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fingertip. She slid the talon between the door and frame, toggling it against the dead bolt. Her talon slid the solid bolt to the left, and with a shove, the door opened.
    Pyx blew on her talon as if blowing the smoke from a gun—something she’d seen on a movie poster pastedin a video-shop window—then resumed complete mortal costume.
    She dashed up the stairs to the third floor. Naturally, the apartment door was locked. No talons necessary this time. One kick loosened the lock in the wood door frame. Pyx marched inside.
    The apartment was furnished sparely with modern glass-topped counters, unbleached pine wood, and a coffee table and leather furniture. It smelled vaguely of pine air freshener. The black leather sofa looked comfy. Pyx made a jump and landed on it with her hands clasped behind her head. She crossed her legs at the ankles.
    â€œThis’ll work. Furnished and everything.” She dug in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the iPod she’d nicked earlier. “Music in my hand. How cool is that?”
    She played around with the small jewel-colored device. Lots of music. Movies. A pedometer? Why would anyone want to know how many steps they have walked? “Mortals are strange.”
    The video camera proved intriguing. Zooming it about the room she recorded…nothing.
    Searching the previously recorded clips, she clicked on one. It featured a woman with a blond ponytail standing in a kitchen making deli-meat sandwiches. She looked at whoever was holding the video camera and said, “I love you.”
    The holder asked, “Is that all?”
    â€œYep. I just love you.”
    â€œAww.” Pyx flicked off the device. “Sweet as sin. But that sandwich did look good. I wonder if there’s food in the fridge.”
    It had been hours since she’d eaten. Gluttony was definitely her favorite mortal sin.
    Kicking off her boots, Pyx then wandered into thekitchen while itching at the fresh tattoo on her back. It had already scabbed and she could feel the new skin beneath. Mortal flesh was so freakin’ sensitive. She felt everything, even a breeze across her cheek.
    She’d never experienced such novelty. Dancing in the club had overloaded her new-experience radar. She’d shut herself off to touch, but now, alone, she connected to it again.
    She grabbed a shiny apple from an elegant glass bowl. It was cool and slick. Smelled, hmm…not how she expected fruit to smell. Kind of…oily. Before she took a bite, she realized it was wood. “Tricky.” She tossed it over her shoulder into the living area.
    The fridge was empty, as were the cupboards. “How’s a demon supposed to survive in this realm without sustenance?”
    The front door banged inward and someone clattered down the parquet hallway into the kitchen. A man wearing only blue-striped pajama bottoms, his tumescent belly hanging over the waistband, and his white hair tousled upon his head, eyed her up and down.
    â€œWhat are you doing here, mademoiselle? This is not your apartment?”
    â€œOf course it is.” Pyx sauntered over and laid her palm against his forehead. “And I paid you a month’s rent already. Remember?”
    He nodded, shrugged, then nodded again.
    â€œI think someone tried to break in. The lock is jammed on the door.” She removed her hand.
    The man nodded. “I’ll have a look at it first thing in the morning. Do you need a new key?”
    â€œDarn right I do. Talk about shoddy upkeep. I wonder, should I find a better place that has a more studious custodian?”
    â€œOh, no, I will see to it at first light. It was surely an isolated incident. This is a lovely building and our custodian is a gem.”
    â€œAll right, but if it happens again, I’m out of here.”
    â€œSo sorry to have disturbed you, mademoiselle…?”
    â€œPyxion. I’ll see you bright and early with a new lock. Good night, funny little