Stake in hand, she continued on, striding past Thorndike’s new mascot: a vampire effigy, sewn from black felt, impaled on a wooden stake. Some art students had thrown it together after a few local attacks, and the fabric sagged in the rain.

She hurried down a winding path, and thunder rumbled—almost as if nature wanted to ratchet up her nerves—like she wasn’t stressed out enough.

Tonight’s assignment wasn’t just a low-level goblin or a boggart, like the usual jobs she’d had in the past few years. She was supposed to eliminate a redcap, a powerful demon of the mountain goddess.

Rosalind wasn’t thrilled about the prospect. Redcaps couldn’t live without human blood, and this one had slaughtered two cashiers in the Somerville Market Basket just yesterday, gnawing through their guts while shoppers stared in horror over packaged cupcakes and Twix bars.

Even aside from the supermarket murders, she had a good reason to be nervous. She’d already screwed up two assignments—both vampires—and now her whole future was on the line. One more failure, and she’d be kicked out of the Brotherhood—set adrift in the world of ordinary people who relied on angel pictures for protection. And she was fairly certain a redcap wasn’t any easier to kill than a vamp.

She paused to survey the lawn, trying to get a sense of magic curling through the air. She let her body attune to the atmosphere’s vibrations. This part of hunting was her strength. Many people could feel magic’s frequencies, but Rosalind’s skills went further. She could actually see magic—and smell it, too.

An aura tickled her skin, raising goose bumps. As it moved around her in smooth, blue waves, she shivered. The magic carried the briny smell of the ocean. Not a redcap’s aura. Fascinating—but not my target.

She slipped into one of the alleys by the old theater, scanning the shadows. Her Guardian still hadn’t told her where to find the demon, but she had a pretty good idea. If she were a redcap, she’d be heading for one of the frat parties on Wendell Ave. If a demon wanted to feast on nubile flesh, the drunk college students at those parties would be an easy bet.

At the mouth of the alley, Rosalind tightened her fingers around the stake, knuckles whitening.

She should focus on the positive. If she succeeded in tonight’s task, she’d get her chalice—the pendant given to novices after their first big kill. But, after a string of failures, she couldn’t shake the cloud of dread hanging over her, and she was just starting to catch a glimpse of a burnt-orange aura curling through the air…

Her phone buzzed, and she nearly jumped out of her boots. She yanked it out of her pocket. It was Josiah, her Guardian from the Brotherhood, texting her an update.

Redcap is heading for the Delta Theta Alpha house. Intercept him there.

With the fetid smell—like a dank cave—wafting into her nostrils, she didn’t even need the text.

She hurried across the lawn. From the top of the hill, she scanned the row of frat houses until she homed in on the aura’s source. There he is. A shiver crawled up her spine. Wispy copper tendrils rolled off him—the redcap’s magic.