Where was Adam? Why was he taking so long? One more minute and she’d go in after him herself. One soldier’s trajectory headed perilously toward the open air of the window. With his senses muted, he wasn’t aware of his danger, even as his boots crushed glass underfoot. Talia retracted her shadows slightly from the sharp drop of the loft’s broken window. If the man fell to his death, it would not be because of her. The man stepped out of the shadows into sunlight. The sudden deluge of stimuli and imminent danger had him flailing for balance. But he recouped, shuffled forward, and peered cautiously over the edge. He took up position there, as if Talia and Adam planned to escape that way. Not likely. The wraiths, one a bald, thickset male, and the other, a tall and lithe female with the graceful poise of a ballerina, slinked across the room. “Been lucky all my life,” the male wraith muttered. “I deal with a demon, and my luck dries up. I pull the short straws every time now.”
