“But they’re already overcrowded. Why in the world would they want more residents?” As the words left my mouth I realized that, while it made no sense, it also made perfect sense. There were plenty of people in the world who’d be happy to lock me up in there, just because I have fangs.

“We’re thinking there’s more at work here than overzealous right-wingers or bureaucratic red tape. Something a little more … sinister.” The way Jones said it made my stomach twist in knots.

Edgar smiled grimly. “Precisely. It would be a perfect place for a demonic being to set up camp. It’s well known that the mentally unstable are more open to possession. Add magical ability to that, and…”

Oh, hell.

Most people don’t like to think about prisons. Consciously, everybody recognizes they’re necessary, and so long as nothing bad happens inside they remain just outside our perception of normality. But while the inmates were locked up, plenty of people came and went from any institution every day—from deliverypeople to friends and family … and of course, every guard. I’d experienced for myself just how persuasive a greater demon could be. Even knowing he was going to torture me, toy with me until I went insane, then kill me hideously, I’d had to fight not to walk willingly into his arms. Someone already unstable would be toast.

“You said Amy got out. Is she okay?”

Jones took back the folder. It was pointless to read any more. I knew what I needed to. “She’s not … she’s in a coma. She has brain function, but she won’t wake up. We don’t know what they did to her. Warren’s got the top experts in the field on it—including warrior priests who have already done at least two exorcisms.” He paused. “Kevin got her out, but they captured him.”

“And you had to get Amy to safety.” I understood. Anytime people in our line of work go on missions, whether guarding celebrities or getting people out of the line of fire, there’s a chance we won’t make it out. We have to make choices and I was actually glad Jones had made the same one I would have. You get the wounded out and leave those capable of taking care of themselves behind. It sucks, but then most things involving danger do. And as angry as I was with him right now, I also knew Warren had more resources than most. He knows everyone in academia who is involved with the paranormal, and I knew from personal experience that every religious leader in the world had begun to realize that California was becoming a hotbed of demonic activity. The militant arms of the Christian churches, along with Muslim, Jewish, and Hindu religious warriors, were all working together to confront a true hell on earth.

Warren would have no problem finding people to take care of Amy’s soul.

I stared into Jones’s eyes for a long moment while “O Come All Ye Faithful” played in the background, then nodded. I was terrified down to my toes, but I had to help. “Okay, I’m in. But if it’s a demon stronghold, we can’t risk going in without an army behind us.”

“There’s no way we can get one in time,” Emma said. “Assuming anyone would believe us. Demons can influence people so subtly that the police and courts would be likely to say we’re nuts, because nothing overt is going on.”

“Exactly,” agreed Jones. “We have one choice, which is to get in the same way we did last night. As far as I can tell, nobody figured out how we got in. We should have gone back out the same way, but there was no way to with Amy unconscious. She was dead weight.”

That meant the route either was underground or involved climbing. Either Kevin or Edgar could easily carry her for hours unless it was an issue of dexterity. That meant I needed gear. “I’m not dressed for this. I say we go in after dark and after I’ve had a chance to get some tools and proper clothing. We won’t do Kevin any good if we’re not prepared for whatever they can throw at us.”

“I’ve got everything we’ll need. We’re in a hurry.” While I’m sure he believed that, he didn’t know what I had available to me.

“No offense, but for something like this I want tools I’m familiar with. Besides”—I pointed at my feathered friends—“they aren’t exactly native to the desert. Let’s let them go to bed so they don’t signal our arrival. Kevin’s tough enough to last for another hour or two.” I believed that absolutely and let the confidence show in my face and body. Jones let out another disapproving noise while Edgar shrugged. Emma looked at me for a long, silent moment and let out a deep breath before nodding.

“Fine. I’ll take you to wherever your tools are.” Jones opened his car door. “Get in.”

That so wasn’t happening. I smiled cynically. “Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but … well, I don’t trust you. I’d rather you not know exactly where I keep my stuff. I’m sure you feel the same.” Paranoia, thy name is Celia Graves. “Just tell me where and when to meet you.”

His expression shifted from surprise to offense before settling into respect. “You’ve got GPS?”

At my nod, he leaned into his car, punched a few buttons on his Garmin, then wrote something on the back of an envelope he picked up from the floor. “Use these coordinates. Meet me there in two hours. Hewitt and I will go start scoping out the facility. We’ll be ready to move in once you arrive.”

Edgar spoke up then: “I haven’t eaten yet, Jones. I doubt you want me to snack on a demonically possessed person.” Ouch. I don’t know exactly what the result of that would be, but bad seemed likely. “Of course, I’d need less if…” He left the statement unfinished but raised his brows at Jones.

No. He couldn’t really be suggesting that Jones donate blood. I’d heard that magical blood had more kick, but Jones didn’t seem the type to agree to that.

But he shook his head with only mild annoyance, not the outrage I’d expected. “Fine. But no more than a pint. I can’t afford to be less than my best.”

Eww. And they seemed so … casual about it. “Oh my god! You have got to be kidding. Have you done this before?”

Edgar seemed taken aback by my outburst. “Celia, vampires drink blood. It’s what we live on. Whether it’s Jones or a random drunk in an alley or one of your friends, I plan to eat tonight. You may have the luxury of being able to pick and choose your meals, but I don’t. One of these days, you might not have the choice, either, so you might as well get used to the thought. Eventually you will become a full vampire, by accident or intent or simple biology. There’s no way to avoid it.”

With that and probably to prove his point, he grabbed Jones’s arm. Jones didn’t move a muscle as Edgar’s lips peeled back to reveal delicate fangs. His eyes glowed red and Emma gasped. She backed behind me and even I wanted to turn away. But I couldn’t escape those eyes and the need behind them. The vampire inside me struggled to reach the surface. It wanted to share in the feast, and when Edgar drove his teeth into the soft flesh my whole body shuddered. It took more effort that I’d imagined to hold my ground. Even closing my eyes didn’t help, because soft slurping sounds made every nerve tingle, so I covered my ears. What I really needed were nose plugs, because the sweet copper that filled the air made me moan. I turned away then, just barely managing to avoid banging into Emma, and started to walk. I ran smack into Dawna, who was holding bags of succulent-smelling food that erased the copper from my nose. There was spaghetti for Emma, Chinese for herself, and when I opened my eyes I saw a tall cup with a straw that I was betting was mine.

Before she could react to my slamming into her or to Jones playing blood donor, I brought the straw to my lips and began to suck. Surprisingly, it was warm and thick and tasted equally of fruit and something I couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it satisfied the hunger of both vampire and human.

I looked at Dawna questioningly while continuing to drink. She had given Emma one of the Styrofoam containers and Emma had a sick look on her face as she stared at the rich tomato sauce. Jones’s blood was dripping onto the pavement. Jones didn’t seem to mind; he reached for one of the containers of Chinese with his free hand and a calm expression. Dawna handed it to him at the farthest reach of her arm. The discomfort on her face was the same sort of expression she would use while watching a relative snacking on live crickets. And she had relatives who did.

“What’s in this?” I finally got enough down to tear my lips from the straw. “It’s really good.”

“It’s a mixed-berry smoothie with lots of au jus. I asked the guy at the Chinese place to cook my beef slightly and pour the bloody broth in there before adding the stir-fry spices. Glad you like it.”

The look on my face as I regarded the cup made both men laugh. Edgar used the back of his arm to wipe blood from his lips before he said, “At least your friends have common sense, Graves.” His fangs weren’t showing, and he seemed once again like a collected, albeit amused, businessman, instead of the evil bloodsucker we’d just seen. I refused to dignify the comment and went back to drinking my shake. “I think you’ll find that eventually beef won’t be enough. There’s a reason why we instinctively seek out humans to feed from.”

“I’m doing just fine.” And I was. I was treating my vampirism like a food allergy. Adapt, but never give up your sense of self and humanity.

They were both still chuckling while they got in the car. Edgar took the wheel while Jones opened his food container and dug in as the twin holes in his wrist dripped down his arm. Crap. I so didn’t want to work with these guys. Yeah, they’re professionals, and powerful. But they seriously creeped me out.

“So what’s the scoop?” Dawna was looking pretty green and hadn’t touched her food. I could tell she was hanging on by teeth and toenails. It didn’t surprise me that this bothered her, given that she’d been attacked just a couple of weeks ago. The question was, would she collapse later? I’d have to make sure Emma stayed with her.