Chapter 8

Vergil was moving before she could react, crossing the room and hauling on the rug. The children tumbled off it, hissing at him and showing their peg teeth. Beneath the spot where they had been playingon the cold stone of the floor, someone had sketched the symbol from the dead man’s stomach in yellowedchalk. Not just once, but over and over. Replacing it each time it had faded. Vergil went for his gun, but Hogan caught him by the shoulder. “What are you doing, you goon? The woman’s husband just—”

Vergil’s fist caught him in the gut, sending him staggering back to overturn the matchstick furniture.“Are you one of them too? Was this all a trap?”

The woman had started to move, all her awkwardness fading away into an eel-like grace. She didn’t stop coming until Vergil had his piece aimed right at her head.

Hogan heaved in a breath and snarled. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

Vergil didn’t take his eyes off the woman. “How many of you are there?”