason, I didn’t want to move away.

I looked back at the water before my face betrayed me. “I’m sure I will.” I didn’t know how, but somehow I just knew I’d see the big angel again.

I stood in silence for as long as I could before it became awkward. “I think I’ll be going home now,” I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence and looking up at the tall angel-born Operative. Poe shifted on my arm, sensing my unease. I wasn’t sure what to say to Logan. Thanks for tagging along? That didn’t seem sufficient enough.

“Thanks for helping me.” Yada, yada, yada. “I don’t think I could have found Colin without you. Thank you for that. I really like that kid.”

“Me too.” His face showed no emotion, but his eyes shone with something I didn’t understand. “I’ll walk you home.”

My heart thrashed in my chest. “That’s not necessary. I just live five minutes away.” I’m a freaking Dark witch who just killed a Greater demon. I can take care of myself. Who does he think he is?

But my words fell on deaf ears. The angel-born had already turned away from the fountain and waited for me by the sidewalk.

“I don’t think he heard you, Sam,” commented Poe, though I could hear the laughter in his tone.

“Oh, he heard me.” But the question was, why did he want to walk me home? It didn’t make sense. No one walked a witch home. Most of the time, folks were too afraid to be spelled into the witch’s house, never to be seen again. I was certain it had something to do with the size of our cauldrons, but those were just rumors.

I put my hand on my hip and frowned at Logan. “I guess you’re not going to take no for an answer.”

Logan’s face crinkled into a smile. “No. ”

Damn. “Fine.” I walked past him, straining to keep my heart from pounding but failing miserably.

“I’m going to stretch my wings,” said Poe suddenly, that same laughter in his voice as he took off into the early morning sky.

My frown deepened.

We walked side by side in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I didn’t even remember how I got to my house until it came into view. The sun hit the side of the brownstone, bathing it in gold. Poe was perched on the metal stair railing, pulling at a small, furry bundle in his claws and then eating it. Yikes. I didn’t want to know what that was.

The thought of my glorious bed had me sighing in anticipation and I nearly moaned. God, I was tired.

“Well, I’m home,” I said and spun around to face the angel-born. I clicked my heels together like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz . I didn’t know why I did that.

The angel-born looked good standing there, even with his hair all disheveled and dirty. “Thanks for walking me home,” I continued, not knowing what else to say. “Though it really wasn’t necessary.”

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but behind me, the sound of a door opening and closing got in the way.

I turned to see a man, no, not a man, but a vampire by the smell of old blood on him, step out from Vera’s front door. He was tall and fair and deliciously handsome. Broad shoulders were tailored expertly into an expensive-looking gray suit. His face had that eerie beauty all vampires held—just too perfect, too beautiful, unnatural. He looked to be in his late forties, but with vampires, it was really hard to guess their real ages. He might be over one hundred years old, for all I knew. But oh, I knew. And he was sneaking out of her home, just after sunrise.

Naughty, naughty Vera. You like to play with vampires, eh? Now I know your secret.

The vampire walked by me and winked, amusement dancing in his light eyes. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. Move along... move along.

“You know him?” inquired Logan as he watched the vampire strolling away, a curious expression on his face.

“Never seen him before.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Right. I pulled my face into what I hoped was a neutral expression. “Long story.”

“I’ve got time,” he said, jamming his hands in his pockets, a smile twitching on his lips. “I happen to like long stories.”

O-o-o-kay. “Maybe some other time.” Which I seriously doubted would ever happen. Why did he have to look so damn hot standing there? “Right now, I’ve got a date with my bed.”

Logan’s dark eyes met mine, and he searched my face, saying nothing. Crap. What was he doing?

I froze when he eased forward. Before this awkward situation became an even worse one—like he was reaching out for a hug—I stuck out my hand .

“I guess this is goodbye, huh?” I said, feeling like an idiot with my hand hanging in the air. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll see each other again.” I didn’t think we’d ever cross paths again. This had been a onetime only thing, yet I didn’t want it to be.

Logan’s fabulous lips quirked, and he leaned forward, his eyes on my face... my cheeks... my lips.

Oh. Shit. He’s going to kiss me.

Heat flared from my neck to my face, and my muscles tensed. And at that split second when I thought he was going for my left cheek, I turned to make my cheek available—but overcompensated—and our lips met.

Holy hell.

I stiffened in surprise. His lips moved against mine, warm and soft, and I just stood there, my heart pounding as I kissed him back. His touch sent a spike of desire to my core. My pulse hammered and my knees wobbled. A prick raced over my skin like a shimmer of electricity, enticing, spinning a thrill through me from his lips all the way to my toes. A slip of tongue touched mine, and my pulse jumped.

I pulled away before it turned passionate, which was clearly where it was going. A cool warmth took the place of his lips when I pulled away, my heart beating wildly. I flinched when I realized I had lifted my hands toward his waist and pulled them back to my sides. His breath came out in a slow exhalation that I mirrored.

God help me. What the hell was that? I’d done my share of kissing men before, but I’d never felt weak in the knees—literally—after being kissed. That was Harlequin romance stuff, not real life.

And yet, this had been one of the most exhilarating kisses I’d ever experienced. He was angel-born. What was wrong with me?

Logan stood facing me, desire dancing in his eyes. Recovering smoothly, he leveled out his features and said, “Bye, Samantha,” and turned on his heel and walked away.

My lips were still warm with the memory of his lips on mine. Neither of us had moved away to stop the kiss. We’d just stayed there, enjoying the moment.

I stared at his tight behind as he walked away, appreciating the way his broad shoulders swayed. A mix of fear and exhilaration filled me from the undeniable fact that Logan hadn’t moved away and had liked that kiss we’d just shared.

“You’re in trouble now,” said Poe, between chews.

“Yes,” I answered, my eyes on Logan and finding that I couldn’t take them off him. “I’m in serious trouble.”

CHARMS & DEMONS

CHAPTER 1

A scream split the night air.

I scuffed to a halt, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

The voice was female, young, and human, with a sound of such utter fear and insane terror that it made my stomach churn and my gut shake.

I was out on my routine patrol of the city, keeping tabs on any unruly demon sightings and standing ready to vanquish any stinking bastard that stepped through the Veil and crossed into our world to make meals of unsuspecting humans. Contracted by the Dark Witch Court, it was my job to keep watch on any supernatural baddie that was up to no good. The pay wasn’t great, but it was enough to get by.

It had been a quiet night until now.

I didn’t have the luxury of time to decide on a course of action. When I didn’t move quickly, people got killed. I’d been too slow with Julia, the girl whose parents had hired me to find her, and now she was dead. Killed by a Greater demon, no less.

Shit. I wasn’t a great sprinter nor did I have the physique of a seasoned athlete, but I dashed toward the scream, pushing my legs as fast as they would go, with a spell forming in my head. My hatred for demons wrestled with my fear, fueling me with adrenaline and an extra burst of speed.

I despised them. I hated them to the very depth of my soul. And I was going to fry their asses.

The scream came from the direction of East 14th Street around the corner of 1st Avenue. I raced toward the dark alley squished between Moe’s Vegetarian Lounge and The Pizza Shop, away from the light—always away from the light. To a demon, light was like sticking its finger in the flames of a fire. It burned them immediately.

Why did I always find myself in dark, dirty alleys with the demon of the hour? Because that’s how exciting my life was. Yay for me.

I ran across East 14th Street just as another scream cut through the air. Cars whined into motion, tires squealed, and loud shouts were hurled from drivers as I maneuvered between them, the pounding of my heart loud over the revving engines.

“Watch it!” cried a voice.

“Idiot!”

“Crazy bitch!” shouted a driver from a gray SUV as its engine sputtered and caught, its wheels spinning on the pavement.

Smiling, I flipped him the bird and kept running.

Humans. Such an angry race.

Breathing hard, I leaped onto the sidewalk, zigzagged through a couple of humans in their mid-thirties and rushed toward the alley. If the humans had heard the scream, I saw no indication. Papers and plastic bags rattled and scraped over the streets in a sudden breeze, and the leaves in the trees rustled and sighed in the wind.

I reached the entrance to the alley, slipped through an opening in the chain-link fence, and darted between several empty cardboard boxes and metal garbage bins. The air smelled of beer, piss, and rot—the aroma of a night out on the town. Excellent.

I blinked as darkness hit me, and I slowed to a walk. The alley was cloaked in darkness like a giant drape had blocked all the light from the street and neighboring buildings.

There was only one explanation for that—magic. Demonic magic.

My breath came faster as I felt something wrong, unnatural. An uneasy feeling ran over me, cold prickling along the nape of my neck and up my spine. I stood there for a minute, frowning while contemplating whether I should pull out my chalk. But if I couldn’t see, I couldn’t draw a summing circle either, so conjuring a demon from the Ars Goetia was out.

Damn it. Blinking, I strained to see through the darkness, but it was like standing in a closet with the lights out. I could make out shapes, but that’s where my vision ended.

Shit .

Pulse spiking, I swept my eyes around, trying to pin down the source of the magic and the screaming human. I stepped forward with my hands splayed at my sides and a spell on the tip of my tongue.

The air was hot and stuffy, and I realized the wind had suddenly stopped. Now just pure, brittle and crystalline silence and darkness surrounded me.

Then I heard a struggling sound accompanied by a few frightened grunts before the screaming started again. Closer this time.

And then I was moving again. I acted without thinking, but I couldn’t help it. My instincts pulled me in the direction of that poor human. I had to reach her. I had to save her.

I sprinted into the alley as fast as I could through the darkness and toward the source of the sound, but I still couldn’t see anything. Only darkness stretched ahead of me as though I could go on for hours and not see a single thing. Possibly I was even trapped in this magical abyss.

Screw it. I had no choice.

“Hello?” I called as I halted and listened. “Hello, can you hear me? Where are you?”

A figure appeared through the darkness, short and plump, the silhouette of a small male or perhaps even a small female. It remained hunched before me, about twenty feet away, but I couldn’t make out the face or tell if it was human or demon.

The silhouette just stood there, giving me nothing. Great .

I tapped into the power of my sigil rings and held it with my will. “Hello?” I ventured. Yes, that sounded lame, but I needed to hear it speak before I started shooting off my magic. A dead human would look pretty bad on my record. A fried one, burnt to a nice, blackened and toasty crisp, was even worse.

And still the silhouette still didn’t move.

I let out a breath. “Listen, I don’t have all night. If you could just—”

An invisible force hit me. I never saw it coming, and I certainly never felt it coming either.

It struck me with the force of a linebacker on steroids. Despite my prepared spell, I didn’t even have time to deflect it. Instead, it felt like a giant had slugged me with one of his massive hands head-on, driving me straight back.

I flew several feet through the air, hit the pavement with my back, and then clipped my head. My breath exploded out of my lungs as I scraped another ten feet along the alley floor.

Ouch. What the hell was that?

I tried to muster a breath, but my lungs didn’t seem able to manage it yet. I blinked in the darkness as white stars swirled around in my vision. A sliver of panic slipped through me as the idea of facing another Greater demon formed in my mind. Damn it. After all that had happened with Vargal, you’d think I’d have been more prepared.

Finally, I managed to take a gulp of air, panting as my lungs formed.

“Son of a bitch,” I wheezed as I rolled to my feet. The world tilted, and I did my best not to fall flat on my face. Because that would look totally amateurish. And I was a professional.

Granted, that demon had some serious magical skill. Ten to one, I’d even go so far as to say he was more powerful than me. Yeah. I was having a great night.

Still, I wasn’t about to let some degenerate demon kill me. Not while I still drew breath and had a human to save.

With my jaw gritted, I tapped into my sigil rings again, drawing power from them. Energy coursed through me, filling my veins with the staggering feeling of strength and magic.

My eyes narrowed, and my fingers splayed as I gestured. “Come on, you bastard!” I cried, trying to see through the darkness, but my eyes would never settle on anything solid. “Where are you? Afraid of a little witch?” I waited, adrenaline spiking through my veins as I listened for a single scrape of a foot on the pavement so I could blast him.

A wind rose around me, and then the darkness lifted.

Light spilled into the alley from the moon and the nearby streetlamps, bathing the narrow alley in hues of silvers and blues. Shapes became focused until I could see clearly.

Two things hit me at once. One, the demon was gone. And two, a body lay on the ground not ten feet from me.

Shit. I ran to the bundle. She was lying on her side. Female from her sheer size and the width of her shoulders under the thin black jacket she was wearing—at least what was left of her.

My lips parted as I ran my eyes over the body. Because, yes, it was a body. No one could be alive and look like that.

The skin over her face, hands, and neck was dried, as though all the blood and liquid from her body had been drained. Her teeth were too large, and barely a hint of a nose was left. Just two holes sat where the nostrils used to be amid skin stretched over a skull. There was no way to determine her age. It was as though I was looking at the dried face of a thousand-year-old mummy.

What the hell? The only demons I knew that could suck a human into a dried mummy were a succubus and its male counterpart, an incubus. And yet, from what I knew, it would take days or even months to ingest a human’s life force and all of its liquids to end up looking like a dried prune.

Plus incubi and succubae didn’t have the skills to conjure up a cloak of darkness. Their magical skills ended with just regular glamours and tricks of the minds. Easy stuff. They had nothing this complex and powerful in their repertoire. This didn’t make sense.

Nausea bubbled up. Shit. This was bad.

“Damn it,” I said. “I don’t need this right now.” I knelt next to her, grabbed her shoulder and gently turned her over.

Narrow scoops of flesh were missing from the side of her neck at the jugular.

I felt the blood leave my face and settle around my clavicles.

Holy hell. A demon hadn’t done this. A vampire had.

Vampires were civilized, educated, and had mastered the art of passing for humans so well that even I could mistake them for a human every now and then. Plus they normally didn’t go around killing humans—not for thousands of years at least. We had laws for this kind of thing. Humans were off the menu for vampires. If human blood was offered voluntarily, that was socially acceptable. But if you were caught killing a human, it was a stake in the heart for you.

Over the years, I’d heard the stories of vampires gone rogue on killing sprees. It was inevitable. All societies and races, human and half-breed, had their share of crazies.

Now it looked like I had a rogue vampire on my hands. And he or she was killing innocents in my city.

My stomach churned as I rolled my eyes over the dead human. Something wasn’t right. It would take a normal vampire days to drain all the blood from its victim. Unless the vampire was old. Ancient. Powerful. And if that were true, I had a bigger problem on my hands than a simple rogue vamp.

I had an ancient vampire with powerful magic.

“Oh my God!” screamed a female voice behind me, making me jerk.

Heart pounding, I whirled around and looked into the faces of four humans. This night was just getting better and better.

“What did you do?” exclaimed the same voice, belonging to a dark-skinned woman in her thirties. She waltzed right up to me in her tight red dress. As she stared at the body, her large eyes widened by the second, and her mouth opened in silent “o.” I’d seen that expression before on so many humans and on so many occasions—the expression of disbelief, horror, and the usual “This can’t be real.” Yup, I’d seen them all.

A man with tanned skin and glasses came up next to her and pushed her out of the way to get a better view. He stared for a moment. Then blinked. A sound escaped his throat as he spun around, sending chunks of his vomit in wide arcs all over the pavement.

Lovely.

I stood up slowly, my mind swirling with spells and hexes, but I readied a memory charm instead. To hit four humans with a memory charm wasn’t impossible, but it would take some expert coaxing to keep them still while I did it.

The other two humans, a woman in a black wrap dress and a man in a dark suit, kept their distance—obviously the smarter ones.

“She’s a terrorist,” said the man in the suit, his face twisting in anger.

Okay, I take it back. Not so smart.

“This is some kind of bio weapon,” said the same man, pointing a shaking hand at me. “Like anthrax or something. It’s not natural. It’s engineered.” He covered his mouth and stepped back, grabbing his date with him.

Okay, so I did look guilty, and this situation really looked bad as I knelt next to the body. Though without a magical explanation, human forensics would show that the body had been drained completely. It would have taken some kind of lab or medical equipment to do it, and a person in an alley alone wouldn’t have been able to pump all the liquids out of a body.

“It’s not anthrax,” I said, my voice calm as I gauged the distance between me and the closest human who was still vomiting. Hit him when he’s bent over, and all that. “Anthrax doesn’t drain you of your bodily fluids. It attacks your lungs.”

“And how do you know that?” accused the same man. “You sound like you know all about this.”

Great. This was certainly going nowhere fast. “Google it if you don’t believe me.” I sighed. “But I didn’t do this to her. I found her like this.” Totally true. But the accusations that rippled over their faces and reflected in their eyes said otherwise.

“You killed her, you fucking psycho,” said the same man in the suit, though from a safer distance from me and my supposed victim.

“I didn’t,” I said as I took a step forward toward the man who had stopped vomiting. His face was pale and looked like he might resume spewing chunks at any moment. Damn. Humans were so overly dramatic and so quick to judge. “You have to believe me. I heard a scream and I came to investigate. I only wanted to help her.” I could tell I was just wasting my breath. I was already guilty in their eyes.

The man in the suit’s face was screwed up. He shifted from foot to foot, looking like he was contemplating either bolting or hitting me with a hard object—perhaps hitting me and then bolting. “Then why aren’t you calling 9-1-1?” His face went hard with accusation. “Where’s your phone?”

Touché. Time to work the memory charm.

The woman in the red dress gasped. “Look, she’s wearing gloves,” she exclaimed, pointing at my hands, and I stilled. “She’s got gloves! Gloves!” she shrilled. “It’s anthrax! She’s going to use it on us!”

Ah. Hell.

“You’re not going to get away with this. You killed her!” cried the woman in the red dress, just as her friend pulled out her cell phone, pointed it at me and started taking pictures. I ducked my head just as her date pulled out his cell phone and dialed three numbers.

Yup. That was my cue to leave.

I turned and ran.

They didn’t follow. Screw the memory charm. It was too late for that. And I wasn’t about to stick around and wait for the cops. That wouldn’t go so well—for the cops.

The last thing I needed was the attention of the New York City police on my case, especially when I had a rogue, ancient vampire skilled with magic loose in the city.

Yeah, this had turned out to be a hell of a night.

But something inside me said this was just the beginning.

Click here to grab your copy of CHARMS & DEMONS now!

DARK HUNT

CHAPTER 1

T he demon smiled at me seductively. It wore the guise of a man, a very handsome one, with a chiseled jaw, straight nose and perfect hair. His lips curled toward his eyes, making his whole face shine—the face of an Armani model. It was no surprise with a face like that, and wearing a suit that promised tight, rippling muscles, women were following it like a blowout sale at BCBG.

But I was no ordinary woman.

Its black eyes were like bottomless pits, promising eternal agony, and it sent anger shooting through me. God, I hated demons. Especially the ones that preyed and fed on human souls. I’d been tracking it for two days now, following the death trail of single women in its wake. All the victims were found naked in hotel beds without any signs of struggle or indication of how they’d died. They all shared the same strange smile on their faces, a smile of pure bliss. But with one look at the bodies, their emaciated skin and lacking any echoes of their life-force, I knew what had killed them and what it had taken—their souls.

We were dealing with an incubus. The sex demon possessed the power to lure women to bed with it, promising endless pleasure, only to end up dead and their souls taken.

The New York City Police Department was looking for a serial killer—a human killer—and that had been their first mistake. But most humans didn’t know what dangers lurked in the night, the demons and monsters that crawled through the Veil into our world from the Netherworld to feed.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. It was trying to pull a charm on me. I felt its demon magic lace up my spine, warm and inviting, caressing me like the touch of a man’s hands over my skin. My face was impassive, but anger burned within me, like the summoning of fire.

As a Hunter, tracking down and killing demons, along with all the other creatures that went bump in the night, was my usual line of work. It took a creature to catch a creature.

I’d been hired by Father Thomas, one of Thornville’s local priests, for this job. Father Thomas was a modern-day Templar Knight, waging a secret war against the church’s enemies—demons and half-breeds—which the church hid from the public.

Killing the incubus while inside the bar wasn’t the best idea. I needed somewhere dark, somewhere quiet.

I smiled at the creature. The demon winked at me as it pushed itself from the bar and moved to the door, its every motion emanating a confident seductive grace. Then it slipped out of the Black Pony Irish Pub.

It was cocky, and it wanted me to follow. Whether I’d been made or not didn’t matter. I gulped the last of my gin and tonic and followed it out.

The streets were quieter than usual for a Friday night, and my boots clicked against the sidewalk as I followed the demon. It looked over its shoulder, eyebrow raised, and smiled confidently as it saw me. I clenched my jaw and kept going.

The demon was leading me straight to a small, decrepit building with its exterior walls painted in graffiti and conveniently placed only a block away from the pub. My gaze lingered on the red flashing sign that read Charms Motel. Damn. It was taking me to the motel. The priest wasn’t paying me enough for this crap.

This is pathetic , I thought, eyeing the dingy motel. I was way too good for this, but I needed the money.

The number seven was stenciled in black above the door. The demon pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and walked in.

It left the door open for me, a silent invitation. I hesitated as I watched it stride across the room to stand next to the bed. It removed its jacket and stood facing me, its human muscles peeking through the low-cut shirt. Oh, it was cocky.

Smiling, I walked in and closed the door behind me. No need to alert the neighbors. As I stood in the narrow room, I ran my gaze over the typical motel room—one double bed, striped beige and gray duvet with matching pillows and drapes, and tucked away towards the back was a single door, which I guessed was the bathroom.

It smelled of old cigarettes and musk. My predatory instincts stirred as I felt another prickling of demonic magic tugging against my skin.

It removed its white shirt effortlessly and tossed it in the nearby chair. “Come to bed, darling. Let me show you the pleasures you’ve never dreamed of. I know what you want. What all women want. I can give it to you.” The demon’s voice was low and seductive, like a lover’s purr. I wanted to vomit.

“I doubt it.” I knew I was supposed to play along, but I couldn’t help it. I’d always hated handsome, overly confident men, who thought they could get women into bed with just a smile, a cheap meal, and lots of wine.

The demon’s smile faltered just a little, its black eyes pinning me. “You’re afraid? Don’t be. There’s nothing to be frightened of. I promise. Just relax.” It crossed the room and closed the distance between us.

Close now, I could smell the mixture of sulfur and male musk. It was tall, taller than I’d expected, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

It licked its lips as it lowered its head. I felt the same pulse of demonic magic coming from it, sending tendrils of pleasure over me. I smiled as its magic pulsed one last throb and then melted away, just like all demonic magic and hexes do whenever cast on me.

It pulled its head back. I saw the flicker of annoyance and then recognition as it realized its demonic magic had no effect.

“You,” it said, its black eyes widened. “I’ve heard of you. The rogue Hunter… the angel-born…”

I flashed it my best smile. “That’s me.”

I pulled my soul blade from my waist. The angelic blades were given to us from the angels, forged from celestial metal and light, and as hard as diamonds. I whipped my blade at the demon, but it jumped back, slipping past me like a shadow, the tip just missing its chest.

I hissed as I missed and stumbled forward. It was faster than I’d anticipated. It moved like a cloak in the wind, dark as death and just as quick.

I could see its true shape. Now that it had to concentrate all its magic on surviving, a human guise required too much energy. With its glamour gone, it was naked with the shape of a man, but bent forward with long arms that grazed the floor ending in claws and hooves for feet. Its skin was marred with sores and open wounds filled with yellow pus. Hatred and bloodlust burned in its black gaze. Its leathery face had inhuman curves that most closely resembled that of a large lizard as they were illuminated in the soft light of the motel room. It reeked of death, and the smell of carrion filled the air.

“Damn,” I said as I shook my head. “If only the women could smell you and see what you truly look like, there’s no way in hell they’d sleep with you. You are one ugly mother—”

It shot at me. I felt its cold and powerful demonic magic rise against me, but I never let it finish.

In one fluid movement, I ducked, and then I was up and spinning, the tip of my blade whistling through the air. The demon pitched back, crashing into the wall. It howled and lunged again when my blade was past. It hit me in the back, and I went sprawling onto the bed, the brute force knocking the frame apart and sending the mattress to the floor with us on it. I twisted around, just as the demon loomed over me.

It howled as it shot at me again, yellow spit dripping from its mouth. My eyes burned at the stench of rot and sulfur.

“You dare disturb my feasting!” roared a voice that was many voices, mixed with the wails of demons and the cries of dying men. “I will feast on your soul, angel bitch!”

Its jaws met my jacket sleeve and tore into my flesh with its needle-like teeth. I swore as white-hot pain ripped through my arm. Hot ice ran through my veins—the demon’s poison. I felt the muscles of my arm tighten and then go numb.

“Damn.” Incubus demons were notorious for using their venom to paralyze their victims into a complete trance when their glamour didn’t work. Not going to happen.

I kicked out with my leg and my boot vibrated as I made contact with its knee. The demon staggered back, but in a flash it went for me again.

I struck at it with my blade, black blood spilling everywhere, but it was too quick. The blow glanced off, and it snapped at my arm again. Tears filled my eyes. The bastard was going to chow my arm off if I didn’t stop it.

I felt a rush of panicked anger as I yanked my blade into its side with a twisting cut to the sound of a wail. The demon let go and stumbled back, hissing and spitting. Black blood oozed from the cut on its side as the demon thrashed and spoke in the ancient demon language.

“I’m a little rusty on my demon dialect,” I said as I spat some demon blood from my mouth. “But I think you just called me a very bad word. Am I right?” I frowned at the tear on my jacket sleeve. “Crap. Look what you did. This was my one good jacket. I can’t afford a new one, not even with this lousy job’s pay.”

The incubus turned its head very slowly in my direction. Shit. It was really mad.

It sprang at me again, running like a streak, just a blur of black and shadow. Before I could stop it, we hit the wall together with a frightening force. The impact of pain took the breath from my lungs, and I felt my soul blade slip from my hand. A shower of wood fragments and plaster exploded into the air, falling over my hair, and dust blew into my eyes, blinding me momentarily. I was pinned to the wall and couldn’t move.

The demon shrieked in laughter and its warm breath assaulted my face as it spoke. “I will rip the skin off your bones slowly, until you beg for mercy, until you cry out for your mommy… and then I will suck out your soul like water through a straw.”

It pressed its body against me. I screamed as I kicked and struggled to get away. Hell, I was not going to end up soul-sucked by this incubus in desperate need of a shower.

It grabbed a fistful of my hair, pinning my head to the wall as it licked my face.

I gagged, my eyes watering at the reek of rotten meat. “Screw you.”

It punched my side, knocking the wind from my lungs. “With pleasure.”

I felt the demon going for my neck before it even moved. I cried out, panicking as a guttural laugh tore my ears. Its hand clasped around my neck and began to squeeze.

Blood rushed to my face. I couldn’t breathe. Where was my soul blade?

There was only one thing to do when about to be soul-sucked by an incubus without a soul blade, and that was to hit it where it counts.

I raised my knee with as much force as I could muster and hit it right in its groin—well, what I expected was its groin. It worked. The incubus howled in pain and fell back onto the ground, hunched over.

It was male, after all. Even male demons had their weaknesses.

I snatched my soul blade from the orange-stained carpet, and a thrill rolled up my spine. The fight wouldn’t be ending so soon. I would dance with the demon a little while longer and let my rage free.

“You’ll never hurt another woman ever again, demon.”

The demon laughed, a seductive kind of laugh. “Who said you’re capable of killing me?” It raised itself to its full height.

“I just did.”

With a flick of my wrist, I let my soul blade fly. It flew true and straight and hit the demon straight in its right eye socket.

The incubus burst into flames. It made a horrible scream as it thrashed around the room, its mouth opened wide and teeth snapping as flames burned all over it. Its howl made my skin crawl. Hunched over, it staggered toward me, still on fire, and I backed up.

“I know what you are,” screeched the demon, pointing at me with a flaming hand. “I know! They know it too. They all know it! And they’ll find you! Death is nearer than you think! I’ll be back—”

The demon burst into a cloud of gray ash. I didn’t even wait for the demon ash to settle as I stepped through the falling dust, crossed the room and picked up my blade. I wiped it clean with one of the drapes. It’s not like anyone would even notice, not with the hole in the wall, the broken bed, and the pile of ash that would soon settle all over the room.

My soul blade gleamed. I could see the reflection of my thin face staring back at me, framed by a tangle of long brown hair. God, I was a mess. I needed a shower. Groaning, I sheathed my blade back to my waist.

“Nice work,” said a voice behind me.

I flinched and whirled around.

A man stood in the doorway, and I never heard his approach.

Click here to grab your copy of DARK HUNT now!

BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

SHADOW AND LIGHT

Dark Hunt

Dark Bound

Dark Rise

Dark Gift

Dark Curse

Dark Angel

THE DARK FILES

Spells & Ashes

Charms & Demons

Hexes & Flames

Curses & Blood

TEEN AND YOUNG ADULT

SOUL GUARDIANS

Marked

Elemental

Horizon

Netherworld

Seirs

Mortal

Reapers

Seals

THE HORIZON CHRONICLES

The Soul Thief

The Helm of Darkness

The City of Flame and Shadow

The Lord of Darkness

MYSTICS SERIES

The Seventh Sense

The Alpha Nation

The Nexus

DIVIDED REALMS

Steel Maiden

Witch Queen

Blood Magic

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

KIM RICHARDSON is the award-winning author of the bestselling SOUL GUARDIANS series. She lives in the eastern part of Canada with her husband, two dogs and a very old cat. She is the author of the SOUL GUARDIANS series, the MYSTICS series, and the DIVIDED REALMS series. Kim's books are available in print editions, and translations are available in over seven languages.

To learn more about the author, please visit:

www.kimrichardsonbooks.co m

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1