One “Knock. Knock.” “Who’s there?” I said it without thinking, then realized there was someone inside my head, playing the old joke on me. I jumped up just as the dead bolts flipped and the door to my apartment crashed open. “Your favorite nightmare, Glory St. Clair.” Alesa, a demon who could look gorgeous when she wasn’t showing her true nature, leaned against the doorjamb, a grin on her hellish face. Tonight she wasn’t bothering to hide a thing and I shuddered. “You’re not my favorite anything. Go back to hell, where you belong.” I frantically glanced around for a weapon. I was at a serious disadvantage with wet polish on my toenails and a deep conditioner on my hair under a towel turban. “I wouldn’t toss that polish remover if I were you. It won’t hurt me and it’ll do a real number on your hardwood floor.” Alesa sauntered into the room, morphing into her human form, which was a huge relief. Not that it meant she’d act human, but at least I didn’t have to stare at razorsharp fangs or scaly snout and skin anymore. Total freak-out. “What do you want?” I grabbed a nail file with a sharp pointy end. At least I could make her bleed. Oh, wait. Demon blood, black and oily. Infectious. Not a good idea. I’d learned that the hard way.