âET TU, BRUTE?â I muttered as I walked along the beach, pulling my cardigan a little tighter against the salt-scented breeze. It would be hot soon, as per usual in Miami, but at this predawn hour, the spring air was a little cool for the knee-length dress Iâd thrown on to look for my missing pet.
âBrutus!â I called out, loudly this time. âWhere are you?â
Iâd been calling him for over fifteen minutes with no response, and I was getting worried. He had never been away from home this close to dawn before. I might not have wanted Brutus when heâd been dumped on me, and he definitely wasnât anyoneâs idea of a normal pet, but over the past couple months, Iâd really come to care for him.
Every night for the past two months, he left the house at dusk and was back by 5:00 a.m. at the latest. Before me, Brutus had spent his entire life in darkness, so he didnât just hate sun; he was afraid of it. Thatâs why, when he hadnât shown up by five thirty this morning, Iâd gone looking for him. North Shore Open Space Park in Miami was one of his favorite places, and at this hour, the stretch of beach I walked along was deserted.
I scowled at the slowly lightening horizon, my worry increasing. âBrutus!â I yelled again. Heâd better not be avoiding me because heâd broken the rules and had eaten someone.
Even if heâd done nothing wrong, if I didnât find him soon, heâd probably break into someoneâs house to avoid the sunlight. If that happened, God help the homeowner if they noticed him and tried to shoo him outside. Talk about an incident that would make the evening news.
âDid you lose something?â an unfamiliar male voice asked from right behind me.
I stiffened. No one else had been on the beach moments ago. Even with the sounds of the surf, my recently upgraded senses should have picked up on someone running straight at me, and he wouldâve had to run to cover that much distance in mere seconds.
There was another explanation for how the man behind me had so suddenly and soundlessly appeared, but if that was the case, then one of us wouldnât be leaving this beach alive.
I couldnât let on that I knew something might be wrong. I turned around and fixed a false smile on my face.
âYou startled me!â I said, hoping I sounded more surprised than scared.
A lock of black hair fell over the strangerâs face as he smiled back at me. âSorry. I heard you yelling, so I came over to see if you needed any help.â
He looked a few years older than me, putting him in his early to midtwenties. Though he was on the skinny side, he was also cute in a boyish sort of way. If Iâd have met him when I was back at college last semester, I wouldâve thought the shadows that appeared and disappeared beneath his skin were figments of my imagination. After all, Iâd been diagnosed with hallucinations by more than a few doctors. Problem was, now I knew I wasnât crazy, although some days, I wished I were.
Then, I saw his eyes shine like an animalâs that had caught the light, evidence of the supernatural equivalent of tapetum lucidum. My suspicions had been correct. The guy in front of me might look human to anyone who didnât have my abilitiesâwhich was over 99 percent of the worldâbut he wasnât. He was a demon minion.
âI do need a little help,â I said, still smiling although my heart had started to race. âIâm looking for my, ah, dog.â
âSure,â he said, casually taking my arm. âI think I saw a dog over this way.â
Both of us were lying. Brutus was no dog, and there hadnât been one anywhere around here. Still, I let him lead me toward the brush that grew along the sea wall. As I walked, I hitched my dress up on the side that he couldnât see. Iâd learned a few things in the past several months since I discovered that minions and demons existed. The most important lesson? Never leave your house unarmed.
Even as I reached for the knife strapped to my thigh, I glanced at the sky. Brutus was over nine feet tall, as wide as two gorillas and had leathery wings that could double as swords, so now would be a really good time for him to show up.
He didnât, though, and I drew in a deep breath for courage. Okay, so I was alone on a dark, deserted beach with a minion whoâd been endowed with superhuman strength from whatever demon he served. Not good, but hysterics wouldnât help. I knew that from experience.
âYou seem nervous,â the minion remarked.
He sounded amused by the prospect, and that was like a shot of adrenaline to my body. Minions and demons had ruined countless lives, not to mention killed my parents, kidnapped my sister and almost killed me more times than I could count. This jerk thought that I was just another human slave to bring back to his demon masterâs realm. Well, I had a surprise for him.
I whirled, balancing my weight on my right leg while kicking out with my left. At the same time, I pulled the knife out, smashing it into his face with more force than any human should be able to muster. That, combined with the minionâs downward momentum from suddenly getting his feet kicked out from under him, caused him to drop like a stone. My roommate, Costa, had been training me in hand-to-hand combat, and it had paid off. For the barest second, the minionâs shocked gaze met mine, and I felt a savage thrill at the disbelief in his gaze.
Whoâs afraid now? I thought fiercely.
I shouldnât have taken that brief moment to celebrate. Even with a knife sticking out of his face, he was still deadly. His hands closed over my ankles, yanking hard. I lost my balance and fell backward, twisting away at once to avoid his immediate tackle. He landed on sand instead of me, but then his fists smashed into my lower body. I doubled over, feeling like Iâd been hit by a truck. He held on and started to crawl up my body, his grin visible even through the streams of blood coming from where the knife stuck out of his face.
I