A Demon in Dallas by Amy Armstrong

ghetto—there was no other word for it. The warehouse building was so run-down that I suspected it had sat empty for years. Large plywood boards covered the doors and windows, each decorated with colourful but illicit graffiti tags. The run-down façade was in keeping with the neighbouring properties. It was not the sort of place you would want to spend any length of time in if you didn’t have to.
    Connor scratched the back of his head. “It’s got to be the right place. We might have only just met Oliver, but I don’t think I’d be too far off the mark to say he chose this place to rattle us or try to. He wants to get under our skin. A deserted warehouse? Please, it couldn’t be any more cliché.”
    I chuckled in spite of myself. Connor and I hadn’t discussed what had happened between us the night before, but there hadn’t been any sort of weird atmosphere either, which had been a relief. Despite the way we’d left things, the tone of our conversations had been light, playful even. It reminded me of how things used to be.
    I grinned. “It seems like something he would do. Come on, let’s find a way in.”
    Connor straightened his back and began to scent the air. His eyebrows drew together and a low, rumbling growl ripped from his throat. “They’re here.” He turned to the road and scowled.
    I followed his line of sight and, sure enough, Oliver was walking down the sidewalk in our direction flanked by two bulky, sour-faced men. Oliver’s gaze raked over my body as he neared and the sound of Connor’s growling increased. I tried to ignore it and plastered a fake smile on my face.
    “Oliver,” I greeted when the three men stopped in front of us.
    With a decidedly smug grin, the alpha reached for my hand and lifted it to his mouth, placing a lingering kiss on the back. “Raven. It’s wonderful to see you again. You look delightful.”
    Connor made a gagging sound.
    “Thank you,” I replied, ignoring Connor’s immaturity.
    “These are two of my betas,” Oliver introduced, “Rick and Jacob. Hope you don’t mind them being here. Now that I hold the alpha position, I thought it best not to travel alone.”
    “Of course not,” I replied, fighting a roll of my eyes. I shook each of the men’s hands in turn and greeted them politely, but they offered little more than a grunt in reply and Connor and Oliver barely acknowledged one another at all.
    “Let’s get this over with,” Connor hastened to say. “We’ve got a demon to find and time is running out.”
    Oliver inclined his head. “At least your boyfriend and I agree on something. We need to get the book before the demon can use it to raise Lucifer.”
    Unlike the night before, it didn’t feel right to correct Oliver on his use of the word boyfriend. Instead, I followed him and his guards around the side of building and Connor brought up the rear. Connor’s earlier joviality had disappeared, replaced by a cold, guarded expression.
    One of Oliver’s betas opened the fire escape door and slipped inside. One by one we followed him in. The first thing that hit me when we entered the large space was the smell. The strong, sickly sweet aroma of incense assaulted my senses, tickling the back of my throat. It was burning somewhere farther inside the warehouse—lemongrass and honeysuckle if my nose didn’t deceive me. I’d been present during spell castings before and I knew that those particular herbs were supposed to enhance psychic powers. The smell increased as we walked farther into the large, open space and a low rhythmic chanting reached my ears, becoming louder the farther inside we ventured.
    “Looks like the witch is already here,” Connor remarked.
    Oliver’s mouth twitched. “What a genius,” he muttered under his breath.
    Connor made a lunge for him, but I caught him in time and pulled him back.
    “Don’t rise to it,” I hissed.
    I threw him a look that I hoped suitably conveyed my annoyance. The last thing we needed was to