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accustomed to her absence. They say time heals. It doesn’t. It masks. I wore a mask of confidence—a mask of determination—because it was all I had left. Inside, I was a wreck, and Adam knew it. How he knew it, I had no idea, but he did. I could excel at all the physical tests, but none of it convinced Adam I was safe. Because I wasn’t safe. I hadn’t been safe since the night at the waterfront when I’d drained Akil, the Prince of Greed, of his power. I’d summoned enough of my element from beyond the veil to ignite a near-nuclear reaction and then snuffed it out instead of unleashing it. The fact that I was still alive was a miracle, and I suspected it was something to do with PC34. That night, my demon had ridden high on a wave of energy so vast, so consuming, she might as well have been a goddess. I’d slapped her right back down, shoved her in a box, and stuffed her away in some dark mental hiding place. PC34 kept her there.
    When she came back—and she would—she was going to be pissed.

Chapter 6
    “ T here’s been another murder .” Ryder peered at me from the driver’s side of the car.
    I climbed into the passenger side. “Then what are you waiting for?”
    He peeled the car away from the curb outside the Institute and eased into evening rush hour traffic. I watched the city drift by my window: people going about their lives, unaware of the existence of the netherworld just a thin veil away. Ignorance is bliss, right? But ignorance can kill. Another murder. Could I have prevented it? Was I a coward for not telling Adam the truth?
    I’d been out of my room—cage—for all of three days without incident. A few minor demon sightings had occupied my time, some house calls, note taking, report writing. All basic stuff. Ryder had worked the bigger cases, the demon interventions; when a demon needed its wrists slapped. Behave, go home, or die. The Institute didn’t mess around.
    “The victim is another woman.” Ryder reached behind his seat and groped about in the foot well, found what he was looking for, and dumped a file into my lap. “Cheryl Munro. Another trainee.”
    I flicked open the file as Ryder maneuvered the car through traffic. A smiling headshot of Cheryl beamed up at me. Standard ID pose. She appeared to be in her early twenties, about my age. Her eyes were bright with the eagerness often seen in fresh Enforcers. They volunteer. Mostly. Many Enforcers, perhaps all, had witnessed the worst demons could do. That’s how they found out about the Institute.
    Ryder steered the car with his knees as he unwrapped some gum. “Coleman’s on scene. Same MO. Same murder weapon.” He popped the gum into his mouth.
    “A chain...” I said, a little too softly.
    “Uh-huh.” Ryder tossed the packet into my lap. “You don’t have to read it.”
    “I should.” It could help. Just because I suspected I knew the demon responsible didn’t mean I knew how to catch him. Any new information would help.
    “You gonna be okay with this?”
    “Yup.” I popped a piece of gum into my mouth and bit down hard.

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    W hen Ryder pulled up outside the Atlantic Hotel, I kept my mouth firmly shut and my emotions nailed down. The Atlantic Hotel had played a large part in the chaos six months ago. It had changed hands since then, but memories still haunted it. I couldn’t help wondering if the location was significant.
    “You good?” Ryder checked me again as he climbed from the car.
    “Uh-huh.” I slammed the car door and jogged up the steps beside him. The foyer gleamed from floor to ceiling the way all luxury hotels do. Marble tiles, leather chairs, and glass doors bounced light in all directions, dazzling visitors with overt opulence. There was no sign that anything untoward had taken place. No doubt the hotel management wanted to keep it that way. It wasn’t until we reached the eighth floor that things got interesting. Flashing our ID badges gave us entrance from the elevator area into a corridor.