you felt when Jenny—”
The chattering blast of Toro’s Uzi cut through her words, sent her seeking ground, seeking safety. Lupe leaped, slashed at Toro with a casual paw, and sliced flesh to the bone. He screamed in pain and kept screaming.
Lupe whined, her side torn by at least one bullet. Then her feathers ruffled; her scales shifted color, shading dark, and she lunged for the next nearest person.
Sylvie.
Sylvie had one terrifying glimpse of Lupe’s soft underside, wished she hadn’t holstered her gun, then Lupe went crashing across the parking lot, hurled away by a larger force.
Erinya had made the scene.
A BARE SECOND AFTER ERINYA’S EMERGENCE, SYLVIE’S RELIEF faded. Erinya had come ready to kill; and more, she brought the jungle with her. Vines and lianas burst from the concrete and asphalt, crumbling the ground beneath her. Scarlet flowers fell out of the air, spreading petals that oozed a sickeningly sweet scent.
“Don’t kill her. Don’t hurt her. Just stop her,” Sylvie breathed out. Her back hurt with a growing dull heat; she put a hand to her side, felt perforated flesh and liquid, something slippery inside and out. Toro’s fucking Uzi. Friendly fucking fire. She was too tired to tell how bad it was.
Erinya didn’t even glance in her direction, just sprang on Lupe, rolled her over, squalling, hissing, and snapping. Greenery erupted around them, entangling them.
Demalion’s hands latched tight on Sylvie’s side unexpectedly, and she struck at him, hurting and half-crazed. She laughed when he swore at her, came away with his hands stained wet with her blood. “Marah thinks I’m immortal,” she told him. “Guess not.” Her body throbbed. Her vision blurred.
He manhandled her into her truck, dragged out the first-aid kit, and she tried to push him off. “Got to tell Erinya. Tell her to take Lupe away. Tell her to—”
“Shut up,” he said. “They’re on their own.”
His lips were white, pressed tight between his teeth, and she said, “You’re worried about me?”
“Everybody’s got a hobby,” he said. He leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “Now, shut up. Let me get you bandaged before you bleed out.”
A thunderous crash resounded in the back of the truck, rocked them both violently in the cab, slammed her truck’s nose into the wall, and the animal shrieking cut off all at once. Demalion looked up, wild-eyed, and Sylvie let out a startled yelp as Lupe’s snake head crunched through the back window. But, despite the unlidded gaze, she was out. Unconscious or dead.
Erinya slid behind the wheel, all human delight. “Sylvie! Where’d you find her? She’s wonderful.”
“Drive,” Demalion said.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Erinya said.
“Sylvie’s in no shape to give them. Get us out of here,” Demalion snapped.
Sylvie winced against the seat; the wound was beginning to feel less hot and more hurt. “Erinya—”
Sirens were thick in the air, the approaching cops, ISI—everyone she didn’t want to talk to. Everyone she needed to protect Lupe from.
“Take us to Alex,” Sylvie said, trying to get a last bit of thought out. If things were going to hell this fast, she needed to make sure Alex knew about it.
“Heal her first,” Demalion said.
Erinya hesitated. And Sylvie thought,
Demalion slid out of the truck, and she grabbed at him, wondering what the hell he was thinking, but the effort jolted her and sent her, finally, into unconsciousness.
When she came to, she was still in the truck, and she wanted to scream in frustration. She was tired of fighting—
—and she just wanted to get some fucking sleep. Even as she complained, she realized she felt … better. Not good; still exhausted, shaky, wiped out, and stinking of blood, but better. Also, the world outside the truck had changed. Not the hotel parking lot but someplace cooler, dimmer. Someplace without screaming and panic.
Someplace that smelled strongly of exhaust and oil, a faint overlay of mall perfume.
A parking garage?
The passenger door next to her hung open, and crouched in it, a blurry shape in the dimness, was Erinya. “Don’t be mad,” she said.
Sylvie threw her head back and groaned. “Erinya, what did you do?”
“Healed you,” the Fury said.
“I thought I felt better,” Sylvie said. “Why would I be mad at you for … did you kill Lupe?”
“Lupe is the monster-girl? No. I like her. She’s fun.”
Sylvie swallowed hard, cleared her eyes enough to see that Erinya’s face was bloodstained from cheek to chin. “Demalion—” Sickness churned in her; her breath felt suddenly fragile. Ready to shatter.
“I’m here,” Demalion said from behind Erinya. He sounded all right, but when she saw him, she wasn’t so sure he was. His hands were bloody to the elbows, and his gaze had some of Erinya’s hangdog quality to it.
“What happened?” Sylvie said, pushing herself upright. “Where’s Alex?”
“Hiding,” Erinya said. “She doesn’t like me much without you around.”
“Where are we?”
Erinya huffed. “Questions, questions, questions. I’m bored with that.” She leaped into the bed of the truck, stroked Lupe’s battered feathers to smoothness, slid her hands down along Lupe’s velvety hide. Sylvie wasn’t the only one the Fury had healed.
Demalion reached into the truck, tugged Sylvie out. “Easy. She fixed the wound, but I think you still lost the blood.”
“What happened,” Sylvie repeated.
“I ripped out Toro’s heart and offered it to Erinya in exchange for healing you. I—”
“Worshipped her,” Sylvie said. “Gave your allegiance to a god who hates you?”
“You were bleeding out,” he said, “in my arms. I did what I needed to.”
“Your afterlife,” she said. “Oh God.” She leaned up against him, felt useless tears start in her eyes. An afterlife with Erinya, where she’d chase and torment and hate him for eternity. “I don’t know that I can get you out of that.”
“I won’t die anytime soon,” he said. “Give you time to work on it.”
Sylvie sniffed hard, raised her head. “Yeah. If we get the chance. Where the hell are we?”
“Dadeland Mall,” Demalion said. “You told Erinya to find Alex. She was shopping.”
“At the Apple store,” Alex said. She sidled around the truck with a wary glance at Erinya, still crooning over her unconscious playmate. “Amazingly enough, having a Fury pluck you out of it makes things tricky. On the bright side, I’ve got a new toy. Since I was holding on to it when Erinya grabbed me? I’m trying to figure out if that makes me a shoplifter or what.”
Sylvie said, “The mall, Alex? With all that’s going on?”
“The ISI took your sister out of the airport. I felt a little exposed at the office and at home. I’ve been here since it opened, waiting for you to call.”
Sylvie found herself sinking more heavily against Demalion, and he said, “We need to get you a place to rest.”
“I’ve been saying that for the last twenty-four hours,” Sylvie muttered. “But Zoe, Graves—”
“Riordan’s just going to have to wait,” Demalion said. “We need a bolt-hole. Your apartment’s not safe enough. Hotel?”
“I know where to go,” Alex said. “I’ve been thinking about it. Enough space for all of us and maybe even safety from memory modifications? From Riordan’s haranguing you to get busy?”
“Yeah, yeah, cut to the chase,” Sylvie said.
From the truck, Lupe emitted a strange groan, then began to collapse inward, shifting back to human. Erinya
