House of Pies. Practically a landmark in Houston, open all night. I’d been here before, while my mother was still alive. The endless roads and cities, all the violence, always took a breather when we were in a booth, with pie. It was one of the few times I ever saw my mother relax. Which meant I always wanted pie.
I started walking toward the diner. If the lone Mahati was in this area, she’d be close to people. It wouldn’t just be the temptation to hunt—curiosity would pull her in, a need to be near other living creatures. The Mahati had been locked away for ten thousand years in a dimension that made the Gobi desert look like an oasis. Coming to our world was like living your whole life in a mud hut, only to discover Blade Runner outside.
Raw and Aaz prowled through the shadows beneath the parked cars, dragging teddy bears behind them. Zee closed his eyes, tasting the air with his long black tongue.
“Fresh,” he rasped.
“Find her,” I said. “Hold her for me.”
Zee dragged his claws against the concrete, sparks flying. Raw and Aaz bared their teeth in a hot grin and disappeared from sight, taking the bears with them. Zee stayed with me.
I could see inside the diner. This hour, not too many warm bodies in the booths, but there were some men, and two teenage girls. No one was talking. Their gazes were locked on the television hanging from the ceiling in the corner. Even the waitress was watching, clutching the front of her blouse. Her face was so pale.
She was also a demon. Possessed by one, at any rate. I could see the shadow of her aura flickering like a storm above her head.
I looked, too, at the television. It was terrible. One image, replayed over and over. My heart died a little.
“Good times end,” Zee whispered, as Dek and Mal hummed the melody to Bon Jovi’s “Story of My Life.”
“I was the idiot,” I told him, as a tremor raced through me: bone-deep, teeth-rattling chills. “Believing they could act against their natures.”
“All at fault.” The little demon touched my hand, and the sadness in his eyes made my heart break again. “Us first. Us, their Kings, who made them.”
Nothing I could say to that. It was true. Demon was a human word, steeped in religion: a mythic depiction that had nothing to do with reality. My demons, those demons living on my land, were not from hell. They were from another world. A collection of worlds that had harbored different species of sentient life. Peaceful worlds. Peaceful people. Where no one ever hunted each other or ate their own flesh to survive.
Until war had come, destroying it all. Those who survived were forced to change. Lives, generations, altered to become killing machines. And the dark entity that had remade them—long ago possessed by Zee and the boys—was now living inside me. Making me an unwilling part of this legacy, in more ways than one.
I looked again at those people in the diner. The news program cut to commercials, and everyone’s shoulders sagged. I imagined my mother in there—both of us—and I could see the booth we’d sat in, years before. When life, as well as the killing, was so much easier.
The possessed waitress tore her gaze from the television and stared through the window—directly at me. Normal human eyes couldn’t see me—too much glare from inside. But demons, especially the parasites, had better instincts. They knew when something was around that wanted to kill them.
I waited for a moment, and the waitress tightened her lips and walked to the counter, out of sight. I kept waiting.
Five minutes later, she appeared from behind the restaurant. Her gait was tired, unsteady, her stolen human body bulging at the seams. She smelled like grease, not pie, and her aura flickered like a caught bird when she neared me. Zee bared his teeth. Her stride faltered.
“We’re fucked,” she said, stopping ten feet away, an old pickup between us. “At least, you and the others are. The humans never did pay attention to us.”
“Congrats,” I replied. “Once again, the rats survive.”
“Despite your best efforts. How many thousands of years did you women slaughter us? And for what? We shall still inherit the earth.”
“Now you sound like Blood Mama.”
“Mother knows best.” The demon gave me a tight smile. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I should.” I also smiled tightly. “But it seems a little useless now, doesn’t it?”
“Poor Hunter Kiss. Being a Queen isn’t what you thought it would be, is it?” Her gaze flicked to Zee. “Not if you don’t have the stomach for the old ways.”
Zee leapt over the truck bed. The demon staggered, bravado disappearing—and a soft cry escaped her throat as she disappeared from sight, dragged down to the concrete. I walked around the truck, found her sprawled flat on her stomach. Zee sat on her shoulders, claws gripping her hair—pulling her head so far back her breath wheezed. I knew he wouldn’t break her neck—hosts were innocent. But the demon wouldn’t be able to leave its human without Zee snatching it up. And the boys always liked a good snack.