place is half falling off, and the building’s drab gray brick is covered in graffiti. There’s no vehicle out front. The area has that smoky, greasy smell I hate. The building looks like it should be condemned.
Is Saffron in there? How close am I to finding her?
We climb quietly out of the car. Arcayos takes my hand and leads me across the street around to the back. I mash down the anxiety gnawing at me and hurry along at his side.
“There is a demon here,” he growls softly.
He’s staring up at a second-story window, which is open. There’s a single- story building about the size of a large shed right below it, and a disused delivery truck beside it. I don’t see anyone around, demon or otherwise.
“You can tell that from here?” I ask.
He nods. Then he gives one of those hand flourishes.
Energy flashes around him, accompanied by that keening pulse. The image of Haakon is gone. His jeans, shirt, tie and blazer become the red gi, and that black cloak billows around him, settling into place, hood already up. His profile has that smooth and tanned, humanlike appearance I’ve seen him wear before he turns into the demon. His red eyes narrow on the window.
“Come,” he murmurs.
“How are we getting up there?” I whisper.
He squeezes my hand as if asking me to trust him.
Once we’re beside the truck, he puts his finger to his lips.
In one smooth move, he leaps up onto the truck’s roof, landing noiselessly in a crouch.
He waves for me to let him lift me up. I lift my arms, and he easily pulls me up beside him, climbs up onto the roof of the smaller building, then pulls me up again.
At the window, he gestures for me to remain where I am. I wait, and he crawls up through the window, and across the upper floor. Everything is dark inside, only a distant pool of light spilling from somewhere on the lower level.
Barely inside, his black cloak blends with the darkness so well that I can’t even see him. No sound comes from within.
A minute or so later he returns, putting his head out. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Right away, his somber expression makes me tense.
“What is it?” I whisper.
He meets my eyes, and I get the feeling he’s about to tell me to stay out here.
“Whatever it is, I can handle it. Stop trying to protect me.”
He studies my face for a second. Those big shoulders drop, and he puts his finger to his lip again. The warrior holds out his palms to me.
I grab his hands. Arcayos hoists me up so that I’m standing beside him on the second floor. I wobble, throwing my arms around his neck to steady myself. It’s stunning how strong he is. I have to resist the urge to ask him exactly how much he can bench press.
A distant voice drifts from what sounds like the main floor. I peer into the darkness, but I can’t see well. My arms tighten around his neck in reflex.
Saying nothing, he squeezes my hip reassuringly, gives me a look that seems meant to warn me to brace myself, then nods toward a steel walkway that runs along the second floor’s edge. The railing forms a promenade, encircling the entire upper floor. There’s a set of steps down to the main floor about twenty feet away.
Carefully and quietly, we make our way across the promenade to the railing. Arcayos’ huge hand engulfs mine, warm and far more reassuring than I care to admit. My pulse beats in my throat.
At the railing, I look down, following his gaze.
My heart catapults into my stomach.
Long conveyer belts covered with dust snake around the main front room of the plant, a few boxes scattered atop them, discolored with age. A car sits at the front of the room, shut off with no one inside. It’s parked just inside the large doors that lead outside. The doors are closed. Nothing moves, not even the bodies scattered across the floor.
I cover my mouth, holding back a curse.
There are at least six bodies in the room, all headless. Eyes stare sightlessly up at us from heads that have rolled clear away from bodies. The corpses are draped across the conveyer belts and across a floor drenched in blood.
A soft, agonized moaning carries up from the room.
Bile burns my throat.
Arcayos’ hand lays on my shoulder. I nod, telling him I’m fine, even though my stomach is trying