The bell above the diner's door chimed when I stepped over the threshold. Its song went unnoticed by the hungry patrons inside. 

The diner was located a block or so north of the campus, which meant it was typically crawling with students grabbing a bite between classes or harangued professors grading papers with their fifth coffee that afternoon. It was well past noon now, so the lunch crowd had thinned, leaving behind a residue of city workers and students who didn't care to return for their late afternoon classes.

Booths right out of the eighties ringed the outer wall and a counter comprised of peeling Formica dominated the main floor space. Above, one of the bare lights was buzzing loud enough to distract from the static of the radio. It wasn't a great establishment and nor was its food very good, but I needed to have a quick meal after expending so much energy the night before. I felt dead on my feet, having only eaten toast that morning.

I rubbed at my sore shoulders as I waited in line, taking in the dated décor and the sticker on the register that said "Others Welcome!" below a decal of a fanged smiley face. My stomach rumbled and the woman in front of me threw a startled glance over her shoulder, but I pretended I didn't know what she was looking at and took out my cell phone instead.

The screen was cracked after being tossed around in the gully last night, but it was usable. I considered the hour, then the sun peeking through the high-rises outside, and decided I could call Telavar and leave a message asking for more information about Theda. He could get back to me when he woke up, and until then I could prowl Nera Court again, looking for clues I'd missed.

Biting my lip, I dialed my apartment's landline, hoping the vampire would know to play the message, though I wasn't optimistic. I jumped when the call was answered and I was greeted with a simple, if rough, "Winters residence."

"T-Telavar?" I asked, feeling stupid because of course it was Telavar. Who the hell else would be in my apartment, answering my phone?

"Yes, Ms. Winters?" 

"What—?" I looked out the dirty window again and saw the yellow sun shining on the glass buildings. "How are you awake?" 

"Vampires can wake with their master, Ms. Winters." He didn't sound very conscious. The poor guy sounded groggy and slow-witted—but I hadn't known about vampires being able to wake with their noctoreum. I felt like that was something I should have been aware of.

"So Havik's awake...." I muttered, shivering. I didn't know why the thought alarmed me. There was plenty of vampire-deadly sunshine between him and me.

Telavar hedged in answering. "Yes."

"Um," I continued, remembering my purpose for calling. "I was going to leave a message and ask if you could tell me where Theda lived. I think if I were to...err...experience more of her emotions, I'd stand a better chance of finding her." My impression of her essence would be better-rounded and I'd be more likely to recognize it were I to come across it. I worried I'd already found the trail but hadn't identified Theda's essence due to the changes in emotional distress.

Someone came into the line behind me, humming softly to pass the time.

"I will have to ask Master Aurel. I do not know if I am allowed to divulge such information."

"Okay." Vampires held their resting places sacred. After all, they were as weak as newborns during the daylight hours—at least, most were. How were Telavar and Havik awake? The younger vamp was most likely lucid because of Havik, which still begged the question of how Aurel was managing to be up and walking when he should have been all but lifeless. "Can you call me back when you know? I'm going to check the last place she was seen again, around Nera Court."

I heard Telavar's hesitation. The phone rattled, jarred when passed from one hand to the other, and he lowered his voice as if fearful of being overheard. "I...I don't think that's the last place she was seen, Grae."

That was unexpected. What did he mean? "Then where—?"

"Let me connect Master Aurel so you may ask about the apartment. Please do not mention what I said, Ms. Winters."

"What?!" I squawked, attracting the attention of those in the diner with me. I simpered, then furiously whispered into the phone, "Don't you dare, Telavar! Do you know how much three-way calling costs on my home phone?!" 

It was too late. The phone rang twice, and a familiar voice answered with no small amount of irritation. "Havik speaking."

"Master Aurel, it's Tel."

"Telavar," Havik sighed, his relief audible. "I worried when I didn't hear from you. Are you safe? Is Grae well?"

"She is on the line as well, Master Aurel."

The shift in the vampire's tone from casual to professional was subtle but perceptible. "Hello, Ms. Winters."

"Hello." I grimaced and promised myself I'd chuck Telavar into another pair of trashcans when I saw him. "Can you tell me where Theda's apartment is?" 

"Why?" 

"For reasons I'd rather not say while standing in a public line trying to get lunch."

Telavar jumped in to explain. "She wishes to have a wider sample of Theda's emotions, to better track and identify her." 

Havik thought about it for a moment, then exhaled. "Fine," he begrudged. "The Night Manor, room 506."

"You people name your buildings so stupid. Night Manor. Jesus," I grumbled, not bothering to write the address down, as I knew where it was. The Night Manor tower was located about a half dozen streets up from the waterfront and the Gilded Glass. Similar buildings dotted the area, and humans were discouraged from wandering there. "I'll be there after I eat."

"Wait for nightfall, and I will admit you," Havik said. "Telavar, when will you—?"

"I'm not waiting for nightfall, I've got things to do," I scoffed.

Silence. Then, "Telavar, would you get off the line?"

He did so without a word, the phone clattering in the cradle before it was silent once more. I waited, turning my eyes toward the ceiling and its exposed industrial ducts.

"You will wait for nightfall."

"I'll do what I like, Havik. I don't have time to wait." It wouldn't be dark for hours. I didn't want to waste that much time doing nothing but waiting.

"I find it odd," the vampire mused, veering the conversation in a different direction. "Wyrd always assured me you were a good-tempered, intelligent sort of woman. What changed?"

My skin pebbled beneath the layers of my clothes and I resisted the urge to rub the sensation away. I didn't like the idea of them discussing me in private. "He ripped someone's throat out in front of me," I growled, keeping my voice low. "That's what changed!"

"Surely you've seen worse in your dealings with the RNPD? Was Wyrd's crime truly so damnable? It is in our nature to kill, Ms. Winters. Would you deny us our nature as you must deny your own?"

"It's in your nature to be self-serving bastards," I snapped. "I'm not waiting for nightfall!"

I hung up and turned off the phone, shoving it as far into my bag as it would go. The nerve of him! How dare he question my fear or my judgment! 

Though fuming, I knew I had seen horrible things while assisting Sibbie and the RNPD. Just the other day, I'd watched Emial rip a vampire's head off his shoulders and, compared to that, Wyrd's behavior was almost tame. Still, watching my mentor brutally kill a man had been the final nail in the coffin of my innocence. I hadn't known what vampires were capable of until that night. Prior, Wyrd had always been kind to me, knowledgeable, helpful. He'd saved my life when he'd killed John and Trinity, when he'd taken me from the barn and placed me in the care of the Nashes—so witnessing his savagery had been shocking. Upsetting.

I hadn't forgiven him, and he hadn't apologized. We hadn't spoken in almost eight years, and I avoided his cadre like it was cursed. Well, had avoided.

Laying a hand over my eyes, I groaned. 

A quiet chuckle behind my back turned my head, and I saw that the humming man was watching me with an amused expression. He was about an inch or so taller than I was, dressed in black slacks and a white button-down, the shirt untucked and the collar undone. His brown hair was liberally streaked with lighter shades of umber and red, and it had most likely started the day combed before becoming ruffled later on. His apparel was lazily put together, and the slight slouch of his muscled shoulders and the way he hooked his thumbs into his pockets conveyed an unpolished bohemian apathy.

That, and he wasn't wearing socks with his loafers. That certainly conveyed apathy. He couldn't be a day over twenty-four.

"Trouble at home?" he asked, gaze flicking toward my bag and the phone buried within. His eyes were a strange shade of copper, the unusual color notable, but the turquoise tarnishing about the edges truly unique. The man's stare was magnetic, difficult to look away from—and I immediately scrutinized his ears, expecting them to be sharp like a Fae's, but they were round.

"Not exactly," I replied, brow furrowed. I extended a tendril of my soul toward him, trying to find out exactly what he was, and I brushed against something dark and unyielding. There was a quiet strength to his magic, like the body of a great black dragon asleep in his horde, unmoving but full of explosive potential. It was as if the man carried a shadow ten times his size and it was barely contained within the walls of the squat, dusty diner.

I had absolutely no idea what he was.

"I apologize for eavesdropping," he said with an odd accent I couldn't place. Frankly, everything about the man was odd. At first glance, he appeared ordinary, disheveled and not all that out of place in a collegiate town—but new layers of oddity kept rising to the top, like peeling a metaphoric onion of peculiarity. "It's a bad habit of mine."

"I probably shouldn't have been talking so loud." I hadn't thought Telavar would put me on the phone with Havik, the little traitor. Speaking with the bastard of a master vampire always raised the volume of my voice. How did he get under my skin so easily?

"You mentioned the name Havik. May I assume you were speaking to Aurel Havik?"

The genial light in the man's eyes bid me believe in him, but I did not trust that compelling aura. It wasn't magic, as my ability to negate magical persuasions such as glamour and shades meant I was immune to those forms of trickery—but I wasn't immune to physical influences. If it was a pheromone or a hypnotic exploit, I was just as susceptible as anyone else.

"Yes...?"

The guy shook his head in stark wonderment, running his fingers through his hair. "Damn me twice, that man's a cockroach. The rest of us will be reduced to cinders and he'll still be here to brood over the ashes."

His assessment of Havik was fairly square on, though I wasn't sure what he was referring to. "I take it you know him."

"We have a mutual friend."

I snorted. Havik had friends?

The man tilted his narrow chin toward the counter. "Your turn."

Approaching the register, I placed my order, took my number, then went to find myself a table. I kept the stranger within my periphery vision, and—as I sank into the deflated booth—tried to place him. He was unlike any Fae I'd ever come across or sensed, but what else could he be? He wasn't a vampire, a magi, a witch, or a Were. He wasn't like me. His power had its own limited sentience, like a Fae's, and yet it was too...calm. Too still.

I leaned an elbow on the sticky table and stared at the far side of the diner, deliberately looking away from the stranger now placing his order at the counter, though my attention was centered upon him. The waitress stopped to give a much needed infusion of coffee and I muttered my thanks, reaching out to take the mug in my hand.

"Hrm...." I braced my weight on my arm and stretched a thin arm of my soul toward the man again, wanting to have a second look. My probing found nothing but that great, hulking shadow hanging above and around the wiry man—though I swore it rippled when I dared prod it. Weird.

It was because I was so intent on inspecting the creature's mystifying magic that I sensed the oncoming storm folding its turbulent arms around the diner. The cheap, painted lampshades on the hanging fixtures wiggled and squeaked as the lights dimmed, and the glass salt and pepper shakers chattered like cold teeth. The Fae energy slowly bled into the building as its spell gained momentum.

Through my shocked haze, I realized the spell was centered on the copper-eyed stranger reading the sandwich board—and it was about to come crashing down.

Without thought, I wrapped the thin cord of my soul about a branch of the man's weird magic and yanked with all my ability. The man stumbled, falling—and the air where he'd been standing ignited in a rush of flickering yellow flames. The downdraft exploded outward, shattering the windows, shredding the cheap lampshades. Patrons were thrown into the walls with loud shrieks.

Dazed, I straightened from where I'd slumped in the booth and viewed the scene, alarmed by the sloppy double-vision twisting my eyes. I went to return my soul to my body—but couldn't, because it was caught. Like a hand clad in a steel gauntlet, the man's magic had grabbed hold of my soul and wasn't letting go.

I shook my head, trying to clear the stars building in my eyes as I concentrated on breathing and tried to figure out what was going on. I couldn't hear over the ringing in my ears, courtesy of the initial explosion, but otherwise I felt fine. The man was kneeling on the floor, his white shirt scorched and his face a bit sooty, but otherwise unharmed—unlike the melted counter.

The stranger observed those who still remained in their seats, those too stunned to run like the others, and he finally stared at me. For an instant, the feral cast of his expression was terrifying, and then it vanished as if it never were, replaced by a smug smirk and a quirked brow. His magic, strong and inflexible as it was, tightened its grip and gave an experimental tug.

I gasped as my soul flailed, slipping further from me inch by inch.

What have I gotten myself into now?!

The storm rallied and gathered outside the blasted diner, approaching on swift winds as whoever had attacked the mysterious stranger came to inspect their handiwork. There were others with the attacker, weaker but no less deadly to a bystander who'd thwarted their murderous goals. I'd never come across these Fae before, but I sensed the cold, calculating intent behind their swelling power and knew their attack hadn't been an accident.

Still kneeling, the man tracked my gaze toward the main door. Then, his magic let go.

The Fae were almost inside, so close I could hear the measured rhythm of their footsteps. My soul rushed back into my body as—dizzy from the speed of its return—I jumped to my feet and ran for the kitchen door. None of the staff remained, their stations empty, soapy dishes dropped on the floor and the burners still ignited on the stove. I darted through the backdoor and fell into a hasty stride as I walked along the trash-strewn alley behind the diner.

Whatever had just happened, I didn't want to be involved. I was going to put as much distance between myself and that odd man as possible.

It was a sound plan—up until I found him waiting for me at the alley's exit.

"I never did catch your name," he said with a playful lilt as I gawked, throwing glances at the now distant diner I'd left him in. How did he do that?!

"Are you're not going to!" I retorted, my hand tight on my bag's strap as I sidestepped the man and kept going. I'd parked Telavar's car in the public parking lot at the street's end, unwilling to risk having it towed like my own vehicle. I was getting out of here.

"My kind take life debts quite seriously," the stranger hummed as he kept at my side. "You saved my life, did you not?"

"If I say no, will you go away?"

"No."

"Yeah, well, having some serious second thoughts about that." Somewhere beyond the building I was now passing, the Fae's magic was riling, stirred by frustration. The attacker knew they'd failed. They'd look for the man. "Please stop following me."

"You're not curious about who I am, or who they are?"

"No."

"You don't wish to know why they tried to kill me?"

"Nope."

The stranger laughed, the sound raspy and distinctly unkind. "You are either a very boring or very smart woman."

"Both work just fine with me." We were almost to the parking lot. A fire engine and an RNPD cruiser zipped by, tires squealing and sirens blaring as they took the first right onto the diner's street and disappeared. "Please stop following me. I'm already knee-deep in someone else's problems and don't need to add yours."

"I am well within my rights to follow you. A life debt constitutes a nonverbal contract, you see. We're mid-negotiation."

I came to a stop and glowered at the man, fighting the urge to look into his hypnotizing eyes as I wiped ash from my cold face. I still couldn't place what he was. The Fae were in the alley now, moving fast, my heart galloping into near-panicked speeds. "What would it take for you to stop following me?"

"Just a simple agreement so I may repay your...kindness at a future date." His tongue tripped over the word kindness like he meant to say stupidity, and I couldn't blame him. I hadn't meant to become involved. I'd only wanted to enjoy my lunch without having to witness a murder.

"Sure, fine. Whatever."

The man's eyes flashed with something akin to excitement. He folded his callused hands together and the sunlight highlighted the distinct shades in his hair. "Ah, what fun. I look forward to your call, mistress. I anticipate an interesting reunion."

Something in the back of my mind, some hazy recollection of a textbook entry read in a drowsy classroom, begged for attention—but I couldn't recall it. Puzzled, I pursed my lips and swallowed, wanting to escape. "So, do you have a number or something where I can—?"

"Oh no, that won't be necessary." He laid a hand against his chest and dipped into a sarcastic bow. "I will find you."

That hazy recollection was becoming clearer.

The man winked as he straightened. "Now then, I should be off. Humans to terrorize, bribes to make, unwitting masters to serve and all that." He snapped his thumb and forefinger together. "Ah! One last thing...an introduction! You must have my name, of course. I am Maligaphrius of Abaddon—but you, my unsuspecting savior, may call me Mal."

He vanished, there one second and gone the next, leaving me standing at the curb with my jaw hanging open and my thoughts utterly scrambled.

Was that...was that a demon?! Did I just make a deal with a demon?!