The gate rattled as he slid it open, the noise echoing in the quiet alley. Amalia and I followed him through the garage.

Inside, the air had a musty smell. I turned on my phone’s flashlight, keeping it pointed at the floor. The hall was plain and beige, giving no indication of the building’s use, but when I peeked through a doorway, I found a small room lined on one side with floor-to-ceiling glass displays, behind which stood mannequins dressed in dark uniforms.

“What is this place?” I whispered sharply.

“A police museum.” Ezra opened a door marked with a staircase sign. “It’s closed, so no one will show up out of the blue. And who would expect criminal activity in a police-owned building?”

No one—because breaking the law in the police’s backyard was ridiculously foolhardy. Considering Ezra’s mood, however, I decided not to point that out.

He led us into the basement and swiped his hand over a panel of light switches, turning them on all at once. Rows of fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, illuminating a long stretch of open concrete. Storage shelves, filled with boxes, lined the walls. No windows. No other exits. Completely private.

Pocketing my phone, I walked past him, scanning the floor as I went. The cracks and divots would need to be filled, since any imperfections could interfere with the magic, but the space was large enough for the ritual array.

“Will it work?” Ezra asked.

“Yep,” Amalia answered with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. “This is actually kind of perfect.”

“Good. Kai and I picked up the supplies you talked about last time. We weren’t sure exactly what you’d need, so we got everything we could remember.”

I turned to find him gesturing at an oversized duffle bag beside the door. Several plastic bags from a hardware store peeked out the top, and a mop and bucket leaned against the wall.

“Concrete crack filler, diamond sanding blocks, sponges …” Ezra recited. “Alchemic paint and paint remover, a measuring tape, straight rulers, angle rulers, protractors, compasses.”

I lifted a two-gallon bucket with a plastic top out of the duffle bag. Someone had written “Remover” on it in black marker. “Did you get all this from the guild?”

“No, we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Kai sourced it.” Ezra shrugged his jacket off and pushed up his sleeves. “The crack filler needs a couple hours to dry, so we should apply it immediately. Where do you want me to start sanding?”

“We need to mark out the circle first,” Amalia said. “Grab the measuring tape.”

As I pulled a generic construction measuring tape from the bag, crimson flared out from my jacket’s front. Zylas appeared beside me, his nose wrinkling at the musty air. His glowing stare flashed around the space as he did his usual high-speed escape-route planning—part of being “smart prey.”

He pivoted to face Ezra. “One way out.”

“And only one way in,” he replied. “If you’re concerned about being ambushed, keep watch outside.”

Zylas scowled.

Ezra and I stretched the measuring tape across the floor, and Amalia marked the center point. She then used the largest compass kit to trace out a twenty-five-foot-wide circle. Zylas alternated between observing our efforts and investigating the storage shelves along the wall.

With a sanding block in hand, Ezra got to work evening out the floor. I grabbed the bucket for the mop and ventured up the stairs, searching for a bathroom where I could fill it with water.

Zylas followed me, his tail lashing. “Hh’ainun magic is slow.”

“Yes,” I agreed distractedly, pointing my phone’s flashlight up and down the hall. “This will take a while.”

I found a bathroom, filled the bucket with hot water, then returned to the basement. As I dunked the mop into the water, Ezra sat back on his heels and gave Zylas, who was loitering behind me and oozing impatience, a long look.

He tossed his sanding block to the demon, and Zylas caught it, glancing at the unfamiliar object in confusion.

“Make yourself useful,” Ezra said, rising to his feet. “The faster we work, the sooner we can leave.”

The demon mage trudged back to the bag, grabbed a second sanding block, and returned to his spot. Zylas watched him for a moment, then sank into a squat and started scraping his block over a rough spot on the concrete. He and Ezra worked steadily across the floor, and I followed with the mop, scrubbing away the dust and dirt. Armed with the crack filler, Amalia repaired every imperfection.

By the time we made it across the circle, the crack filler in the first half had dried. Ezra and Zylas went over it again with their sanding blocks, and I mopped up with clean water.

Finally, I returned the mop to its original spot, my back aching. Ezra and Zylas chucked their sanding blocks in the duffle bag, their hands coated in white concrete dust.

“One of us will meet you at the same bus stop tomorrow at nine,” Ezra said. “We need to check the area each time before you go near this building.”

“Check the area for what?” Amalia asked.

“Cultists.” Ezra clenched and unclenched his jaw, then exhaled heavily. “A cultist attacked Tori after she stopped in here this morning. We don’t think they know about this location, but we’re being extra cautious.”

“Is Tori okay?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“She … it looks like she’ll pull through. I’m heading back to the hospital now.”

The hospital? Not a good sign when most mythics got first-aid treatment from healers. “Keep us in the loop, please.”

“I’ll have Kai text you updates. He’ll probably be the one to meet you tomorrow since Aaron is tied up with work at the guild.”

Zylas returned to the infernus, and Ezra escorted me and Amalia out of the building and onto a well-lit street a block away. As he turned to leave, I caught his hand. Mismatched eyes snapped to me, cold and angry and shadowed with helplessness.

“It isn’t your fault, Ezra,” I said softly. “It’s Xever. He’s the one causing all of this.”

His expression didn’t change, but his jaw loosened slightly.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

He nodded. “You too, Robin. This will all be over soon.”

I watched him stride away, my lower lip caught between my teeth. Soon. A week, maybe a little less, but the cult had already nearly killed Tori—and a week more might be a dangerously long delay.

Chapter Nine

After four nights of intensive effort and seventy-two hours for the ritual array to charge, our work was done.

I stood beside Amalia, examining the results of our labor. The array, spanning half the room, comprised one large circle with two smaller ones inside it. Lines at precise angles intersected the rings, directing the magical forces. Runes—both arcane and demonic—dotted the intricate tangle.

“If this works,” Amalia remarked, hands planted on her hips, “we’ll make history. Not that we’ll ever get credit for it.”

“Are you ready to perform the ritual?” I asked.

“It’s not that different from a regular summoning, and I’ve been practicing those incantations for years. I can handle it.” She tapped her chin. “But there’s a big downside to all this.”