"NO!” Chess screamed. Ryan didn't pause, his own fingers turning into hooks and sinking into the boy's throat. One quick twist, another horrible sickening crack, and the body slumped uselessly on the floor.

Oh, my God. He just killed him. All the air left her lungs in a walloping rush.

It was all very well to kill demons. But this was a person. Ryan had just committed murder.

What kind of person goes around with claws? the particularly jolly voice of horror caroled through Chess's head. She smelled it again, the ripe gassy scent rising thickly to clog her nostrils and choke her. She hated that smell, hated it; it reminded her of a crooked alley and seeing a little human shape lying broken under an octopus demon's maw, and the sound of wet crunching as the skornac fed.

Ryan stood with another fluid movement, brushing his hands together as if ridding them of dust or dirt. “God grant you peace,” he said harshly. “Chess?"

She pressed her fist against her lips. No. God, no.

"You all right?” He glanced back over his shoulder, black eyes burning.

No, I don't think I'm ever going to be all right again. I think I'm going to throw up. Then scream. Then repeat as necessary. Then I'm going to go home, bury my face in a pillow, and forget all about demons. I don't want this. I never wanted this. She took a deep, endless breath, the scream rising in her throat.

Footsteps, coming from the stairs. Ryan tilted his head, his face suddenly easing. “Finally, some good luck. Come on."

Chess shook her head, beyond words. To go that way she would have to walk past the slumped, inhumanly-thin body on the floor; the hall was narrow and she might even have to touch it. Her gorge rose at the thought. I'm rough, and I'm tough, and I can kill demons… but no way am I walking past that. No way. Uh-unh. No way.

"Chess?” He was right next to her, his hand closing around her upper arm again. Chess flinched. She stared up at his now familiar face, his dark eyes horribly human. She'd just seen him kill someone with his bare hands, and he only looked faintly worried. “We've got to go, sweetheart."

"Ryan? Orion?" Someone shouting on the stairs. Ryan dragged Chess forward. She struggled, but he was too strong, it was no use. He did grab her waist and lift her over the tangled stick-thin legs braced across the hallway. Her stomach gave an amazing cramp. “Christ! Orion!"

"Make up your mind,” Ryan answered, low and fierce, reaching the arch that gave way to the stairs. “Paul? Quiet down."

"Up,” the other voice said, and Chess's heart gave a huge leap. It was the tweedy hunk who had asked her about Delmonico's book.

Then who was dead in the room there?

He arrived in the doorway, looking a little worse for wear—his sport jacket was torn and charred in places, his short sandy hair disarranged, and with a shiner puffing up around his left eye. He was also limping. His jeans were tattered too, and he had a red bandanna tied around his left calf—no, it had been white once, it was just soaked with blood. Chess's jaw dropped.

"Go up, there's Inkani dogs on the street in broad daylight. They're goddamn seri—” The man's eyes flicked past Ryan to her, and widened. He didn't look happy. “What the hell are you doing with her?"

Ryan let out a short, sharp curse. Then he moved forward, pushing Chess in front of him, shoving her up the first two stairs. “She's a Golden, Paul. Or at least a potential. You were too distracted by the fucking sheela to notice. Come on, if they're on the low road we'll take the high road. How fast can you move?"

Wait a second, I don't want to go anywhere with you, leave me alone, go away, what's going on? Her feet slipped on the cheap carpet, and she almost fell. Ryan set her on her feet again, absently. Gee, thanks. Oh, my God.

"Fast enough.” Paul tipped her a mocking salute. His cheeks were rough with stubble, and she smelled a faint, horrible scent that wasn't like the gassy odor of death. Demon, she thought. He's been close to demons. “How are you, Ms. Barnes?"

She managed to find her voice as Ryan shoved her out onto the stairs and started pushing her up them. “No. Stop it. Let go of me. Ouch!"

"You've had your hands full,” Paul said from behind them.

"You have no idea,” Ryan replied dryly. He sounded amused. “Chess, you okay?"

Why do you keep asking me? No, I'm not okay. I'm not. “Who—the room, who—"

"They rented the room right out from under me, some businessman. I've been waiting for you to come back. She's the potential?” Paul spoke right over the top of her words as Ryan kept pushing. Chess stumbled, Ryan set her on her feet again as if she weighed less than nothing. Her arm hurt where he'd grabbed her, she could feel the bruise rising up underneath the skin. “Ah, shit."

"You're never going to live this down.” Ryan sounded a lot happier. Well, he's got his partner back. I suppose that would make him happy. Now all I have to do is go home and bury my head in my pillow. I'll call Charlie and have her bring over a chick flick or two. We'll eat popcorn and giggle. Yeah, that's it. That will be good.

Her throat seemed to closed, her heart hammering, a funny roaring sound filling her ears. I'm dealing really well with this. I just saw him kill someone and I'm not screaming. Right? I'm not screaming. Doing good.

"Hey, I never mistrust what a woman tells me—at least not at first. Besides, the sheela is an Other; I've never seen a potential."

There was a low, harsh growl like broken glass scraping her ears, and Chess flinched. Wet meaty thuds began from below, and she wondered with a fainting sort of horror what was going to happen next. Ryan let go of her arm. “Take her. Keep going up.” He sounded deadly, and her heart began to pound. The stairs seemed to stretch up forever, like a rickety staircase in a Looney Tunes cartoon. What's up, Doc? Nothin, just being chased by demons. Expanding demons. K-k-killing p-people… “Don't let anything happen to her."

Wait a second—

"I'll look after her. Be careful.” Somehow Paul was right next to her, Chess craned to look back over her shoulder as Ryan turned back. She heard the faint double click as he pulled the hammers back on two guns.

"Careful as I can be. Spiders out in broad daylight. What next?” Then he was gone, moving down the stairs so silently he seemed to vanish.

"Ryan—” she whispered. “Ryan."

"He'll be okay.” The Malik pushed her up the stairs. His hands weren't as brutally strong as Ryan's, but his thumb ground into a fresh bruise and she bit back a yelp. “He's done this before. One time we were trapped in an abandoned warehouse in London, that was worse than this."

Her brain began to work again. Christ. Jesus Christ. She reached down with her right hand, digging in her bag and trying to shake free of the grasp on her arm, scrambling up stairs that suddenly seemed far too narrow to hold breathable air. “What—those things, what are they?"

"Spiders,” he replied shortly. “Take the next arch on the left. The Inkani put little soldier-demons inside their human servants, they can make drastic short-term changes in the physical structure of the host. Kind of like a disposable assassin; the body back there will rot inside of three hours as the stresses on cellular structure take effect.” He pushed her into the next hall on the left, opening directly off the stairs. The hall receded back into darkness, the light bulbs in the fixtures either dim or burnt-out; Chess's fingers closed around the hilt of her knife. “Secondary exit. Always have a secondary exit.” He didn't sound nearly as arrogant as he had before. “Christ, I hope he's careful. I'd hate to have to pick a new Drakul… here we are.” He yanked her to a stop, then gathered himself and kicked at one of the flimsy doors. A long vertical crack opened alongside the doorknob, one more kick and the door busted open, revealing another dingy room, this one with a window spattered with rain and gray, fading storm light. The storm had broken, and the early winter twilight had begun.