Warmth tickled Cary’s cheeks. She rolled over toward the heat and opened her eyes to sunlight streaming in from a massive window overlooking several apartment buildings.

Wait! She jerked up in bed. This isn’t home.

Pulling herself up, her nudity was on full display to anyone looking her way from the buildings across from Levi’s. She seized the bed-sheet and pressed it to her chest. Obviously, Levi had no modesty if this was how he slept, especially since he was the type who couldn’t be bothered changing into pajamas at bedtime.

Speaking of Levi… She glanced over her shoulder to an empty bed. On the other side of the studio, his naked form lay sprawled across the sofa. Her breath hitched at the idea of him not sharing the bed with her. So, she was good for him until they had fun in bed, but he wouldn’t grant her the opportunity to snuggle.

She huffed in disgust. Definitely time to bail and go back to pretending this never happened.

Besides, she had a test to perform to see if she was indeed marked. 6:15 already according to the clock radio on the floor near the bed.

She pulled the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around her chest. When she stood, the fabric tubed to her ankles, and she hurried toward the bathroom to track down her clothes.

Levi breathed in and out in steady, even rhythms. Yup, he was definitely out while curled on his side, one leg hanging off the edge, the other bent to fit on the sofa.

How could anyone sleep like that? Her gaze traveled up his legs, and fire scaled her cheeks.

You weren’t shy last night when you licked him like a lollipop. She shook her head to dispel last night’s passion.

In the bathroom, she collected her bra and top from inside the tub; her jeans and panties dangled from the towel rail. They were dry, so she pulled them on. She splashed her face with cold water but was still blushing.

Sneaking back toward the sofa in the main room, she lifted her boots in slow motion and took one last, lingering look at Levi. Her blood raced. Sure, he was naked, but he had that effect on her no matter what he wore, or didn’t wear.

Cary spun around and with short steps, hurried across the wooden floorboards and unlatched the lock.

Click!

She froze. Damn. Was that too loud?

A slow turn of her head confirmed Levi hadn’t stirred. Releasing a breath, she twisted the knob and swung the door open before shutting it behind her.

She paused to hurriedly get her boots onto her feet, not bothering to zip them. She raced downstairs and into a warm breeze that tossed through her hair. The morning sun burning her shoulders promised another scorching day. Several cars lined the quiet side street outside Levi’s place, along with wooden benches that had paint peeling off them in curly chunks. She paced away from the building, sending a sidelong stare at the couple yelling at each other from across the road.

Better she put distance between her and Levi. Her belly tightened as she pictured the previous night, the way Levi kissed and licked every inch of her, then held her until she fell asleep.

Girl, can you be any more twisted around him?

There were bigger issues to deal with, like uncovering whether she was marked, instead of worrying about her uncontrollable libido.

Even though most storefronts remained closed, a few people were already out and about, hurrying down the streets. Birds flew overhead in the cloudless sky, trees rustled, and a car’s engine groaned as it zipped past. Yep, it all seemed normal…

Then why were goose-bumps racing up her arms? She lifted her hand to her nose and inhaled. Definitely sulfur. She had honestly hoped the smell would vanish overnight. No such luck.

Kicking into a run, she sprinted down the block, suddenly feeling vulnerable out in the open and without real weapons—a blade, lighter, and a vial of holy water didn’t count for much against any demon worth a kitten’s weight in evil.

Cary careened down a side alley and stopped outside a window with the words Magick Antiques printed on the glass in purple letters. It was just a few blocks down from Levi’s. A quick check over her shoulder revealed no one was about, and in an hour, these stores would be bustling. Ideal timing to break into the place. She plucked the steel lock picks from inside her boot, knelt in front of the wooden, re-enforced, metal door, and got to work. On her last visit to the store before she started working for Argos, she hadn’t seen any security or cameras inside, but that was over a year ago.

She heard a grunt from down the alley and panicked. She jerked up, tucked the tools behind her back, and held her breath. Two elderly men strolled past the street’s opening, chatting happily with each other. Nothing and no one to worry about. One smiled at her as they passed, and she waved back, trying to look innocent.

They wandered out of sight, and exhaling, she refocused on picking the old-fashioned lock. When it clicked open, she hurried inside, shutting the door behind her. No security detectors in the corners. She stepped deeper into a room so cram-packed with junk that the place could be mistaken for a hoarder’s house. She activated the flashlight on her phone and tucked it into a corner of her top.

Sofas everywhere, book shelves back to back, vases filling every corner. Jeez, trinkets and treasure boxes galore. Must be the store room. Glass cabinets filled with grimoires (texts with instructions on magic) lined the far right of the store. Most were probably fake shadow and spell books, meant for wannabe witches who formed their covens in Internet chat rooms. Some people were gullible, and this shop took advantage of that. Cary didn't have time to be defensive on their behalf, just then. Stepping over a bassinet with a one-eyed doll in it, she squeezed between an oversized bronze lamp in the shape of a scythe, and a table brimming with writing feathers. Well, now she knew where to get a quill if the need ever arose.

She emerged from the clutter into an empty area at the back of the room. Light from the front window illuminated the white fabric hanging over the object she was after.

She peeled back the fabric from the full-body mirror. The surface gleamed like a dark polished onyx stone. It definitely wasn’t glass.

Black scrying mirrors shouldn’t be in stores or on the web for the public to get their hands on. No one should gamble their souls for a bit of fortune telling. Luckily, fragments of sunlight flooded the store from the front window, hitting the mirror dead in the center, keeping at bay anything inside. Maybe the store owner knew what he was doing after all.

A shiver wormed its way through Cary’s body. The first time she’d seen one of these was with her dad when they stumbled across a possessed woman using it to call other demons into this world. Not a good memory.

Okay, time to do this. After a quick scan of the front window to confirm no one was around, she faced the mirror again.

She ran the flame of Levi’s lighter along the length of its surface. “I empower you,” she said. With the lighter tucked way, she stepped back. “Hear me. I ask that you bestow your powers onto this mirror and that I may use it to ask any question. Show me the truth. Show me my mark.”

Staring didn’t make a difference. Nothing happened. Only a faint reflection of her bounced back, but there was no sign of her mark. Cary scratched her head, then it hit her. “Oh, right.”

Digging into her front pocket, she plucked out the holy water vial. Popping the cork, she brought it to her lips but couldn’t bring herself to swallow it. Every muscle tensed. “It’s now or never,” she said to herself.

She tipped back the holy water and drank it all in one gulp. Coughing, she stumbled backward, hands plastered to her stomach. It stung a hundred times worse than the nastiest acid reflux she'd ever experienced. Holding her breath, she waited for the pain to dissipate. It did, eventually, but then her gut rumbled and churned. She gagged and resisted the urge to run toward the window. Her flesh burned, eyes watered, and she held back the vomit threatening to hurl from her mouth.

“Don’t you dare come back out,” she whispered. Her voice choked on each word.

The world spun beneath her feet. She held on to the wall for balance. Staggering toward the mirror, she stood in front it, her knees shaking. “Show me honestly. Show me my mark.”

Using the last drop of holy water from the vial, she smeared the liquid across the onyx surface. The moment her finger pulled away, murky storm clouds manifested within the frame and rolled across the mirror's surface.

“Cary,” a disembodied voice said. She scanned the room, looking through the main window to the outside. No one there.

Was she hearing ghosts? Wonder how much ghost hunters made. That had to be safer.

From within the folds of the clouds floating inside the mirror, two piercing yellow eyes formed. A lanky, thin silhouette appeared as if it were walking toward her from someplace inside the mirror, and yet, very far away.

The beast’s features materialized slowly. A pointy nose formed from the black mass complete with hairy open sores, a wide brow, and large eyes. The chin, covered in lesions, came last as part of the image in the mirror.

Cary’s flesh rippled as frost seeped into her bones. Her mouth dried, and she was unable to pull her gaze away from the lacerations across the demon’s cheeks. Somehow, she felt pity for this thing.

It hissed as it sucked in air through its toothy grin. The canines were extra-long and pointy, reminding her of the blood-devourer she’d once encountered. They didn’t care for souls, only human blood, an anomaly among demons.

Eyes rolled back into its head. “Newly picked soul—raw and crisp.” It clucked its tongue.

“I command you by the name of our Lord—”

“Legs’ father sent me.” Its taunting words echoed through the store.

No way! Had he just said Legs? Her father used to call her that. She’d once impersonated a spider, and he never let her forget it. She’d never told anyone that story.

“Do you know my father?” Her heart and stomach competed in twisting her insides to agony, and her aching belly was winning the war.

“He shares my world now. Gone from hers forever.” It nodded. “But a mercenary has marked Legs for a high-ranked general who will grant a boon to the demon who brings her to him.”

A torrent of chills rushed across her skin. Her dad was in Hell! She cupped her mouth and her vision blurred. She blinked back the tears, refusing to show weakness in front of a beast.

“Whoever delivers Legs will gain free access into her world.”

“Amon?” The last demon had talked about markings and someone called Amon.

“She’s heard of him.” It burst into a nasally chuckle, the sound grating down Cary’s spine. “Her mark is fresh.” A black, forked tongue slithered from its mouth and made a disturbing sucking sound.

The mark.

“Soldiers of Hell are coming for her. She glows like the sun.”

The demon’s form flickered again, fading further, reminding Cary of a static television channel, and the putrid stench flooded her senses.

“I owe her father. But next time, she’s mine.”

A snarl echoed over her shoulder. Outside the front window, the hellhound from the previous night who had one eye that blinked more than the other. What was he doing here?

Lips peeled back over fangs, drool seeping from its mouth, eyes set on the mirror.

“Her father’s hound. Can’t protect her against all of us.” Clouds now streamed across the demon’s body and face.

The hound’s howls escalated. Cary peered over her shoulder and watched him jumping up against the window outside the antique store. Are you really Dad’s hellhound?

On her next breath, a frozen hand clasped around Cary’s neck, squeezing. An arm was sticking out of the mirror, strangling her. She bashed her fists into the arm but it felt like stone.

Part of a face formed behind the storm clouds inside the mirror, a gaping mouth sporting several rows of sharp teeth. A pale tongue slid out of its mouth, licking the top row of its incisors.

Cary’s chest burned. She frantically tugged at the fingers around her neck with no success. The harbinger of death faced her.

Her stomach gurgled from the holy water, threatening to burrow a hole through her flesh to escape. She lifted a knee and slid her hand toward her boot, but couldn’t reach her knife before her leg collapsed back down. Her breastbone exploded with fire from the desperate need for air. Multiple mirrors swayed in her vision now, her head swimming. She swung her arms out in violent, random motions, kicked out a leg—anything to break free.

Her heel connected with the edge of the mirror, sending it tumbling over. The jumper’s hand lengthened as if it were an anaconda, keeping her in place. Iron fingers tightened. Kicking again didn’t help. Dots swirled in her vision, and Levi popped into her mind. He would never have given up, never let a damn demon win, and neither would her dad. She couldn’t quit struggling.

The sound of wood splitting resonated from the back of the store. A second later, the screeching alarm wailed all around her.

A blur dashed in front of her. The hellhound latched onto the jumper’s arm.

Cary scratched at the hand choking her and tears blurred her vision.

The demon’s grip loosened.

Cary yanked herself backward and ripped free, recoiling. She struggled to get oxygen into her lungs. Coughing and bent over, she fought for each inhale.

An acid-like ache in her gut hurled upward.

She stumbled sideways as she held her stomach, crashing into a cabinet that rattled from the impact. The hound was tossed into an adjacent wall, knocking down a painting. He whimpered but leapt back up to his feet.

Cary vomited all over the demon’s arm and the mirror. Bile and holy water splattered across the shiny surface.

The jumper shriveled back inside, vanishing.

Every raspy inhale brought more air into Cary’s lungs and, damn if her stomach didn’t feel better now.

Father’s hellhound had fought alongside her, but she didn't understand why. Maybe he was sent to protect her? That small notion spread an ocean of warmth through Cary, somehow making her feel as if her dad was close.

In front of her, vomit slid down the mirror’s surface, which reflected her body encased in a glowing yellow aura.

Damn. Just her luck. She was definitely marked.

She heard voices from the front of the store. She looked out past a bookshelf toward the front window and spotted an elderly man outside fiddling with the lock.

The hound was by her side, licking her fingers and nudging her thigh.

“Yep, we need to get out of here,” she admitted. The alarms were deafening and the cops would be here any second. Surveying the store, she spotted a bronze candelabrum and threw it into the mirror. Web-like tentacles spread across the onyx surface, shattering into a thousand tiny fragments. “C’mon, dog.” She sprinted out the back door and down the alley with the hellhound on her heels.

Now everything would change, she knew.

“You need a name,” she croaked out as she ran away from the store. “I'm going to call you Blinkie, on account of that fucked-up eye you have. That okay with you?”

The dog didn't answer her, but he didn't disappear either, and that was good enough for Cary.