the power to make sure I’d never leave the hotel alive. That I had to surrender my soul into his keeping. ’Til death do us part. All he had to do was flash a little lightning, and I caved.” He flashed her a strained smile. “There’s no divorce between demons. If you kill him, you’ll free me, and I’ll be in your debt. Forever.”
“I don’t want a demon owing me anything. But I’ll let you slip away. So long as you behave. Agree to take only what you need to survive from the women you prey on, and I’ll let you keep breathing.”
He nodded, and then jerked his head toward the hallway. “He’s in the room. Something’s up. He never goes there unless he’s pulling someone through to make a meal of.”
She gave him a hard smile. “Thanks. You wait for me.”
Without another word, she tucked her basket against her belly and sped down the hall.
Something was happening, all right. Lights flickered. The dreaded humming vibrated in the air. The hairs on her arms prickled and lifted.
She stopped at the door and plucked the mirror from the basket. Holding it in front of her face, she hoped like hell Morin wasn’t wrong. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned the handle and entered.
Avery Lewis stood in front of the wall, a younger version of himself, brown hair touching his collar, geeky glasses perched on his nose. His arms moved in a circular motion, and the walls were only beginning to liquefy.
At the click of the door closing, he turned his head.
She held her breath, glancing around the mirror to watch as his head canted and his eyes narrowed. Not daring to breathe, she waited as he stared at the mirror for a second, then blinked and returned his attention to the vortex that was beginning to swirl in front of him.
Cait edged quietly to the bed and set down her basket on the floor beside it, unfolding the cover with one hand while continuing to hold up the mirror.
A cackle sounded. A dry sound that grated on her nerves. His arms continued circling, widening, then pulling back. The wall disappeared, the space in front of him darkening, filling with a milky, swirling cloud of gray and white that flickered with touches of light.
The demon shaped the cloud with his hands, forming an ever-widening cone. Lightning flashed through the opening, a deadly arc tapping his hands and then wrapping around them. He pulled it like a rope, grabbing the jagged bolt to tug it hand over hand into the room, where it flicked up to the ceiling, tapping its way around, searching for ground.
Wind whipped inside the room, charged with static electricity that raised gooseflesh and hair. Cait ducked down beside the bed, her gaze going from the jagged flicking bolt back to the swirling vortex.
Two large shapes glowed in the center, attached to the end of the lightning rope. Sam and the uniformed cop dropped to the floor in front of Avery, their clothing sparkling with little embers of fire, steam rising on their hair and skin. Their bodies were held rigid, their eyes wide open. They were breathing, aware.
Sam had lied. He suffered. He knew what was happening but was helpless, held in rigor as the demon hovered over him.
With her fingers wrapped in a death grip around the mirror’s handle, Cait stood poised, waiting for the right moment to spring forward.
But another shape glowed in the opening and stepped through. The older Mr. Lewis, his face animated, edges sharp and cruel, stepped out of the wall and bent toward his captives. “Quickly! We haven’t time to savor our kill.” He glanced over his shoulder to the room visible at the end of the swirling funnel. “They’ll be upon me soon.”
If she’d blinked at that moment, she would have missed the transformation of the two Averys. Their skin darkened to a dull, storm-cloud gray, the surface mottled and rippling like burn scars. Their bodies curved, shoulders hunching, then lowering as they dropped to all fours. Their mouths stretched, jagged rows of teeth sliding from widening jaws that took up most of their faces.
They each took a man, rolling him on his back, then urgently pawing away the clothing covering his abdomen.
With their attention drawn to the men whose hard spasms caused their hands and heels to clatter on the floor, slowing the demons’ efforts as they stripped them, she dropped the mirror. Legs weak, she slid down beside the bed, reached for the basket, and withdrew the wine bottle already filled with holy water. She pulled out the cork and quickly reached into the basket for the hemp bag filled with rose thorns, pricking her fingers in her haste.
Her teeth chattered as she counted out thirteen and dropped them into the bottle. Then she pushed against the bed and stood.
The creatures’ large mouths were lifted, eyes closed as they let loose howls. The moment before their heads bent to rip into the captured men’s stomachs, she leapt beside them.
“Stop!” she shouted, holding the bottle in front of her.
Both creatures pivoted to face her, eyes glowing a bright fiery orange. They each took two steps, noses lifting to catch her scent.
Cait fought the fear caging her diaphragm and dragged in a deep breath. She raised the bottle higher and took a step back.
The beasts rocked backward on their haunches, then sprang forward.
She waved her arm in a wide arc, shaking the holy water from the bottle. “I banish you,” she shouted, then leapt to the side, out of their path.
The water sprayed, splashing against the demons as they hit the wall where she’d been standing. They bounced off it, shaking their heads and howling as droplets sizzled on their skin, burning through. Fire flickered around the edges of wounds, which widened, eating at their flesh to reveal a gray gelatinous interior that melted to the carpet, the stench of sulfur rising in the air.
Cait reached for the bag and grabbed more rose thorns, cramming them with shaking hands into the bottle. Then she held the mouth of it to the edge of the gray goo.
Not eloquent. But the spell worked. Over and over, she repeated the incantation, until, with a long slurp, the final bit of goo rushed inside the bottle.
Cait scrambled for the cork, stoppered the bottle, and then tossed it quickly into the basket. “Holy shit. Oh shit!”
With the wind whirling in the room slowly dying away, her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor, rocking on her knees.
“Cait?”
His voice. Hoarse but familiar. The voice she never thought she’d hear again. Her Sam was alive. Eyes burning, she lifted her head, craning her neck to glance toward him.
He was on his knees, his bare, reddened chest heaving. “What the fuck? What are you doing here?”
She almost smiled—Sam being alpha meant all was right with the world. “I’m here saving your ass.” Tears brimmed her eyelids and poured out.
With slow, jerking moves, he crawled toward her and gathered her in his arms.
She slid her wet cheek against his chest, listening to the dull but wonderful sound of his heart beating.
“Leland let you out of his sight?” he asked, his voice muffled and thick.
“I came with his blessing.”
“Me and him have to have a talk.” He pressed a kiss against her hair. “Do you… do we have a way back?”
She glanced up and across the room. The wall was once again solid.
A groan sounded behind Sam, and she leaned around for a look. “Officer…”
“Mills,” the policeman said, staring down at his reddened chest. “Thanks, I think.”
Her lips twitched. But then she jerked away from Sam. “We have to get to the elevator.
Sam grimaced but pushed up from the floor. For a second, he swayed on his feet, then moved to the other
