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Griffin said.
    “Veggie platter.” Zeke shrugged.
    Something had ripped off the demon’s wing, but it had done something else I’d never seen. It had driven a demon catatonic. Now that would be a nifty trick. I’d love to know how that worked. More dark drool dripped from its narrow jaw. Maybe not. It was a murderous killing machine, but this . . . This was sick.
    “Can you try a little harder, Kit?” I asked Zeke. He lifted the fox-colored eyebrows—that color had me calling him Kit for a baby fox since he was fifteen. Not that he was a baby anymore . . . but the nickname had stuck. “Dig a little deeper? See if you can get even a glimpse of what did this to it?”
    “If you’ll puddle less, I’ll do anything,” he retorted.
    “A pizza grudge is a nasty thing.” I swatted his shoulder. He snorted and turned back to stare at the demon again. He focused unblinking for several seconds.
    I was beginning to think nothing was going to happen when the demon screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed. I’d heard demons scream in pain. I’d made them scream in pain, but I’d never heard anything like this. Ever.
    Zeke’s head jerked, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor, out cold. Griffin grunted as if someone had kicked him hard in the gut and went in the other direction, facedown on the table. But he wasn’t unconscious. His hands clenched into fists against his temples. I dived immediately for the shotgun that had fallen from Zeke’s hands. My Smith was a nice gun, but shotgun slugs were even more of a sure thing. I put two of them through the demon’s skull. I’d put away my fair share of demons, but this was the first time it was a mercy killing.
    With most of his head gone, the demon melted to blackness as they all did, and the screaming stopped. In the room and in Griffin’s head as well, because he was back up. There was a trickle of blood at one nostril from where he’d banged his nose on the table. “What the hell was...,” he started hoarsely, then forgot about the demon as he moved to Zeke’s side. “Shit.”
    I was right beside him as Griff rested his hand on Zeke’s forehead. It was my suggestion that had Zeke walking through the demon’s brain to read his thoughts and it had been a stupid one. I tried not to make stupid mistakes, but sending Zeke for a look at what had driven a demon insane was one of the worst I could remember making in a long time.
    I didn’t have the talent for empathy or telepathy, only a natural defense against them. All tricksters did or we wouldn’t be very good at hiding who we were from those who did have the gift, not to mention angels and demons. I could read someone’s expression and body language though as if I had a map in one hand and a GPS in the other. But I couldn’t do much with an unconscious face. “Is he all right?” He had to be all right. He and Griffin were my boys. I’d taken them in when they were teenagers. I’d thought I was keeping an eye on my competition. And it was just for a while. Everyone who takes in a ragged, dirty-nosed puppy tells themselves that, but those puppies worm their way into your heart even when they piddle in the corner. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.
    Griffin frowned. “He’s not in pain.” You don’t have to be conscious to feel pain. Sad to say all three of us knew that.
    Zeke wasn’t in pain, which was good, but was he there ? Was it still Zeke in there or was he like the demon had been? Alive but gone?
    Griffin closed his eyes, concentrating hard, before exhaling in relief. He opened his eyes and smiled. “He’s hungry. He feels hungry.”
    Good. That was good. Hunger and catatonia rarely went together. I shifted from my knees to an abrupt flop onto my ass. “Our Zeke. He’s always hungry.” I pushed aside hair that had plastered and glued itself to my forehead with sweat. “Do you want to punch me one for asking Zeke to do that?”
    “You’re a girl,” he said