No Humans Involved

Human sacrifice. Or not so much the act itself as the by-products. They cremated the victims' organs and used the ashes in spellcasting.

The ritual they'd used must have bound the spirits to the earth so the magic could draw on their energy, draining them as their ashes were used. That's why Brendan was fading. He was disappearing as his energy was consumed in spellcasting.

Even with that ingredient, their success had been limited to a few spells in a select number of books-simple magic from real grimoires, I'd presume. The spell they'd used to knock me out was a fairly recent addition, and the strongest thing they had.

When I asked about the children, he said that over three years, they'd killed six children and buried them in the garden down the road.

'But their spirits aren't here,' I said. 'Were they killed here? In this room?'

'Some. But that was before May performed the encircling ritual.'

'Encircling ritual?'

'To protect this room from…' he fluttered his hands, 'evil spirits. Nosy neighbors. Who knows? May was getting paranoid. Kept worrying that we'd conjure up some demon or tap into something ugly.'

'Did something like that ever happen?'

'Not to us.'

'But to May?'

He glanced around, then lowered his voice, as if he could be overheard. 'May is different. The magic always works better for her. Comes easier to her. Some of us can barely cast the simplest spells. May's always first and best. It makes some of us wonder…' He shrugged. 'There'd been grumbling. About what else May might be able to do. What she might be hiding from us.'

'Which would explain the 'encircling' ritual. If she did something that spooked her. So presumably, this ritual is what keeps you two in.'

I had a good idea why May was the strongest. Tapping into real supernatural blood. As for what kind…

'These rumors,' I said. 'About May Donovan-'

'They're coming.'

The raspy voice made the hairs on my neck rise. It came from Hope's direction, but didn't sound like her.

When I looked over, she'd twisted onto her side, her hair tumbling over her face. In the dim lighting, her expression seemed to be fear, but as I bent to reassure her, I saw she was smiling. Her amber eyes glittered. Her lips were drawn back, white teeth glowing in the darkness.

'Hope?'

She blinked and that smile wavered, but returned, less feral, more… blissful, eyes rolling back. Her lips parted and she let out a hissing sigh of pleasure.

The sound raked down my spine. I recognized that look, that sigh. When I'd made my deal with a demon, he'd taken human form for the summoning. As I'd squirmed, listening to the killer describe his crimes, I'd seen that same look on the demon's face as he drank in the chaos.

But half-demons weren't deinonic. Like every other supernatural, evil was a choice, not a blood destiny. I remembered Hope's words: 'Other half-demons get a special power without a demon's attraction to chaos. That attraction is all I get,' and I understood. All those times she'd looked away, guilty, embarrassed, when I'd offered sympathy for the horrors she had to endure.

Horror, yes. Horrible? Horrifying? Not for her.

Now, hearing our would-be murderers approaching, she felt not fear but-

I turned away from Hope. I had to think…

'Jaime?'

I steeled myself not to look at her. I remembered the demon I'd dealt with, how seductive he'd been, how easy to trust… and how much I'd paid for it.

'Jaime?' Her voice quavered, but that hoarse bloodlust was gone. 'Help me. Please.'

Still I resisted. But did enjoying chaos make Hope demonic? She had helped us find this group. Never once had she led us into trouble, double-crossed us or done anything to cause chaos. She'd honestly seemed to want to help-to find some balance for the impulses she hid.

I turned. We'd been in this room long enough that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could make out Hope's face, slick with sweat, her eyes still glowing, but filled with fear, even despair.

'They're outside,' she said. 'Talking. I can hear their thoughts. This place-all the chaos-it must be boosting my power. I'm getting all these thoughts, every bad things-' She inhaled. 'May's the key. Tricking them. Lying to them. You can use that.'

'How?'

Frustration flared in her eyes. 'Just… use it. Somehow. Not much time.'

I leaned in to listen. She talked fast, throwing out snippets of information about May and the others. Random thoughts, out of context, left to me to interpret.

Then she gasped. 'They're getting ready. Gas. Matches.'

Her face contorted, excitement warring with true fear. She grabbed my arm.

'Knock me out again,' she rasped.

I took her other arm and drew closer. 'They won't hurt you. I'm going to get you out of here.'

'You don't-' She bit off a snarl and took a deep breath. 'You need to knock me out.'

'I really need you awake, Hope. I might need your help-'

'To kill you?' Her gaze met mine, hard and sharp. 'If they want to kill you, I might not try to stop them. I might even help them.'

I didn't believe that, but I could see that she did.

'Grab my hair and hit my head against the floor.'

'What if I accidentally-'

She flew at me. Seeing that snarling face, those glowing demonic eyes, I reacted instinctively and flung my arms out, knocking her back. As I hit her, she veered, as if launching off my hands, twisting to fly, headfirst, into the nearest wall. She hit it and slumped to the floor.

DEMONS AND WEREWOLVES

I RUSHED OVER and dropped to check Hope's pulse. There was a muted jangle at the door, as if someone was turning a lock.

I sprang to my feet.

Light filled the tiny room. I stumbled back, blinking after straining so long in the dark. Then I followed the light up and saw a panel inset in the high ceiling.

Ringed around the room was a high shelf dotted with what looked like stuffed animals. The taxidermy types, not the toys. That caught me off guard and I stared at a crow for a moment before yanking my gaze away.

Another click. The door was opening. I looked around frantically, hoping I'd see some weapon missed in the darkness. There was nothing. Shoes! My heels. I could use them as I'd planned to with Botnick, to stab or-

I stared down at my sneakers. Oh, goddamn it!

'Hello, Jaime.'

May Donovan walked in, dressed in a blazer and skirt, as calmly professional as if we were meeting in her office. Even smiled and extended her hand.

'I trust I won't need to use that spell again,' she said, stopping before me. 'You're a bright woman. You know when you're outnumbered.'

Her gaze dropped to Hope. 'Still unconscious? I suppose that's just as well.'

A click as the door closed. I looked past May and saw four others crowding into the tiny room. Three men, one woman, all on the far side of forty. At a gesture from May, two of the men walked to Hope and carried her into the middle of the room.

Something was etched into the concrete-a symbol they'd found in a book, presumably. As the men laid Hope