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body it’s best to walk away. This girl is bad news—a ledge I’m heading straight for. The free fall would be amazing—the landing, not so much. It would be so easy to sit beside her, comfort her, kiss her, touch her until I can barely breathe. Until I can’t stop.
    So I say what I know will jerk us both awake. “You were almost gang-raped last night.”
    She flinches. “What?”
    “I found you with three guys hovering over you in an alley behind the club. They were talking about who would get you first.”
    She shivers, and her eyes search the room, like she’s looking for something to prove I’m lying.
    “You’re running straight into hell’s arms, Rebecca.” I gather my old clothes as she sits there hugging herself. I tuck the old rags under my arm, grab my backpack, and move to the doorway of her room. “Thanks again for the shower and the clothes.” I start to walk away, but hesitate for a second. I turn back and say, “Be careful,” before I leave her life for good.
    I head for the stairs and start down, feeling frustrated and confused. I’m walking away, but I don’t want to. If God loves me, he better let me get laid eventually.
    I’m lost in thought, landing on the last step, when a new smell hits me like a wall in the face.
    Sulfur.
    My heart starts to gallop, beating at my ribs so hard I’m pretty sure it’s leaving bruises. I scan the entry hall, and then I see it. Only a few feet from the base of the stairs: burn marks on the marble floor—three crossing lines, each ending in a symbol of power. A sigil.
    A demon was here.
    A large one.
    There’s no way this is related to the smaller one from the alley last night. This sigil is from some serious demon mojo. I close my eyes and breathe in the air, feeling for the creeper that might’ve left it, trying to tell if it’s still close and how long it stood here, but I don’t sense anything. Just the leftover buzz of lust between me and Rebecca from a few minutes ago.
    Whatever was here, it’s gone now.

FIVE
    I used to have a bike, but it got stolen. I miss it. Now it’s all skateboarding, buses, or my own two feet. No way I’m taking that monster they pretend is a subway, in earthquake central. From Rebecca’s, it takes me more than a half hour to get to Ava’s neighborhood by bus—worst possible way to travel. The thing stops every eight feet even on a good day, not to mention all the traffic heading through downtown. It’s not like Ava’s place is that far. Probably would’ve been faster to walk.
    I’m in a pissy mood all around. Leaving Rebecca like that makes me feel like a bastard, and the idea of a demon that close to her turns my stomach inside out. It wasn’t even an underling staking territory. By the smell and the look of the marks, the thing was at least midlevel, if not higher. Maybe even a body-hopper.
    My skin goes cold. How the hell didn’t I feel it when it was there? How the hell could I leave her open and vulnerable like that?
    I can’t save the whole world, I know this. But the realization never stops the ache. What else is this curse good for if I don’t use it to help people?
    Ava’s newest foster house is the nicest one she’s ever lived in. It’s breathtaking, actually. Like a museum. She calls it the Taj Mahal. But it’s more like a Spanish-style hotel, if you ask me. It’s a sprawling single-story home, with cream stucco walls and a red tile roof, wrapped in pink and yellow climbing roses and night jasmine.
    I sneak around to the back and find our tree—an old willow at the far corner of the property, down a little ravine, out of view from the house. Demons and monsters don’t like trees. They like metal and jagged edges and death. So Ava and I stick to the grass and the trees as much as we can when we meet. The longer it’s been in the ground, the better—fifty-year-old trees work perfectly. Not always easy to find in LA.
    I close my eyes and picture Ava, her strange, knowing smile, her liquid