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spread and quickly engulfed the entire eye.
    The voice that came out of Bobby's mouth was not Bobby's.
    ALLIANT. The voice was like a screech of metal under the roar of a massive waterfall. I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU.
    Simon scrambled backward, out of reach. Bobby twitched, limbs dangling uselessly. Broken back. Not what he deserved.
    Neither was a possession. Simon pushed up his sleeves and dug his thumb rings out of his front pocket. This demon was leaving. Now.
    Raising his hands, he let the power of his rings connect in a flashing arc.
    The demon that had taken Bobby just smiled, bloody teeth reflecting the glow of magic, a look of hungry challenge.
    "No, Simon!" Chiara jumped over the bar and grabbed Simon by the sleeve, pulling him away before he could start the binding ritual. She scrambled over the debris, the smashed bar, the steaming crumpled mess of a pickup, and dragged him along behind her. "It knows you. It's tracking you."
    A cold sweat broke out on his neck, his back. If it knew him—if it could track him—
    Outside, a crowd was gathering, sirens grew louder, closer. He looked back at his favorite hole-in-the-wall, which was now really little more than a big hole in a wall.
    The sinister black smoke crept out, mingling with the dust. Any one of those people could be the demon's next stop.
    Chiara shook him. "If you want to live, Simon, you'll run."
    She turned and sprinted. He didn't waste a minute in following.
    Simon ran like the devil was on his heels. Maybe this time, he actually was.
     

 
    They ran until they'd hit an empty alley. No innocent bystanders for a demon to possess.
    She barely paused to catch her breath before tearing into him. "First angels. Now demons? What kind of friends do you keep?"
    "That was no friend." Hands on his knees, he panted. He tried not to think of the sort-of could-have-almost-been friend that had lay sprawled across the counter, like a broken toy. "I don't know who that was."
    "Well, that demon certainly knew you." She pushed her hair back from her face, looking very unhappy. "Come on. There's only one place it can't follow you."
    Their pace brisk, they hurried several blocks south, farther away from the harbor, past Federal Hill. Once out of the tourist spotlight, the buildings became shorter and narrower. City beautification appeared to be a random thing here.
    Each building had its secret. He wondered which one was keeping hers.
    She rounded a corner to a one-way street and paused outside a row of triple decker homes. A weathered wooden sign over one of the front doors read ROOMS TO RENT. The sign was so old that the phone number had worn clean off. The stoop was too cracked to invite even the least discerning of vagabonds.
    And God only knew why the basement window had been freshly boarded up. That alone was enough to alarm a sensible man.
    Thank goodness he wasn't that sort. How would he ever get anything done?
    "In here." She scanned the street behind them. "Hurry."
    She used her shoulder to force the door, the hinges so rusted they protested and allowed only enough space for them to pass one at a time. The foyer walls were 1970s yellow ochre and peeling and hung with outdated fixtures. The single working light wavered like it would give up the ghost at any minute. Not like there was much to see, beyond the dried up leaves on the floor and old sales flyers laying shriveled and brittle in the corners.
    Chiara bumped the door shut with her hind end, the wood chirping against the floor as it closed. She jerked her chin toward the staircase. "Upstairs. Third floor."
    "Uh…" Simon hesitated. "Maybe you should go on up first, hon. Those stairs don't look like they'll hold both of us."
    "You'd be surprised." She slung her bag over her shoulder and began to trudge up.
    "Don't doubt it." He stepped onto the first and bounced a bit, testing the boards to make sure he wouldn't go crashing through. The stairs groaned but they held. His lucky day.
    On the third floor, a lone