"Were they arguing?"

She nodded. "Aunt Cassie looked pissed, and the blond guy just kept waving his hands around. It wasn't like he was threatening her-more like he just wanted to convince her of something, you know? But whatever it was, she wasn't buying it. He stormed out of the house and walked away. I didn't see him get into a car or anything-it was kind of weird. Like, I turned around for a second, and when I looked back, he was just gone. Maybe he ran away or something?"

Derrick and I exchanged a look. I knew how fast vampires could move, especially when they were feeling particularly motivated.

"Anyway," Mia continued, "I walked into the living room and asked my aunt about it, but all she said was that he was an old friend. He didn't look old, though. I mean, Aunt Cassie is old, like, at least forty-"

God, I remembered when forty seemed unimaginable. To be thirteen again.

"But he looked young, no older than twenty, maybe even eighteen or something. He had a baby face."

"And your aunt never said anything after that?" Derrick asked.

"No. She didn't want to talk about it. When you guys showed up, I figured that she'd make a statement or something-but then she just clammed up. So I thought I should say something. I mean, if this guy's dangerous, I don't want him coming around our house again. Even if my aunt's too polite to say anything, or too old-fashioned or whatever, I'm not going to risk our lives over it!"

"Good," I said. "That's exactly the right attitude to have. Too many crimes go unreported because nobody wants to say anything."

What I didn't tell her was that, every day, people got killed because of what they did say-because they had the courage to stand up to their attackers, but they couldn't protect themselves from eventual retribution. That wasn't going to happen to Mia. If I could prevent it, I would-however crazy things got. I don't know why I suddenly cared so much, but as I looked at her, all I could see was a younger version of myself. Sly and sarcastic, but also scared, alone.

Who was I trying to save exactly?

"Tess." Derrick gave me a warning look. "We have to get back to the lab soon-and we should really have Mia talk to Selena, or even Marcus-"

"Marcus will just get all persnickety and ask her to fill out forms."

"No, no, it's okay." Mia stood up. "I'll talk to someone else-I trust you guys. I can give a statement, or whatever you want me to do."

"She's going to have to eventually," Derrick added.

Why was he suddenly being Mr. Textbook? Normally, Derrick was all about breaking the rules. I once saw him use a gas chromatograph to analyze the chemical content of his Pizza Pocket.

"I can do it," Mia insisted. "Really, and my aunt doesn't even have to know. I think you should search the house-maybe that guy's crazy, maybe he left something behind. A fingerprint or something, who knows? I'd sleep better knowing that we were safe-or as safe as we can ever be."

"Okay." I resisted the urge to groan as I sat up. These day shifts were killing me, and all I wanted to do was climb under the covers and sleep for a week. "Let me just get you some water first. Or I've got orange juice, I think." I wandered into the kitchen, careful to avoid the spot on the floor where the old linoleum was peeling. All I wanted to do was postpone the inevitable meeting with Marcus, which I hoped wouldn't evolve into some kind of disciplinary hearing.

I opened up the fridge. "Okay. I've got orange juice, cola, and something blue-Derrick, what kind of juice could be blue-"

That was when my door blew off its hinges.

I grabbed my athame from my jeans pocket, and ran back into the living room. Already, my own panic was fueling it- making the steel warm against my hand. The athame had always been the mage's weapon of choice. A dagger with a symbiotic connection to its wielder, joined in a pact of power, blood, and promise. The process for creating the weapon was ancient-a guarded secret. But it was one of the rare things that a demon feared. Especially if an angry mage was holding it.

Fuck, I hadn't sensed anything. What was wrong with me? What made me think that I could just drag Mia over here, and nothing would happen?

In that instant, I realized how stupidly tired I was. Tired of the misery and murder that demons, warlocks, and supposedly "normal" people caused, tired of all the heartache, and tired to death of fighting them. It was my job to make the world safe for kids like Mia, but now, she was the one in danger. A good kid-an orphan, schooled in loss, knowing intimately what it was like to have her parents ripped away from her.

I'd had enough of it. Something was going to pay.

Right now.

What I didn't count on was the demon in the middle of my living room, stepping over the wreckage of my shattered front door and carrying a Browning Hi-Power semiautomatic.

Derrick was standing in front of Mia, one hand held out, as if he could shield her from a spray of bullets. The demon was tall-most demons were-and built like an Italian bodyguard. He was bald, with pale skin and dark, almost black, eyes. I knew he was powerful because I could feel his genetic imprint even standing this far away. It was like the stink of sulfur, assaulting, making my eyes water.

"What do you want?" I asked, silently drawing as much power as I safely could, channeling it through the athame. I wanted to take this thing out without injuring Mia or Derrick, but I wasn't sure that I'd be able to.

The demon extended his other hand, and long, gray claws emerged from the flesh of his fingers with an eerie grating sound, like a Ginsu blade being drawn. It made me shiver. His other hand remained normal, still cradling the automatic.

"What do you think?" He smiled, revealing two separate rows of fangs and a flexible mandible.

Mia screamed. Finally. The demon turned to her, continuing to smile, and his mouth separated into two pieces, both armed with six-inch teeth. He had the grin of a homicidal shark.

Great. A Vailoid demon. They were about as easy to kill as an armored tank. And I had no backup at all. I'd tangled with a Vailoid once before, but that was years ago. When you were still young, the voice in my head reminded me. I'd been eighteen then-barely-and practically vibrating with power. And I'd had help. Now all I had was my own, significantly diminished power, a telepath who probably couldn't even pierce the demon's psychic defenses, and a girl who just might be more dangerous than all of us put together. If she really was a proto-mage.

Well, Dad, I thought, as usual, you were right. I should have gone into real estate.

Derrick and I exchanged a look. We both knew that we were up shit creek, but what else could we do?

I raised the athame. "Let's do this."

The Vailoid demon laughed-a horrific, burbling sound.

Then he pointed the gun at me and fired.

8.

I remember, quite distinctly, the first time I had to use my powers to kill.

I was fourteen.

I'd already run through endless combat scenarios, and practiced all of my combat techniques until every muscle in my body ached. But that was under controlled conditions. This was in a dark alley at 2 a.m., and there weren't any safeguards in place. Just me and a vampire. A very hungry vampire.

He was young-newly dead, just like the one we found on Granville-and that was probably what saved my life. When vampires are first raised, they're disoriented. Hungry beyond all reason, not thinking at all, but just operating on pure animal instinct. From his red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands, I could tell that he'd just risen from the grave, and he was desperately looking for a blood fix. The vampiric hunger, they say, is an incredibly powerful thing. Much more powerful than meth, or crack, or heroin addiction. I never wanted to find out what that sort of hunger might feel like.

"Don't suppose you'd consider not eating me?" I had to ask. Even at fourteen, I'd always been a sarcastic little thing.

The vampire moved in a blur, and suddenly he was behind me, one arm wrapped around my chest. His grip was like iron-no way I could break it. Vampires are considered the demon upper class for a reason. They have a lot of the vestigial power of the higher-tier demons, including strength and speed, but they're also extremely adaptable. And contrary to the obvious, they actually like humans. They find us fascinating. And tasty. He grabbed my neck with his free hand, angling it sharply upward so that I gulped, straining to breathe. I could feel his rancid, hot breath on my skin, a trail of saliva dripping from his mouth.

I knew what was coming next. I had to let him bite me. It was the only way to ensure that he was completely distracted, which would allow me to fight back. Otherwise, he'd sense the magic building, and pop my head off like a dandelion.

His teeth sank into my neck. It hurt far worse than I'd imagined. Luckily, he was more intent on feeding than on hurting me, so he didn't tear at the flesh or rip into the collarbone. He just sucked, and the feeling was horrific, indescribable. Like having your soul sucked out, one swallow at a time. I remember that I gasped, even though I hadn't meant to. I remember that my eyelids fluttered, and that I felt a nauseating mixture of pain, fear, and desire. It was the desire that still scares me, even to this day.

I got through the pain, though. I found the rage beneath, and poured that, along with my willpower, into the magical attack. When my fingers touched the pale, cold flesh of his face, they left searing red prints. He cried out in unexpected pain, lurching backward and putting a hand to his face.

Then his entire body burst into flame.

And fire, it seemed, would always possess my life. Someone would always be burning-a human, a vampire, a friend-always someone. Fire, like magic, was insatiable. It wouldn't give up until it destroyed everything, even its creator.

Especially its creator.

A lot happens in your brain when someone points a gun at you. I managed to think about all of this, to remember all of it, in less than a second. Watching Mia triggered the memory, since she was about the same age now as I was when I first had to kill something with my powers. And in that instant, I felt a flash of grief as I realized how her life was going to change. How she'd probably have to experience everything that I had. How she'd have to kill, violently, in order to survive. Just like an animal. Sometimes it felt like that's all we were. Just brilliant, logical animals, killing other animals to survive. Just creatures fighting to occupy the top of the food chain.

I'd never seen a demon with a gun before, so at first it took me by surprise. Demons don't normally have to rely on guns, since bullets don't do much to stop them, and they're perfectly capable of killing a human with their own bare hands. But I didn't pause for long. As soon as he raised the gun, I squeezed the hilt of the athame, and released the power that I'd been building up. I felt a hot rush of energy, then whirled around and leapt behind my desk, just as the Vailoid demon squeezed the trigger.

With a standard .45 caliber bullet, the Browning had a velocity of about 1,500 feet per second. I'd seen powerful vampires clocked at over twice that speed, dodging bullets like they were lawn darts. I felt my shoulder slam into the hard linoleum behind the desk, and then, a fraction of a second later, I heard two bullets thud into the desk. I didn't have a stopwatch, but I think, with the magical nitro boost, I'd cleared 2,000 feet per second.

I instantly felt nauseous.

"Mia, go into the bedroom, and stay there," I heard Derrick say. His voice was oddly flat, and calm, as if somebody else was speaking through him. "Don't open the door until we say so."

I dared a glance over the desk. Mia kept looking at Derrick, then at the Vailoid demon, then back at Derrick.

"I-" She didn't quite know how to finish the sentence.

"Mia, go. To the bedroom." I heard the snap of power in his voice. Telepaths called it Vox- a psychic modulation of their voice that allowed them to issue subliminal commands. I'd rarely heard Derrick resort to it, but I knew that he was using it now. I could feel the power in my gut.

Mia blinked at him for a moment, then turned around and walked calmly toward my bedroom.

The demon didn't stop her. Clearly, he was here to retrieve her, which meant that she wasn't in any immediate danger. Derrick and I were the ones that were seriously screwed.

Praying that Derrick wouldn't try anything too stupid, I crawled around the side of the desk until I was shielded by a bookcase. It wouldn't provide much cover, but it was better than waving my arms in the open. I held the athame close to my chest, allowing it to draw more power.

"What's a demon doing with a nine?" I asked. "Kind of tacky, don't you think?"

"It's the millennium." I could hear the shiver of pleasure in his voice. "And we're nothing if not adaptable. You know, you move pretty quick for a human."

"Yeah? I'm real bendy, too."

The demon laughed.

I sucked in my breath. Hostage negotiation had never been my thing. Normally, I wasn't the one hiding behind a bookcase. "Why don't you put the gun down, and we can settle this by talking?" Great. I sounded like Magnum P.I.

"I could do that." The Vailoid paused. "Or I could blow a hole in your friend's skull, here. At this range, they couldn't even use dental records to ID him."

I felt bile in my throat. That wasn't going to happen.

The athame began to glow with a pale orange light. Fire, I thought. I can be a spark, too. Not enough to burn the place down (I wanted to keep my damage deposit), but enough to drop the Vailoid. I held the athame tighter.

"You've got about three seconds to quit hiding like a little girl," the demon said, "before I chop your friend in half. How does that sound?"

I kept drawing materia, silently. I could feel geothermic energy from the earth pouring into me, through the soles of my shoes, up my legs, coursing through every inch of my body.

"One," he said playfully.

I held the athame in the air, concentrating on it. This was a familiar combat technique, but I hadn't used it in a while. Timing was everything.

"Twwwooooo." He drew the word out, like a child playing hide and seek. I could feel every muscle tingling. Now or never.

"Three," I said, whirling out from behind the bookcase. The demon raised his gun, and I threw the athame, aiming for his chest.

The blade shimmered like a roman candle as it flew through the air, elongating and blazing outward, until it was the size of a spear. It plunged through the demon's shoulder, and he cried out-more with surprise than pain-dropping the 9mm. Then the athame flared with light, and flames licked along the demon's body.

My aim was off, but at least he'd dropped the gun.

The Vailoid grabbed the spear with both hands, wrenching it out of his shoulder with a low cry of anger. He threw it to the floor, and the athame shrank to its usual proportions, molten light cooling until it was just a normal blade again. The flames trembled and vanished. Still, I could see the wound in his shoulder, leaking out jet-black blood. The smell was horrible-like a tar factory exploding.

The demon came barreling toward me like a logging truck. I kicked the bookcase and gave it an extra push of willpower. It flew through the air, but he flung it aside with one arm, and it crashed into the wall.

Shit. Got to remember that Vailoid strength.

I mentally ran through everything I knew about this type of demon. Strong, smart, ruthless.

Generally bounty-hunters, specializing in contract jobs. They work for the highest bidder, and if the price is right, they'll assassinate their own cousin. In fact, they might even do that for free.

To kill a demon, you have to destroy the body completely. None of this stake-through-the-heart bullshit that you see in vampire movies. Demons were hard as fuck to kill, and unless you did it properly, they didn't stay dead.

"He told me not to harm the girl." The demon smiled. "But nobody said anything about two mages, which means I can do what I want to you and your friend. And I've been giving serious thought to how I'm going to kill you both. How I'll make it last."

"He?" A cold tremor passed through me. The vampire must have had friends-very powerful friends. "What's Mia gotten herself into? And since when do Vailoids work for newly sired vamps?"

"Vampires?" He laughed-as if he knew something that I didn't. "If you don't have a clue, then I'm not about to tell you." The demon paused. "I mean, maybe I'll tell you once I've torn out your ribcage. But then you won't exactly be able to do anything with the information."

"You're very poetic for a Vailoid."

He smiled, and his jaw separated, revealing both sets of fangs.

I kicked the demon in the chest, pouring all of my willpower into the blow. There was a crack of compressed air as the energy exploded, then the demon flew backward, crashing into a wall of bookshelves and toppling them over. Oh well. I kind of wanted to move anyway.

I turned, and saw that Derrick was leaning against the desk. A thin trickle of blood dripped from his nose. Shit. Not good. He must have been lending me energy, or concentrating on keeping Mia from moving-it was taking all of his resolve.

"Get out of here," I said. "Go protect Mia. I'll deal with this thing."

"I don't want to leave you alone-"

"Just go," I snapped. "Derrick, you're burned out. You won't be able to help me. Just go and watch Mia."

I could see my athame on the ground-I might be able to get to it in time. The demon was a bit slow getting to its feet. Maybe the wound was starting to bother it.

Shit. Just do it, Tess.

I ran for the blade, dropping to my knees to avoid the demon as he swiped his claws at me. I managed to touch the hilt, but then the demon's other hand locked around my throat. He swept me into the air, and I gasped, seeing bright spots. This was not good. This definitely qualified as a panic situation.

He snarled and backhanded me across the face, and I fell to the floor. It felt like getting hit with a cinderblock, and I spit out blood, feeling the sharp sting where my lip was cut. I was going to look like roadkill tomorrow morning. Crouching, I pressed one hand to the ground, drawing power. The demon lunged, and I thrust upward with my other hand. A column of fire exploded from my palm.