This night wasn’t for the faint of heart. Harbor Metropolitan Police Station was alive and kicking…after all—I lifted my head, dragging in the moon’s power, and smirked—it was the witching hour.

Sergeant Jeffries was right up my ass like a G-string, pushing and shoving, rubbing me raw. I lifted my gaze to the four-story Goliath of a building and then focused on the entrance as the automatic doors opened.

The place was packed. Street-corner lovers waited against the wall for processing. One of them was cuffed, another, dressed in knee-high fuck-me boots, showed more flesh than she covered. She gave me a smile, and then a wink. “You wanna wait with me, sweetheart?”

I couldn’t stop the smile, but I shook my head.

“I want this…this…witch brought in, at least….can you do that?” Thinks she can get away with it. Steal my man. I’ll bind her…bind her until the bitch can’t breathe…weigh her hands down with a hex…the river…that’s where I’d put her…no one would find her…ever…I followed that voice and turned my head.

“Move,” Jeffries snapped, and shoved my shoulder.

Sunshine yellow filled my gaze as I stumbled forward. The young hedge witch leaned over the counter brandishing a CD like a weapon at the young desk constable. Her long pale-yellow dress was wave on top of wave, flowing like she’d tapped into the sun itself. “She gave him a CD filled with enchanted music!”

The officer just looked at the disc in her hand. “Listen to what I’m saying, please. For the hundredth time, I’m really sorry your boyfriend is gone. But there’s no law against giving someone music.”

“So, what you’re saying is the home-wrecking bitch can get away with manipulating someone’s thoughts just because she wants to?”

Steal my man…steal my future. Hex her…hex her and bind her and bury her six feet under. I’ll destroy her…and her damn coven of black-hearted bitches.

Her thoughts pushed into my head. Jesus, I thought I had a dark side.

I couldn’t stand the tirade, not a damn second longer, and, as the officer slid the CD across the bench and turned away, I leaned in. “Listen here, Stevie Nicks. The fact that she could steal your man is a testament to how weak your bonds are. Maybe…now, this is just a suggestion…” I opened myself up to that dark power inside and whispered. “Strengthen your own bonds. You wanna bind someone? How about binding your lover to the damn bed and fucking his brains out?”

She flinched with the words, and slowly turned her head. Honey-brown eyes sparkled as she took it all in…the short red hair, the tight black top and black leather jacket. “My name is Simone,” she whispered.

“Whatever,” I muttered and licked my lips, drawing her gaze to the motion of my tongue, and whispered. “Forget about the witch, she means nothing to you…your man…that’s all you care about…all you see.”

“Leon,” she murmured and took a sudden breath. “I need to get back to Leon.”

I gave a nod and leaned backwards. “Sure you do, he’s probably wondering where the hell you are.”

Panic surged like a damn tsunami in her eyes. She jerked her gaze toward the officer and took a step away. “I’ve got to go,” she muttered, spun on her heel and took off, yellow dress flapping wildly as she tore through the waiting room like a shooting star.

“That’s the way, Stevie,” I murmured and turned to find Jeffries' cold, hard stare.

“Thought it was against the law to influence another's thoughts?”

The weak-ass smile was pathetic. “Influence? I just gave a mere suggestion…no harm in a little girl talk, now is there?”

A nerve pulsed against his temple. I didn’t need to delve into the cesspit of his mind to read his thoughts. Fuck, he really hated me. Jeffries gave the desk officer a side-glance and jerked his head. “Okay, empty them, let’s see what else you decided to steal from the crime scene. Remind me to watch the damn silverware when you’re around.”

The smirk on my lips died. The remark stung. I didn’t have to remove anything, didn’t have to comply. Didn’t have to do a damn thing if I didn’t want to. It wasn’t as though someone was gonna make me.

They’d have to touch me first.

Remove the jacket…show me those tits.

The words were a damn blast through my mind. I didn’t raise my gaze, only delved into my jacket pocket and pulled out a set of silver knuckles and placed it on the counter. “I’m getting this all back, right? And my shotgun…just so you know…”

Brows rose on the constable behind the desk as I delved back in and yanked out a small can of black spray paint. “For spraying sigils.”

“Mmmhmmm,” clucked Jeffries. “Keep going.”

The vial was next, red blood glistening under the overhead lights as I placed it on the counter.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Jeffries snarled.

The shiv was next, smooth, leather-wrapped handle, with the blade carved from obsidian stone. But it was the rattle that drew most of the stares in the waiting room. Metal cracked against glass as I drew the long, thin bottle free. Rusted nails banged against the side as the murky amber water sloshed. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard. Cries of anguish filled the room.

“What the fuck is that?” The constable raised his hand and leaned in.

“Wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” I warned. “Those nails there? Ripped from the hands of a thousand-year-old witch.”

He flinched and yanked his hand backwards. Fingers cracked against his chest as he jerked his gaze to mine. “Why the fuck would you want something like that?”

“It’s War Water,” Titus’s throaty growl came from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, catching the intensity in his gaze. “And it’s used by locking the supernatural inside. Isn’t that right, Lorn?”

Gone was the hint of a smirk, gone was the almost-teasing tone in his voice. He was all business, staring into my eyes, almost daring me to say anything.

I wondered, what did he see when he looked at me now?

Did he see the monster, instead of the woman?

He leaned closer, glanced at the objects on the counter, and motioned toward the desk officer. “You want to finish up with that?”

A plastic evidence bag was handed over. I took one look at the thick rubber gloves that came next and sighed. The jacket came off, leaving me shivering under the blast of the air conditioner overhead.

Rosemary beads clattered as I worked the bracelet from around my wrist and started on the other. Amulet after amulet was unbound, my third eye, a raven’s claw, and my protection talisman given to me by Gabriel, and dropped into the open bag.

“That it?” Titus murmured.

I gave a shrug and grasped my jacket from the counter. “I travelled light tonight. But I want my—”

“Shotgun…yeah, I heard you,” he growled and stepped away.

I gave Jeffries one last glance, and then turned. Titus waited, motioning me forward with the sweep of his hand. I carved through the waiting humans and supes, making my way to the elevator.

I glanced toward the front doors and rethought this entire thing. I didn’t have to be here, not with these bogus damn charges. But only one thing kept me in line…only one thing that kept this big mouth of mine closed.

And in a second, I was back there, sitting inside the police car listening to Titus’s unspoken plea.

Help me…

Those words resounded clear as day inside my head as the elevator gave a ping and the doors opened.

“After you,” the Inspector murmured.

I stepped inside, scanned the foyer as he followed, leaned over, and pressed the second-floor button. I pressed my spine against the cold steel wall and waited.

There was something Titus wasn’t saying, something that coiled like a damn snake inside that gorgeous body. Muscles flexed under his shirt as he leaned backwards and waited for the doors to close.

A tremor raced through my body. Inside my head, this was playing out all fifty goddamn shades of red; pushing me hard against the wall, calloused hands cupping my breasts, head lowered, finding my nipple. The flurry of movement happened in a split second—inside my damn mind.

The reality was painfully boring. He sighed, took a step to the side, gave me a glance with those perfect blue eyes, and then found the damn floor.

Awesome.

I reached for my left hand, rubbing my palm, as the elevator shuddered and shook, and then came to a bone-jarring halt. The doors slid open. I waited for him to motion before I drew in one deep breath and exhaled.

The second story was quieter, that’s for sure. I followed him along the hallway of closed office doors as we headed for the row of interrogation rooms.

I tried to remember how many damn times I’d been here.

A lot. Especially in the beginning, when people like me were branded the enemy. It was a tough way to learn which damn side you belonged to, one side shoving you, another pulling.

Thank the Goddess for Alma.

The wrinkled, pot-smoking, gun-toting, free-wheeling witch was a damn blast to learn from, and she was also my grandmother.

It was all about free love with that one. Guys, girls…didn’t matter to Alma—love was love. Why do I have to choose? She'd mutter with a cheeky wink, and she’s counting down D-day one damn lover at a time.

“This one,” Titus called behind me, dragging me from the only memory of family and home I have.

A torn piece of paper hung askew on the front of the door. Block writing read, Re-wiring in progress. Use other rooms. I glanced along the corridor to the cracked open doors and the darkened rooms, and then turned to the room.

Okay, no cameras…no microphones. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t mind the sign,” He murmured. “it’s only the cameras.”

I stepped inside and waited while he flicked on lights and closed the door behind me. It was a standard damn room, two chairs, a table. CCTV cameras hung out of the wall, wires exposed. So this wasn’t a trick.

“I wanted a little privacy, thought maybe up here you’d talk a little more freely.”

I skirted the table, dropped my leather jacket over the back of the chair, and took a seat on the opposite side. “Sure,” more like so you can talk a little freely.

A file hit the tabletop with a slap. “The drug you decided to pocket, have you ever seen that before?”

“No, you?”

He wasn’t rising to the bait, only opened the folder and flipped through the pages before he lifted his head and gave me those blue eyes. “It was from the crime scene, wasn’t it? That’s where you found it.”

I leaned my arms on the desk and held his gaze.

Perfect lips pursed, drawing my focus to the flex of his hard jaw. He sighed, lifted his hand, scratched the dark stubble on his chin, and then raked his fingers through short, tousled hair. “Just tell me one thing…did you take it?”

“The drug? Fuck, no.”

Drugs were a hard line for me, and it wasn’t because of perfectly aligned morals.

Dark power seethed inside me, hungry and hunting…all the damn time. I kept the witch inside me under control…barely. The thought of my power uncontrolled was fucking terrifying.

“Good,” he muttered, and leaned back against the chair.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about me, Inspector,” the words were throatier than I intended, and filled with need.

I’d thought about Titus more than once.

Thought about how his skin would taste under my tongue, thought about how it would feel to be the sole focus of that powerful gaze.

But humans…now, they were messy.

Don’t get me wrong. I like sex…hell, I fucking love sex…it just doesn’t love me. I wanted a powerhouse of a man. Someone with enough stones to not just call me his, but to deserve all I had to give.

But all I seemed to attract was clingy, needy men that really didn’t want me at all—not the real me.

I was a damn hurricane…but it was the only way I knew how to be.

And when their own self-created spell fizzled dry along with the lust, they saw the sweat-stained sheets for what they were—a good fucking time.

Still, they waited, hoped, and prayed I’d be…something other than this.

That was the worst part. Standing there, seeing hope in their damn eyes, as though they were just praying for the stroke of midnight to come and turn this train-wreck of a woman into a princess.

But there was no princess…and when midnight came, they left…usually screaming and cursing.

Yeah, sex…I dragged in the faint scent of Davidoff’s Cool Water and gazed at the open collar of his shirt.

“This stuff is bad, Lorn. Really bad, and tonight wasn’t the first case we’ve seen. There’ve been others. Supes going crazy…there's something out there, something coming. I can feel it, and I think you can feel it, too.”

I dragged in his scent and felt that rise of energy…my heart squeezed, clenching tight to send a shudder through my chest.

Thud…thud…thud.

My pulse pounded like the heavy echo of boots, drawing me into that vision once more.

Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead.

I never shifted my gaze, never moved from those ice-blue eyes, and out the snatches of darkness the true reason came to me.

A shadow grew from behind the Inspector, reaching up and out, until it swallowed the room behind him. And out of the gloom, a chuckle slipped free.

The gold wedding band filled my head, falling end over end through the dark.

“Having trouble at home, Inspector?”

I kept my voice steady, watching that vampiric cloud as it gripped the Inspector’s shoulders.

“Yes,” he whispered.

That words vibrated, sending a shudder through the darkest part of me. I closed my eyes and opened myself up to the magic. “Got anything to do with the reason why you’re not wearing your wedding ring?”

And still that darkness grew, filling half of the room.

“Lorn?”

Darkness rolled and roiled. I opened my eyes, and couldn’t look away as the shadow swelled, filling the room like a cloud of volcanic ash. And out of the dark depths came a chuckle…cold, daring…filled with the promise of pain and torture.

That chuckle nailed me to the spot. I couldn’t turn away, couldn’t stop myself from falling…

“Lorn!”

Heat flared from my hand, wrenching me from the vision. The room spun, a chair squealed against the floor, and I was stumbling, dragging myself as far away from that sight as I could.

The back of my head collided with the wall with a heavy thud. I stilled, sucking down hard breaths, and tried to speak. “Don’t ever do that again…ever…

The Inspector was a blur, shoving up from the table and coming close. “You were tearing your hand apart. Jesus…you’re bleeding.”

He fumbled in his trouser pocket and dragged a folded handkerchief free. A harsh bark of laughter tore from my lips. Who the fuck uses handkerchiefs anymore?

The cotton was soft against my skin. Still, I could feel him through the fabric, his pain, his anguish…his desperation all swirling around me like a damn tornado.

I looked down to my palm and stared at the swab of fabric. My skin was raw, cut by my own damn nails. I peeled the edge of the handkerchief backwards and looked at the damn mess.

“You were tearing yourself apart,” he whispered, his voice filled with angst.

I lifted my head, finding those perfect blue eyes, and murmured, “Your wife, Titus. I want you to tell me about your wife.”

He flinched, and, in the space of a heartbeat, concern burned away to the flare of anger. “There’s nothing to tell you. Focus on the case, Lorn. The drugs. I want to know everything you know. Who makes them? Who distributes them? And what the fuck is in them?”

“The drugs…” that’s it…that’s literally all this was? What about all the ‘help me’ shit? “You’ve got to be shitting me, right?”

“No, not shitting you,” Titus leaned in, staring straight into my eyes. “I want the truth.”

“The truth,” I drew in a long breath, and felt disappointment. “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll give you your truth, Inspector. You know what I am, right? That I can see things…feel things, that aren’t there, and I’m telling you, you’re in danger. From what, I don’t know. Now, usually I don’t give two flying fucks about helping a human—”

“You’re just after the bad guy, right?”

A smile crept across my lips. “That’s it, but here I am…giving a shit. I’ve never seen that drug before tonight. I don’t know who makes it, who distributes it, and no, I don’t know what it’s made of. But one thing I do know is , you’ve got one massive black cloud hanging over your shoulder, Titus. I’d be careful, if I were you…” I shoved away from the wall and took a step. “And you know me, I don’t do careful.”

He leaned away, eyes sparkling with something other than the fucking terror he should be feeling.

Footsteps echoed along the hallway outside. There was a sharp knock on the door, followed with a muffled voice. “Inspector, there’s a Ms. Veronica Falls in the foyer.”

“Now, if you don’t mind,” I motioned my head toward the closed door. “Not that this hasn’t been a blast.”

He knew he couldn’t keep me here…not without one helluva charge—and, even then, The Circle would bury the department under so much paperwork, they’d never see the light of day.

Titus nodded slowly. He was a good guy, a scared-as-fuck good guy. Underneath the cool exterior, he was panicking. I knew it. He knew it, and yet here he was, doing the macho mambo. He motioned toward the closed door and turned to the table.

I made for the chair, grasped the jacket with my good hand, and looked at the bloody mess on the handkerchief.

“Keep it,” he muttered without lifting his gaze.

My steps stilled, inside, I was already at the door and wrenching open the handle. Inside, I was already getting the hell outta this joint, but the real me leaned across the table, snatched up his pen, and scribbled a number on the corner of his notepad. “Call me if you’re about to die,” I muttered and then found his gaze. “Stupid fucking humans.”

There was a flinch, and a blush filled his cheeks as the hard knock came once more. My steps were a blur as I grasped the door and yanked. I never stopped, not for the officer at the door, not even for the elevator. Instead, I punched through the stairwell door and marched down the stairs.

The ground floor was just as busy as when I'd entered it. The same hookers waited, picking their nails and chewing gum, staring into nothing while the foyer filled with supes and humans.

She was a ruptured artery amongst the chaos. Dressed immaculately in a cherry red business suit, stood Veronica fucking Falls. She clutched my shotgun with two fingers, holding the weapon away from her body like the damn thing was a ticking time bomb, and waited.

I sighed, shoved my hand into the sleeve of my jacket, and shrugged the leather over my shoulders.

“Ms. Payne,” she muttered, catching sight of me.

I shook my head, turned, glanced at her once more, and muttered, “All you need is the nose to complete the ensemble.”

Blood red lips pursed as one immaculate brow rose. “Nose?”

“You know,” I reached for my gun and motioned to her clothes, “for the fucking clown suit.”

“Funny,” she sneered, waited for a second and then looked down.

I couldn’t hide the smirk as she tugged the jacket and looked around nervously. “The board—”

I grabbed my weapon with one hand and my bag of charms and amulets with the other, making sure the bastards hadn’t stolen any, unlike last time, and snarled. “The board can go to Hell…at least, until after I’ve had about eight hours of solid sleep and about four extra-large, quad-shot coffees. And then, and only then, can I face their bullshit.”

“You are required…actually, more than required. You are obligated to attend.”

I spun on my heel, heaved the shotgun over my shoulder and snapped, “I’ve had back-to-back demon jobs for the past twenty-four hours. I haven’t had a shower in…fuck, I can’t remember when, and I’m pretty damn sure my stomach thinks my damn throat’s been cut. So if you want me walking in there and sitting through the next three hours of how my,” I lifted one hand and added an air quote, “‘attitude’ needs adjusting, and how The Circle needs me to be a ‘team player,’ then I’m not only going to unleash the biggest goddamn shit fit the Circle’s ever seen, I’m going to carry in all the damn stench I can muster. Now I’m pretty damn sure I saw some very ripe road kill on my way here. Aude de dead raccoon, anyone?”

She was silent, staring me straight in the eyes. Her lips stuck together with the thick layer of lipstick as she opened her mouth.

“Think carefully, now…” I murmured.

“Eight AM sharp,” she snapped. “If you’re even one second late, I’ll have you up on report faster than you can say Alma Goodchild.”

I smiled, or it could’ve been a sneer…I wasn’t sure and didn’t give a shit. She spun, looked around the room once more, and then made for the exit.

I waited for a second before drawing in a breath and felt my shoulders slump. Twenty-four hours of being bitten, hit, cursed, and set on fire… “I need a new damn job.”

Alma Goodchild or not, this shit was wearing thin. I dragged my hand higher and probed the corner of my eye. I was sure I was getting crow's feet…at goddamn twenty-two years old.

I glanced at the desk officer, watching him glance my way before turning. “Hey, is anyone going to drive me back to my car?”

He stared at me blankly. I turned my head, catching Jeffries further along the counter. The bastard just stood there, watching, and then turned, giving me his back. Goddamn sonofa...

No one made a move, no one fucking cared. I gripped the shotgun and turned for the door.

“See ya, Princess,” the hooker murmured and glanced my way. “Whisper a prayer to the Mother for me. Tell her it’s from Natalie.”

I gave her a smile and a nod. The automatic doors opened with a whoosh and the night air rushed in. I left the harsh white lights of the precinct behind and headed along the sidewalk to Harlson Avenue.

The city streets were alive. Headlights cut through the gloom to blind me. I stuck out my thumb, gripped the shotgun with the other hand, and started to walk.

My car was a good five blocks away. Figured, me and my big goddamn mouth pissing Veronica off so soon, and only the desperate or demented would stop for a witch carrying a damn firearm in the early hours of the morning.

But one could hope.

The heavy whoop whoop whoop of wings cut through the night and ended with a heavy thud. I didn’t have to lift my head to know who walked alongside me. Anyone else might whisper a prayer of thanks for the guardian, but all I could muster was, “Not in the mood, Gabriel.”

“You’re never in the mood, and yet…here I am.”

I turned my head, catching neon white against the glare of oncoming headlights. “Why the hell are you here?”

He winced at the word. “Why in Heaven am I here?” He muttered, and stared at the passing cars. Headlights swerved, tires squealed. No one wanted to see a damn archangel walking toward you in the dead of the night.

“You could tone it down a little,” I muttered and lengthened my stride, waiting for a damn car to veer toward me. “A witch is one thing, even a damn shifter is becoming acceptable, but an archangel striding down the street in the dead of night is a little too much for them to wrap their tiny minds around, yeah?”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

His coat flapped, and the night curled around his body…now without the mammoth white wings. He craned his neck, testing muscles, and then glanced my way. “Better?”

“Much. Now you going to tell me why you’re here, or are we going to play fifty damn questions?”

“Can’t a friend just pop in every now and then?” He grumbled.

Red and blue cut through the dark, and the growl of an engine filled the night as a cop car sped past. I turned, catching those perfect brown eyes bathed in the hue and felt a jackhammer in my chest.

God, he was breathtaking.

Dirty blonde hair skimmed his shoulders as he turned, catching my stare. White lights bounced off the shaved sides. I forced myself to find flaws, forced myself to hate the towering male with his thick shoulders and his massive hands. He was too much…too much muscle, too much damn torture. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? You’re a damn messenger, go, deliver messages.”

“You know that’s not all I am, right?”

I sighed, stopped on the sidewalk, and turned. “Okay, you’re right. You’re the heavenly embodiment of every school-girl's, note-passing in the tenth grade.”

“That stings…that really stings,” he muttered, suddenly looking lost. “You’re angry with me.”

Oh, hell no, we're not going there…not tonight. “I’m not angry, Gabriel, I promise. It’s just been one helluva night, and all I wanna do is eat, and sleep, and feel somewhat human.”

“About the kiss…”

I took a step backwards and waved my hand in the air. “Don’t think about it. It was a stupid mistake, won’t happen again—”

“It’s not that I’m not flattered. I just promised…”

The ground felt like it opened up and swallowed me whole. “My dead father, who I know nothing about. I get it. Really, I get it. Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

There was nothing like being let down…twice. “You wanted something, right? Just spit it out.”

He looked around at the passing cars, listening to the faint wail of sirens. “The case tonight…it’s connected to the war of the witches from last week, isn’t it?”

“I think so, yes. You know something?” I stepped closer. “If you do, I want to know about it.”

“What? No, I just…I want you to be careful…there’s something brewing, something I can’t quite understand. It’s dark, and dangerous. Promise me…promise me you’ll be careful, Lorn.”

He shifted when he spoke, tensing his shoulders, staring into the damn shadows. Something was eating him, and it was more than my fumbling, drunken attempt at seduction. Not my finest move…not by a long shot.

Still, the moment replayed in my head over and over, ending with the spectacular revulsion in his eyes and those five gut-wrenching words…

Not going to happen…ever.

I’d never been shut down so hard—brutal, really.

And here we were, trying to carry on as though nothing had changed.

When it clearly had—for me and for him.

“I just need to know you’re safe. Just…stay in the light, okay?” He muttered, giving me a hard stare, and then turned away.

“You know, for someone who puts up a good fight, you really don’t know how to stay away, do you?”

He stilled, stiffened, and looked to the ground.

“That’s what I thought. Stay in the light, got it. Thanks for the heads-up.”

I stuck out my thumb again for a second before I gave up trying and stormed off. Who the hell was I kidding? No one in their right mind was going to stop for a witch carrying a shotgun.

The heavy whoop whoop whoop of wings beat the air behind me. “A month…took you a fucking month to grow some balls and face me and all I get is ‘stay in the light’” I mimicked.

I clenched my jaw and focused on the street, carving through the parked cars to cross the road. How the fuck was I supposed to take that seriously? Horns blared behind me. I gripped the mess of a damn handkerchief and flipped the driver the bird.

Alma…Alma would know how to get me out of this shit. I sighed, maybe after the damn meeting, I’d need to reach out to her. No damn phone, remember? The woman changed numbers and addresses more frequently than I changed the damn sheets.

It was always the same with her, plan to meet, move around. The woman didn’t like staying in one place too long, that was for sure, and her address wasn’t the only thing she changed frequently.

She might be close to seventy, but she had the sex drive of an eighteen-year- old. Guys, girls…didn’t make a wink of difference with her. Her favorite saying was why choose? The corner of my mouth crept higher. Yeah, maybe after the meeting. Just the thought made that tight fist in my gut ease.

The streets faded with the thought, until I rounded the corner and found the black and white still sitting outside.

The young constable stood sentry outside. His gaze narrowed as I neared. “You,” he muttered. “You can’t come back in here.”

“If it isn’t Constable Chuck Chunder and the goon squad. No sweat, Chuck. Just here to pick up my ride.” His face turned green under the outside light. “It was my first.”

“Don’t sweat it,” I muttered and dug into my pocket for my keys. “We all lose it the first time. Do yourself a favor, and don’t be as narrow-minded as Jeffries. Actually ask questions, you never know when a freak like me might just save your damn life.”

He stilled, thought about it, and gave a nod as I made for my car. The damn thing stood alone, parked under the streetlamp. I rounded the front, shoved the key into the lock, and yanked open the driver's door.

The howl of metal on metal tore through the night before I yanked the door closed and started the engine. A blast followed, sounding like a damn gunshot. The constable flinched, and then stepped further outside to stare.

I sucked in a breath, shoved the car into gear and rolled my piece of junk out onto the road.

The drive was a bleary-eyed nightmare. Tiny green numbers on the dashboard said three AM as I wound through the residential streets and headed for home.

The old neon sign for Chang's Chinese flickered once and then died as I pulled up outside. I shoved the car into gear, twisted the key, grabbed my gun, and climbed out.

The street light buzzed and hummed above. I blinked into the glare and slammed the driver's door. One twist of the key and the locks thudded closed.

I dragged myself up the few stairs to the glass door and shoved a key into the lock. The apartment wasn’t much, but it was cheap, overlooking Chang's and the rest of Harbor city. I opened the outside door and headed inside to the long set of stairs that would lead me home.

My boots echoed in the space as I climbed and finally stopped at the old wooden door. My fingers fumbled with the key, moving without thought, then I gave a jerk of my wrist and I was inside.

And on any other night, I might’ve paused as I stumbled down the hallway, on any other night, I might’ve taken refuge in the city lights sparkling in the distance. But tonight wasn’t that night.

I stepped inside, kicked the door closed and locked it behind me, and, as I dropped my gun beside the bed, I felt that darkness stir inside me.

And, in an instant, I was back there, in that interrogation room, looking into a billowing cloud of ash.

Dark times were coming…and they weren't just for Titus Banks, because, as I stood in that interrogation room and stared into the belly of the beast, I swore it stared back…right into my soul.