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into lock-up, until we managed to undertake a successful exorcism. But this case isn’t normal. We’re not quite certain what we’re dealing with, although we’re calling it a drakul for now. Since the situation is under control, we’d like to cut you some leeway. Come with me or go to HQ. The choice is yours.”
    “Some choice.” God, this wasn’t happening. This morning, he’d been certain he was going to make everything right again, and now here he was, possessed and facing registration, even if the feds managed to get rid of the drakul.
    “This was not how I expected this day to proceed, either. It is…an interesting change.”
    Caleb let out a bark of bitter laughter—then clapped his hand over his mouth when he realized what he was doing. “Damn it,” he said, dropping his hand. “It’s talking to me again.”
    Starkweather looked concerned but not alarmed. He’d probably been trained to keep his reactions off his face. “What does it say?”
    “He was thinking his day hadn’t gone as planned, either.”
    The agent chuckled. “I see. You said ‘he?’”
    Fuck. “I didn’t mean to.”
    “Does he think of himself as male?”
    “He, she; male, female. Mortal nonsense.”
    “Not exactly.” Caleb scrubbed at his eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it”
    “Anything you can tell me about Gray might help.”
    “A name. More mortal nonsense.”
    “But not right now,” Starkweather went on, oblivious to Caleb’s distraction. He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you some food and coffee.”
    Caleb stared at the agent’s hand for a moment. The fingers were short, blunt, and strong, the nails carefully manicured. The white cuff of his dress shirt bore a smudge of dirt from the filthy house. A tiny crescent of skin showed where the sleeve had ridden up slightly, revealing the very edge of a red scar on his wrist.
    How had it come to this? Caleb’s entire future in the hands of a Spec. He either cooperated with the government and kept some measure of freedom, or he told them to shove it up their asses, starting with Starkweather, and ended up in lockdown.
    Sitting in a cell wouldn’t get him anywhere. Maybe, if the agent could exorcise Gray, he would have a chance to run afterward. Make a break for it and start over somewhere. Melanie’s friends seemed like the type who would know how to create a fake identity.
    They also seemed like the type to beat the shit out of a mal, registered or not. Or put a bullet in his head. But only if they found out.
    Caleb clasped Starkweather’s hand. The other man’s skin was warm, and his palm tingled, as if a spark had jumped between them. “Coffee sounds good,” he agreed.
    The agent grinned and pulled him easily to his feet, before leading the way to the sagging doorway. The gray-violet light of dawn shone between the deserted houses and burned-out shops.
    A new day.
    Wrapping his arms around himself, Caleb walked out of the house where he had died and wondered if anything would ever be the same.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Caleb squinted against the blinding glare of the rising sun. The eastern sky burned with bands of color: pink, gold, violet, and blue, all of them so intense it took his breath away. He’d spent most of his life painting or sketching, and yet he couldn’t remember a palette this vivid.
    “There are so many colors.”
    Of course. This was Gray’s doing. How much of this sense of wonder, of seeing with new eyes, came from the drakul?
    “Is there anyone we need to contact?” Starkweather asked from the driver’s seat.
    Caleb blinked and tried to concentrate on the interior of the sedan. It was a typical featureless government-issued vehicle, no frills except emergency lights and a big engine, and a complete lack of bright colors. The texture of the cloth seats grated against his fingertips. He folded his arms over his chest to avoid touching anything.
    “Guess not,” he said, not bothering to hide his