“Hey, puppy,” I said, then took his face in my free hand and kissed him hard.

When the kiss was done, he whistled again, held up a fist. Apparently taking the cue, the other bikes roared to life and took off single file down the road. That left only three bikes: Connor’s, Alexei’s, and the bike I thought belonged to Connor’s father.

“Your parents?” I asked.

“Inside. They got a late invite. I hope you don’t mind.”

“The more the merrier.” And the more minds focused on our demon problem, the better off we’d all be.

“Wine?” Connor asked.

“Yeah. And not just strawberry wine-drink.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“You’re better off for it.”

Alexei already stood with Lulu at the curb. She waved at me, the handles of a brown paper bag in her other hand. The appetizer, I assumed.

“Are they on an actual date?” I whispered as Connor climbed off Thelma and took my hand. We fell into step behind them.

“Emotional support,” he said. “He’s trying to walk a very narrow line.”

“That she’s drawn.”

“Yep. Her prerogative to set boundaries. My enjoyment to watch him dance around on them.”

“Like a mating dance?”

“I mean, if the shoe fits.”

“I didn’t get a mating dance.” I bumped his arm. “I think you’re more the preening type.”

“I have many skills,” he said with that utterly confident drawl of the shifter prince.

I heard a rumble, automatically glanced at the sky. It was clear, the moon an embiggening crescent, and I figured it was just the bikes roaring down the road. For reasons I didn’t understand, louder bikes were better bikes where most shifters were concerned. Thelma had more of a deep purr, which I appreciated.

“Does anyone else smell garlic?” Alexei asked, and his stomach audibly rumbled. Alexei was an omnivore’s omnivore and seemed to find pretty much everything digestible.

“Pizza,” I said. “Or maybe pasta.” Gastronomic obsessions were as immortal as vampires.

“Weird either way,” he said. “Vampires being freaked by garlic is a tradition.”

We reached the gate. A human guard waved me through, and we started down the sidewalk toward the House’s front portico.

“Yikes,” Lulu said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s not garlic.”

A hot breeze stirred, and I could smell smoke . . . and the sulfurous tang of brimstone. It was like evil had exhaled across the House’s lawn.

I put a hand on the handle of my sword.

“Lis?” Connor said.

“Demon,” I said, and everyone went on alert.

That rumbling sound tumbled across the neighborhood again, and this time the ground shook with it. Light cast from the House’s windows shifted as chandeliers shook inside; Connor took my free hand.

Another rumble. Another vibration, and the House itself seemed to waver, like the image on a screen with a bad connection.

“What the fuck?” Alexei murmured.

There was a crinkle of sound, like crumpling paper. No, I thought with horror—as yellow flames suddenly flared where the House met the ground and began to climb the stone—like the snapping of a fire. In seconds, the forks of fire were crawling upward, more like grasping fingers than actual fire. But there was no heat. Only the smell of char, of sulfur, of demon.