Page 17 of The Hive Queen

Savannah snorts. “Like she’d object to more hands on deck.”

I tune them out as I creep along the rafters, shining my light around for the box that’s supposed to be up here.

Insulation forms soft gray pillows between the rafters, while a distinct smell of mold joins the danguri’s musk. With the flashlight in one hand, I sweep the insulation aside as I search.

“Did you find it yet?” Savannah asks.

“If I did, you’d know.” I creep along. “How big is this box?”

“Should be nine by six by two and wooden,” Trent says.

I sweep the light around again. Something that thin could hide anywhere up here. But would the person who stashed it have crawled deep into the ceiling? Or is it more likely they’d put it within easy-grabbing range?

Backing toward the opening, I sweep the insulation aside there, and my fingers bump against something hard. I dig around to find the edge and pull out a wooden box.

I balance it on the rafter in front of me and pop the lid, exposing a crystal spearhead inside. Collectors are so weird. How is this worth half a million? It’s not even made of diamond.

“Got it.” I close the case and move back to the opening, careful not to kick any of the insulation down.

I lay across the rafter and hang my upper body out, extending the box down to Trent.

He takes it and shoves it into his rucksack, then holds out his hands, and Savannah mirrors him. “Easy does it. We’re nearly in the clear.”

I back up, then swing my legs out, pointing them toward the ceiling until I hang from my arms. Carefully, I extend my legs, and the others catch them and help me back to the floor.

“We need a spa day after this.” Savannah brushes at her arms. “It will take standing in a steam room for at least an hour to get this smell out of my pores.”

“Plan it once we’re back in the van.” Trent takes the lead once more, heading for the door.

We head back down the stairs and into the maze. As we near the basement door for the second time, the rhythmic breathing cuts off, followed by a deep, wet snuffle.

“Time to go,” I tell them. “The danguri just woke up.”

A scrape sounds on the stairs, followed by a fast scramble.

“Go, go, go!” I shout, no longer trying to be quiet.

Savannah kicks into gear ahead of me, and we make a mad dash for the door. In her panic, her elbow catches on a pile of trash, and it teeters.

Heart in my throat, I bolt forward, sliding past just as the tower falls.

We burst out the front door right on top of each other and bolt down the path.

A loud slam comes from within the house, followed by an enraged roar.

We pile into the van, and Trent yells, “Go!”

I get one of the back doors slammed shut as we peel away from the curb. When I lean out for the other, I catch sight of the danguri on the porch. Its pale, scaled body glows in the moonlight as its head swivels from side to side, its large nose snuffling before it looks right at us.

“Shit.” I thrust a hand toward Savannah. “Take off your shirt!”

Without hesitation, she shimmies out of it, tossing me the shirt, and I throw it out of the van.

The danguri rushes out of the house and pounces on it, thick claws tearing the fabric apart before it shoves the shirt into its muzzle.

“Fucking hell.” Savannah stares over my shoulder at the demon. “We should have charged more for this job.”

I grunt in agreement and slam the door shut.

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