Page 51 of The Diamond in the Rough

But he worried for his kids. Six and ten years old, and living in a world of the corrupt. They didn’t understand. Not yet. Didn’t know enough to keep away from those who had been marked by sin. The mark of Cain, Preacher Dale called it.

He’d warned them.

But then Chastity had gone and played with some filthy fucking Nid-spawn. Fallen and scraped her knee.

And the fucking teacher had said it wasn’t the Nid-spawn’s fault. That kids were just kids. They fell. Scraped their knees.

But he knew the little demon had pushed her.

Tried to corrupt her.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, savoring the flavor of the tobacco, his heart pounding, the headlights focusing just to the left of the hunched figure, its demon-hooves glinting in the light.

Just like the little Nid-spawn that had pushed Chastity.

Not the same one, of course. That one had been little. This was a big one.

He didn’t know the monster, but heknewhim. It. Knew that it was sinful. Corrupt. It had to be, or God wouldn’t have made it in the shape of the devil.

It had bumped against him as it left the ATM, and his skin had crawled, his body’s revulsion telling him just how evil it really was.

So he’d gotten out of the line—because money was a sign of greed—and followed, getting back into his SUV where he’d stopped it by the curb, following the unnatural path the demon took through the city streets, waiting for his chance.

It looked back over its shoulder, then picked up the pace.

He grinned, his teeth biting down on the end of the cigarette, his blood thrumming with righteous judgment.

He saw the creature turning, heading for an alleyway, and spun the wheel?—

I jerkedmyself out of the memory, dropping the butt on the table as I pulled off my mask to suck in lungfuls of air, my whole body vibrating.

Don’t throw up.

At least not on the table, Sylvia’s voice said in my head.The carpet can be cleaned, though, if you must.

Oh, shut up, Sylvia. I was not in the mood to deal with her sarcasm right now.

She laughed.You are doing better, sunshine.

I realized she was right and felt my whole face flush.

“Rayn?” A hand touched my shoulder, and I looked up at Ward’s worried face, brow furrowed over his mask.

I tried to slow my breathing, get it back under control enough that I could put the mask back on without sucking the fabric into my airway. Also to make sure I wasn’t actually going to throw up. I was nauseous, but not as bad as it had been only a week or so ago. I drew a breath, held it, then let it out. Did it again, feeling the pounding of my pulse in my head slow a little.

I put the grey mask back on, then nodded. “I’m okay.”

“What did you see?” Ward asked, angling his head in Maza’s direction.

I looked up and met the detective’s worried brown eyes. “It’s his,” I told him.

“Whose?”

“The killer’s.”

“You got a name?” he asked.

I grimaced and shook my head. “It doesn’t work that way,” I told him. “I’minhis head, and it’s rare that people think their own names. But your victim—a faun—was run down because he’d bumped into this guy at an ATM.”