“Three within a block. Maybe three times that trailing behind, in the main wave.”

“I thought only exorcists in transition could feel degenerates.” I tugged my satchel strap higher on my shoulder and tried to make my feet as quiet as theirs, but my sneakers seemed to crunch on every loose bit of asphalt.

“He’s not sensing them.” Devi paused at the end of the alley to glance both ways. “He’s hearing them. Reese’s ears are like a cat’s.” When she saw no traffic—or demons—she waved for us to follow her across the dark street and into the next alley, where the stench of rotten food emanated from a restaurant’s trash bin. “I used to think he was brain damaged because he was always staring off into space, but it turns out he was just listening to stuff we can’t hear. Handy in moments like this. Not so much when you want privacy.”

Fascinated, I glanced up at him as we ran, which only made it harder for me to keep up. “Cat ears?”

A monstrous screech-roar rang out from behind us, bouncing off buildings and concrete, and my legs began to itch and burn again. Any early risers in the area would have heard that. Fortunately, the nearest neighborhood was more than half a mile away.

“Shouldn’t we move faster?” Our pace had slowed, and my body wanted to run.

“We want the ones in front to catch up with us so we can kill them. Then we’ll draw the rest to a location of our choosing. Someplace away from the residential areas where people might hear the commotion and call the cops.” Devi glanced at Finn without missing a step as she jogged. “There’s a junkyard on the north edge of town, about a mile from here. Industrial district. Should be pretty deserted this time of the morning.”

Finn gestured for us to take a right on the next street. “I saw it yesterday while I was scouting out the town.” While I was in school, presumably. “We’ll have to climb the fence, but that should work.”

The junkyard owner, Mr. Johns, had bought my mom’s car for parts a year before. A few months later, he’d bought an old stereo and our rollaway dishwasher for probably twice what they were worth because he could see that I needed the cash. But even the nicest man in the world would call the police if he saw degenerates swarming his business.

Fortunately, the junkyard didn’t open until nine. Mr. Johns was probably still asleep in his bed. On the other side of town.