“No,” said Sam, “but still … that was cold. He was one of us. Four serial killers working towards a common goal. Those were your words, man. Those were your words and then you lulled him into a false sense of security and—”

“I’m gonna need you to calm down, Sam.”

“Or what? You gonna kill me, too?”

They stared at each other.

Goulder laughed. “No, I’m not gonna kill you. Course I’m not. You gonna kill me?”

“Hell, no.”

“So we’re okay? The two of us?”

“We’re good.”

“Bowsher and Demer … we didn’t need them.”

“Bowsher was all mouth,” Sam agreed. “And Demer was nuttier than a squirrel’s jockstrap. Better off without them.”

“Truer words never spoken,” said Goulder. “This is still our night.”

“Yes, it is.”

Goulder turned to Kelly. “Now then, the demon girl’s number?”

Sam put his gun to the back of Goulder’s head and pulled the trigger.

It went click.

Goulder turned to him slowly. “You. Dick.”

The blood draining from his face, Sam spun and ran, and Goulder took careful aim. His finger tightened and the shot rang out and he caught Sam in the lower back and Sam grunted, staggered, reached behind himself like he was trying to scratch an itch, and then he fell over and lay still.

“Goddamn,” Goulder whispered, then turned to Kelly and the others. “You try to build a community, you know? You try to form an alliance. This is what happens when you dream too big. I should’ve known. I should’ve known to keep my dreams manageable – like the Shining Demon granting me power. That I can do.” He pointed the gun at Kelly’s face. “Call your girlfriend.”

He wasn’t going to ask again, she could see it in his eyes. Awkwardly, because of her bound hands, Kelly took her phone from her pocket. “She might not answer.”

“You better hope she does.”

Kelly found Amber’s number, pressed call. She put it on loudspeaker so Goulder could hear. The gun didn’t waver. The phone rang. Each inquisitive dial tone was a countdown to that trigger being pulled. Kelly closed her eyes.

There was a crash and she jumped, thought for a millisecond that it was the gunshot that would end her life even while her brain was registering the sound of breaking glass. She looked up as a demon with wings – actual wings – landed through the east window. Goulder fired three times. Three times, the demon grunted, but his skin was too tough for the bullets to penetrate. He stalked forward with big teeth and a manic grin.

Goulder fell back against a desk and the demon lunged at him, mouth open to bite, and Goulder jammed his pistol into that mouth and pulled the trigger.