The raspy voice made the hairs on my neck rise. It came from Hope's direction, but didn't sound like her.
When I looked over, she'd twisted onto her side, her hair tumbling over her face. In the dim lighting, her expression seemed to be fear, but as I bent to reassure her, I saw she was smiling. Her amber eyes glittered. Her lips were drawn back, white teeth glowing in the darkness.
"Hope?"
She blinked and that smile wavered, but returned, less feral, more...blissful, eyes rolling back. Her lips parted and she let out a hissing sigh of pleasure.
The sound raked down my spine. I recognized that look, that sigh. When I'd made my deal with a demon, he'd taken human form for the summoning. As I'd squirmed, listening to the killer describe his crimes, I'd seen that same look on the demon's face as he drank in the chaos.
But half-demons weren't demonic. Like every other supernatural, evil was a choice, not a blood destiny. I remembered Hope's words: "Other half-demons get a special power without a demon's attraction to chaos. That attraction is all I get," and I understood. All those times she'd looked away, guilty, embarrassed, when I'd offered sympathy for the horrors she had to endure.
Horror, yes. Horrible? Horrifying? Not for her.
Now, hearing our would-be murderers approaching, she felt not fear but--
I turned away from Hope. I had to think...
"Jaime?"
I steeled myself not to look at her. I remembered the demon I'd dealt with, how seductive he'd been, how easy to trust...and how much I'd paid for it.
"Jaime?" Her voice quavered, but that hoarse bloodlust was gone. "Help me. Please."
Still I resisted. But did enjoying chaos make Hope demonic? She had helped us find this group. Never once had she led us into trouble, double-crossed us or done anything to cause chaos. She'd honestly seemed to want to help--to find some balance for the impulses she hid.
I turned. We'd been in this room long enough that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could make out Hope's face, slick with sweat, her eyes still glowing, but filled with fear, even despair.
"They're outside," she said. "Talking. I can hear their thoughts. This place--all the chaos--it must be boosting my power. I'm getting all these thoughts, every bad thing--" She inhaled. "May's the key. Tricking them. Lying to them. You can use that."
"How?"
Frustration flared in her eyes. "Just...use it. Somehow. Not much time."
I leaned in to listen. She talked fast, throwing out snippets of information about May and the others. Random thoughts, out of context, left to me to interpret.
Then she gasped. "They're getting ready. Gas. Matches."
Her face contorted, excitement warring with true fear. She grabbed my arm.
"Knock me out again," she rasped.
I took her other arm and drew closer. "They won't hurt you. I'm going to get you out of here."
"You don't--" She bit off a snarl and took a deep breath. "You need to knock me out."
"I really need you awake, Hope. I might need your help--"
"To kill you?" Her gaze met mine, hard and sharp. "If they want to kill you, I might not try to stop them. I might even help them."
I didn't believe that, but I could see that she did.
"Grab my hair and hit my head against the floor."
; "What if I accidentally--"
She flew at me. Seeing that snarling face, those glowing demonic eyes, I reacted instinctively and flung my arms out, knocking her back. As I hit her, she veered, as if launching off my hands, twisting to fly, headfirst, into the nearest wall. She hit it and slumped to the floor.