BY THE TIME they reached the sixth body—a young woman who'd died sitting at a vanity table, her reflection still caught in the mirror—Mailah felt numb.
Too many bodies. Too much death. The house that had seemed warm and inviting from outside was a mausoleum.
"This is wrong," she said, her voice hollow. "This is so wrong. Who does this? What kind of demon needs to feed like this?"
Carson and Lucson exchanged glances.
"That's the question," Lucson said carefully. "This isn't typical demon feeding. Most of us take small amounts from multiple sources over time. This is..."
"Systematic slaughter," Carson finished. "Like someone's trying to stockpile power. Or someone who's been starving and finally snapped."
Mailah's heart stopped. "Grayson."
"We don't know that," Lucson said immediately.
"But it fits! He's been taken, he might be starving, he might not have control—"
