“I won’t leave you behind.” Too bad.

“You won’t have to.” She reached up and cupped her hand against his cheek. “I kind of missed bossy Mal.”

“I’m not biting you.” Do. Drain her.

She patted his cheek. “Yes, you are. If things go poorly, Mortalis can slip inside you and pull you off me. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” She unlocked her safety belt and got up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Chrysabelle.” But she kept walking until she reached the cockpit. Fresh fear rose up like bile in his throat. He agreed that being at full power for what they were about to face was important, but not at her expense. What if the beast took over? Could Mortalis wrest control of that much darkness? He looked out the window into the pitch-black night. The face reflected back was the ugly reminder of just how much of a monster he was. He turned away. Laughter rang in his head.

Doing this was a very bad idea. Do it do it do it. The voices were proof of that.

Chrysabelle came out of the cockpit, Mortalis behind her. Mal shook his head slowly and stared at the tan carpeting covering the walkway, his jaw popping to one side.

She sat beside him, reaching for his hand. “Ready?”

He pulled away. “No.”

Mortalis took the seat opposite them. “It would be better to try this now before you need the blood so badly your control is undermined.”

“It would be better not to do this at all.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

Mal got out of his seat. “You think you can control what’s inside me?”

Mortalis scratched one of his horns. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Something nudged Creek’s side. He opened his eyes, wondering if his lids were the only part of him that didn’t hurt.

“What the hell happened to you?” A black shadow stood over him. Annika.

Slowly, he pushed to his knees. Shards of glass pinged to the concrete. He blew out a slow breath, his insides aching like they were sunburned. Yahla had done a number on him when she’d been in there. “Damn it. What time is it?”

“Couple hours after sunset. Why?”

He’d been out too long. Hopefully Yahla was still recovering from her last attempt to possess him. That would buy him some time. Whether or not it would be enough time remained to be seen. He got to his feet and brushed his hand over his head, loosening one last splinter of glass from his Mohawk. “I gotta go.”

“Not until you answer some questions.”

A little ambient light spilled through the broken skylight, turning the floor of the old mechanics shop into diamonds. “My grandmother’s in trouble. I have to go help her.”

“Spent the grocery money on bingo again?” Annika smiled.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Up until that point, he’d almost started to like Annika. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my grandmother, because I have a thing about not hitting women.”

Her smile disappeared. “Sorry. I didn’t—I like your grandmother. What kind of trouble could she be in?”

There was no point in hiding what had happened. “Yahla.”

“What’s that?”

“The woman you smelled on me the first time you visited.” He snagged his motorcycle helmet off the worktable. “I’m pretty sure she’s going after my grandmother to get revenge on me.”

“Why?”

“Long story I don’t have time for.” He grabbed his crossbow and his halm.

“A fight? I like a good fight.” Annika’s smile returned. “When do we leave?”

“Sure, you can come, thanks for asking.” He rolled his eyes as he went to open the door. Pushy women plagued his life. Hopefully after tonight, there’d be one less.

“This Yahla, is she really that dangerous?”

He stopped, hand poised above the door’s locks, and turned to look at her. “Argent killed her once. It didn’t take.”

Annika’s brows lifted above her permanent shades. “Argent was here? We were starting to think he was dead.”

“Oh, he’s dead all right.” Creek shoved the metal door back. “Yahla made sure of that.”

Annika followed after him. “Explain.”

He went back for the second helmet, glad for the wireless comms that would let them chat. “Ride with me. I’ll tell you on the way.”

By the time they got to his grandmother’s road, Annika knew everything that had happened with Yahla from the first time Creek had met her. He slowed the bike as they approached the little house. Annika’s arms loosened from his waist. Up ahead, his grandmother’s metal roof came into view above the mangroves and pepper trees lining the dirt road. The metal gleamed in the starlight and a soft curl of smoke drifted from the chimney pipe. Everything appeared normal, but he knew with Yahla, normal meant nothing.

He parked the V-Rod at the end of the long driveway and slipped his helmet off, then leaned back to Annika. “Stay quiet.”

She nodded, removed her helmet, and got off the bike. He did the same, then motioned for her to follow him. Mawmaw’s porch light brightened the night enough that he could see perfectly. He hugged the line of sawgrass and pines that bordered the property line. After that, it dropped off into impassable swampland. He kept an eye out for gators, pythons, and anything else he didn’t want to step on.