The air outside Shin'yume-sou always smelled like old smoke and damp earth, as if the building itself had been chain-smoking through a rainstorm for decades.

At least, most of the guests inside had from the sixties until the early nineties.

When Inego and I stepped through the front door, the smell clung to us like we'd been baptized in mildew.

I probably had knowing how shoddy the washing machines on my second floor were.

I was the one responsible for taking care of them, and I could barely manage myself.

Inego and I stopped at the fence.

The kind of rusted, chain-link barrier that thought it was still doing its job even though half the ties had come loose and a determined raccoon could crawl under it without breaking stride.

Azuki probably got in that way the other evening.

That was when the prickle hit me.

Not the usual you-forgot-to-do-your-homework kind of guilt, but the sharp tug in the ribs that said, she's here.

I froze.

My hand went to the shoulder where the guitar strap had been hanging earlier, as if it were still hanging there, and I knew exactly what was happening.

"She's close," I muttered.

Inego stopped mid-step.

"Oi, mate, you're being creepy and vague. She?"

I shut my eyes, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, bud. Speak of the devil, you know? It's her. Murasaki."

My throat was suddenly dry as I could sense her presence gradually getting closer.

"She's circling. I can feel her wings. Probably above us right now."

He tilted his head, scanning the sky like he might catch a succubus dive-bombing from the clouds.

"Bloody hell, Ryu, that's not good by a long shot. Not good at all."

I tried to sound calm.

"You're telling me, but the thing is, I've been able to sense her for awhile now. Plus, you told me something's preventing her from completely enchanting me, so I'll be fine."

He made a face like I'd suggested we go cliff diving with the lemmings.

"You'll be fine?"

His glasses slid down his nose as he rounded on me.

"Mate, do you know what fine looks like to a succubus? Fine means you're on your knees in a week, begging for another taste. That's what fine bloody well means. And how do you know that whatever's keeping her from completely taking over will last, eh?"

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Damn it. He had a good point.

"Fine, yeah. That's something to think about. But look, I'll manage for right now."

I mean, I kinda had to.

What else did he expect me to do?

"You don't manage demons," he snapped. "You survive them, if you're lucky."

I shook my head.

"Look, she's not just going to magically go away. Unless you know a spell for that?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You know damn well magic isn't like that," he muttered.

I sighed, figuring it'd be like that.

"Yeah, well, listen. I'll stay here and talk to her. You go on ahead to the tunnel. If she's really after me, she won't bother you. Call me when you get there, alright?"

Inego looked at me like I'd just suggested juggling live grenades.

"Oi! That's your plan, ya bloody wanker? You want me to leave you alone with her?"

I half expected him to follow it up with a "bollocks."

"I don't want you getting wrapped up in this… and, honestly, she'd probably not going to land with you around. You're, um, not really one of her favorites."

He reached behind his shirt and adjusted his collar.

"This is a bad idea," he said flatly after he thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah," I said. "But I think I'll be okay."

My shoulder was still tingling, and I could feel an itching in the back of my eyes. She was getting impatient.

"You think—" he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mate, she's a succubus."

I let out a laugh that was more tired than funny. "Yes, I'm aware. But she's also… not as bad as she looks."

"Not as bad? She's a demon. That's literally her entire shtick. They look like they're not as bad. That's how you end up drained, broken, and smiling like an idiot."

"She's lonely," I said before I could stop myself. "That's not fake. I can feel it. She doesn't even bother to hide it."

Inego stared at me for a long moment, his mouth working like he was trying to find the perfect insult. He settled on, "You're daft. Absolutely daft. Don't come crying to me when she's wrung you out like an old rag."

"Noted."

He groaned, muttered something about "idiot Americans," and turned toward Shin'yume. His guitar case swung at his side like a pendulum. "Call if you're still alive in ten minutes."

I watched him go until he disappeared down the path, swallowed by the crooked shadows of the old district. The silence that followed wasn't silence at all—it was the heavy, pregnant kind, humming with wings I couldn't see.

That's when she came closer.

My chest tightened. Comfort and dread all at once. Like a warm blanket with a knife underneath.

The air shifted. Then she was there.

Murasaki landed with a grace that made me feel like I should clap. No one that curvy had any right to land that softly. Her boots barely disturbed the gravel.

"Hello, darling." Her voice curled around me like smoke. "Did you miss me?"

Her violet eyes locked on mine, and for a heartbeat I forgot how to breathe.

She was beautiful—of course she was. That was the whole damn point. Her hair fell in waves of brunette threaded with a shimmer of purple-blue, like she'd stolen the northern lights and tied them into her ponytail. She stood a little shorter than Yuki, but proportionally—yeah. Pretty damn similar.

And that was the worst part.

Because it wasn't her I wanted. It was Yuki. Yuki with her honesty and her gentle smile and the way she made being dead look like the most natural thing in the world. Yuki, who never had to pout or smirk to make my chest ache.

But Murasaki was here, and she was every dream I wasn't supposed to have.

She took a step closer, her eyes half-hooded, her lips curved in a knowing smile. My skin grew warmer, like she'd turned the whole world into a sauna.

Another step. She was a foot away now, her perfume, no, not perfume, her scent, filling my head. Lemon and ginger. Sweet and sharp.

She looked up at me through her hair, biting her lower lip, and I felt that dangerous pull in my chest.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" she murmured, pouting playfully. It should've been ridiculous, but it wasn't. It was devastating.

I sighed. The kind of sigh that says, God help me, I'm in trouble.

Her pout blossomed into a grin. She closed the distance, sliding right into my space like she'd always belonged there.

"Don't be like that," she teased. Her voice was honey with teeth. "You act like you're not glad to see me, but I know it's just an act, darling."

My arms betrayed me. They went around her like they'd been waiting to.

The scent of lemon and ginger slammed into me, filling my lungs, making my head swim.

And a part of me wondered, horribly, guiltily, if she was right.

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