“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Harper clasped the door handle, staring into the dark, mostly bare room. The cradle was shaking in time with the baby’s cries. Her heart ached at the sounds. The cries weren’t loud, sharp or high-pitched. They were more fussy, whiny “Where are you?” cries that held a little indignation. But they still tugged at her, drawing her into the room.

She walked toward the cradle – each step was slow, careful, tentative. Some part of her wanted to turn and flee, though she didn’t know where the wariness came from. But she kept moving purposely forward.

The cries lowered to soft, nasal snorts… as if the baby knew attention was coming its way. Harper swallowed as her unexplainable wariness built. Still, her steps didn’t falter. And then she was there, staring into the cradle.

So tiny, she thought, with a smile, as she watched the baby writhe and kick. It squinted up at her, eyes dark and familiar. Then those eyes bled to black, and the cradle burst into flames.

Harper woke with a silent gasp, wincing as the spotlights in the mahogany ceiling pricked her eyes. She quickly became aware that she was lying on the living room sofa, covered in a blanket that Knox must have thrown over her. He’d muted the wall-mounted T.V. that she’d been watching before she fell asleep. Well, calling on the flames of hell was tiring.

Double-blinking to clear her vision, she sat upright on the curved, beige sofa that was identical to the one opposite it. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Knox staring at her, his head cocked.

“You’re awake.”

“You sound disappointed.” Watching him slip on the jacket of his suit, she realized… “You’re going somewhere and were hoping you could leave me behind.” Sneaky.

“No such luck, apparently,” he grumbled.

“Where are we going?”

He looked about to argue, but instead he sighed and said, “To visit McCauley’s mother.”

“You know who she is?”

“We’re pretty certain it’s a she-demon from our lair by the name of Talia Winters. McCauley bears a strong resemblance to her. Of course, she can confirm it for us.”

He walked soundlessly along the light pine flooring and over to the beautiful fireplace. Grabbing her cell phone from the mantel among her knickknacks, he tossed it to her. She’d added a few other personal touches to the spacious, high-ceiling room, such as the thick oak book shelves and the soft throw blanket that was the same ocean blue as the Persian carpet.

“I recall Talia being pregnant,” Knox added. “She claimed that the child died shortly after its birth.”

“I’m guessing it was exchanged for a human child who did die shortly afterwards.” Harper stood and did a long, catlike stretch. “Tell me about Talia. I don’t recall ever seeing her.”

Knox curled an arm around her and drew her against him. “That’s because strip clubs aren’t really your thing.”

“She’s a stripper?”

“Yes. She’s unmated, has no other kids, and is rumored to be a junkie. I’m not sure how true that rumor is.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged, smiling at her gasp. “Tanner is coming with us and he’s almost here. As soon as you’re ready to leave, we’ll head to her apartment and find out.”

“All I need is a quick coffee; then we can go.”

A short while later, Levi drove them to what was a shady part of Las Vegas. Harper thought her old apartment building was bad. This area was way worse. It was the kind of place you expected to find squatters and addicts, and should worry that you might be hit by a stray bullet. The building itself was covered in graffiti and strange yellow stains, and it also looked charred in places. Many of the windows were grimy while others were broken or bordered.

“Again, I’ll watch over the car,” said Levi.

Since there were small groups of shifty people scattered around, Harper figured that was a good idea.

Tanner opened the rear door so that Knox and Harper could slide out. Knox led the way as they headed to the building, and Tanner remained behind her – they were boxing her in, protecting her. It galled her on one level, but she decided to let it go.

Some dubious-looking juveniles were sat on an old couch outside, smoking and drinking. Humans, she sensed. They boldly stared, but something on Knox’s face made them look away. They might not know what he was, but they were wise enough to sense the danger in him.

The front door creaked as Knox pulled it open. Harper’s nose wrinkled. The air was dank and dusty. She could smell pot, urine, dirt, and something… wrong. Rancid. Yep, this place was definitely much worse than her old address. Glass, cans, used needles, and other trash was scattered along the floors and stairwells. It was dim, thanks to the loose wiring hanging out of a hole in the ceiling where a lightbulb should be.

Knox looked at the broken elevator. “She lives on the third floor, apartment B.”

“Then up we go,” said Tanner.

Knox again walked ahead as they climbed the cluttered stairs. She was almost surprised when no rats or cockroaches skittered past them. The walls sure were thin, because Harper could hear tenants arguing, laughing, and blasting their music.

Finally, they reached Talia’s apartment door. Knox knocked, but there was no response. He knocked again, louder this time.

The neighboring door opened, and an elderly human woman peeked out; face worn and haggard. “You’ll have to knock hard,” the human told them. “Talia tends to sleep through the day.”

“I see,” said Knox. “Thank you.”

The old woman made a huffing sound and disappeared into her apartment.

Knox banged his fist on Talia’s door almost hard enough to make it rattle. The sound of stomping and cursing coming from inside was soon followed by the door being yanked open.

“What?” snapped a tall, almost-wafer-thin blonde. Then she got a good look at Knox and paled. “I’m s-so sorry, Mr. Thorne, I-I didn’t know it was you.”

“That’s okay, Talia,” said Knox. “We’d like to speak with you.”

She blinked and shoved a hand through her loose, dull-blonde curls. “Um, yeah, okay, sure. Come in.”

The floorboards beneath the thin carpet creaked as they walked inside. Harper had been looking forward to escaping the stairwell scents. Honestly, it didn’t smell much better in here. Dust. Stale food. Cigarette smoke. And a sickly, cloying perfume.

The apartment was small and sparsely furnished with clothes strewn everywhere. The stained wallpaper was peeling from the walls, revealing cracks in the plaster. Harper could see the tiny kitchen from where she stood. Could see the piles of dishes in the rusted sink, the broken cabinet doors, and the cluttered countertop.

Feeling eyes on her, she cut her gaze to Talia. The she-demon was looking at her, taking her measure, as if wanting to assure herself that she was the prettiest in the room. Whatever. Harper just stared at her until Talia finally averted her gaze. She bore a strong resemblance to McCauley with her dark eyes, high cheekbones, dimpled chin, and small ears that protruded slightly.

Her tank top and shorts bordered on indecent, but that could be because it was seriously hot. Even with the sound of voices, T.V.s, and a dog barking, Harper could hear the air conditioning unit clanking on and off. She wondered how the hell the woman managed to cope in the heat.

Harper knew a lot of people ended up in places like this when they were down on their luck, but she got the feeling that Talia just didn’t care enough about her life to respect herself or anything in her possession. Or maybe it was just that she was too fond of drugs to care about much else, because if her sallow skin, bloodshot eyes, and contracted pupils were anything to go by, the whole “Talia’s a junkie” rumor was true.

Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment as she glanced around. “The place is a bit of a mess.” She shoved aside the threadbare curtain and wrestled open the rusted window. “Sorry I took a while to answer.”

“That’s fine,” said Knox.

She wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her chin. “Um… so… what do you need?”

“Did you see the news recently?”