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1:24. Traffic went by outside. The apartment building was quiet. Nothing abnormal for the time of night, yet goose pimples rippled along her arms and down her spine. She tried to figure out if she was reacting to Xia or whether this was something else.
    Get out.
    Definitely something else.
    She slipped out of bed and grabbed the first items of clothing to come to hand. Jeans, a button-down shirt. There wasn’t time to find her bra.
    Hurry. Hurry. Hurry!
    She fastened the middle two buttons and left the rest. Sneakers without socks. She didn’t smell smoke, but one of the buildings next door might be on fire. Maybe she ought to be gathering her most irreplaceable possessions.
    The floor creaked outside her bedroom. She froze, her heart banging against her ribs. Something bad was out there, and given the way she was reacting, she wasn’t sure if it was Xia or someone else. And here she was, trapped in her room.
    Pulse racing, she grabbed her purse off the floor and dug for her cell phone. She was clumsy, though, and didn’t find it as fast as she wanted. She listened harder. No question about it. There was someone out there. Moving around. One person or two? She’d put Xia on her couch because that was the only place for him to sleep. Bad enough they had to share the bathroom and the kitchen. They didn’t talk to each other unless it couldn’t be avoided, so she didn’t know if he had plans for the night that someone who wasn’t a monumental jerk would have mentioned. That had to be him skulking around out there. Freaking her out. But the creepy-crawly sensation didn’t go away, and her stomach was a block of ice, and her head still screamed, Get out!
    What if that wasn’t Xia making that noise?
    Cell phone in hand, she inched open her bedroom door. She didn’t see anything, so she slipped out. She crept, sneaky quiet, because if whoever was there wasn’t supposed to be there, she didn’t want him—or her—to know she was awake. Duh. But wouldn’t Xia know? Wouldn’t he protect her the way he’d promised? With his special utter lack of charm. He might also have decided to hell with that protection stuff; it was time to use that wicked knife of his on her.
    She froze and assessed her state—mental, magical, and physical. Get out still pulsed in her blood, buzzed her so hard her skin went twitchy with it. There were other possibilities to consider. Xia could be dead. Seemed difficult to believe a big, mean SOB like him could go down, but Rasmus Kessler was a full-on mage, and she’d heard mages like him did things with their magic that less able magicians, especially self-trained ones like herself, could only dream about. She inched down the hallway, because that was the only way out to get to either of the exits: her front door or through the kitchen to the laundry room downstairs.
    She didn’t see anybody. The couch was empty. No Xia watching a movie or doing a silent sing-along to whatever his favorite music was. Her extra pillow was on the floor and so were the folded blankets. His helmet was a dark, round shape next to them. His jacket was slung over her recliner. The slob. A nylon bag was open on the floor. Killer Boy was in residence, all right. Just not here, and she didn’t see anything that looked corpse-shaped. On her way to the kitchen, she checked the bathroom, just in case. No one there, either. He’d left the toilet seat up, though. Inconsiderate, selfish jerk.
    So, where the hell was he? Out partying while she hung around convinced she was going to die any minute?
    She stayed quiet because that persistent tingle down her spine had turned into a streak of ice. The idea of crossing her living room to the front door was not appealing. She’d be in plain sight. Whatever was after her would have a clear shot the minute she left the hallway. Outside the bathroom, she crouched and pressed 911 on her phone, then rested her finger on CALL. Footsteps came nearer. Quiet ones. A shadow passed the