I remembered the pervasive dread of the unbound demon from last Halloween. This week’s demon mage hunt must’ve created just as much of a fearful stir through Vancouver’s mythic community. Ezra had become a celebrity—the infamous kind.

Darius walked to the reception desk and smiled at the white-faced woman sitting behind it. The two administrators at desks farther back in the records room were frozen in place.

“Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly. “Darius King, GM of the Crow and Hammer, presenting myself as per summons MS-19-70493.”

He wasn’t speaking loudly, but just like in guild meetings, his confident voice carried to every ear in the room.

As he slid a paper from his folder and laid it on the receptionist’s desk, he continued, “Accompanying me is Victoria Dawson and Ezra Rowe, guildeds of mine who are facing charges.”

Whispers rippled through the watching mythics. The poor receptionist looked ready to faint.

“I also have appeals prepared for both of them,” he concluded, adding two more sheets of paper. “Who’s in charge of their cases?”

The receptionist just stared.

“Perhaps you should call them,” he suggested gently.

She reached out with a trembling hand, picked up her phone, and fumbled with the ten thousand buttons on it. Lifting the handset to her ear, she continued to stare between Darius and Ezra.

“A-A-Agent Harris,” she stammered. “D-Darius King is here. He—he b-brought … Ezra Rowe.”

Darius held his pleasant smile as she listened. Five seconds passed, then ten.

The glass doors to the bullpen flew open, and a swarm of agents burst through. Half were unarmed and half carried some sort of weapon. A disagreeably familiar face led them, his teeth bared and eyes wild behind thick-rimmed reading glasses.

Ah, Agent Brennan Harris. The supreme asshole who’d tried to coerce me into dishing dirt on the Crow and Hammer. He’d then thrown the hissy fit of all hissy fits when Darius had weaseled me out of murder charges by “proving” I was a mythic.

I swiftly scanned the other agents for faces I might recognize. Since becoming an official mythic, I’d encountered a few agents in brief doses—usually while submitting reports or evidence after one of our fun adventures, plus the occasional agent or two would stop at the guild to speak with Darius.

This time, I didn’t recognize anyone besides Harris—though that might’ve been because they all wore expressions of shock, defensive anger, and fear.

Darius stepped in front of Ezra, shielding him from the oncoming force. The unlucky civilian visitors in the lobby pressed against the walls to get clear.

“Move, Darius!” Harris spat, pointing a silver wand at the GM’s chest. “Protecting a demon mage is a capital crime and we’re authorized to use lethal force!”

“You’d be entitled to do that,” Darius agreed calmly, “if Ezra were a demon mage.”

Harris’s eyes bulged before he pulled himself together. He jerked a pair of handcuffs off his belt. “I’m placing you all under arrest.”

He took a step closer, then froze as Darius’s unyielding stare met his.

“As I was just telling your receptionist,” the GM said in a quiet, dangerous way, “I’m here to appeal the charges against my guildeds—including Ezra. He’s been falsely accused, and we will prove his innocence.”

“He’s already been convicted,” Harris snarled, cuffs dangling from his hand. “We have irrefutable evidence that he—”

“What evidence is more irrefutable than the so-called demon mage presenting himself for the MPD’s examination?” Darius raised a hand toward Ezra, still safely behind him. “Would a real demon mage be standing here peacefully?”

The agents behind Harris shifted uneasily. A few looked relieved that they weren’t about to battle the most feared mythic out there.

“More bullshit, Darius.” Harris dared to step closer, a crazed light in his eyes. “This is just another of your tricks, but we have video evidence of Rowe attacking a combat team with demon magic.”

“And video footage has never, in all the history of cameras, ever been altered,” Darius said with subtle but unmistakable sarcasm. “Nor is it exceptionally easy to do since magic records so poorly.”

Harris hissed under his breath.

“Test him, Brennan. He isn’t a demon mage.”

“If he isn’t a demon mage,” the agent beside Harris asked, “why did you wait a week to bring him here?”

“We had no choice but to wait for the bloodlust to die down after the MPD issued a three-hundred-thousand-dollar DOD bounty without warning—skipping several lawfully required steps along the way, I might add.”

“It was an emergency,” Harris growled.

“Really? And how many murders has Ezra committed?”

“He—we have video evidence that he attacked—”

“Ah yes, the indisputable video. But I’m not here to discuss whether an emergency hearing to sentence him to death based on a single piece of questionable evidence was ethical or in any way justifiable.”

A few more agents were looking uncomfortable.

“We’re freely and peacefully presenting ourselves to see justice done, and with a young man’s life in the balance, I require only that you prove he is a demon mage before executing him for a crime he isn’t guilty of.” Darius’s voice hardened with command. “Call your Demonica expert to perform the test—or call someone with actual authority.”

Harris’s nostrils flared.

“You never change, Mr. King.”

At the woman’s voice, the battalion of agents parted, revealing the tall figure who’d just walked through a nearby door. A stack of folders tucked under her arm suggested she was an analyst, but she carried the dominating aura of a leader as blatantly as the other agents carried their weapons.

She strode through the group with a general’s grimness and stopped a step ahead of Harris. With chin-length blond hair, model-worthy cheekbones, and probing eyes, she could’ve been thirty or fifty. I had no clue.

“Ah,” Darius murmured. “Captain Blythe.”

Her laser stare swept down Darius and back up. “Playing games again, are we?”

“I have never been more serious.”

She snorted in an “I’ll believe it when I see it” sort of way. “Then, as part of your peaceful surrender, your guildeds will be handcuffed.”

“Of course.”

At Darius’s easy agreement, Harris shook with visible fury, which the GM completely ignored. Blythe gestured at two agents behind her—not Harris, despite the fact he still held his useless restraints. His face went even redder.

Trying not to stiffen defensively as the agents approached, I held my wrists out. The agent clipped a set of cuffs on me, the metal cold against my skin. Beside me, Ezra submitted to the restraints without changing expression. His poker face was as good as ever.

“This way, Mr. King.” Turning, Blythe waved at the gathered agents and barked, “Back to work!”

They obediently hustled through the doors into the bullpen. Harris hesitated, his burning need to object written all over his face, but he stumped after the others without a word.

Blythe led us into a long hall, then opened the first door on the right. Stepping aside, she let Darius precede her into a small interview room with a table and four chairs. Ezra and I followed, and Blythe stepped in last, closing the door behind her.

Darius leaned against the table, assessing Blythe with surprisingly wary eyes. “This is unexpected, Aurelia.”

I blinked bemusedly. Darius was on a first-name basis with Vancouver’s precinct captain?

“I’m not complaining,” he added, “but I fully expected you to jump on the chance to put me in handcuffs as well.”

She stepped closer to him, her narrowed eyes raking over his face. “How many times have you done this, Darius?”

“Protected my guildeds? I’ll do it as many times as needed.”

“How many times have you exploited rules and bent laws to fit your ambitions?” Another step toward him. “How many fines and charges have you dodged by quoting my own laws back at me?”

“In this case, Aurelia, I’m saving an innocent life.”

She slashed a look at Ezra, then took another step—which put her almost on Darius’s toes. She glared into his face, their noses scarce inches apart, and I could’ve cut the tension with a knife.

Tensions, actually. Plural. Because there was a whole lot more than a battle of professional wills buzzing between those two. I was getting distinctly personal vibes, and I goggled at them in astonishment.

“You got overconfident once, Darius,” she said in a low voice. “And it cost you your career.”

“You’re assuming I still wanted that career—and that losing it was unintentional.”

Her eyes narrowed even more. “Then I hope this oversight was intentional too.”

Darius’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers curled around the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white. “What oversight is that?”

“You assumed you could throw the book at me, and I’d cave because laws are laws.” She stepped back. “But I’m not in charge here anymore.”

His eyes widened.

Turning on her heel, she strode to the door and laid her hand on the knob. “And the one who is—he’s not a ‘play by the rules’ man.”

She shoved the door open and marched out. As the door began to swing shut, a hand caught it and pushed it wide open.

An agent stood in the threshold. Tall, wiry, dark brown hair, and a face like a fox. He smiled but the expression didn’t touch his flat brown eyes. Gooseflesh ran up my arms.

“Darius King. Your reputation precedes you.”

Another wave of gooseflesh shivered along my spine. The man’s voice shared the same dead quality as his eyes.