done."

She piled the stones and other ingredients into the glass, then poured in enough water from the bottle to cover them. Darius arched an eyebrow. "The tap water not good enough for you?"

Her eyes shot to his. He could see the wheels churning in her head while she tried to assess whether or not he was joking. She looked away again. "The ritual calls for consecrated water. I blessed this at the last new moon."

Darius shrugged, and didn't answer.

Finally, Georgia came around the side of the bar and joined him in the living room. On the way, she pulled the pen from behind her ear. She stopped in front of the makeshift altar, and looked up at him.

"Okay, so the whole point is to generate energy towards aaimed yet another blow to its face. It yelped. He wrenched it to its feet and hauled it through the ruined French doors. Power buzzed in his head, in his veins. He didn't give it a chance to recover, grabbed it again and hurled it down the stairs.

The hellhound landed in a heap at the bottom. Its claws scratched at the marble floor as it struggled for purchase. Darius started down the steps slowly, with no particular sense of urgency. Whatever pity he'd felt for the hound was gone. Now, rage left him feeling oddly numb. A single mantra played over and over in his head.

J's dead. J's dead. J's dead.

The thing responsible was right in front of him. And he was going to rip it apart.

He was