“See?” she continued, aware her voice was getting higher with nerves. “Just a mistake, Officers, nobody’s dead here, I got the wrong address. Can’t we—”

Jim shook his head. “We still have to contact the owners of the house, see if they want to press charges. We’re going to need to take you in, Dr. Chase.” He turned to the cop who’d recognized Megan. “Get her coat for her?”

“Please, Officer, it was a mistake. I didn’t even break in, the back door was unlocked. Can’t I just go…?”

The looks on their faces were her answer. Megan sighed. “Okay. But I want to call my lawyer.”

She was completing her umpteenth lap of the small holding room when a policewoman finally came and opened the door. “Megan Chase!” She scanned the room and spotted her. “Come on, you’re free to go.”

Trying not to smile at the others who weren’t as lucky, Megan brushed past the officer and out the door. Every fiber in her body screamed to be outside. Only two hours had passed, but it felt like a lifetime. Worrying about going to prison, worrying about her career, worrying about her demons, and, as time stretched, worrying about why Greyson Dante hadn’t shown up yet.

The worry deepened when she got to the small check-in area and saw the man standing there, holding a briefcase and smiling: Hunter Kyle. Definitely an attorney, but definitely not the one she’d called. They’d met a few months ago at a charity party and she’d seen him once or twice since, but…why was he here?

The officer behind the desk grabbed the manila envelope containing her possessions and handed it to her. “Check to make sure everything’s there, please, and sign here.”

She did. “What’s happening? I mean, did I have to post bond, or…?”

“The owners of the house declined to press charges.” He gave her a tight smile, an unfriendly one. “Lucky you.”

“Yeah…thanks.” Did it just bother cops when anyone got to go, or what? For a moment she contemplated reading him, but it didn’t matter. Who cared what he thought? She was free. She had to suppress the urge to skip through the bulletproof glass doors separating the booking area from the rest of the building. Innocent psychologists didn’t skip.

“Are you okay, Megan?” Hunter asked, taking her arm solicitously. “I got everything started as soon as I could, but it took some time for the homeowners to agree to drop the charges.”

“I’m okay, thanks.” They burst through the double doors into icy darkness, broken only by dim streetlights. The temperatures had hovered around freezing for weeks before finally sinking lower two days before. Her entire face felt chapped, stretched by the fierce wind. “Where’s my car?”

“I had one of the boys drive it to my place.” Greyson Dante emerged from the shadows outside the circles of light, like a villain in a James Bond movie. Megan hadn’t seen him in four days. It was a little embarrassing, how her heart leaped at the sight of him, his dark hair shining, his strong-boned face twisted in a little half smile as if he knew the effect his appearance had on her.

Which he probably did.

He extended his hand to Hunter. “Thanks, Hunt. I owe you one.”

Hunter smiled. Megan didn’t think he had any idea what exactly he was being promised; Hunter wasn’t a demon and so wasn’t familiar with the complex system of favors and promises they used. Greyson was powerful, even more now than he had been when she’d first met him. To be owed a favor by him…a lot of demons would have killed for that opportunity. Maybe some of them did.

Then again, maybe Greyson said it because he knew Hunter wouldn’t realize. Greyson never said or did anything without having more than one reason for it.

Her suspicion was confirmed when Hunter merely replied, “No trouble at all, I’m happy to help.”

Megan stood in the cold and bit her lip while the two men chatted for a minute, until Greyson slipped his arm around her waist and made their good-byes.

His black Jaguar wasn’t far away and she was grateful when they reached it. Her toes were numb.

Not so numb Greyson couldn’t still make them tingle. His lips, like the rest of his body, were blissfully warm, and the kiss he gave her sent shivers of flame up her spine—just like the real flames he could create from thin air any time he wished.

“You okay?” His thumb caressed her cheek while tiny sparks of red showed in his eyes.

She nodded. “A little freaked.”

“By being in jail, or by what happened to your demon in that house?”

“I…” Shit. She hadn’t told him what had happened, only that she’d been arrested by mistake. She hadn’t told him about the other demons either. “Both.”

He nodded and put her in the car, then got in on his side and started the engine. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t. How did you—”

“Come on, Meg. Where do you think I’ve been?”

“What do you mean?”

The parking lot disappeared behind them as he sped down the street, past deserted office buildings with the white wires of Christmas lights draped across the windows. It was not yet eight o’clock, but nobody was in this section of downtown. Even the homeless had deserted the streets and found shelter from the cold.

“I went to convince those people not to press charges. It looked like a fucking abattoir in there.”

“I tried to clean up.”

“How thoughtful. Why haven’t you told me what’s going on? I hear this is the third one.”

“Why are you so mad at me? You said yourself, how I run my Meegra is my business.”

“Yes, how you run it. But when your demons start getting killed and demons in other Meegras start getting killed, it’s not just up to you anymore.”

“But I—what do you mean, other demons?”

“I mean, you’ve lost three. I lost one two days ago. House Concumbia have lost four, House Caedes Fuiltean two, everybody’s had at least one loss. I only found out about it today.”

“None of the others told you, then, so why—”

“I’m not sleeping with any of the others, either. I would have—Shit!”

Something thudded at the trunk end, like a large rock kicked up from the pavement. Greyson swerved so hard Megan fell against him despite her seat belt. Cold air flooded the car as he downshifted violently and sped up, jerking the wheel to the right and roaring down a narrow side road.

“What’s—”

“Get down, damn it, that was a gunshot!”

What?” Megan jerked up in her seat, instinctively trying to look behind them, but his hand forced her head back down. Her ear pressed hard against the padded console.

Another shot. This time Megan heard it, heard the rear windshield shatter. She screamed, the sound ripped from her throat as Greyson cursed again and spun the wheel. She fumbled with her seat belt, wanting absurdly to crawl onto the floor and hide like a small child under her bedcovers at night.

Orange light filled the car, pulsing, disappearing and coming back as Greyson sent balls of flame into the car behind them.

He cursed. She popped up, unable to resist looking, and saw the flames extinguish, saw the black car behind them still racing along as if nothing had happened. Another tiny explosion happened inside their car. Again it disappeared and they advanced.

What sort of creatures were these, impervious to fire? Were they vregonis demons, like Greyson himself?

As if in answer to her question, the Jag filled with smoke, black and foul smelling. It filled her nostrils, stuck to her skin.

“Stay the fuck down! Cover your face!”

She ducked just as fire filled the car, burning away the smoke. Sweat broke out on her skin from the brief, intense blast of heat. “What was—”

“Open the glove compartment, get the gun.”

The car bounced over something, a pothole or speed bump. Megan’s arms flailed in the air. She’d tried to reach for the dashboard but the impact had sent her back against her seat.