The apartment had stopped smelling like death weeks ago. Now it just smelled like old tea, sweat, and the cloying sweetness of the preserves Leyley had been hoarding under her bed.

Leyley sat up. The butter knife glinted. "The one with the door?"

"We could go out," Andy whispered into her hair. "Tomorrow. Find another building. Another family."

The demon in the vents watched them go. And for the first time in a long, long time, it smiled too.

She smiled. It was the saddest, most terrible smile he'd ever seen.

Andy didn't move. "We can't stay here."

Andy nodded. He always nodded.