The Daemon arrived at the bank an hour later. None of them had left—and while Cora claimed it was because she wanted answers, Dee suspected that they were all simply too shocked to move. He stepped into the vault, eyed the carnage and the four teenagers.

Cora sat with her back to the wall. Riley stood, the sword still in her hand, like some kind of guard. Dee leaned against a crate, her arms stinging with rubbing alcohol and covered in small bandages. James sat beside her. None of them had gone near the vases with the hearts—only Cora had suggested it, but Riley pointed out that since none of the hearts were labeled, the endeavor would likely prove fruitless. The Daemon’s attention slid over each of them in turn, and then he reached out and took the rapier from Riley. She relinquished it without a word. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and expertly ran it over the sword’s length, wiping away any remnants of the creature.

“You did well,” he said.

Silence.

Cora regained her voice first. “We—did well?”

He nodded.

But rather than defuse the tension, his cool voice seemed to ignite Cora’s fury. “You son of a bitch,” she snapped. “We were nearly killed by… by I don’t know what the hell that was, but it nearly killed us—it smashed several of the hearts in the vault, and all you have to say is that we did well?”

“What would you have me say?” said the Daemon mildly. “‘Congratulations, young humans. You did not die.’ Would that suit you?”

“What was that thing?” This time it was Dee who spoke. She came forward and stood before the Daemon. He gazed at her, and something in his face changed. He looked at her with something like respect.

“It was not supposed to be here,” he answered. “You remedied that. For which I must thank you.”

“But what was it?”

The Daemon did not answer.

“Tell me what the thing was,” she said evenly. Dee met the Daemon’s eyes and did not look away.

Something had shifted between them. He looked at Dee, then at the creature’s corpse, and she knew, she just knew that the fact they had slain it made them something more in the Daemon’s eyes. They had proven themselves… well, not equal to him, but they weren’t helpless, either.

The Daemon’s eyes glittered. “You may call them what you like. People have had many names for them over the years. Personally, I have always preferred ‘burrower.’ Quite an apt description. They delve through space, carve little holes that ought not to exist. As for where it came from, it came from where I did,” he said. “Stars die, worlds die with them. Some of us find new places to reside. My kind can stitch reality like so much thread, but those creatures are burrowers, immortal mouths and stomachs leaving holes behind. They are what we have been fending off for thousands of years, since we escaped to this place. They are devourers, and while you may not trust my kind, believe that we have the same interests as yours. It would serve neither humanity nor my people to see their like enter this world.”

“You’re not demons,” said Riley. “You’re aliens.”

Cal was right, Dee thought. A pang went through her; she would have liked to tell him.

The Daemon tilted his head. “Whatever title you give us, it is of no consequence. What matters is that we are here, and we share the same desire as your species. To remain on this planet, to quietly exist. That is all we desire. Our world died thousands of years ago, but we searched and found this one to our liking. We are good neighbors to have, on the whole. We prefer to keep to ourselves, save for when our needs coincide with humanity’s. And our needs do coincide—trust me on that. You may think an arm or a leg a difficult thing to give up, but it is a small price to pay. The burrowers are not like us. We may change reality if we wish it, but they do so… well. They would tear this world asunder if we let them. They care nothing for the inhabitants of this world; they will devour every living thing, if allowed.” He tilted his head, in a distinctly not-human way. “That is why we take the measures we do.”

“The hearts,” said Dee. She remembered how that creature ignored the people in favor of the hearts in the vault, of how it tore into them. “They—they eat them?”

“Burrowers and their like feed off of emotion and memory,” agreed the Daemon. “They themselves cannot feel—and the voids they create to enter this world are incompatible with human emotion. Your hearts register too strongly to those little gateways—you are recognized as alien and pushed out.”

“This cannot happen all the time,” said Riley. “If—if there were always aliens trying to break into this dimension, we would know.”

The Daemon smiled approvingly. “That is correct. The burrowers only attempt to enter this world on occasion.”

“Occasion?” repeated Cora.

“When stars die,” he said, “the burrowers need a new place to live. They try to push through, every so often. These smaller voids, imagine them as foreshocks. They precede the larger quake. Soon, many thousands of creatures like this one will make a true attempt to push through—there will be several… larger voids. Placed throughout the world. Portland will be one of the places where a large void appears.” His gaze drifted among them. “You will go into that void and close it.”

“Just us?” asked James quietly.

“If you’re asking if there will be more heartless, the answer is no.” The Daemon spoke flatly. “There was a troop in Seattle… but no longer.” He slid a cool look at the human hearts. “I should probably dispose of some of those, now that I think of it.”

Cora choked.

“As for other servants,” said the Daemon, “my colleagues are less than confident in your skills. Likely, they will send their own homunculi into the void. Ignore them—they are… less effective than you are. But the homunculi will fight back, and they will draw the attention of any stragglers, so that will be to your advantage.”

“Why?” asked Riley. “Why are we more effective than homunculi?”

He seemed to consider the question. “I assume you heard about the explosion in Seattle? Well, that is what happens when a homunculus’s unsteady hands cannot set off charges at the right moment.

“You are smaller, smarter, and the burrower will only take notice of you if you hurt it. I learned some time ago that ripping the heart from humans would allow them to enter a void.”

“And how did you stumble upon that discovery?” said Cora tartly, but Dee ignored her.

“How long?” asked Dee. “How long until this mega-void appears?”

The Daemon’s lips pursed. “A few weeks,” he replied. “I cannot be more specific than that. In a few weeks, the world will be… thinner. Easier to push through. And then we will end the invasion before it can begin.”

“And if we don’t?” asked Riley flatly. “What if we tell you to fuck off?”

The Daemon smiled thinly. “You could, but I doubt you will.”

“Why?”

The Daemon turned to walk away. He spoke over one perfectly tailored shoulder. “Because—should you fail, this city would not fare well. These creatures warp reality. They can change the environment or the land adversely.”

“Meaning?” said Riley, sounding impatient. “What? We’d get some earthquakes or a lot of rain?”

The Daemon’s mouth remained a thin line. “I believe the last place that endured such an incursion was Pompeii.”

Silence. Someone drew a sharp breath, but Dee couldn’t tell who.

“Like I said,” continued the Daemon, “they can affect the environment in ways you would not want. After all, this city is near several active volcanoes, is it not?”

James looked angry. He edged forward, eyes hard and fists balled. “We didn’t sign up for this,” he said. “You didn’t tell us anything—you took our hearts, promised us what we wished for, then led us blindly into war.”

But Dee was not angry.

She had walked willingly into a fairy tale, into a world where she could trade her heart for her freedom. She may as well have donned a red cloak and strode into a darkened forest.

She had always known there would be wolves.

I chose this.

Several days after the bank, Dee found Cora waiting for her outside of Whiteaker dorm. Cora sat on the steps, a visitor’s badge clipped to her jeans. Of course she’d get a visitor’s pass, Dee thought. It was the responsible thing to do.

Dee approached the other girl slowly. The way she might have walked up to a wounded animal. “Cora?”

Cora looked up at Dee, but not as if she truly saw her. “I hate this,” she said hollowly. “I hate this so much.”

And for the first time, Dee felt a twinge of sympathy for Cora. She took a few steps closer. “Why did you make a deal?”

There was no hiding, not anymore.

“I needed the Daemon to kill someone for me,” said Cora.

Dee hesitated, then sat on the step beside her. She tried to compose her expression. She was doing a terrible job of it, she knew—she looked as appalled as she felt. “I—I thought demons didn’t kill.”

“Most won’t,” said Cora. The words seemed to float out of her, slow and steady, as if she were releasing a burden. “They don’t want to tangle with the authorities. But the Agathodaemon—he’s breaking all the rules. He’s like, a renegade among the demons or something. He wants heartless teenagers, wants them badly enough to do things other demons wouldn’t.” She tilted her head up, and the light from the overhead lamp cast shadows over her pretty face.

“I wanted someone dead.” She closed her eyes.

Dee wondered what could have driven Cora to do such a thing—she was always so set on everyone’s survival, on keeping the team together.

“Did he do it?” asked Dee quietly.

Cora smiled—and it was a rueful little smile. “He has my heart, doesn’t he?”

And then Dee truly saw Cora for the first time. Saw the girl who tried to keep everyone alive because she thought it was penance for a life she took. The girl who looked put together but was scrambling behind the facade.

“Making wishes like this never comes without a price,” said Cora. “I thought the price was my heart, but it’s more than that. I wanted everyone to live and I was the one to kill Cal.” Her voice broke on the last few words. She sniffed, swallowed, gazed upward as if refusing to let the tears fall. “Nothing comes for free. We just don’t know what it’ll cost.”

She took another breath, and when she released it, she looked calmer. She finally turned to face Dee, making no attempt to hide her own grief. “Listen. I’m telling you this because I’m not going to be there.”

Dread unfurled within Dee’s stomach. “Cora…”

“It’ll be two years in a week,” said Cora. “I’m getting my heart back. That’s why I was so worried about the Daemon abandoning us. I wasn’t sure I’d get my heart returned to me. But now he’s back and… well.” Her gaze dropped.

“You’re not going to be there for the next void,” said Dee.

“I’m not sorry. I mean, I’m sorry that it’ll just be the three of you, but I’m not sorry about getting my heart back.” Cora pushed herself to her feet. “I just wanted you to know. Why I tried to stop him. Why I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

“Don’t die,” said Cora.

Dee wished she had something profound to say, to reassure Cora that Cal’s death wasn’t her fault, that accidents happened, that whomever she had wanted dead had probably deserved it.

But all that came out of her mouth was, “Good luck.”