From the corner of my eye, I could see Malachi coming up the block, cell phone in one hand and baton in the other. Determined to do my part, I put on the speed and closed the distance between me and the Mazikin as it reached the building where the girl had fled. Behind me, Malachi called my name, but I had too much momentum—I caught the door the Mazikin had ripped open and followed him in.

I was slammed against the door in the next second and assaulted by the stench of incense and rot. Blinded by the inky darkness. Deafened by the roar of the Mazikin as he barreled into me. With a rending crash, I was thrown to the floor as Malachi thrust himself against the door from the other side. I turned on the writhing, growling Mazikin knife-first. A warm gush flowed over my fist as my blade sank into the Mazikin’s side and it wheezed wetly.

“Lela,” Malachi whispered. His hand closed over my ankle. “Get up.”

I wrenched my foot away from him. “Doing my best.”

From deep within the darkness came a soft, hooting laugh. I froze, still on my hands and knees, as the door Malachi had just come through was slammed shut. “Malachi?”

His fingers wrapped around my ankle again, and he squeezed, silently letting me know where he was. Next to me, the Mazikin I’d stabbed groaned. Several feet ahead of me, something growled, and then hissed. I scooted backward quickly, right into Malachi’s arms. He pulled me to my feet.

“Can they see in the dark?” I whispered.

“Better than we can,” he breathed.

Another cooing laugh, this one higher-pitched. Coming from the other side of the room. I tensed at the soft shuffle of feet and palms on concrete. They were everywhere, all around us. Right next to me, a swishing sound told me that Malachi was sliding his hand over the door, and then tugging on the handle.

“They’ve barred it from the outside,” he muttered at the same time a Mazikin growled from a few feet away. But instead of attacking, it retreated, its footsteps growing fainter. It coughed and grunted in what I now recognized as the Mazikin language.

“He’s calling to his friends,” Malachi said against my ear. “He said he smells your fear.”

“You can understand them?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he drew a knife from beneath his shirt and whipped it into the darkness. There was a high yip followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. And then … snarling and growling all around us. It sounded like there were at least two dozen of them. My heart lodged in my throat, choking me.