Page 103 of Cold Curses

“The upstart!”

Gwen and I rolled our eyes. She gestured to the windows. “The Feds are waiting. Let’s just take him in.”

“Okay, maybe one of my people killed Buckley, but he wasn’t a nice guy. Do you know what he ran through that port?”

“Ceramic angels,” I said, and suppressed a shiver at the memory. “You had the warehouse blown, remember? We saw what was in the crates.”

“That wasn’t me. I wasn’t there.”

“Your people were,” Gwen said, and moved her finger in a circling let’s-wrap-this-up gesture.

“Tell me how to wake up my friend,” I said, “and maybe I can pull some strings.”

I saw the fire in his eyes and knew he wasn’t going to surrender. Going gently into that good night wasn’t demon style. Especially not this demon. And he intended to go out with a bang.

“Incoming!” I called out as sulfur and magic mixed in the air. I shoved Gwen down, pivoted to face Dante, and had my sword out when he sent the first volley of magic.

I angled the blade toward the fireball, which struck the steel, bounced, split, and did no damage to anyone I cared about.

“You’re done,” I said. “You want to help yourself, you’ll tell us everything you know about the upstart.”

He pulled residual magic into himself with such intensity that he lifted a breeze in the room. I wasn’t sure what he intended to do, but I didn’t think our magical pretreat was going to be strong enough to resist it.

“Get out!” I told Gwen and the others, and braced myself to take on whatever he was preparing, because I wasn’t going to let him spread it over the mortals.

Dante lifted his hand, his power strong enough to warp the air above his fingers. I locked my knees and held up my sword…and then a single shot rang out.

It took too long to register what I’d seen, what I’d heard. What had happened. And by then Dante was slumped on the floor, blood pooling from the hole in his chest.

I looked back. The nervous cop, face now pale, still held his gun in two shaking hands.

“Gwen, deal with him!” I said, and turned back to Dante. I ripped his shirt open, but the arterial blood was pumping from the wound in spurts.

“No,” I said. “No. You will not die.”

His grin, now bloody, was ferocious. “Not worth it,” he said, and went still.

I hit my knees, blood ringing in my ears as I stared at the trail of blood slicking its way across the floor.

How would we get Lulu back now? How would we save her when the only demon who had the answers was dead on the goddamned floor a few feet away? How would I tell my mother?

Was Lulu supposed to be a sacrifice? The cost of Chicago with one less demon?

Because that was unacceptable.

I’d bring Dante back to life if that was what it took. MaybeMallory could do it. Or Catcher. Or I’d figure out how to go back in time, toss the damn gun overboard. Or further back and I’d keep Lulu from working on the mural the night of the demon attack.

I didn’t know how long I kneeled there as people moved around me, rounding up the minions, who’d become aimless and slow now that their master had been slain. They’d be sent to the Feds’ facility, never to be seen again.

I surged to my feet, grabbed one of the demons by the lapels. “One of Dante’s minions put someone in a coma. How do I bring her out of it? How do I fix her?”

His gaze was vacant, glassy, and he didn’t so much as shift at the sound of my voice. I shook him violently until a hand was on my arm.

“Elisa.”

Gwen, beside me, removed my fisted hands from the demon’s clothing. “This isn’t the way.”

I slid my gaze to the nervous cop, who was standing in a corner, his face now gone faintly green and regret plain in his eyes. And I remembered when I’d killed the demon who’d spelled Lulu, and I couldn’t bring myself to blame that cop for his response to a potential onslaught of demon magic.