The Covert Wolf. Bonnie Vanak

doesn’t kill them. Only puts out the fire and you need a lot of it. CO2 smothers their oxygen, keeps them from breathing.”

      The ragged sound of her panting filled his ears. Panic radiated from her as Sienna stared at the demon. He could feel her pulse pounding, smell her fear. Knew the demon scented it, as well. They dined on terror.

      “He’s going to burn us. We have to get out of here.”

      “Stay calm,” he urged, backing her away from the demon.

      Flames burst out of the demon’s fingers in a hiss, scorching the walls. A framed photo of the witch and her daughter began to burn. Then the demon turned and sprayed fire down the stairs, cutting off their exit.

      Sienna whimpered, turning pale as milk. Matt gripped her hand. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You need to stay calm and don’t panic. We’ll get out of this.”

      Smoke began filling the hallway. She coughed, and laughed. “We will? Okay, super lupus, guess it’s time for a weenie roast. Except I doubt you like having your weenie roasted.”

      Putting up a brave front. Knew all about that. Had done it a time or two. His admiration kicked up a notch.

      “Depends on who’s doing the roasting. Definitely not him.”

      Matt turned, searching the hallway. At the end sat a cherrywood bookcase with leather-bound volumes. No good, but the covering …

      The Indian weave table runner.

      “Create a distraction. Talk to it. Feed its ego. Demons love having their ego stroked.”

      “As long as you don’t ask me to stroke anything else,” she muttered.

      “If something happens to me, get into that back bedroom and escape out the window. Drive as fast as you can to a place where you feel safe, and call that number on the card you got earlier.”

      She coughed, nodded. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she whispered.

      Sienna faced the demon as Matt backed up to the bookcase. “Hey, Officer Hot Stuff. That was some glamour you pulled. Never guessed you were a demon. Fooled the cops, too.”

      Matt removed the runner, folded it behind his back. The demon smirked. “You’re a pretty one. You’ll look even nicer when I melt your face.” Sienna blanched.

      “Enough. You found the witch’s ledger, Draicon? Give it to me and the girl lives. Perhaps.”

      “These?” Matt pulled the book from his back jeans pocket. He ripped out a few pages, tossed them into the flames licking the walls. “Go get them.”

      Screaming, the demon dove for the papers burning out of control. Matt pushed her to the side and whispered, “Get ready. On my word, conjure a fire extinguisher in my hands and run into the east side back bedroom.”

      The demon raised its hands toward Matt, its slit of a mouth yawning open, showing daggerlike teeth. Timing was everything. If Sienna dropped the illusion, his ass would be cooked.

      “Now.”

      Sienna invoked the image of a fire extinguisher. “Take this, hot stuff,” she yelled, pointing the apparition at him.

      Screaming, the demon drew back, its hands dropping. As it looked behind for a way out, Matt tackled it in a full body slam. He jammed an arm at the demon’s throat and stuffed the blanket into its flat nostrils and oval mouth, cutting off its oxygen supply. The demon’s body heat burned through the arm of his leather jacket, cooking his skin. The metal of his sidearm began to warm like a skillet over an open flame. An eerie scream choked out of the pyro demon. The heat intensified, but Matt continued to smother the cloth, now singeing beneath the flames creeping out of its mouth.

      The pyro demon tried to draw in a breath, found only woven cloth. It gasped and its reddish-yellow eyes fluttered.

      Unconscious for now.

      He gave a hard twist, breaking the creature’s neck. Permanently cutting off all oxygen.

      Smoke clogged his lungs, heat painfully burning through his leather jacket. Wincing at the pain of his burned hands, Matt crawled the length of the smoky hallway to the back bedroom. He tried to draw air into his lungs, and coughed. Then someone yanked him into the room.

      He kicked the door shut with a booted foot, buying them time. Sienna was already yanking off the bedspread, stuffing it beneath the door to block the smoke.

      A distant screech of sirens sounded. By the time the fire department arrived, it would be too late. And how the hell would they explain anything?

      Two stories down, but they could make it. Smoke curled into the room from the door frame. Coughing, Sienna clamped a hand over her mouth.

      Matt ran to the window. Ignoring the pain in his burned hands, he jerked it upward. The wood frame splintered beneath the force.

      “I’ve heard Fae can fly. Now’s a good time to find out. Me first. I’ll cushion you, but if I don’t, hit the ground in a roll, Sienna.”

      He jumped, aiming for a thick bayberry shrub. Branches scraped his face, but the bush protected his bones from breaking. He rolled out, held out his arms.

      “Jump.”

      Sienna fell, rather than jumped. He caught her, wincing as her weight made contact with his burns. Matt set her down, whistling through his teeth, the agony in his arm graying his vision. Swaying, his eyes watering and lungs burning with smoke, he fought to remain on his feet. Sienna’s soot-covered face looked anxiously at him.

      “Better get that NASCAR illusion ready, sweetheart. Because this time, I think I will let you drive.”