The demon screamed, stumbling backward and clutching his face. Demons could heal fire damage, but it took a lot longer. And it pissed them off.

He leapt at me. I didn't have a chance to raise any sort of defense, and he hit me full on, pinning me to the ground. Three hundred pounds of demonic muscle. I couldn't breathe. My ribs were creaking, and I could feel his breath on my face. It reeked like sulfur, ash, and something rotting.

He wrapped his hand around my throat again. I tried to push him away with the force of my will, but it's hard to concentrate when someone's methodically strangling you. I managed to make him shift position, but that was it. I could feel one claw digging into my side- playfully. He wouldn't draw blood until he was ready. He wanted to savor it, savor my terror, like a wonderful meal.

I kneed him, as hard as I could, in what I hoped was the anatomical equivalent of his privates. I guessed right. He groaned in surprise, shifting his weight just enough for me to get some leverage. I jammed my fingers into his throat. His grip loosened slightly, and I brought my other knee up, smashing him in the face.

He howled, and before I had the chance to move, his claws raked across my right arm and shoulder. They burned for an instant, then the arm went numb. Great. It was either venom, or shock. Praying for the latter, I managed to grab the athame with my left hand. My right hand was pinned against his chest, but I channeled power into the athame, and it flared red-hot. I smelled the acrid stench of burning skin, and the demon cried out angrily, giving me just enough leverage to slice deeper with the blade. Howling, he grabbed my bad arm and wrenched it upward. I screamed-I couldn't help it. He was holding my arm now, and he could pull it out of its socket, or tear it right off. Maybe he really was going to follow through on his threat.

Still holding me by the arm, he closed his fingers around my throat again.

"This time," he said sweetly, "I won't let go."

I dug the blade deeper into his side, but I didn't have the strength to do a lot more damage with only one hand-and my left hand, at that. He squeezed my throat harder. The spots appeared, then little flickers of darkness at the corners of my eyes. If I blacked out, it was all over. I lunged, trying to kick his feet out from under him, but he was braced against the desk.

I couldn't move him, and my strength was fading.

Shit. Oh shit.

"I just want you to know," the demon said, "that this won't end here. The fun starts when you wake up. First, I'll make you watch while I carve up your friend. I'll make the girl watch, too.

She's got to learn sooner or later, right? About our world. About how things work out here, in the wild."

"I'm taking you with me," I snarled, "you piece of-"

"Now, now, princess-save those fighting words for later. I want you alive and full of spunk, so that you can watch me-"

I heard a loud crack that made my ears ring, and the demon's grip slackened. Another explosion, and something warm and horrible splashed across my face. The demon stumbled backward, screaming angrily.

I wiped the blood off my face and looked up. Derrick was standing behind the desk, pointing a Glock .40 at the demon's head. The gun that I kept underneath my bed-the gun that I should have grabbed as soon as we entered the apartment, but I hadn't even thought about it.

As an OSI, I had a permit to carry concealed, although I usually just kept the Glock at home for emergencies. It was equipped with Hydra-Shok bullets-the kind that blossomed like mushrooms, exploding outward to do the most damage possible.

I looked up at the demon, and realized that about one-third of his head was missing. I didn't want to see what my clothes looked like.

I grabbed the athame with both hands and drove it upward, using all of the strength that I had left. The blade sliced through the demon's abdomen with a spray of blood, spilling out intestines all over my lap. I recoiled from the sharp stink of acid, bile, and excrement, but kept slicing, until the blade popped out of the creature's ruined throat. It was still screaming, but the sound had become more like a gurgle.

Once the head was gone, the body was more or less complacent. It was still alive, one remaining hand clenching convulsively, its claws trembling-but it couldn't attack me anymore. Holding my breath and grimacing, I reached into the chest cavity and pulled the heart free. I told myself that I was reaching into a warm bowl of spaghetti, since that's almost what it felt like. The worst part was that the stench would cling to my fingers for days.

God, this was why I never dated.

The heart was soft and surprisingly heavy, like a lump of ground beef in my hand, slick with blood. I let it drop to the floor.

"Don't touch the body," I told Derrick. "Fuck. Oh fuck. Marcus is going to have kittens when he sees this."

He stared at me. "Come on, Tess. That thing tried to kill us. Marcus is a bastard, but he can't possibly think that you had something to do with this."

"Didn't I? We led him straight to Mia. She wouldn't have been here if it weren't for our meddling."

"No, she'd probably be dead." His look was surprisingly calm. "If she'd been at home, alone-you know what would have happened, Tess. You saved her life." He smiled weakly.

"You pretty much saved my life, too."

"You held your own."

He chuckled. "I got a nosebleed, and barely slowed him down."

"We worked together. Like we always do." I sighed.

"Well, we've got to call it in. We won't know how it's all going to turn out until you talk to Selena."

I tried to catch my breath for a minute or two, not saying anything. Derrick was silent as well.

My right arm was burning now-a good sign, since the numbing had only been temporary, and not some kind of poison. It would definitely need stitches, although the bleeding was shallow, thankfully.

Finally, I turned to him and smiled. "Shit. I can't believe you fired the Glock. And you actually hit him."

"I almost dislocated my shoulder." Derrick touched his arm and winced. "Plus, my ears are still ringing. You're banged up a lot worse, though. We'll definitely need to go to a clinic."

"We'd better check on Mia," I said. "You go in first. I don't want her to see me yet-she might freak out."

"Sure. I'll be right back." He paused. "Um-what about-" He gestured to the Vailoid demon's body.

"Just, um"-I sighed-"tell her to close her eyes. And make sure that she doesn't step in it."

"Gotcha." He went back to the bedroom.

I definitely needed time to process. And a shower. And possibly chocolate.

I surveyed the remains of our lunch-shredded cherry-cheese croissants. I couldn't tell cherry from demon blood.

"Derrick?" I called weakly. "Derrick? Are there any cookies left?"

9.

After the HAZMAT guys confirmed that the demon's blood wasn't a biohazard, Tasha bagged the body and took it back to the morgue. The photographers snapped more pictures of the bloody patch of hardwood floor where he'd been lying. They took samples of the blood, along with the other fluids that the demon had been kind enough to leave behind. Then they swabbed the blood on my hands for further testing.

They sprayed Derrick's hands for gunshot residue, even though he'd freely admitted that he fired the weapon. Whenever you fire a gun, the primer creates a residue of lead, barium, and other trace elements, all expelled in a cloud that can travel up to three feet away. You'd be surprised how many criminals don't know that, or don't think about other evidence, like the expelled casing shells.

An OSI-1 whose name I couldn't remember-although I recalled seeing her in the office a few times-swabbed Derrick's hands and clothing. The swabs would be taken back to the crime lab and subjected to an Atomic Absorption Test. We had a machine called a spectra-photometer that could detect the amount of GSR-mostly lead particulates-that were present.

They tested my hands as well, and I'd have to give them a sample of my clothing for the AA test. It seemed like such a violation, even though I knew that people at a crime scene have to go through this kind of testing all the time. My Glock .40 was printed, the serial number recorded, and then it was confiscated as evidence.

The same OSI who'd processed Derrick's GSR kit was now spraying a pool of blood near the floor with an aerosol solution. There was a footprint smeared in the blood. I knew it was mine, but they had to make sure-and although everybody was being very polite and listening to me, I knew that I was also being treated like any other potential suspect. They were just here to process the evidence, not to take my side, or assign blame. She sprayed a fine mist on the footprint- Leucocrystal Violet, a spray dye used to enhance prints in blood-then signaled one of the photographers to take pictures of it. After the pictures were taken, she used a rubber-gelatin lifter to extract the print.

I watched Selena leading Mia out of the bathroom. She wrapped a blanket around the girl's shoulders, gave her a cup of water, and then headed toward me. Great. I'd been trying to avoid this conversation since yesterday, but everything was going to come out now. Selena looked calm, but that could be a bad sign. Maybe she was trying to figure out the most creative way to have me arrested.

"Hey." She touched my shoulder. It was a surprising gesture. Selena hardly ever made physical contact with anyone, and it took me off guard.

"Hi," I said weakly. If I concentrated very hard, I wouldn't throw up all over her expensive leather jacket.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you okay? Really?"

I winced. "I'll need some stitches, and some extra-strength painkillers. But other than that, I'm fine. I got lucky."

"I'll say. A homicidal Vailoid demon is nothing to sneeze at. You did good. Your training has really paid off."

I stared at her. Was she actually complimenting me? I was embroiled in a murder investigation, being stalked by the same demons that I was supposed to be trailing, and now she was giving me a good recommendation?

"Selena," I said slowly. "I know this looks bad, okay? Mia Polanski, here, in my apartment.

But-"

She raised a hand. "I wouldn't say anything else, if I were you. This has been a rough day. You're still in shock, and you're probably suffering from a massive hangover, too, considering the power that you threw around. We can save the real questions for when you're feeling better." She smiled-it was small, but conspicuous. "Right now, all I care about is making sure that you, Derrick, and the girl are safe."

The front door opened, and Marcus walked in.

I was afraid that he might show up, but it still surprised me to see him here. As regional director, he didn't have to be present at every single crime scene. He could always just read the report later. But it stood to reason that he'd want to be here to yell at me in person.

Marcus saw me, and for a moment, he looked startled. I didn't blame him. Who would have thought that Derrick and I could take down a Vailoid demon-and one armed with a semiautomatic, to boot? I was surprised to be alive, and I liked me.

He walked over, and the momentary look of shock was replaced by anger. His cold eyes seemed to swallow me up.

"What the hell is going on here, Corday? You were supposed to interview the Polanski girl at her home. Now she shows up at your"-he gave the apartment a look of profound distaste, as if he'd just entered a mud and wattle hut- "domicile, and suddenly we've got a dead demon on our hands."

"Back off a little, Marcus." Selena glared at him. "The poor girl almost got killed today. Give her a chance to catch her breath."

He seemed about to say something, but then the anger dissipated. He gave me a look up and down. "You okay? Hurt, or just shook up?"

Concern from Marcus felt odd-like the bitchy shoe manager at Holt Renfrew suddenly asking you how your day was. But I saw something close to empathy in his eyes. I started to wonder how much I really knew about my boss.

"Just shook," I said, wincing. "Might need a few stitches. All in all, a pretty standard lunch hour, I'd say."

He nodded. "Don't mind the cleanup crew. They don't mean to treat you like a suspect, but there are-"

"Protocols." I smiled weakly. "I know, Marcus. They're just doing their jobs."

"You'll have to go to the clinic. Her, too." He glanced at Mia. "As they say in the break room-this is going to be a bit of a clusterfuck."

"Marcus!" I don't think I'd ever heard him swear before. "I'm going to have to include your objectionable language in my report."

He smiled wanly. "Don't relax too much. We've got a lot of damage control to do here. The suits are going to want to know specifically what our chief witness in a vampire homicide case is doing at the head OSI's apartment in the middle-"

"It was my idea to come here."

Mia was suddenly beside me-I hadn't heard her move at all. Her eyes were clear and sharp. She had no problem meeting Marcus's gaze.

"We've already taken a statement from you, Miss Polanski, " Marcus said. "We've also called your aunt-she'll be coming to pick you up from the clinic, once you've been properly examined."

"I know that." Mia didn't smile. "I just wanted to give my statement again, since you don't seem to know what really happened."

Marcus's face paled for a moment. God. She was contradicting him, baiting him. I hoped Mia knew what she was doing.

"Well then," he said, "why don't you explain it to me? Why do you think that . . ." He hesitated over the word "demon." "Why do you think that killer was after you? And how did you happen to be in Miss Corday's place of residence today? "

"I came looking for Tess and Derrick," Mia said. "I remembered them from the other day, and I wanted to talk to them. Tess tried to take me to your office, but I didn't want to go. I- threatened to run-"

Lie number one. I didn't know precisely why she was lying for me, but I wasn't about to bring it up now.

"And what were you doing in the city to begin with? Shouldn't you be in school at this time of day?"

"I'm homeschooled. And I got a ride in with my aunt- she's at work right now, but she's picking me up at six."

"We'll confirm all of these details with her. Just to make sure."

"Whatever," Mia said. "I feel like crap. Someone said we were all going to get checked out at a clinic or something. Can we go there now?"

"Of course." He smiled. "In a few moments. We have a facility nearby. In the meantime, why don't you gather up all your belongings?"

"All right," she said numbly. She didn't even look at me.

Once she'd disappeared back into my bedroom, Selena touched my arm.

"You need anything?" she asked. "Water? Coffee?"

"Tequila?" I asked weakly.

She smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

"Before you go anywhere, Selena," Marcus said, "I want to make sure that we're all clear on the protocol here. Tess will have to be reassigned to another case."

I stared open-mouthed at him. "What? You can't do that!"

"It's policy," he said simply. "Until we've established that you used your powers against the demon in self-defense-"

"He was trying to kill me, Marcus!"

He raised his hand to keep me from interrupting. "Until you're cleared, officially, and we've established that you don't have any kind of previous relationship with the victim, Mia Polanski, I have no choice but to assign you to a different case."

"That hardly seems fair, Marcus," Selena began.

"It's not fair." He gave me a sympathetic look. "We've all been under the magnifying glass at one time or another. Once you're clear, you can go back to working the case. Until then, it's a conflict of interest."