Benedict Astor and his demons had found us. My face was pressed against Desmond’s leather jacket. I didn’t move or look back to see what my enemies were doing because I had entrusted our survival to Desmond. My demon may not be perfect, but he differed from Mr. Astor’s foul creatures. “What are you waiting for? Charge at them,” Benedict commanded. I felt a change of energy in the room. It quickly shifted from neutral to something seriously ominous and menacing. The darkness grew ...