“Frenzied?” I frowned, wanting to take the face washer off him, but part of me was content to let him continue rubbing at the blood on my skin.

  “They’re everywhere,” he murmured. “There’s an excessive amount of possession and body jumping—more than I’ve ever seen. There was a desperation to it.”

  “They’re looking for us,” I murmured, tugging my hands away, “for Arondight.”

  “They’re casting a net and before long, we’ll be caught.” And that wasn’t even mentioning Wainthrope’s Naturals.

  “We need another plan…” If we didn’t find a way to stop the Balan demon, they’ll just keep coming. He was the one controlling all of this, I felt it in the air. The heaviness had a familiar stench to it. Scarlett, you have to hide, okay?

  I hissed and rubbed my palms against my temples.

  Wilder tensed. “Scarlett?”

  “The dream about my parents. There’s a reason I had it again.” I screwed my eyes shut, but it did nothing to clear away the sick feeling in my stomach. “I had it twice when I first met you. Then again last night.”

  “It could mean a lot of things.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I cried, the dam of emotions I’d been bottling up breaking open. “I’m screwing up everything. I ruined Jackson’s life, I messed up yours, I keep putting my foot in the proverbial pile of shite, and I’m supposed to be… I don’t know what I’m supposed to be!”

  “Purples,” Wilder murmured, capturing my wrists before I smacked him in the face with all my flailing. “You’re doing just fine. It’s an unfamiliar world, I get it, but you can’t fall apart on me now.” He let my wrists go and retrieved the face washer. “Jackson mutating wasn’t your fault and my life was already screwed up well before I met you. You didn’t ask to be touched by Arondight, either. It all comes back to that Balan. We kill him and all our immediate problems go away, and if we’re lucky, the balance just might tip a little to the Light for a change.”

  He started washing off the rest of the blood on my hands, then scrubbed his own. I watched him, numb with exhaustion. I’d zapped my Light again, falling just short of empty.

  “How?” I whispered. “We’re three people against a whole army. The Dark and the Light are looking for us.”

  “I have an idea,” he replied, emptying the bath. “For now, you and Jackson need to rest. You seriously dulled your Light.”

  I grunted and sank my hands into the sleeves of Wilder’s jumper. My palms felt tender and the skin was a little pink, but they didn’t hurt anymore. It was a neat trick, but I better not rely on it if it gave me a hangover like this.

  “Help me drag the mattress from the bedroom into the front,” I said. “I want us to stay together.”

  His brow creased, but he didn’t try to talk me out of it. Instead, he said, “I’ll take care of it.”

  Even after the day and night he’d had roaming the streets of London with my demon detector best friend, he still had the strength to manoeuvre a queen-sized mattress down a narrow hall and through an English-sized door. Whoever had built this house had done so in a time when people were tinier and had terrible health care.

  I propped myself against the front window, one eye on the darkened street and one on Wilder as he arranged the mattress on the floor. My feet were cold, my toes curling around the edge of the worn rug, touching the floorboards.

  “Mind if I share one half?” he asked, dumping a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.

  “Whatever.” I watched Jackson’s chest rise and fall. He was deathly still.

  Wilder followed my gaze. “He’s going to be okay, Purples. He just needs to sleep it off.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s got your knickers in a twist, then?”

  “What if Arondight did something to me?” I asked. “Something more than just turning my Light purple.”

  “Even if it did, it has to be a good thing. It protected you from the Codex and saved your man-toy’s life.”

  I snorted and climbed onto the mattress and pulled the covers up. “Any power can be used for evil.”

  “Then don’t get carried away.” Wilder kicked off his boots and fisted his hand into the back of his T-shirt, tugging it up and over his head. “People’s choices make them good or evil, not contact with some sword.”

  I felt my cheeks flush as my gaze fell to his muscled torso. “So you think even demons could have a chance at being good?”

  “This is too deep a conversation after such an intense day, Purples.” He grinned down at me and I turned onto my back, my gaze finding the ceiling. “Like what you see?” he teased.

  “The cut on your side is still a little pink.” The gash he’d gotten fighting the Balan in the incursion was healed, but still sliced a path across his waist.

  “I hear chicks dig scars.” The mattress dipped beside me.

  “Not when you get them from demons, they don’t.”

  “Worried about me?”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  “You weren’t meant to do that, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Heal Jackson like that.”

  I grunted. “We did it together.”

  “Maybe.”

  I turned over, glancing up at Jackson before I closed my eyes.

  There was nothing else to say.

  Wilder was already up by the time I opened my eyes.

  I hadn’t had any more dreams, which was a welcomed relief. Jerking awake and calling out for my mummy wasn’t exactly something I wanted my tough warrior mentor to see. I’d had enough emotional moments in front of him as it was.

  “Hey,” Jackson murmured.

  Rolling over, I smiled. “Hey, yourself.”

  “Sleep okay?”

  “Yeah. I needed it.” My gaze flickered to his stomach.

  “I’m okay,” he reassured me. “I’m good as new.” To illustrate the point, he sat up and lifted up his blood-stained T-shirt. The gaping wound that’d caused all the chaos was gone.

  I wondered why his blood ate through flesh and not clothing… Curious.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked with a frown.

  I held up my hands and shook my head. “All fixed, see?”

  Jackson took them in his own and inspected my palms. “How did you do that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not asking any questions, either.”

  “Which translates to you don’t want to ask because you’re afraid of the answer.”

  “You know me too well,” I drawled, tugging my hands out of his grasp. Sitting up, I rubbed at the sleep in my eyes.

  “If you’re done playing touchy-feely, we’ve got shit to do,” Wilder declared, striding into the room.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I declared.

  “It’s evening already,” he corrected. “About six p.m. We need to synchronise watches.”

  “It’s six o’clock?” I exclaimed. “Seriously?”

  “You zapped yourself pretty hard,” Wilder said. “Sleep is good. You’ll need a full battery tonight.”

  Wiggling his eyebrows, Jackson stage-whispered, “He’s got a plan.”

  “I have a contact in the city who’s good at getting around things,” he confirmed. “Darkness, Light, that kind of thing.”

  “Why are you just pulling out this card now?” I grumbled, still half-asleep. “We could’ve used it last night.” His muscles were bulging out of his tight T-shirt and it only gave me awkward memories of sharing a mattress with him last night. It didn’t help that he looked fresh as a daisy, either.

  “Because you never go for the nuclear option when there might be a subtler approach.”

  “He’s right,” Jackson said. “In Call of Duty—”

  “This isn’t one of your gamer geek tournaments,” Wilder interrupted with a scowl.

  “Thanks, but I already had the reminder hammered into me last night.”

  I snorted, proud that Jackson was standing his ground. He was too good-natured sometimes and Wilder had been walking all over him because of it.

  “So what’s the nuclear option?” I asked, bringing the subject back onto topic before it derailed entirely. “And why haven’t you mentioned this contact before?”

  Wilder sighed, clearly frustrated. “Because she’s secretive, dangerous, and irritating as hell.”

  “Has he got a woman in every port?” Jackson asked.

  “Trust me, you don’t want this one in your port.”

  “Gross,” I hissed. “Where are we going?”

  “Covent Garden,” Wilder replied, sliding on his leather jacket. “You want some dinosaur spaghetti before we go?”

  14

  Wilder taught me how to weave a cloak as we waited for the tube at Manor House station.

  Tucked at the end of the platform, his crash course was quite effective at rendering all three of us invisible to the handful of humans waiting with us. As the train rushed out of the tunnel, we were buffeted by a blast of hot air that had a metallic tang to it. So far, so good, but we were about to ride into the belly of the beast.

  Who knew what was going to happen.

  Wilder was tight-lipped about his contact, which could only mean it was something I wasn’t going to like.

  When we got off the tube at Covent Garden, we made our way off the platform, following the exit signs.

  “I’m getting a hit,” Jackson said, tugging on the hem of my jacket.

  “Where?” Wilder asked. “Which direction?”

  “Behind us. Not far. About three or four meters. I think it was on the train.”

  “They’re pulling out all the stops,” I said. “I didn’t feel anything.”

  “Neither did I,” Wilder admitted.

  We kept walking, trying not to alert our shadow that it’d been made. We climbed a set of stairs and turned down another tunnel, following the mass of commuters tracking towards the exit.

  My Light began to flare inside me and I knew something was behind us. I knew this creature. I’d fought one before on the streets of Moorgate. It had a human form but could twist its body into something grotesque and deadly.

  “Lesser demon,” I murmured, turning my head slightly.

  “We’re cloaked, but don’t draw your arondight blade unless you have to,” Wilder warned.

  “We need to kill it,” I hissed.

  “Yeah, but quietly.” He shot me a warning glance. “Remember your training, Purples. We fight for the Light in the shadows.” He was giving me the first strike.

  Not wanting to let Wilder down, I shortened my stride, mentally checking for my weapons. Cold iron dagger in my boot. Arondight blade in my inside jacket pocket. I had to catch it in case we could pry information out of it. It was a long shot, but intel was intel when you were on the run.

  One, two, three. I turned, using my Light to rush towards the spot I sensed the lesser demon lurking. My gaze met the silver reflection of a man four paces behind us. To everyone around him, he looked just like every other suit commuting after a day at the office, but one look told me the illusion was only skin deep.

  Casting a cloak over the demon, I took a step towards it, but the demon let out a deep, animalistic growl when it realised it’d been made. It leapt into the air, pushing off the side of the tunnel and started to run upside-down along the roof.

  “That’s new,” Jackson said.

  “We’ve got to stop it before it betrays our position,” Wilder said. “Try to keep up.”

  He took off down the tunnel after the demon, weaving and dodging the fast-moving flow of passengers. Jackson and I followed, leaping and twisting our own path of pursuit.

  We emerged from the tunnel into the main concourse of the station and the demon suddenly doubled back, vaulting over Wilder, barrelling straight for me. Jackson leapt at it, forcing it to stumble and almost crash into a group of women walking towards the escalators, but I was there to grab it.

  I fisted my hands into the front of its shirt and forced it back into the wall. Wilder opened a random door and I twisted, forcing the demon into the room beyond. Jackson slipped through the gap, then Wilder closed us into the darkness.

  “Arondight,” the demon moaned, its breath stinking like rotting flesh.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” I said as Light lit up the room. It was an office of some kind, luckily closed down for the night. “Where is he?”

  “Pretty purple.” It opened its mouth in a twisted grin, revealing rows of dirty, rotting teeth.

  “Dude,” Jackson exclaimed, “it stinks.”

  “Demon,” it chortled. “Pretty demon. Human demon!”

  “Shut the hell up and tell us where the Balan is,” Wilder said, pressing the edge of his cold iron dagger against the creature’s cheek. Flesh sizzled, and it cried out in pain, the sound grating in my ears.

  Its eyes rolled and its limbs began to twitch. “Up your arse.”

  The sound of breaking bones tore through the air and I pushed away from the demon as it began to change. Wilder flipped his cold iron dagger in his hand and slammed it into the creature’s chest. It wailed and thrashed against the power pinning it in place.

  Remembering my training, I reached for my arondight blade and willed it to life. Violet sparks showered across the room and I struck with deadly precision.

  The demon shuddered, its mouth gaping open, and burst into flames. In a whoosh of heat that lasted barely two seconds, it was swallowed whole, then gone completely.

  Jackson stared at the scorch mark on the ground as I sheathed my blade. I hadn’t killed a demon like that since that night in Moorgate, and even though I now knew what I was doing, it didn’t make it any easier. After all, it did have a human face.

  “I’ll never get used to seeing that,” Jackson said, echoing my thoughts.

  “Good,” Wilder said, slipping his dagger back into his boot. “The day you start liking it is the day you’ve crossed the line.”

  “He wasn’t going to tell us anything,” I said. “I don’t know why you tried.”

  “You never know.” Wilder glanced at Jackson, who was scuffing the toe of his boot across the black mark on the floor. “They’re not all cannon fodder. Some demons actually value their lives.”

  I rolled my eyes, slipping my hilt into the inside pocket of my leather jacket. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We slipped back into the tunnel and climbed the escalator to the surface. When we reached the top, we leapt over the barriers and breathed in the cool, clear outside air.

  “You guys must save a heap on tube fare,” Jackson said.

  “It’s not like we can deduct it as a work expense on our tax return,” Wilder replied dryly.

  He led us down the street, away from the marketplace, and we emerged out onto a busy crossroads.

  Seven streets converged into one confusing roundabout with cars and people going in all directions. Tourists snapped photos on their mobile phones of the tall column in the middle of the chaos, and people came and went out of the various restaurants and cafés.

  The more I studied each offshoot of the dial, the dizzier I became. I could see how people got turned around in this intersection. If you didn’t know where you were going, you could end up anywhere. That was a metaphor if I ever heard one.

  “This is Seven Dials,” Jackson said. “I read about it online.”

  Wilder snorted. “You live in London and you’ve never been here before?”

  “You could live here for a thousand years and never find all its secrets,” he shot back.

  “You need to get out more—”

  “And we need to get off the street,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to have another public fisticuffs if I don’t have to, thank you very much.”

  “Be careful you don’t bump into anyone,” Wilder said just as my shoulder collided with a man who was walking past. The guy looked up for someone to apologise to but ended up scratching his head in confusion.

  Ignoring my scowl, Wilder led us along the northern dial, then turned sharply to the right. The alley was narrow and the cobbles were slick from millions of footsteps. It was only wide enough for two people to walk abreast, so dodging oncoming traffic was almost impossible. Brick buildings rose two- to three-stories above us, casting imposing shadows, but lights and boutique shops and cafés lit the way. The scents of organic skincare products, coffee, food, and perfume filled the crisp winter evening air as we emerged into a little courtyard packed full of folding tables and chairs.

  The din was bordering on noise complaint levels, and music ebbed out of the teeny pub on the corner. Sometimes, London never failed to surprise me with the treasures in its hidden corners.

  Bristling at the amount of people who were lingering, I glanced around, but couldn’t sense any demons. It was like they were avoiding this place.

  Wilder pointed to the top floor of the building in front of us. “There.”

  I looked up and wasn’t sure what I was looking for. The window trims were painted in bright colours, and planter boxes were full of greenery spilling down over the sides like a makeshift English cottage jungle. Above us, fairy lights twinkled. It was all sweet and magical, and nothing like I’d expected.

  “Where?” I asked, spotting a rooftop garden peeking over the façade. “Am I missing something or does your contact live in the hipster hippy mecca of Covent Garden? The rent must be epic.”

  Wilder sighed and place his hand on my shoulder. “Look harder.”

  I felt his Light stir and the façade shimmered, revealing a narrow house jammed between the skincare shop and the vegan bakery. I shook my head, my Light tingling as the illusion gathered us into its arms. It wasn’t even funny how much I still had to learn about this world.

  “It’s in the middle of one of the busiest parts of London,” Jackson said, revealing that he saw it too. “How doesn’t anyone see it?”

  “How doesn’t anyone see us?” Wilder asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Point.”

  “Can you feel it?” Wilder asked me.

  I nodded. “Shadows aren’t allowed here.”

  “What about me?” Jackson swallowed and shook his head. “It’s hard to know where I’m classified as Dark or where I can get away with being Light.”