“Stop fiddling with the bandage or your wound won’t heal,” Levi said, glancing at Cary in the passenger seat, even thought he knew she wouldn’t listen to him.

“Take the next left. That’s our street.” She pulled on a loose thread on her dressing. “Should be number 304.”

The place reminded Levi of Cary’s house in Watersmeet. Isolated, concealed, with no nosy neighbors.

It might be the kind of place he wanted to look into when it came time to retire. But who was he kidding? He’d never walk away from tracking down demons and destroying every last one of the fuckers.

“Levi,” Cary said, her voice soft.

He glanced across the car to her as she shifted in her seat, her hands wedged under her thighs, and her gaze focused on the forest outside her window. “Yeah?”

The image of the lasso around her neck filled his thoughts, the pain behind her gaze, and the marks on her skin from the lasso.

She was a damn cambion. A freakin’ demon, yet his heart squeezed at the memory of her injuries.

Still, he couldn’t make himself reach across and touch her bouncing knee and offer some sign of comfort. He’d vowed to vanquish every demon from earth, yet the idea of hurting Cary ripped his insides to shreds. The last time he felt like this was when the demon killed Marcos.

Nothing made sense. Not his conflicting emotions, not his attraction to Cary, and not even the ache in the pit of his gut from the loss of the bloody hellhound.

“Blinkie saved my life, and I know he meant a lot to you. I’m sorry he’s gone.” Why would the hellhound care if Levi lived or died anyway? Regardless, he owed him his life.

Cary stared ahead for the longest moment and sniffled. “Crazy hellhound.” Her voice broke, and she swiped at a tear streaming down her cheek. “Told you he liked you.”

Levi reached over and placed a hand on Cary’s thigh, squeezing.

Silence accompanied them along the dirt road. Shards of sunlight pierced the dense woods around them and lit up the narrow path meant for one car.

“You sure this is the place?” he asked.

She scanned the property. “Kind of looks familiar, but the trees were smaller back then.”

Another few minutes lumbering on the bumpy dirt road and the front porch of a dilapidated house came into view. The wooden railing around the porch had rotted away and a few planks had fallen into the super-sized grass. Paint chipped off the two-story wooden house and plywood boarded several windows.

“Can’t see a number for the house.” He came to a stop directly in front and switched the engine off.

Cary climbed out and shut the door behind her. She trampled toward the porch through the knee-high grass and weeds. Levi followed, scanning the area. Abandoned was a good word to describe it, especially with the tree growing so close to the house that its branches had somehow penetrated the wall and grown through the roof.

The porch groaned beneath his steps. Dried leaves rustled in the wind.

A hiss came from beside him.

He jerked around.

A ginger cat curled up on the torn sofa sitting on the porch, lips peeled back, mouth open in a threat.

Cary knocked on the door. No one answered.

Levi approached the window, ignoring the cat. The closed blinds made it impossible to see anything inside.

“Not sure anyone’s in there,” Cary said.

The cat hopped off its chair and raced round the back.

Cary trailed the cat, and Levi followed her. Around the side of the house was a camouflage-green Dodge Rampage pickup, still in decent condition, give or take a few dents and scratches. The tires had plenty of tread.

In the backyard, Levi spotted an old shed. The woods and weeds had claimed the building so that only its door, slightly ajar, was not completely consumed by vegetation. Not yet anyway.

“Hello? Thomas?” Cary called out. “Are you home?”

A clank came from inside the shed. Levi stepped forward to stand next to Cary, uncertain of what to expect.

The door to the shed swung open, and a white-bearded man with a severe side part in his white hair stepped out. He gripped a machete, and his gaze slammed into Cary, then Levi.

“Get off my property.” He raised his weapon.

“Whoa, relax man.” Levi raised his hands in a peace offering. “We’re just searching for someone. No one needs to get hurt. Put the knife down.” He resisted grabbing his blade to avoid appearing hostile, plus his was ten times smaller than the machete.

Cary placed a hand to her chest. “Thomas, it’s me.”

The old man’s head tilted, studying her with squinted eyes, his bushy eyebrows merging into one long line.

“Last time you saw me, I was about twelve or thirteen. My dad and I came here once. I swung on your tire swing.” She pointed to a monster oak, but no tire hung from it now.

His brow furrowed, but his eyes glistened. “Cary Stone?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s me.”

A smile slid across his mouth. “You’ve grown. I didn’t recognize you, but I should have known. You have your father’s chin. And his eyes.” He leaned back and stashed the machete back in the shed, a clank sounding. “Come here, girl.”

Moving closer, he took her into his embrace, and Cary hugged him, burying her head into his chest. Neither moved for a while, lost in a hug Levi suspected held a lot of memories.

Levi stood there, the sun beating down on his shoulders. The ginger cat prowled out from behind a shrub, hissing in his direction. Good to know he wasn’t the only one on edge.