I blanched at Trent’s anticipation. He stood waiting, elated and riding the high of the chase and looking forward to the grisly end. He felt my eyes on him, and he looked up. “It was a good Hunt,” he said, and the demons who heard him agreed, their gaze holding a new respect.

A call went up, and the stones quit falling upward from the hole. A muffled boom shifted the earth, and a handful of demons dropped into the craggy entrance. I leaned forward, Trent beside me. Something oily slid through my thoughts, and I shuddered. Al was the only one not looking down into the hole. He was looking at me, and I quailed.

“We have him!” came up a call, and those of us at the edge backed up. “We have him! And his familiar, too!”

Nick? I shivered, my arms going around me as the demons crawled up from the hole, their gargoyles leading the way to help them. Two sodden thumps hit the dirt, and the watching demons went quiet. Only one of the captives breathed.

“Nick?” I said, and the man’s eyes found mine, widening.

“Rachel!” he said, then fell back when someone shoved him down. He hit the dead body of Ku’Sox and recoiled, horrified as he tried to move away from the alien-looking shape. Ku’Sox’s wings were broken in several places, and his head was tilted at a sickening angle, his neck snapped through. He was dead, but I felt nothing, numb.

“We found them grappling,” a demon I didn’t recognize said. “I don’t know if we killed Ku’Sox or his familiar.”

My eyes widened and my knees wobbled as I realized what had happened. Was that Ku’Sox dead before me, or Nick—Ku’Sox changing their forms in order to survive?

“Rachel, it’s me!” he said, rising up only to get shoved down again. “Tell them it’s me! I never meant to hurt you! Please!”

The demon holding a staff to his chest shrugged. “Well?” the demon asked me. “You know him best. Is it Ku’Sox or his familiar?”

I edged past Trent, feeling every stone under my foot, every gust of gritty wind in my snarled hair. Weary, I came to a halt before the downed figure, seeing the emotion behind his eyes, the wrinkles just starting at the corners, the stubble glinting red in the rising sun. It looked the same as when I had left Nick at midnight.

Reaching out, I touched his face, rubbing a bit of blood off his cheek, feeling it between my fingers, remembering Nick’s smile that turned into betrayal, not once, twice, but three times. Was this Nick or Ku’Sox?

“Rachel,” he whispered, begging. “Tell them it’s me.”