You’re not alone, the voices whispered.

I rose from the beat-up mattress as more roaches swarmed me. They seemed to be everywhere, crawling from every crack in the wall, every buckle in the linoleum tile, and from behind that old mirror our mother would brush our hair in front of. They sought me, their tiny antennae eager to probe my flesh and find a break in the skin where they could crawl beneath and feast. I slowed my breathing as best I could, trying to shove away my fear even though by now, I was completely covered with roaches.

A blast from a shotgun, followed by another, echoed from the other room. I meant not to react, but I did anyway. In our tiny living room, Tura was reenacting my parents’ murder. Because, I imagined, the other times I’d been forced to relive it hadn’t been horrifying enough. My body trembled as I worked to calm my racing heart. I had to go into that room. I knew I did, but not until something insisted I turn around and see who lay in bed.

Tears burned my eyes as I saw the corpses of my sisters being devoured by roaches. It was bad enough to see them being eaten, but to see them as they had been as children made it that much more painful. “You’re an asshole, Tura,” I said aloud, then turned away from my sisters and walked into the living room.

You’re not alone, the voices repeated.

“I know,” I said, my voice gaining an edge. “My sisters are always with me.”

My declaration caused the roaches to die on my flesh and fall away in clumps with each step I took. The gang members were there as I expected, their sawed-off shotguns trained on me as they loomed over my parents.

Once more, I saw the gaping holes in my beloved mother’s and father’s chests, their hearts spilling the last of their blood. This time, as much as it hurt, I ignored them. I glanced around, searching—knowing she had to be there. My eyes took in the small living room where only the pullout couch that served as my parents’ bed and a small TV would fit. I ignored the men taunting me.

“They deserved to die, puta,” one of them told me. “Just like you do.”

“Look how they bleed,” another said as he struck my shoulder. “Do you like the pretty color?”

My gaze traveled to the small kitchen even as my parents’ corpses pulled my hair and shirt, trying to draw my attention. I did my best to ignore them, needing to find who I was looking for. She had been there with us the night of the murder. She had kept us safe. My eyes searched the room several times. I cried out with relief when I finally spotted her, sitting in the corner licking her chops.

Aric was right. My tigress hadn’t left me. She simply needed me to believe that I could find her, and that nothing could pry us apart. “Come on, little kitty. We have to get Emme first.”

My tigress bounded toward me, tackling me so hard that I barely kept my footing. It was as if she’d vanished, but my protruding claws made it clear she was with me. I needed her when I caught the first of Emme’s screams. But the men didn’t want me to leave. They jumped me at once, not expecting that I was ready for them.

I slashed one with my claws directly over his jugular. His blood spurted, splattering my back while I wrenched the shotgun from another man and used it to bust the skulls of the men who’d killed my parents.

My parents stumbled toward me in their zombie-like forms. “You’re dead, and you’re at peace,” I told them. They froze before staggering with their arms out, their hands opening and closing as if pleading with me not to leave them. It took all I had not to cry when I heard their bodies collapse on the floor as I tore out the door.

Joe and Ray met me in the dark corridor. Without hesitation, I shot Ray in the face and tore Joe’s head off. I tossed it behind me, forcing myself to ignore what I’d done and who they were to me, and keep on task. “Emme. Emme, where are you?”

Her screams seemed to come from every closed door lining each side of the corridor. I wrenched open the closest ones to me. “Emme, I’m here. Tell me where you are!”

Her shrieks were suddenly silenced before she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Celia!”

I took off at full velocity, barreling through the furthest door on the right to find Emme in her nightmare. She lay naked on the floor, her limbs pulled outward. A swarm of vampires punctured her veins and arteries, draining her blood as her dead ex-lover stroked her face and hair. Liam had no eyes, and pieces of his skin hung from him in strips.

Tura was going to burn in hell for this. And I would get him there.

Tears soaked Emme’s face and her eyes pleaded for me to help her. “Don’t be afraid. You’re not alone,” I promised, wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

I didn’t speak again until I killed the vampires feeding from her and wrenched her away from Liam’s hold. She sobbed into her hands when Liam tried to follow her, his hands reaching to play with her hair. “He’s gone, Emme. You have to leave him here.” I clasped her wrist and pulled her away from Liam and into the hall, screaming for Shayna.

Emme’s clothing returned the moment we left the room. Her wild eyes swept up and down the endless hall only to return to the room we’d just abandoned. “Liam’s hurt,” she said. “We have to help him. I-I can’t leave him….”

I shook my head. “He’s already gone, honey. And where he is, I swear to you he’s whole.”

Although she cried, she nodded and stepped away from the door. “Now, I need you to concentrate. Tell me where Shayna is.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but then she veered in the direction I’d come from, and pointed. “There. She’s down there.”

I didn’t hear Shayna, but Emme did. “Show me,” I told her.

If Emme was afraid, she didn’t demonstrate it then. She sped down the hall, cutting right to a dark corridor and then left into another. She flung open the first door, yelling Shayna’s name.

Leathery wings slapped our faces. Demon children the size of infants with hideous yellow fangs flew around us, their beady red eyes glowing in the darkness and drool dripping from their mouths. There were so many, I could barely see in front of me. “Shayna. Shayna!”

“Ceel, help me!”

With a primal scream, Emme scissored her hands out, parting the flock of winged demons with the might of her force. Shayna writhed on the floor, the demons stripping the muscle from her bones. She lifted her head, terror gripping her face. “Get up, Shayna,” I told her. “You need to get up!”