“Close your eyes,” Riley ordered as he shoved the book into my hands. “And get down!”

Going on pure instinct, I did as he commanded, clutching the Grimoire to my body as I sank to the ground.

I could hear the patter of running footsteps. A rough hand grabbed my arm—but before it could pull me to my feet or touch the book, a roar the likes of which I’d never heard rang through the locker room, making the metal shake. I could sense the lights flickering from behind my eyelids. In terror, I gathered the book even closer to myself as tears began to fall down my face uncontrollably.

The sounds of a desperate fight surrounded me. How many attackers there were, I could not tell. A body was slammed into the lockers to my left. The metallic crash shook me, and I felt the body hit the floor. A male voice began screaming in unimaginable pain.

“Riley!” I cried.

Another body fell, this time even closer to me. I wrapped myself tighter around the book, desperately squeezing my eyes shut. There was then a strange change in the air around me, the sensation of something—powering up. A wind seemed to rise from nowhere, whipping about me, trying to suck me in. The air seemed to scream, and I could swear its voice sounded—human.

The wind died as suddenly as it came. I did not dare open my eyes. In the dark silence, a hand grabbed my upper arm and I struggled against it, lashing out wildly.

“Run!” a voice at my ear said, and I nearly collapsed in relief. It was Riley.

“No, don’t look, just run!”

He pulled me forward, and I struggled behind him in my heels. I thought for sure I would fall, or drop the book, that we would get caught, that something terrible would happen—

The cool night air hit my face and I gulped it down gratefully, trying to wash away the violence that had filled the terminal.

“To the car,” Riley ordered, and I hesitated.

“Those… those people that attacked us?” I whispered blindly.

“Cultists,” he confirmed huskily.

“Can I open my eyes?” I meekly asked, afraid of the answer.

He paused. “Yes, now you can.”

I did, and instantly sought him out. There he was, briefcase in hand and breathing heavily, but there was an ethereal glow about him. Even his eyes seemed to burn emerald in the yellow haze of 42nd Street at night.

“What happened back there?” I all but sobbed, clutching the book tighter.

Riley’s eyes seemed to flare. In that moment I could almost have been frightened of him.

“The cultists are no more,” he said. “My hunger is sated.”

“You… you ate them?” I forced the words out of my mouth. It came out as a squeak even though the shock was finally subsiding.