“Xever and Nazhivēr could be at the guild,” he said. “That is a good place for dh’ērrenith. We can trap them between their enemies, and when they are dead, we can go to the portal.” His wolfish grin appeared. “And I promised Darius I would protect his guild.”

Adrenaline rushed through me. Pushing my shoulders back, I faced Amalia and Uncle Jack. “We’re going to the Crow and Hammer first.”

“Well, shit.” Her eyes narrowed as they slid over Zylas. “If you’re going to kick Nazhivēr’s ass in public, then you’ll need your hex gear after all.”

His brow furrowed questioningly.

“A demon as recognizable as you can’t go running around with all that glowy red magic on display. Everyone would know you’re Robin’s demon. But you know who could run around with demonic magic, and no one would be able to pin it on Robin?”

“Who?”

“A demon mage.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Almost exactly four months ago, I’d thrust my hand across the silver line of the summoning circle, piercing the barrier that had separated Zylas and me from the moment we’d met. In the frigid darkness within the circle, he’d held me against his chest, squeezing my sliced arm to slow the bleeding, and asked what I wanted from him.

Protect me, I’d begged.

That day, his eyes had been dark with exhaustion, his life hanging by a thread.

Today, they glowed with power.

His fingers tightened over mine, pressing the infernus into my palm. The hard edges bit into my skin, but I squeezed it even tighter, staring up at him.

He stared back. Unblinking. Looking deep inside me in a way no one else could.

That day, we’d made our desperate promises to each other, driven to survive, and begun a partnership that had tested us both. Changed us both. Pushed us apart and brought us closer together. Then we’d lost that bond … only to discover an even stronger one that required no magic.

“Zylas,” I whispered.

His gaze drifted over my face. He waited silently.

“Last time you asked for my soul.”

He’d thought it was his only way to escape the human world, unaware that contract magic, and therefore the banishment clause, didn’t work on Twelfth House demons. Just as Myrrine’s death hadn’t freed her demon from Earth, my death couldn’t save Zylas.

I wrapped my other hand around his as he held the infernus. “This time, I promise you my heart. We won’t be together, but I’ll always think of you. I’ll never forget you. You’ll be in my heart forever.”

His head slowly tilted, shadows dimming the glow of his eyes. He lifted his hand and curled it over mine, both our hands wrapped around the infernus.

“You are amavrah and vayanin. I will think of you every time I step into the sun.”

A tremor ran through me. He pulled, drawing me closer until our hands were trapped between our bodies.

“Enpedēra vīsh nā.”

His husky voice whispered across me and I closed my eyes.

“Enpedēra vīsh nā,” I breathed.

Red light flashed across the amulet and scorching pain erupted in my hand. The agonizing heat blasted up my arm and seared my chest, then faded.

In its place, a dark, fierce shadow with a crimson core had appeared in my mind. Zylas’s thoughts rushed through me, too fast to follow—but I could feel so much.

His sadness. His regret. The hollow ache of desolation inside him.

My eyes flew open, and I reached for his face. My hand pressed against his cheek as I stretched onto my toes—bringing our faces closer as though that would bring his mind into clearer focus.

He pulled back, the infernus still caught between our hands.

“Done yet?” Amalia called from her room. “All infernused up again?”

“Yes,” I said weakly, fighting for composure as I dropped my hand from his face.

She sauntered into the main room—and she had every right to add a little swagger to her walk. Dressed in her all-black outfit with a mixture of leather and spandex, she could’ve stepped off the pages of my favorite speculative fiction novel—the dangerous bounty huntress tracking cybercriminals.

Zylas released the infernus, and I uncurled my fingers from around it. The Vh’alyir emblem shone in its center. I lowered the chain over my head.

A few minutes later, the four of us were ready, including Zylas. Instead of traveling in the infernus, he was back in disguise—but he wouldn’t be blending in with any crowds.

His finished outfit was as vaguely futuristic as Amalia’s and even more intimidating, with a hooded jacket, pants that concealed the bulk of his greaves, and a pair of gloves with slits in the fingertips for his claws. Add the reflective sunglasses and he looked almost villainous.

We descended from the apartment building and loaded into Uncle Jack’s black sedan while a light, cold rain pattered down on us. As the vehicle pulled away, Uncle Jack seeming rather uncomfortable in his simple but well-fitting outfit, I glanced across the back seat to Zylas.

We were leaving. We’d spent our last night together. We’d probably already shared our last kiss. This was it.

In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined this. That I would be bound to a demon and how much it would change me. How much it would change him. The marks we had left on each other’s souls would never fade.

The vehicle slowed to a crawl, the change in momentum pulling me from my thoughts. I leaned sideways to peer through the windshield, the wipers sweeping back and forth as rain speckled the glass.

The towering skyscrapers of downtown had been replaced with older four- and five-story buildings, their windows dark. The streetlamps illuminated empty roads—except for one vehicle dead ahead. A police car with its lights flashing blocked part of the road beside a temporary barrier.

I instantly recognized the sight—we’d seen the same thing when Tahēsh had escaped and the MPD had ordered the closure of most of the Eastside.

If they’d again ordered a civilian evacuation, that meant I was right. Whatever was happening to the Crow and Hammer, whether MPD-sanctioned or not, was happening now.

Barely slowing the vehicle, Uncle Jack drove up onto the sidewalk. The officer in the squad car threw his door open, but we were already speeding past the barricade. The vehicle bounced as Uncle Jack steered back onto the asphalt, and we zoomed along the eerily deserted street, drawing closer to the guild.

“Look,” Amalia whispered.

I leaned over the center console, my seatbelt digging into my shoulder. A block or so ahead, rising above the rooftops, a column of orange-tinged smoke billowed into the sky.

“Stop here,” Zylas ordered.

Uncle Jack pulled the car over and cut the engine. We got out of the vehicle, hoods drawn up against the rain, and gathered on the sidewalk, staring at the firelit sky a block away.

Outside of the car, I could hear it: faint bangs, bursts, crashes—and beneath the other noises, a chorus of shouts and screams.

“What the hell is happening?” Amalia whispered.

I clenched my hands into fists. “Let’s go.”

Zylas was already moving in a swift, smooth gait halfway between a prowl and a jog. I rushed after him, and Amalia and Uncle Jack followed. The dark, empty buildings loomed, the forsaken air of the deserted neighborhood underscored by the sounds of a desperate battle that grew louder and louder as we drew closer.