My gaze darted to the lunar chart, then back to the map. This had to be the location Xever had chosen for his second portal attempt. But where—

“What the hell is this?”

I jolted at Drew’s sudden half-whisper. He and Venus stood in front of a metal case at the far end of the table, the lid open.

“I told you not to touch anything!” Zora barked.

Inside the case, a foam insert held a collection of vials just like the case of Nazhivēr’s blood I’d stolen from Xever—but this one held many more vials.

“Is that blood?” Venus asked, squinting. “It looks too dark.”

My pulse pounded in my ears. “How many vials?”

“Uh.” Drew counted. “Eleven. The twelfth one is empty.”

I sucked in air as my head spun. My eyes darted to Zylas. He waited by the hall, his face turned toward me. Spinning back toward the map of the portal location, I shifted papers and folders out of the way.

“I said not to touch anything!” Zora said angrily. “Taye, give me an update on Xever and the cultists.”

Ignoring her order, I lifted a heavy Latin text and set it aside. I needed to know where they were building the portal.

“Robin, stop that!” Zora hissed. “Taye, update!”

My hands paused as the silence in my earpiece stretched out.

“Taye? Do you copy?”

We all stood perfectly still, waiting.

“Taye? Taye, do you copy?”

When she received no answer, Zora pivoted to face the rest of us. “We’re leaving. Out. Now!”

The others rushed into the hallway. I cast a wild look at Zylas, then whipped back to the map and grabbed the bottom edge. I pulled, but part of it was still buried under heavy texts. Instead of sliding across the desk, the map tore.

I stared in horror at the long rip—then yanked the corner of the map free and ran after the others. Zylas joined me and we raced down the hall for the penthouse doors.

“Stop!” he barked.

Halfway across the sitting room, Zora and her team slid to a halt—and in the quiet, the rumble of a male voice echoed through the unseen foyer. A door clacked.

Someone was inside.

Zora gestured silently, ordering us back. As we retreated into the hall, I stuffed the torn corner of the map in my pocket.

The murmuring voices grew louder, coming this way.

Zylas grabbed my arm and pulled me through the open door of the bedroom. A large bed filled half the space, and like most of the penthouse, the outer wall was made entirely of windows, the view ruined by the dark steel beams of the tower crane running up the side of the building.

The others followed us, and we crowded into the corner alongside the door, where we could only be seen if someone entered the bedroom.

The muffled voices gained volume.

“… attention is on Enéas, as we expected.”

That rough male voice sent a violent shiver rippling through me.

“But,” the man went on, “if he’s captured alive and confesses—”

“He’ll fight to the death.”

The two speakers passed the bedroom door, and the dark windows reflected their silhouettes—Xever’s tall form accompanied by a man with pale skin and white hair.

At the sight of the second man, a wave of vivid memories assaulted me. Saul on the helipad, standing over the portal array and chanting in a harsh, powerful drone. Amalia looping her hex-scarf over his head and the fabric bursting into flame. My demonic-sized impello cantrip blasting the screaming man off the helipad and into the dark ocean water.

Saul was alive.

“Are you sure Enéas will go that far?” he asked as the two men continued past the bedroom and into the office.

“He’s always been staunchly unswerving once he commits himself,” Xever replied. “It made him a perfect demon mage.”

“Get ready to move.” Zora’s whisper was almost soundless. “We’ll make a run for the exit as soon as—”

“Xever.”

Saul’s sharp exclamation silenced Zora.

“Look at this,” he said.

A moment of quiet. Tension gripped our small, hidden group, and the torn corner of the map in my pocket seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.

“Hmm,” Xever mused. “Someone unexpected has been here.”

“We were gone for less than an hour.”

“Yes,” Xever agreed thoughtfully. “I wonder … if they might still be nearby?”

Fresh panic gripped my chest at the cold amusement leaking into his tone.

“Daimon hesychaze.”

The Ancient Greek hissed off Xever’s tongue—and crimson light blazed through the bedroom where we hid. Illogical terror hit me and I lunged for Zylas, but he was already dissolving. Red power streaked through the bedroom wall.

My hands clutched his empty jacket, still warm from his body heat.

Chapter Nineteen

Dropping Zylas’s jacket, I sprinted for the bedroom door.

“Robin!”

I scarcely heard Zora’s low warning call as I careened through the doorway and shot down the short hall.

“Ori novem!”

Saul’s incantation rang out as I burst into the office. Crimson blazed across the windows—Zylas was taking form in front of Xever.

Purple magic flared and Saul’s semi-transparent harpoon struck the demon’s chest the instant he solidified. Saul rammed it into Zylas, driving him down onto the table behind him. He hit it on his back, the violet shaft sticking out of his sternum. His limbs spasmed, claws ripping across the large city map.

As I slid to a horrified stop, Xever turned to me. The scar that ran up his chin and into his lower lip twisted as he smiled.

Running footsteps—then Zora appeared beside me, her sword out of its case and the long length of steel shining. Drew halted on my other side, a steel ball the size of a grapefruit resting on his upturned palm, and more footsteps told me the others had come too.

I was simultaneously furious that Zora hadn’t led the others to safety and grateful I didn’t have to confront Xever and Saul alone. Together, we faced the two men, our standoff reflected in the glass walls of the office, the city lights twinkling far below.

Crimson flashed over Xever’s chest. Power leaped to the floor, then flowed upward and solidified. Nazhivēr stretched his wings out, filling half the room, before furling them against his back, his glowing stare moving from Zylas to me and my group of mythics.

Zylas dragged his arms up and grabbed the harpoon shaft, trying to dislodge it from his chest, his breath rushing loudly through his clenched teeth.

“Welcome, Robin,” Xever murmured, safely behind Nazhivēr. “Thank you for returning my demon.”

My fingernails cut into my palms. “He’s mine.”

“Is he? Then why not call him into your infernus?”

He knew. That bastard knew Nazhivēr had destroyed my infernus.

“Zylas is my demon now—as disobedient as he is.” Turning, Xever walked casually over to his desk. He lifted a vial from the case of demon blood. “I’m curious as to why my contract with him failed.”

“If only you had an ancient grimoire with thousands of years of Demonica history to provide answers,” I spat.