"What does Code Purple mean?" I asked, inching along the wall, narrowly avoiding a press of bodies heading for the wide, automatic doors that led out into the emergency department.

I almost lost my grip on Mercy's hand when a large orderly bumped into me. The veil I'd tossed over the both of us wavered for just a moment before I could steady myself. The man swung around, eyes roving across the hall warily, trying to spot what he'd run into, stuttering over the section of wall we clung to. He turned back to the door a moment later, lengthening his stride to catch up with a group of nurses wheeling a patient out the door.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I know Code Blue is cardiac arrest."

"Some help you are," I said, nudging her with my hip. "Why watch all those medical soap operas if you're not going to learn anything from them?"

"Because Patrick Dempsey is hot."

"Fair."

We were quiet as another round of hospital staff passed. I knew why we'd fallen into an easy rhythm of taunts and teasing. Neither of us wanted to see Rowan twisted up like a demonic pretzel, giggling as the thing inside her destroyed her from the inside out. I didn't want to feel the thing's presence sliding along my awareness like congealing grease. But the fact remained that we needed to know exactly what we were dealing with, and for all of our research, we still knew next to nothing. Without a point of reference, there was no way to narrow the search. So here we were, huddled under a veil, armed with backpacks full of books and furiously scribbled notes, hoping to get a clue.

"Did you catch what floor she's on when you listened through the Pente stone?" I asked. "Did Dad say anything about it when he got home last night?"

I'd passed out shortly after supper, too tired by the day's exploits to stay up and leaf through more than one of the shorter books. Mercy had been pouring over the annotated journal of Enochian script when I'd drifted off, mumbling, "Invoco...Veni ad me..." trying different angel names every time she read. I had a bad feeling she was willing to summon an angel at the first sign of trouble.

"No, but it's probably a safe bet the room is being guarded. If we find cops, we're probably going to find Rowan. Let's go up a floor. I don't think they'll keep her on ground level. Let's use the stairs."

"If we lose contact you'll be visible, and stairs are trickier to navigate like this. Not to mention what might happen if someone knocks into us by accident."

"But if we take the elevator, we could get stuck inside. You can't hold the veil forever. And besides, they look really busy at the moment. See all the gurneys coming out?"

She pointed a barely perceptible finger toward the opposite end of the hall. I craned my neck just in time to see another group of nurses and orderlies pile out of the elevator, guiding a hospital bed and its elderly occupant down an adjacent hall. They didn't say much, but each face wore an almost identical look of pinched concern. Above us, the intercom continued to blare, "Code Purple. Code Purple."

"That doesn't sound good," I said. "Maybe we should come back..."

"When are we going to get a better opportunity?" Mercy asked, sliding her hand up to one shoulder so she could guide me in the direction of the stairs. I didn't fight her. She was probably right about the elevators. Whatever was happening had them at capacity. There was no way we wouldn't be elbowed or stomped on at this rate.

"The next time Matthew gets called to the principal's office? I mean, he's at that age. Maybe we could pay him to punch a school bully again. It got Mom out of the house and Father Forthill to come over to babysit. I give it a few hours before he checks to see if we're really doing homework."

She sighed. "You know what I mean. Now, less talking, more moving."

The stairwell was empty, which was something of a relief. With all the foot traffic I'd half-expected to find a parade of nurses coming down them. We tread as lightly as possible, but the faint scuff of our tennis shoes was still audible in the stillness, only occasionally drowned by the drone of the intercom. The handrail felt slick to the touch like someone had sloshed water on it coming down. Or maybe that was just me. The closer we got to the second floor, the shakier I felt. This entire trip was a bad idea.

The second floor was nothing but more nervous staff and patients being guided toward the exit. Nothing out of the ordinary but the mysterious code purple. On the third floor, we hit pay dirt. When I pushed the door open with my fingertips my stomach performed a nervous roll. The scent of decay hung on the air, faint but perceptible. The lights in the hall beyond strobed in eerie, syncopated rhythm. Voices carried from the end of the hall, speaking over one another, rising steadily in pitch.

"This is your fault-!" a reedy male voice began.

"My fault?" a louder, male voice, considerably deeper than the first. "You were the one who took off the cuffs! You heard Murphy, Rudy! She specifically said-"

"What was I supposed to do?" the first man shouted. "The bone was sticking out of her wrist and blood was spraying everywhere! Look at the ceiling, O'Toole! Arterial spray! She was going to die if I didn't do something! You were supposed to block the door! Now she's gone and let the other one loose."

"It was a fucking illusion, moron. If you'd worn the amulet-"

"I don't need any of Dresden's crackpot jewelry!" Rudolph hissed. "Just...fuck off. I'll go with Rawlings to check the east wing. You meet Carpenter and Dresden on the west. I don't want to see the smarmy bastard's face."

I leaned back, letting the door close with a whisper of sound. The flicker of the lights, combined with the smell, put my stomach in the spin cycle. I swallowed convulsively, trying to keep my lunch from making a reappearance. I braced myself against the wall, veil sloughing off as my head swam.

"Did you hear that?" I asked.

Mercy's face was as pale as parchment. She looked as nervous and sick as I felt. She couldn't seem to force her voice above a whisper when she said, "There are two of them."

"And they're out. This just went from a bad idea to a really, really awful one. Code Purple must mean evacuation. They don't know what floor it's on, which means it could attack anyone."

"Which is why we should stay. You were the one who could sense the demon in the library."

"Are you crazy?" I hissed. "We can't go hunting one demon, let alone two! We need to go."

Mercy's eyes filled with tears, and she cast a desperate look at the door. They fell, running down her cheeks in thick rivulets. My heart twisted when she made a soft, keening sound. Her eyes slid out of focus, fixed on a point far in the distance. Fear twisted her features into something small and childlike.

"They'll kill Uncle Michael," she said, the words coming out a half-sob. "Just like that thing killed Dad. It snapped his neck before pulling his head off, Molly. It's not like in the movies, you know. That neat little cracking sound. It's meaty. and it pops, and there's this slurp when it comes free. And the blood just goes everywhere. I mean, the pressure of the heart was there like a second ago, you know? And-"

I gagged, bile scalding my throat as images assaulted me. She was usually careful not to project around me, but with fear running over her skin like an electric current she couldn't help it. Her throat was tight, a lump rising to choke her. I remembered what it was like to crouch in the crawlspace, watching through wooden slats as the hulking shape of a rawhead bore down her dad. He'd died before he had a chance to scream. Her mom hadn't been as lucky. The arm had come completely out of its socket, the humerus jutting out of the severed arm like a nightmare cartoon before the rawhead ripped the bicep free with its teeth. The images morphed, Dad and Mom's faces replacing hers in her wildly spinning imagination.

"Stop," I gasped, the heels of my hands pressing hard against my temples. I didn't remember doing it. "I get it. Just stop, please. I can't..."

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I just..."

"I know," I said, trying to suck in a breath. It hurt. I could still feel the lump in her throat. "I know you can't. Just give me a minute."

I sank against the wall, dropping my hands to my stomach. Peeling her thoughts away from mine took time, but the images lingered nonetheless. Dad's blood on the walls. Mom's helpless screams as a shadowy figure tore into her, ripping chunks out of her until she was a pile of bloody bones and entrails. It would take nothing at all to kill Hope or Harry.

Mercy reached out, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks when I cringed away.

"Sorry," she whispered again. "I am so sorry. You're right. We should get out of here. Harry's with them. They'll be okay."

Cold sweat trickled down my back. It was reasonable. We could just go back. We should go back. But...

I couldn't walk away. Not when I was the only one who could sense it. They needed my help, whether I liked it or not.

I wrapped shaking fingers around the door handle, sucking in a few breaths before propping it open. It might let the demon out. It might also be the only way we got out if it chased us. With monsters, a few seconds' difference could save your life.

"We're not going to fight it. We shout the location and run, okay?"

She nodded. "So fast we'll leave an afterimage. I'll be Shaggy, you be Scooby."

"Ruh-roh."