Demon Night

about his leukemia. Jane had curled herself up like that. Charlie had gone for a bottle—but she would have gone for one that night, regardless. Just as she had every night.
    “Yes,” Charlie said.
    “And you didn’t want it.” Jane’s voice was muffled.
    “No.”
    A low, heavy beat rolled into her, its tempo increasing. Anger. Jane lifted her face from her knees, and her eyes were glinting with it. “Who did it?”
    Charlie held her gaze, and it took two attempts to push the answer past the terrible ache in her throat.
    “Dylan.”

    Sammael didn’t stab Ethan in the back. Instead, the bastard just up and left.
    Ethan only had a moment to glance behind him, to register his disbelief that Sammael was waving good-bye to him with the arm the black-winged demon had just severed from Sammael’s shoulder. Then the winged demon was coming at Ethan again, and he couldn’t think of Sammael anymore.
    They’d managed to get it into the house—the empty house, as Sammael had apparently taken those few extra moments to clean it out before coming outside—and once they’d gotten the demon into the backyard and up into the air, they’d covered ground fast. Ground and water—they were far out over Puget Sound. Almost to Port Townsend, Ethan figured. Small islands formed dark spots in the water, a few lights sparkling from houses and boats.
    Awful pretty, but Ethan didn’t want to be killed here, and he’d have to be a fool to think he could beat it alone. He dove, folding his wings against his back. The demon came after him.
    Son of a bitch . Ethan was willing to look a yellow-bellied coward if it saved his life, but this thing wasn’t letting him run. He turned, tried to keep ahead of it, but it was gaining on him. Rolling onto his back, falling headfirst, Ethan pulled in his last loaded pistols from his cache and fired them past his feet.
    Though his aim was true, the bullets didn’t slow it down.
    Fear clawed at his chest, but he forced it into icy purpose. He wasn’t going to die like this, not knowing if Charlie was all right and without warning the other Guardians about this thing. He rolled again, banked toward the city. He couldn’t shake the demon out here in all this open air, but downtown he might have a chance, maybe getting into a building or underground, putting up the spell and waiting it out.
    If he made it back to the city. He was looking ahead, flying as fast as he’d ever flown, but he could feel it closing in.
    How much time had he bought Charlie? Five minutes, ten? Enough to get her onto the highway? He ought to have made certain she’d be cared for and taught to master her new abilities, that there’d be someone she could feed from.
    His eyes narrowed. Far ahead, a small dark form was flying toward them. Sammael, returning? The bastard’s arm would have healed by now. Leastwise, enough that it wouldn’t fall off.
    No, not Sammael. Jake, in an erratic, up-and-down flight path.
    The kid was projecting the spinning, whirling emotions of a novice in deep Enthrallment. Even when he didn’t have a lotus-eating smile on his face, Jake hadn’t experience enough to fight the demon, and he hadn’t had any opportunity to learn his Gift. And if he was flying, he must not have been able to teleport to Ethan.
    Goddammit. Jake obviously intended to help, but it’d be an all-fired miracle if they weren’t both killed in about ten seconds. At least Ethan hadn’t had to care if the black-winged demon had gutted Sammael, except that it meant Ethan wouldn’t have had the pleasure of doing it himself.
    He needed more time. Ethan glanced back and dropped his truck out of his cache above the demon. The heavy vehicle slammed onto its back, flipping it over in the air.
    That only bought a few seconds, but it was enough for Ethan to adjust his course to intercept the novice. He called in his swords again, holding them flat against his body to avoid unnecessary drag. Little choice but to grab Jake, tell him to haul ass, and then try to keep the demon off the kid for as long as possible.
    He didn’t hear it, but he saw Jake mouth his name as he drew in close.
    Below them, a light twinkled. A ship plowed through the water—long, dark, and solid.
    Well, hell. He wasn’t going to die just yet.
    “Dive!” Ethan shouted and gestured the command at the same time, vanishing his swords.
    Jake looked confused for about a second, then he was heading down. Ethan caught up with him. “Get rid of your