Too, he had not imagined being alone would be sad in itself.

Tilting his head so that his rolling eye would align with its more attentive brother, he watched the empty husks arrayed around him as the demon made its rounds. He was more than them, at least, though he wasn’t sure why. Most of the solvo blanks faded into listless apathy within a very short time. That he’d kept any wit or awareness after his djinni-riddled soul had been forcibly woven in the Veil between the realms puzzled him. Whether it was a testament to his iron will, his long possession, or some other quirk, he had no idea.

The soul-swiped husks were everywhere now, as he’d seen on the demon’s daily forced marches. He could be proud of himself that the powdery distillation of the desolator numinis had worked so well.

He was less entranced with the searing darklings of smoke and metal that had begun coalescing around his own demon. As his ill-fit demon yanked him around, the marks on his arms oozed with a spoiled- egg stench that seemed the sweetest nectar to these unfamiliar darklings. Not the old hulking fellows or little darting black monsters that had once trailed in his wake. These new demons consumed whatever they touched.

Without the tempering influence he once exerted, his demon seemed set on a path that would end in the utter devouring of all. Not his original intent, to be sure. Not even his demon had understood they sought release, not obliteration. With some ruin along the way, unavoidably, but certainly not the central aim.

The demon set their feet for the next congregation of husks. He couldn’t understand its obsession; once they’d settled, the soulless carcasses never went anywhere. But his lips were chanting something as he walked, and he realized they were headed to one of the newer collections.

“Free her, free her,” he was saying.

Now he remembered. There were a few who longed for release as much as he. One of those waited at this place. He’d seen the trapped longing in her eyes, and he’d felt the kinship of the demon-ridden. Oh, demonic powers hadn’t actually invaded her soul; her damnation had been self-imposed.

It had been nice to not be alone. Stripping that female talya of half her clothes and most of her teshuva all those months ago had reminded him of the revels of his Roman master. Not that he’d been invited to those, of course. Nero’s court glassworker had strutted his prize gladiator on the sands, but hadn’t trusted him around the lovely, delicate works of his trade. Not just the glass, but the girls. No brute hands, he’d said—an unfair branding, to Corvus’s mind, considering his virtuosity in the Colosseum.

Then he’d been injured, and thrown aside. Even broken glass was valued. But not him. The demon, though, had wanted him, invited him to join it—slagged and reformed him into something more. After that, he had invited himself to the next merrymaking. But then the screaming had rather ruined the night, and the blood overshadowed the beauty of the glass.

In two thousand years, he’d come to realize the demon was no friend to him, and now it had decided to play master without the subterfuge. But maybe, in the depths of his woe, he had found another to share his pain.

Though he’d admit his hands lacked the finesse they’d once had, and she looked as brittle as the ones who had broken under his touch that night in his master’s house after his possession.

Still, as the demon propelled him down the street, his rolling eye looked eagerly ahead. And saw.

Though he had no control anymore, still the force of his dismay locked his muscles, and the demon was forced to wait with him.

The marks on his arms dripped poison with its fury. Once again, he and the demon were in accord. Someone had stolen the congregation and, with it, the one who had met his eye.

Liam craned his neck past the other man. To think he’d ever underestimated how sometimes playing leader to a bunch of violent, paranoid immortals got in the way of more important things. “Dinner maybe?”

Archer snorted. “Oh, that’s not all she wants.”

“Just because your mate offered to serve up your choicer bits if you volunteered her for KP duty again doesn’t mean all women fear subjugation by slotted spoon.”

“I’m telling you, when a woman feeds her man, she has plans.”

“I’m not her—” Liam took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.”

Ecco stumped down the hall. “What ideas are we talking about? And what is that smell? I want that.”

Liam fixed Archer with a smug stare. “See? Sometimes it’s simple.”

“Did you just call me simple?” Ecco shouldered past him. “Out of my way.”

One by one, other talyan drifted into the hall. Liam had sent off the addicts—except for a couple who’d refused—to various rehab programs, courtesy of Sera’s previous life and hospital connections. With the coming twilight, that left only the prehunt crowd at the warehouse, restless and well aware they, unlike the junkies, had no chance of casting off the compulsions that rode them.

They milled outside the door to the kitchenette, reluctant to edge by him, until Liam fell into Ecco’s wake.

Jilly stood at the stove, a cheerful red-and-white-striped towel hanging from the back pocket of her jeans. The knot-work bracelet was shoved high on her forearm. She didn’t look around, just said, “Get a bowl.”

Ecco stepped up with alacrity. He towered over the petite Jilly with his outstretched bowl like some Oliver Twist on ’roids. She ladled out the soup, and Liam heard the eager inhalation of the talyan behind him as the fragrance rolled over them.

An elbow in his ribs shoved him aside, and the talyan streamed past him to get in line, never mind the usual teshuva-triggered avoidance of close contact. Or, God forbid, a little respect for their leader.

Good thing they’d never find out what a hard time he’d given her about slapping down the platinum card for the stockpot big enough to cook down a feralis. Not that the whiff of chicken and dumplings coming his way had anything to do with demonology. Heaven, maybe.

He waited in the doorway, arms crossed, while his crew filed past the stoves. From the dinky oven, Jilly handed out fist-sized domes of lightly browned biscuit. Almost the same color as her eyes, he noted idly. The tightening in his belly was definitely hunger. Of what sort, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He wished he’d held firm at the grocery store when she wanted to get the insanely expensive industrial-sized jar of honey. Not necessary, he’d argued. Talyan didn’t need to be sweetened up. Listening to the men’s pleased murmurs as they drizzled spoonfuls of the golden glaze over their biscuits, he realized he wanted that all for himself.

As if he’d touched her shoulder, Jilly met his gaze across the long metal table lined with talyan focused on their bowls. She lifted her eyebrows and tipped the pot toward him. Almost empty. She filled a last bowl and slid it across the counter.

After a moment, he pushed away from the door. The clink of spoons against empty bowls accompanied him across the room along with the low murmur of voices as the men leaned back. Content, he realized.

He walked up to Jilly. “Taming the savage beasts?”

“Maybe.” She handed him a biscuit.

The dough warmed his palm. “Thanks.” He propped his hip on the counter. His mouth watered and he forced himself not to tip the bowl to his lips. No sense acting the savage, half-starved beast.

She hummed to herself. “I used to cook for the kids. I miss it a little, I guess.”

A velvety dumpling slipped over his tongue with a hint of rosemary. Despite his pleasure—maybe because of it?—he couldn’t take his attention from her. She scanned the room with lips pursed. He imagined her keeping watch over her kids and was half tempted to start a food fight. Except the soup was too good to fling.

When she turned that eagle eye on him, he said, “You know it’s good.”

She nodded. “The more they come together as a team, the more likely they are to survive.”

“I meant your cooking. The halfway house’s loss was our gain.”

She ran her gaze over him, foot to head. He held himself still though his skin prickled even with his demon dormant again. “A strong wind could blow you over. Well, assuming it was a demon-driven wind. Which, lately, it has been.”

“I’m not Roald. I won’t walk off into the ether.”

She met his gaze without blinking. “No one intends to wander off.”

He put the bowl down gently and said, “I am not one of your wayward youth.”

Though she half shuttered her spicy sweet eyes, he felt the spark jump between them. “Yeah. I got that.”

The flare of attraction was hot and sudden and pointless. He took a step back to let it sputter out. “Thanks for dinner.”

She spun away to wash her hands.

Subtle, he thought.

Around them, the talyan were rising and stretching, ready for the night. Jilly dried her hands and tossed the towel at the sink. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Find Corvus. It’s why you let the other addicts go, isn’t it?” She pinned him with a baleful eye. “I suppose they’re wearing tracking collars.”

He met her gaze. “No. I have talyan following them.”

“Fishing.”

“Protecting. If they go running back to Corvus, they could be in danger. But I haven’t heard anything back from the guards yet.”

Ecco walked between them, rinsed his bowl, and put it in the dishwasher. “If Niall fucks up whatever you’re talking about, come to me.”

“Go, teamwork,” Liam said wryly.

“Thank you,” she said over him.

Ecco flexed. “He’s not the sort to appreciate a real handful of woman.”

“Stop while you’re ahead,” she suggested.

“See you on the street, then.” The other talyan, following Ecco’s example, cleared their dishes.

Jonah brought up the rear, added soap, and started the machine. “Your sister is still here.”

“Is that a problem?” Jilly’s tone implied it better not be, and Liam wondered if he should frisk her for paring knives.

Jonah shook his head. “She’ll be safer with us. I heard Sera is bringing her angelic friend to talk to Dory.”

Jilly nodded cautiously. “She told me Nanette’s ministry has a background with substance abuse.”

“Not to mention, she can heal with a touch.” Jonah gave a decisive nod. “I hope it works.”

When the last talya had gone, Liam huffed. “Anyone else you want to wrap around your finger?”

She glared at him. “Not really.”

He walked out, knowing she’d follow.

“Maybe Nanette can help Dory where I can’t,” she said from behind him. “But I can at least make sure Corvus and his solvo and his salambes won’t be waiting for her on the other side.”

“We might not find him tonight.” Liam cautioned.

“We have forever, but Dory doesn’t. We’ll find him.”

If the determination in her eyes counted for anything, he knew they would. He couldn’t leash her. He shouldn’t even want to. The league—hell, the world—needed her fire and zeal.

With a thud of bootheels, she matched his pace down the hall. “I want a sword or something.”

The fate of the world might be looking up, but he was doomed.

She was so used to thinking that broken was a problem, she couldn’t see that cracks were good camouflage out here. Cracks let the steam out, made him look bigger when all the pieces were spread out. Cracks were good for a lot. He silenced his grumbling when Jilly appeared.

She’d pulled the spikes of blue-striped hair into twin tufts bristling like antennae on either side of her head. A few errant strands trailed over her wary golden gaze. He eyed her with trepidation and wondered aloud, “What are you packing? I shouldn’t have left you down there by yourself. A chain saw? Suitcase nuke?”

She snorted. A flicker in her hands, and she revealed a double-curved weapon only a little wider than his spread fingers. The two half- moon blades overlapped so that the horns of one pointed outward while the horns of the other wrapped back to protect the hand. The middle of one moon was leather wrapped where she gripped it, but the other exposed edges gleamed with sharp-honed perfection.

“It’s balanced like a good cleaver.” She smiled and flipped the knife in her hand. The edges winked under the streetlights.

He winced. “The demon can’t regenerate lost fingers.”

“I won’t lose anything.”

Apparently she didn’t count that missing chunk of her soul. He squelched the hollow thought. “Just be careful. The teshuva lends you some natural—supernatural—talent in the mayhem department, but you shouldn’t put all your faith in it.” He rubbed his forehead. “Never mind faith. I mean you shouldn’t take chances with the demon if you don’t have to.”

The knives disappeared into her pocket. “I won’t,” she said. “Either one.”

Quiet as bats, the talyan left the warehouse. They edged around him and disappeared into the night, their black clothes merging with the gloom as they separated.

“Alone?” Jilly murmured.

“There’s too much evil for the good—or at least the repentant—to bunch up. I’ll recall them if we have cause.”

“You don’t sound like we have a chance.”

How to explain to her that after a certain number of years—decades, for instance—it was hard to sound like anything? “Finding Corvus isn’t something we’ll leave to chance. Come on.”

“I need to do something first. Can I borrow your phone for a second?” She was scowling at him even as the question “Why?” formed on his lips. So he handed it over without asking, just to prove he could.

She punched in a number, waited. “Dee, it’s Jilly.” A spate of girlish squeals rang from the phone. Jilly grimaced and held it away from her ear. “I’m fine.” She paused. “I know. Yeah, I got another job.” She half turned from Liam. “No, I’m sure not all bosses suck as bad as Envers. Listen, can you come down to the alley for a couple minutes before lockout? I’ll be there in a few minutes. Bring Iz, okay? And I want my phone back.”

Liam studied her after she hung up. “You can’t tell them.”

“What?”

“Anything. That’s why it’s easier to let it go. Let them go.”

“I let them go all the time. When I can’t help them, when I can. They all move on. I get that.” But her stiffly held shoulders belied her acceptance.

His tyro fighter didn’t accept anything without a fight. Even when she couldn’t win.

When their cab pulled up across the street from the halfway house, the two teens were just coming down the stairs. The four of them met around the side of the building, out of sight of the front door.

The girl threw her arms around Jilly with the same delighted squeal Liam recognized from the phone call. Despite her enthusiasm, Dee fixed him over Jilly’s shoulder with a stare too knowing for someone her age. “Your new boss is hot,” she stage-whispered as she handed over Jilly’s cell phone.

Jilly pulled back. “Who says he’s my boss?”

“He has that ‘you got time to lean, you got time to clean’ look.”

Jilly snorted. “Yeah, we do a lot of cleaning.”

Dee faked a gasp. “But not leaning, I hope?”

“Definitely not.” Jilly gave the teens a once- over. “You two doing okay?”

They both nodded, Dee more decisively than Iz.

The young man studied Liam. “You know what happened to Andre. You know that thing we saw in the alley. That’s why you wanted to see me and Dee.”

Liam lifted one eyebrow. “My advice? Just say no.”

Dee snorted, sounding a lot like Jilly. “We’re not dumb.”

Which didn’t really indicate whether she thought drugs were dumb or he was for even bringing up the alternative. When Jilly gave a faint shake of her head, he tightened his jaw against the urge to demand compliance. Did they think they were immortal? On solvo, they would be, without even the ability to regret the choice.

“Andre won’t be coming back.” The faintest thread of uncertainty wavered in Jilly’s tone. “But if you see him around, I want you to stay away from him. No matter what. And then I want you to call me. I’ll leave my phone with you, Dee.” She programmed in the @1 business number. “And restrict your texting to after class, yeah?”

Dee rolled her eyes but accepted the phone with a nod.

Iz stuffed his hands in his pockets and gazed sidelong at them. “Why’d you leave, Jilly?”

She hesitated, and this time Liam gave her that slight shake of the head. “Nothing to do with you guys, you know that. You already figured out that sometimes real life takes a hard left turn and your only choice is to follow where it leads.”

Liam couldn’t completely stifle his cough of amusement.

Iz glared at him. “You were the left turn, weren’t you?”

Liam shrugged at the flare of antagonism. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t follow all that blindly.”

After a moment, Iz’s stance softened. “Sometimes that’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Remember that next time some stranger comes around offering you candy.”

The teens groaned.

Jilly glanced back at the street. “You guys need to be inside before doors close. Just remember.”

After a bit more groaning, the girls hugged again. Iz hovered close, leaving Liam on the outside of the little circle.

He and Jilly waited as the kids made their way back inside. The door latched with an audible click.

Jilly sighed. “They’re no safer than before.”

“And in no more danger,” Liam reminded her. “The boy could be a Bookkeeper someday. He has the eyes for it.”

Jilly shuddered. “There’s a career path I’ll never suggest.”

He gritted his teeth at her vehemence. “Right. Wouldn’t want to give anyone the chance to help save the world.” He strode out of the alley, forcing her to keep up.

“That’s our job, remember?”

Despite his stiff jaw, the question slipped out. “And do you still blame me for it, as Iz does?”

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, then winced and pulled one hand out to suck her finger where she’d obviously nicked herself on the crescent-moon blades. “You explained already, my penance trigger was tripped long before I met you.”

Her answer no more addressed his question than the kids had agreed to stay away from drugs. But she didn’t need to like him to do her job. The more she feared for her hooligans, the harder she’d work. It only weakened his cause to reassure her.

And revealed a weakness in himself that he wanted her reassurance at all. His spine prickled, as if he’d swung his hammer too wildly and left himself undefended. He couldn’t afford to expose his doubts about his leadership. The talyan had enough monstrous, ceaseless fears to deal with on a nightly basis without his adding to their burden. Of course she blamed him. He blamed himself for not somehow warning her off, even knowing she couldn’t have—maybe wouldn’t have—listened.

Lucky him, the needs of the league ground on, and didn’t care about his momentary lapse. As a poor smithy fleeing starvation, he would’ve been grateful to know that he’d always have a place. Instead, he suspected she would be less prickly to that smithy than the league leader he had become.

He took them back to the apartment where they’d found the haints. Already, the encrustations of birnenston were sloughing off the walls and ceiling in the absence of the sustaining demonic emanations. The rumble of the L rattled the broken plywood over the windows, and a few beams of light shot across the room.

“What are we looking for?” Jilly frowned down at a pile of dust, all that was left of a burned-out haint.

“Darkness.”

“It’s already night.”

“Call your demon.”

“Oh. That darkness. What am I—”

He touched her arm to turn her back toward the dust, and all his senses sharpened, slanted.

She stumbled back from the pile when a cloud of scintillating flecks coalesced, their pattern vaguely man-shaped. “Tell me that’s not a soul. Or leftover sliced and diced soul.”

Throughout the room, other glowing clouds hovered. “Oh God,” she whispered.

“I doubt he’s around at the moment.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Nothing. We can’t repatriate them with their destroyed bodies, although they seem unwavering in the search. And apparently they can’t find their way to wherever an unbroken soul should go.” He released her to rub his temple. “Just remember how you summoned the teshuva to see. If we can find more, these soulflies could lead us to other haint haunts. I don’t like this sense of something smoldering.”

“Not these. The bodies are cold dust and gone.”

“Yes, but back home, the peat marshes could burn underground, unnoticed, and then blaze up out of control.” He let his hand drop to his side. His fingers ached with the pressure of his involuntary fist. “Where there are burned-out haint husks with soulfly smoke, there’s bound to be hellfire.”

“Salambes. Maybe even Corvus.” She shuddered, watching the soul flecks. When she hugged herself, the knot-work bracelet glinted with their reflected emanations. “And he left these shredded souls to wander. Lost. No, trapped. Never to be freed.” Her eyes seemed dull as the ashed coals in a cold forge.

Staring down into her stricken face, he frowned. “I’d say they’re a little too free.” He tugged at her arm to bump her away from the cloud.

Through her jacket, he felt her shiver again. A scent like iron filings chilled his lungs, and gray mists curdled around the edges of his vision.

He tightened his grip as he felt the world shifting around them. “Oh no, you don’t. No slipping into the demon realm. Not for them.” He dragged her close, as if he could build a cage with his body to keep the bitter frost at bay.

“No hope,” she whispered. “No last chance.”

He’d thought the same himself, more than once, but to hear the words on her lips tore his heart. For her, he wanted to lie—never mind the fallen angel inside him—and say everything would be all right. “I thought we agreed, no drifting. Jilly?”

But she was gone, into the demon realm on a downward spiral of anguish resonating with the doomed soulflies. So much for her tough riot-grrl attitude. And so much for his antidrifting commandments. What was the good of being boss if even his big hands couldn’t hold her?

Ah, but he knew one technique guaranteed to light her golden eyes again.

“For the good of the realm,” he murmured. Now he was lying to himself, because the flare of desire as he lowered his head had nothing at all to do with saving the world.

He kissed her.

Behind his closed lids, the crackle of ice spread, deep through his bones. And still, his body burned with wanting this, wanting her. He gathered her tighter yet, until the twin points of the crescent knife in her pocket dug into his flank.

Her cold lips opened to him.

Even with his eyes shut, brightness sparked around him. The unnerving mélange of ice crystals, embers, and shattered souls swirled between them, to bind them.

Closer and closer, forcing back the threatening freeze even as her blade cut through the heavy canvas of his coat, then his jeans, until the crescent knife scored his skin. Pain spiked over the point of his hip, and the tickle of blood traced down his groin. If he’d faintly hoped poking a hole in himself would direct the flow away from other rampant parts of his anatomy, no luck.

She warmed under his hands, and her breath sighed over his skin. She clutched him, mirroring the strength of his embrace, until, with no distance left between them, the other-realm shine of the soulflies faded. Only the hot pulse of his heavy flesh, the flash of craving as her tongue traced his upper lip, remained. He growled against her mouth as the sensation pushed him closer to the edge.

No, he was supposed to be pulling them back from the edge. He forced himself to lift his head, dragging in a pained breath that whistled past his clenched teeth. Jilly’s lips were wild red in her honey skin. When she opened her eyes to meet his gaze, she was entirely present with him.

She reached up and touched his temple. “It shines.”

The reven. Thank God its translucence revealed only glimpses of other-realm and not his brain. He’d hate for her to see the thoughts circling up there. None of it had anything to do with his duties to the league. “What was drawing you away from me?”

“Those lights.” She pressed against him. He didn’t wince although the knife dug deeper. “You Irish have all the stories of marshlights leading travelers to their deaths.”

“Always a bedtime favorite.” He cupped his hand around the back of her neck, avoiding the blue spikes of her hair but soothing her disquiet. “We didn’t go to these lights, though. They were drawn to us.”

She shivered and glanced over her shoulder.

The soul flecks had streamed away from their ash piles, like miniature stars drawn off their celestial course by a black hole. What had drawn them?

Liam laced his fingers through Jilly’s and pulled her arm out to the side, as if they were about to waltz.

The flickers of light followed.

“Eh, why don’t they stay over there somewhere, like, far away?” She flinched before they touched her. “The bracelet, of course. It did come from a demon.”

“And demons do love a lost soul.” He let their joined hands drop abruptly, and the soulflies swirled in the back draft of air before resuming their slow descent toward the bracelet again.

“I don’t want to be followed by lost souls.”

He decided not to point out that she’d certainly made a habit of it before this. Nobody liked hearing she’d walked herself into the trap. “I don’t know how far they’ll roam from their remains. Or what remains of their remains.”

“You knew they were here.”

He nodded. “From the haint-dust samples we brought back to the warehouse.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How many of these must be floating around the city? Are they all converging on me?”

He shrugged. “So far, it seems they need to be in close proximity to you to be drawn off course from their body hunt. More important, what effect are they having while they’re wandering? They’re an unnatural by-product of the chemical desolator numinis. Imagine the clog in Chicago’s spiritual gutters.”

“Your compassion knows no bounds.”

He stared at her. “What does compassion have to do with ridding the world of evil?”

“Duh.”

“We’re talking about capital- E Evil with long fangs. I can’t fight that back with thoughts of loving- kindness and affirmation bumper stickers.”

“Paper cuts can be a bitch.”

He scowled. “You’re the one creeped out by stalker soulflies.”

She swung her arm and he ducked as the twinkling cloud passed over him. Free of his grasp, she glanced at him over her shoulder with an impish smile. “Who’s creeped out?”

Before he could answer, all his demon senses kicked into high gear. She stiffened at the same time, and her smile vanished under a straining tension. As one, they whirled to face the bashed-out door where they’d entered.

The hall was empty, but ominous vibrations rumbled through the floor.

“What is it?” she gasped. “The salambes?”

He crouched, waiting. “No haints left here.” Without haint bodies, salambes would be no threat.

And he just really doubted his night would end so simply.

Not that he felt any satisfaction about his prediction when, in a rush of sulfurous emanations that blew the soulflies apart, the feralis pack burst through the door.