Now was not one of those times. He’d used a frightening amount of hair product in what looked like an attempt to make it spiky. Unfortunately his hair was too short for him to achieve the desired look. Or rather, I hoped that what he’d achieved was not the desired look. And then there was the color.

“Ryan,” I said grimly. “Your head looks like a hair-brush that’s been soaked in grape juice. What did you dye it with? Kool-Aid?”

“Now that was just plain mean,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

I scanned the crowd, feeling a strange relief that tonight—so far—was turning out to have less than the usual amount of awkward tension between us. Ever since I’d saved Ryan’s life by swearing myself to the demonic lord Rhyzkahl as his summoner, any feelings Ryan might have had for me were locked down pretty tight—not that I had any certainty there ever were. And, unfortunately, I couldn’t blame him. The demons seemed to hold some sort of odd antipathy toward Ryan, calling him a kiraknikahl, or oathbreaker, though I had no idea why. And even though Rhyzkahl didn’t own me, or anything like that, and the only service I’d sworn to perform was to summon him, nonetheless I was still bound to the demonic lord, and I could understand if Ryan wanted to keep me at arm’s length.

I hated it, but I understood it.

My gaze was drawn to a black-clad figure smoking a cigarette against the wall near the bar. He wasn’t dancing or even twitching to the music, and when my eyes rested on him he turned his head to give me a lazy smile, as if he could feel me looking at him. For all I knew he could. This was the fourth member of our little team tonight. Marco Knight was a detective with the New Orleans police department, and since we were in the city, we needed someone with local jurisdiction in case anything happened. He’d apparently worked with the team before, when they’d worked cases in the city. Ryan hadn’t told me much about him, except to say that “he got it.” And I hadn’t picked up much more when I’d met him, though after he shook my hand in greeting I had the odd feeling that he knew a lot more about me. One eyebrow lifted and then a sardonic smile crossed his face as he murmured, “Complicated,” before releasing my hand.

Complicated? Yeah, that pretty much described my life.

I looked away, annoyed at myself for being . . . unsettled? Intimidated? I couldn’t really explain why, but I wasn’t comfortable keeping my attention on him. Or vice versa.

I returned my attention to the stage. Lida Moran was the lead singer for Ether Madhouse as well as one hell of a guitar player. Her fingers flew over the strings as she threw herself around the stage with gusto, belting out something that might have been lyrics. I really couldn’t tell, but the crowd didn’t seem to care whether they understood what the words to the song were. She was good, though. I had to give her that. Nineteen years old, five foot ten, and with the kind of body that most of the guys I knew would dub “smokin’ hot,” she had a powerhouse voice that wowed everyone who heard her, whether they liked her style of music or not. The other three members of the band had some decent musical chops as well, though I wasn’t much of a judge of that sort of thing. But I could tell that they didn’t suck.

“Isn’t she a little young for Zack?” I asked, casting a dubious glance at the singer. The purple streaks in her long, jet-black hair seemed to glow under the lights, and I could see the flash of metal from the numerous piercings in her ears, nose, and eyebrows. “How old is Zack anyway?”

Ryan’s brow creased. “I have no idea. I guess late twenties or so? But don’t worry. He’s a fanboy, but that’s as far as he’d ever take it.”

I caught a snatch of lyric through the driving beat. And the watchers on patrol / hunt the creatures in the night / until the demon eats your soul / and you have to leave the fight.

“So, you’re the big bad demon summoner,” Ryan said. “Do you listen to this sort of music?”

I shook my head. “Not in the slightest! Give me some Faith Hill or Carrie Underwood any day.”

“Country music and demon summoning,” he said with a wince. “Now that’s cognitive dissonance.”

The driving beat ended and the lights dimmed. Lida set her guitar aside and the band shifted to a slower, almost sultry number. I let my breath out in relief at the cessation of the pounding. “Last set,” I said with a nod toward the stage. “That’s what the threat said, right?”

Ryan gave a nod, expression completely serious now. “See anything?” he asked. It was a twofold question. He was asking me if I saw anyone or anything suspicious, but he also wanted to know if I felt anything out of whack. Anything to do with the arcane.

I shifted into othersight, then shook my head. “Nah, just the usual background buzz you’d expect . . .” I paused, feeling the brush of something. I scanned the crowd again, eyes narrowing. What the hell? “Hang on, I think there’s—”

My words choked off as a strange resonance slammed into me. I felt a sharp stab of pain at the base of my skull, and then the lights went out.

Chapter 2

“Kara!” I felt hands gripping my upper arms and I blinked to clear my vision. Then the emergency lights flickered on and I abruptly realized that the lights really had gone out. I had no idea if I’d actually lost consciousness, but if so it couldn’t have been for more than a couple of seconds.

“The stage,” I managed to gasp out through the dull pain that still throbbed in the back of my head. “Something’s after Lida.”

Ryan didn’t seem to want to let go of me and I batted at his hands. “I’m fine! Go!”

He released me, then turned and jumped off the platform and into the milling crowd below. Shrieks and protests rose in his wake as he ruthlessly shoved people out of his way, but my attention was on the stage and Lida. She still held her microphone, a faintly bewildered smile on her face as if she was expecting the stage lights to pop back on any second now. I started to clamber after him, then stopped as another wave of the odd resonance washed over me. I shifted back into othersight, gritting my teeth as the strange feel of the resonance seemed to multiply with the increased perception. But it was worth it. The creature that leaped onto the back of the stage practically glowed in othersight. Okay, so I was wrong about the arcane involvement! “Zack! Get to Lida!” I shouted, pointing at the whatever-the-hell-it-was.

Zack snapped his head up to me, then quickly looked in the direction I was frantically gesturing. I shifted back out of othersight before another wave of resonance could flatten me, then watched in amazement as Zack made an incredible bounding leap onto the stage. In normal sight the creature looked like a vaguely man-shaped dark blob, and for a brief instant I was certain that Zack would be able to get to Lida before the thing did.

But the creature was shockingly fast, and before Zack could even take one step toward the singer, the thing grabbed her and jumped back down off the stage. Lida screamed as it took off toward the back door, scattering people in its wake like bowling pins. Zack made another leaping bound and hit the floor at a dead run, but the thing was already through the door and into the alley. I caught a glimpse of Knight moving swiftly and smoothly, but in the opposite direction—toward the front.

“Kara, what the hell is it?” Ryan yelled as he barreled through the crowd toward the back door.

“I have no idea!” I yelled back over the rising din.

Ryan burst through the back door, then took off down the alley after Zack. For about a tenth of a second I debated fighting my way through the crowd before quickly discarding the idea of running after them. Knight had the right idea. There was no way I’d be able to catch up to the agents. But then again, I wasn’t expected to do a lot of running anyway.

There weren’t many people between me and the front door, and I made it around the building and to the alley in less time than it would have taken me to get through the crush of bodies on the dance floor. The odor of stale beer and fresh urine assailed me as I entered the alley, and even though it had rained the day before, I had enough self-preservation going on to be wary about stepping in any puddles. There was no sign of Knight, but I didn’t have time to worry about what he was or wasn’t doing. “Skalz!” I shouted, also sending a mental urging along the bindings that held the demon in my control. I felt an answering surge, easily sensing the demon’s excitement and barely restrained impatience. I’d told it to wait and hide on top of the building, not knowing if I would need to call on it. But the zhurn was bored and eager to join the chase. It needed no further encouragement.

I looked up as an oily shifting darkness seemed to pour over the edge of the roof, then heard a snick as its wings snapped open and it sailed down. But instead of chasing after Ryan and Zack like I’d expected, it swooped straight down at me. Before I could even blink in surprise it grabbed me by the upper arms and shot straight back up into the air.

I yelped in shock and my heart slammed in my chest as the demon skimmed the tops of the buildings—or rather my feet skimmed the tops. “A little higher, please?” I managed to gasp out, an unpleasant vision of my body ending up wrapped around an antenna that the demon hadn’t seen filling my head.

The zhurn answered me with a growl that sounded like a stoking furnace, but it veered abruptly higher, causing me to clutch desperately at the claws holding me. I was more than a little surprised that the demon hadn’t broken my skin with those wicked claws. Wasn’t hurting me at all, in fact, other than scaring the absolute crap out of me. Yeah, I probably should have specified that I wanted the damn thing to chase whatever had taken the girl, I snarled at myself. But I had to admit that this was probably a better way to handle things. At least I’d be there at the end to control the demon.

<Look there,> Skalz sent through the bindings. I looked down and saw the large figure running down Governor Nicholls Street with the screaming singer in its grasp—and being generally ignored by the few people in the area. This part of the French Quarter was far quieter and darker than the area closer to Bourbon Street, a ripe spot for muggers to prey on foolish tourists.