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  Back in the room, Ana.

  Chapter Five

  The moon pierced the dense cloud layer like a spotlight, hungry to rat the gang out to other predators. The Hoods made a formidable troop, weapons at the ready, five slinking silhouettes darker than the darkness.

  Nobody was out. Whoever slummed in this district had either retired for the night—unlikely—or had hidden when they sensed the danger the gang posed, a violent shimmer that haunted the night air like a long-dead spirit. The air smelled of the same spirit, a sewer stench that brought to mind the gutter that so many called home.

  Trick headed the formation, his night vision faultless, shadowed by Faer. Vander and Sapphy walked in tandem, the knowledge each had of how the other worked making them an indomitable team.

  Ana marched behind, bow slung across her shoulder, arms hanging by her sides, near to where her trusty silver dagger was sheathed at her back. As Trick led by taking the precarious front, she led by protecting their flank.

  Nothing stirred as their near-silent footsteps guided them toward the next quadrant.

  “So, you gonna spill about why you got grounded?” Sapphy sidled backward, nudging Ana’s shoulder with her own. A trace of a smile touched her lips. Her eyes remained watchful. “C’mon. He’s never done that before.”

  “Since you’ve known him,” Ana retorted. “When I was in training, he used to dump my butt in HQ more times than not. I hated it then too.”

  “Still can’t believe he let you come though.” Sapphy hummed. “He’s always so stubborn.”

  “Head like a rock,” Ana agreed. “He’s known me for ten years. He knows what he can get away with—and nobody lets me do anything.”

  “Yeah.” Sapphy bumped her fist against Ana’s and twisted it sideways.

  “Hush,” Trick snapped from the front.

  Ana and Sapphy shared an eye roll, but the fae resumed her position next to Vander.

  Silence ruled them with a steady grip as they walked the next two quadrants, searching for trouble. The Maze might be dangerous as a snapping cobra, but it had its own protection in the Hoods.

  Trick jerked to a stop, fist swinging up in the air, a clear signal. They all halted, hands flying to their weapons. Four sets of eyes swiveled around the alley they’d turned into.

  Ana closed hers, focusing in the direction Trick had angled himself toward. His senses were keener, but she should…still…be…able…to…

  A thin whimper. Female.

  There.

  Sapphy and Vander teamed up, taking the left, while Faer controlled the right. Trick had already melted into the shadows, undoubtedly circling around the back. Ana’s post was in the sky.

  There were no twinges of pain from her arm as she rolled her shoulders, extending her arms in a luxurious stretch. Maybe three days had been a good thing. Not that she’d ever admit that to Trick.

  Flexing her muscles, Ana tipped her head to consider a nearby building. It was ten stories high, a perfect bridge to the next higher building. Embers glittered as her flames uncurled in anticipation.

  She walked forward and took hold of a broken piece of brick. She flung herself up, searching for another handhold. Inch by inch, she scaled the building, bypassing crumbling brick, dismissing the strain in her muscles as she stretched. Her mind focused until she reached the top. Whipping her legs up, she swung onto the flat concrete roof, landing on the balls of her feet. She flexed, pausing to listen. She stilled, head cocked to the north, as she searched for the woman’s voice.

  A feminine plea.

  Ana about-turned and ran. Her muscles flowed as she crossed the roof, unhesitating to fling her body over the five-foot gap between buildings. She hit the other side with soft knees, barely recovering before continuing, tracing the ground below.

  Spying four figures clustered in one of the pockets popular with criminals, Ana stilled, hunkering down near the lip of the roof. Killers who tortured for pleasure haunted the pockets, as well as rapists, dealers. Worse. It stank of trouble.

  Her hands curled over the roof’s edge as she peered over the top, breath held. Words carried on the night air.

  “Please…I can give you coin.” The young human was begging, hands trembling as she emptied her pockets onto the fissured concrete floor. Jangling and hollow thumps littered the air when coins and other possessions tumbled out.

  At the front of the trio, a man made as if to cover a yawn. “Yer makin’ me mad, woman. I don’t want yer coin.”

  “You…you don’t?”

  He grinned, revealing stained teeth—though gaps were more common. “Nah. We wants a bit o’ fun. Don’t we, lads?”

  The two idiots behind hooted, smacking their lips and clapping their hands together. One grabbed his crotch.

  Ana measured the height of the roof she crouched on, wrinkling her nose. At least ten stories. She pursed her mouth in a silent breath.

  With a last inhale, Ana slid herself over the side, grabbing hold of the roof before she was a splat on the ground below. Breath steady, she began to crawl downward, ignoring the harsh scrape of brick on her hands and face. She kept alert, ready for the men’s attention to veer to her, but they were too intent on their prey.

  She finally dropped to the ground. Fire crackled in a steady beat throughout her body, warming her as she whirled.

  Light beamed from a cracked excuse for a lamp, hung on somebody’s washing line. It cast shadows that she slipped through until she was ten feet away.

  She whistled through her fingers to grab their attention.

  Ana knew what they’d see. Her pants plastered to her legs, cut under her biker boots. Her tank scooped low. A sliver of pale skin gleamed in the light, hinting at the jeweled piercing she’d adorned her navel with. A tasty piece of bait.

  The leader’s eyes grew heavy as he absently reached down to adjust himself. As her eyebrows rose at that lovely gesture, he swaggered forward like a cock on the walk.

  She bared her teeth in something akin to a smile.

  Yes, come to Mama.

  “What we got ’ere?” the leader jeered, jerking his chin toward her. “A petal beggin’ ta be plucked?”

  The two behind laughed at this with great whoops, as though it were the funniest joke since “three men walked into a bar”.

  “If you want to leave this pocket with your balls attached, I’d mosey along.” Ana accompanied the proposition with a shooing gesture. She’d never let them go, of course, not with Trick closing in from behind and the rest from the sides. But it was fun to see them squirm.

  The two buffoons froze, laughter severed midwhoop. Their eyes rounded, mouths agape. Then, as one, both swiveled in question to their frontman.

  The leader was glaring, his eyes a dirty brown that matched what he’d look like after he soiled himself. “What?”

  “Your balls. Testicles. Bags. Fred and Bob.” Ana shrugged, a casual movement that disguised her readying muscles. “Whatever you call them.”

  “What?”

  Ana sighed, rolling her gaze skyward. “Ash-heap says what?”

  “What?”

  “Wow. Now I’m bored.”

  Whipping the bow off her shoulder, Ana nocked an arrow drawn from her quiver. She angled the point toward the leader’s head. “Move. I dare you.”

  Hatred weaved over his face like an undulating dancer. “Whore,” he hissed, brandishing a filleting knife as though it were a greatsword. He spat at the ground near Ana’s feet. “Yer goin’ ta be feelin’ my cock for a week.”

  “Charming.”

  When he lunged, she let the arrow fly into his shoulder. As he grunted, she transferred the bow to one hand. Grasping his striking fist in her other, she began to crush it, until the alley rang with the grinding sound of bone against bone and his pained screams. He clasped it against his chest when she shoved him away, animal
whimpers clawing from him. The arrow clattered to the ground.

  Spinning, Ana smashed a boot into his stomach, watching him fly with a gaze as hot as the flames that crackled beneath her skin. When he rose, his breaths were sharp, brimming with pain. “I’ll kill you.”

  A stealthy motion behind him prompted a smile. “You should have taken my offer.”

  Seizing the leader by the neck, Trick pitched him into the air, pursuing him. He dragged the man up and shoved him against old-fashioned brick.

  “Ah,” the debonair vampire murmured. His fangs flashed for dramatic effect. “A snack.”

  Ana’s nose twitched as the smell of urine flooded the air. The leader had pissed himself.

  A surprised cry was torn from her when one of the stooges she’d forgotten about slammed into her like a bag of cement. They tumbled backward, landing with bruising force. Her bow flew from her grip, the quiver joining it.

  Half-underneath the human, Ana cursed as the man jabbed a fist into her face. Her cheekbone throbbed. Enough.

  Fire leaped through her skin, clinging to the human who rested so close, roasting skin until flesh crackled. The smell of burning pig wafted between them.

  He yelled in agony, tears streaming. “Bitch.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She sliced with her elbow, feeling bone sing as it connected with his nose, then scrambled to her feet. Before he could shift away, Ana snapped her leg up and around to collide with his head. The human’s eyes rolled back, body slumping to the ground. She could have killed him, but that wasn’t her choice to make. They’d make a call to their contact on the Prosecution squad, one who actually gave a crap about crime in the Maze, to come pick him and his friends up.

  She scanned the pocket. The other stooge had apparently cut his losses and run.

  Trick was already drinking. The sound could’ve been disquieting: the slurping, the pained moans, Trick’s animalistic grunts as he gave in to the beast. But Ana would never be disgusted by Trick. The vampire was family.

  Trick let the man fall, watching as the human cracked his head on the ground. He lay still, shallow breathing the single indication that his heart still pumped. Trick had stopped before he’d drained him; he always stopped.

  Withdrawing a pristine white handkerchief, Trick wiped his mouth on it. He let that fall, too, a smear of crimson on white. It covered the human’s face like a miniature shroud.

  “Where the hell are the others?” Her question brimmed with frustration.

  Trick flicked sharp eyes beyond her. “There are more.”

  Ana swore, sprinting to where her quiver and bow had fallen, slinging them over her shoulder. “Check the girl.”

  After all, Trick was better at the touchy-feely crap than she was.

  The hum of combat grew to a roar as she navigated the obstacle-laden alleyway linking the pockets, twisting her body around secured sheets of metal and hopping over a trap designed to send the victim tumbling into a seven-foot-deep pit.

  She burst into the next pocket, brought up short by the unexpected sight of her gang battling flesh-eating demons. The trio of humans must have been a scouting party for the beasts. While rare, these scouting parties had been seen before. These demons might be primitive, but they gave Midas a run for his money, and humans could never turn down thirty pieces of silver to betray their own race. The one human who’d escaped her and Trick had already been slashed in half, his guts leaking onto the cobbled ground.

  On the scale of one to holy-crap, flesh-eaters ranked around a six. With the bulky, biped body of all demons, they ranged from six to seven feet tall and modeled softer horns than the other four demon castes. The two horns resembled conch shells, the thin casing concealing soft, vulnerable flesh.

  But like their name suggested, while most demons believed themselves omnivores, FEDs—as Ana had nicknamed them—consumed all but the eyes. Ridiculously, they believed eating eyes would bring bad luck, so strung them up to ward off enemies.

  Back in the room, Ana.

  Shaking off the surprise, Ana nocked an arrow. With eyes narrowed, she aimed at the demon Sapphy was slashing at with determined strokes. Her fingers went taut on the wire moments before she let the arrow fly. On a hiss, the tipped head pierced the shell-like horn, making the demon roar like a wounded bear.

  There were five.

  Faer challenged two, laughing in their faces. Vander’s lips were pulled into a grimace as he alternately fenced with two, hitting their poisoned claws away with the tip of his sword in liquid strikes.

  FEDs emitted a paralytic agent from their claws to inject their food with, though luckily they didn’t possess as much grace as the other castes, leveling the playing field. However, while with other demons you had the option of carving off their heads, these putrid beasts had a twice-thicker-than-average neck that a saw would cut through. Eventually. Not like she could ask them to hold still for a couple of minutes.

  Slice and dice the front- and back-hearts it is.

  Ana let another arrow soar, nailing one of Vander’s demons in his left horn. She whooped as he garbled a snarl of pain.

  “Hey demon, demon, demon.” She made a come-and-get-it gesture. “Fresh, tasty phoenix over here.”

  With eyes swirling like a blood-soaked tornado, the demon trudged toward her, yanking the arrow out. He made a gargling sound in his throat.

  “That’s it. Tasty Ana.” She hooked her bow on her shoulder, securing the strap on the quiver of arrows. Arrows wouldn’t kill this beast, not from up close. Besides, she liked a little action, and by the holy fires, how she’d missed it.

  She waited until the demon slashed out with his claws, ignoring the sounds of swords slicing, grunts as the gang twisted and weaved around, roars of bemused pain from the demons. Concentrating, she narrowly missed the swipe, flinging herself to the side as she led him into a corner.

  Grinning—she did love her some violence—Ana launched over the top of him, spinning in midair to land at his back. Before he could turn, she shoved the dagger she’d unsheathed into the first of his hearts.

  With a ferocious roar, the demon threw out his arms, slamming into her with the force of a truck. The breath whooshed from her lungs as she crashed against a wall, concrete rasping her bare arms.

  Her dagger gleamed as she gestured at the demon, its heart-blood oozing down the blade. Unlike flame demons, FED’s blood color ran nearer to humans’, though a shade closer to purple. The sticky burgundy blood stank of rotting flesh as she waved the dagger near her face.

  “C’mon!” She shook back her sweat-soaked hair. Her heart was thrumming with excitement and adrenaline, fire twirling in dizzying pirouettes up her body. “Aren’t you demon enough?”

  She was alive, in control. If Cade could see her now…

  Her thoughts juddered.

  She sucked in air as she was struck in the stomach. Her dagger went flying, clattering away with a metallic cackle.

  “Damn.” Ragged breaths were all she could manage past that. She draped an arm around her ribs. Broken?

  Using the wall behind for purchase, Ana heaved herself up, staggering farther into the shadows of a third pocket as the demon shambled after her. She ignited her hand, lighting the area with fire, curses spilling over themselves as she searched for her weapon. Yes, she could slow-roast him, but it’d piss him off, not kill him.

  The blade’s silver glinted in the glow from her fire.

  Ana ducked the demon’s swipe, rolling on the floor and grabbing the blade as she spun. A fiery pain registered in her abdomen.

  Fuck. She’d been clawed.

  She swung her dagger as feebly as a two-year-old. Already the paralytic was adapting to her biology, slowing down her blood, her organs, her power. Her body was as light as a breeze as she blinked salty drops out of her eyes.

  “Hungry,” the FED grumbled, his tong
ue uncurling to lick his claws clean of her blood.

  She’d have grimaced if she could have forced the slowly-stiffening muscles around her mouth to cooperate.

  He took her chin in its grip before she could evade, forcing her weakened body to slide up the wall a few painful inches. Her feet dangled as brick scraped exposed skin. Needlelike claws sliced a fiery line across her cheekbone, his tongue swiping along the oozing cut.

  Inside she railed, gutted him with her claws, kicked him and left him unable to make little FEDs.

  His red eyes took on a glassy sheen as he smacked his lips. “Phoenix.”

  Fire bloomed inside her, sensing danger with nowhere to go as the poison arrested it in its tracks. Dizziness and nausea rushed up her throat like an upside-down waterfall.

  Happy place, happy place.

  Just as the demon bent forward to taste, eyes at half-mast with lazy pleasure, he was knocked off his feet by a blur of black. He crashed against the opposite wall, one horn smashing brick and crumbling to expose baby-pink flesh.

  Ana dropped like a stone in a river, fully immobile.

  About time, Trick.

  Her rescuer came into focus.

  A bolt of resentment sizzled down her spine. If she could’ve moved, she’d have snarled.

  Cade flashed a grin smug enough to choke on through the concealment of his mask. He moved to the demon, swinging his sword in circles.

  “Hey,” he said, with a careless air. “Hands off my bird.”

  Chapter Six

  Cade concealed the bone-deep aggression that’d twisted his gut, choking down his jackal’s growl. Clicking his tongue, he twirled his sword in aimless circles. “Ouch. That had to hurt.”

  The demon garbled a snarl, one that ripped through the empty pocket. Cade chuckled, a sound that came from a hidden well of relief. She’s safe.

  His jackal brushed up against his skin, wanting out, exhilarated by the hunt. They’d tracked her by her scent as soon as it had appeared in the night, simmering in the air like an enflamed trail. It had been nothing for the jackal’s skills.