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“Zee, wait⁠—”

His lips turned down and he gave his head a shake, making his two-tone hair ruffle about his horns. As he turned his back, he vanished in a blast of sparks.

The other guests in the bar stared, but I barely saw them.

Zee thought I’d used him, because everyone used him.

My throat burned, gut churning. I would never use Zee, and it hurt that he believed I could.

This was Reynard’s fault. I spun, and met the vampire’s glare as he straightened, realigning his suit. At least he had the presence of mind to grimace, knowing he was to blame. We had an audience, and I did not need any more drama in the hotel than we’d already had.

I swallowed the less than polite rant that had been on my lips. “You are quickly outstaying your welcome, and my patience. Attempt to touch Zee again and you will regret it.”

I left the bar, grabbed my coat from the cloakroom, and headed outside. I had to find Zee and apologize before this boiled out of control.

Unfortunately, I knew exactly where he’d be.

CHAPTER 4

Off Valencia Street, in the Mission District, the San Francisco nightlife came out to play. And hunt. For those who preferred graffiti-riddled bathroom stalls, well-worn pool tables, and cheap beer, there was Runo (known colloquially as Demontown).

Runo was off-limits to the authorities, and most humans, unless they were looking for some spicy trouble. It was where I’d found Zee six months ago, and where he always returned to when something knocked him off his stride.

I kept my coat collar up, my head down, and wished I’d brought the shotgun. But it would be fine. I wasn’t staying long. Just long enough to find Zee, tell him I was sorry, and hopefully take him home again. Because the hotel was his home, as much as it was mine.

It was late on a Friday, which meant the streets were packed with an array of Lost Ones—mostly demons. They were obvious to spot here. Horns and wing tips poked up over the various crowds, and tails of all kinds—fluffy, forked, even multiple tails—flicked, looped and lashed. Nobody bothered to hide their true selves in Demontown. I spotted a few gargoyles among the masses—big, muscular, most of them standing outside club doorways, hired as security.

The deeper into Runo you go, the fewer streetlights work, and the thicker the shadows become. It hadn’t always been this way, but rumors told of how too many Lost Ones gathered in one place, sometimes changed the environment to better suit themselves. It hadn’t been proven, but there was definitely a vibe about Runo that felt . . . different. As though each step took you farther into an alternate reality, where human law held no sway.

I crossed the street to avoid a group of demons gathered under a flickering streetlight, stumbled into someone twice my size who smelled like sticky cinnamon, mumbled an apology, and hurried on.

And like sharks circling a minnow, it wasn’t long before I’d picked up a tail. Hopefully, they’d realize I wasn’t worth their time and leave me be. But as I crossed the street again, the two of them, both demons, both dressed in black with accents of silver chains, crossed after me.

I picked up my pace.

The Razorsedge Club was just a little ways ahead. That’s where Zee would be. Once inside, I’d be relatively safe.

Glancing over my shoulder, I scanned for the two demons. They’d vanished. Good.

I pushed through a line waiting to get inside a club, stepped off the curb, and slammed into a broad chest. “Oh⁠—”

Huge hands grabbed my upper arms, picked me up, hauled me around, and shoved me into a narrow alleyway between two red-brick, five-storey buildings.

My only way out was over the huge chain-link fence further down the alley, or through the two—scratch that—three demons. Another one stepped from the opposite curb, clearly part of the same gang, since they all wore the same black and silver, as though they were all from the same boy band. Demon band. Whatever. There was the good-looking one on the left, his horns riddled with bling, the interesting-looking one on the right, with a long, angular face, and the big one, whose wings were dwarfed by his huge, muscular bulk.

“Uh, okay, guys.” I raised my hands. “I’m just here looking for my friend. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Who says anything about trouble?” the interesting one said. Perhaps he was the trio’s leader. “Are you trouble?”

“No, I’m just . . . nothing really.” I shuffled backwards, through crushed cans and other trash.

“He looks like trouble,” the pretty one said, long forked tongue flickering.

“No, no, really. I’m trying to get to Razorsedge, where my friend is.” I started forward, and hoped to push by them, but got shoved in the chest again, and bounced farther down the alley.

“Your friend a whore?”

“Yes, actually. You might have heard of him? Zodiac?”