I waited until midnight to drive Lily back onto the dock, just like I had when I met with Moloch and Balaam that fateful night when I stopped the world from ending. I had thought then that the docks, while not the greatest spot in the world, would at least prevent me from getting ambushed. That was before I was ambushed not once but twice, by two different groups of monsters, in the span of five minutes.

“Ysbryd fy nghamgymymeriadau yn y gorffennol.”

The spell created a ghost, or a memory, of what happened to my car after I left it—a spell that only I could see. In order for it to work, I needed a strong connection with what was performing the memory—in this case, Lily—and I couldn’t let go of my grip on it without breaking the connection, which meant no getting out of the car.

I took a deep breath. As I exhaled, smoke plumed from my nostrils and encased the car. Slowly, the smoke took shape, first little by little, then all at once. In front of me, I watched as the ghostly apparitions of Balaam and Moloch fired bullets at me that lodged into the hood of the car. A cloudy version of my body leaped over the demons, and they came crashing toward me, iced into the side panel of the car. Then, a massive monster truck crashed through the gate. I had no idea how close Blezor was to crushing you, Lily.

I rubbed the steering column tenderly as the ghostly version of me leaped into the demon’s car and tore out of the dock and down the road. Our collective memories were done. Now, all I had were the car’s remembrances.

The first five minutes were boring as sin, but then, the heat from the demons melted their ice, and they broke free. I couldn’t hear anything they were saying since the spell memory didn’t have sound, but they screamed at each other in silence as they leaped into the car. For a moment, the cloud version of Moloch sat right on top of me, and I just about wretched. Then it took off with the ghostly version of Lily.

I followed the cloud down the road, weaving through the real cars around me as I chased the speed demons. Los Angeles at night isn’t very crowded, especially down by the docks, so tailing them to their first stop was easy. They parked at a gas station just over the bridge back into Long Beach. Balaam went inside while Moloch waited in the car. I touched Lily’s roof gingerly. Moloch’s horns would have scratched her something fierce, but Phil returned her to even better than her original glory.

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They continued up the 405 for a while before stopping at an apartment complex in Inglewood. There was no way that the boss lived there, but I jotted down the address in case I needed it later. About ten minutes later, they came back down the stairs and sped off.

They continued down the 405 to the 710 and took that until it ended. They snaked around service streets and finally stopped in front of a shop. I nearly burst out laughing when I saw the sign, and I got a big, bold case of Déjà vu: Cotton Candy Exotics. It wasn’t the main showroom in West Los Angeles, but one of the many expansions Candy had set up around the city.

Twenty minutes after they’d gone in, Balaam and Moloch walked out, waving through the office window before disappearing behind the corner. They never came back, and eventually, a short little thing with pink hair came out of the shop and hopped into the car.

I couldn’t believe it. I thought maybe one of her people was working off the books, but there she was, nose rings and all—Candy, driving my precious car into her garage. I was going to kill her for touching my car, for insulting me, and for lying to me. She knew what had happened. She’d done it herself. There was one thing I couldn’t abide, it was a liar, especially when they looked me in the face and called me a friend. It was time to raise some hell.

I kicked open the door to the shop, ready for a fight, but what I found was a bloodbath. A half dozen people laid on the floor with their organs turned inside out, oozing blood all over the shining tile floor. The office didn’t reek of the acrid blood that rose from the bodies on the showroom floor. It smelled of fear and sweat—of salty tears. They hadn’t even had a chance to go for their guns. It was vicious and brutal, the kind of thing that happened when someone wanted to send a message.

I rubbed my temples, thinking about my next move. That’s when I heard a whimper coming from behind the reception desk, where a once-pretty girl with red hair was sprawled, head on her clipboard, eye wide open, blood from her slit throat dripping onto the floor. I followed the sound to a cabinet behind the girl along the back wall, a blue lacquered type that locked with a key.

I didn’t have the key, but that didn’t matter. I bent down and ripped the door off its hinges using a fraction of my strength. There, hidden in the cabinet, was Candy. Gone was all her poise and finesse. Mascara and eye shadow smeared all over her face, her tears making clean rivulets on their way to her chin.

“Demons,” she squeaked. “There are demons. Demons!”

I almost felt bad for her. Almost.