Phones came out, videos recorded, and all useful activity ground to an immediate halt. Lilith stayed right where she was, watching alongside every other student as the famous demon hunter was almost swarmed with admirers. She smiled, mostly to herself. Even fallen angels make tactical errors, she thought. The kid next to her tucked his phone into the pocket of his hoodie, scrambling in his book bag for another device. With moves that would arouse envy in a professional pickpocket, Lilith helped herself to the phone, which was still unlocked. Quickly, she tapped in a memorized number, texted the single word “Go,” and then looked back down at her hunters. They were swamped with excited young students.

After a second thought, she typed a new number into the phone and texted “Meet me,” followed by an address for a restaurant on the big downtown strolling shopping venue, Church Street. The kid whose phone she had appropriated was now using an iPad to video the famous celebrity below. He never saw or felt her tuck the phone back in his pocket. A second later, a primitive portion of his brain reminded him that a cute girl was standing next to him, but when he turned to attempt to chat with her about the celebrity sighting, she was gone.

Chapter 29

Back down the hill, in the smelly house previously scouted by Nika and Devaney, one of Lilith’s Helbourne demons was reading the screen of a phone that didn’t originally belong to it. It threw it down and turned to its remaining companion. “We are go,” it said, pointing at a supine male body lying on the dingy apartment couch.

The other Helbourne turned to the jar of black, sulfurous, bilious crud that earlier had been their third companion. It picked up the jar, twisted off the lid, and turned to the barely breathing form on the couch. Bending in an awkward, strangely inhuman manner, it poured the greasy demon essence into the slightly opened mouth of the unconscious, grungy man. Instantly, the body arced up, back bending almost past human limits. It stayed that way, straining upward for a full twenty seconds before collapsing back into the sprung coils of the couch.

Fifteen seconds later, the man on the couch sat up, moving fast but in a stiff manner. The eyes opened, revealing the orbs to be completely black, a condition that didn’t last more than a few seconds. The white of the sclera began to appear as blackness drained away, leaving black irises behind. A moment later, the mouth worked, awkwardly, eventually producing words.

“Where?” It asked, looking at its hands, arms, legs, and feet.

“Opioid addiction. Overdose,” the one who had answered the phone said.

“Ah. Useful. The Duchess?”

“Has activated us. We are to conduct our missions.”