But the cry is inside my head, and there is no escape from the utter horror, agony, and desolation in that voice. I’m with the terrified girl as the demon lifts her into the air on the roof of the building. I’m with her as it reaches into her throat and grasps her essence—her soul—and squeezes. I’m with her as it rips the gossamer glow from her body, tossing the flesh aside like trash, and devours the argent spirit in gluttonous gulps. And I’m with her empty husk as it plummets past my window and lands with bone-crunching force on the hard ground below. —The Ward