Zylas’s magic burned through me. “Impello!”

The rune threw Xever backward.

“Ventos!”

The wind cantrip blasted him, whipping rain and dirt into his face.

“Igniaris!”

This time, Xever didn’t have a chance to counter my fire rune, and flames exploded over him. He vanished in the blaze.

I braced my feet, hardly daring to breathe.

The short-lived fire died away, and Xever reappeared, his clothing scorched and the skin on one side of his face an angry red. The rain had saved him.

I raised my hand to summon another rune. Mouth twisted, Xever reached for his chest—for his collection of infernus pendants. Crimson flared over his chest, then leaped toward the ground.

He was calling another demon to fight for him.

As the demon’s glowing shape coalesced, I desperately drew on more of Zylas’s magic—and felt a slash of sharp, wary surprise from him.

My gaze jerked away from Xever and his demon, seeking Zylas.

He clung to Nazhivēr’s shoulders, one arm clamped around the winged demon’s head to pull it back and the glowing talons of his other hand pressed to Nazhivēr’s throat. He was an instant from the kill—but he hadn’t delivered the final blow.

For a second, I had no idea why Zylas had hesitated. Then I saw it: Nazhivēr’s mouth was moving. He was speaking to Zylas.

Motion rushed across my peripheral vision—and I remembered I was in battle right now. That I couldn’t get distracted.

Except I had—at exactly the wrong moment.

I didn’t see what sort of demon Xever had called out. All I saw was its arm swinging at me.

The blow struck my chest, the world spun, and I slammed into something. Brick, stone, concrete. I didn’t know. Whatever it was, it was harder than my bones—so my bones broke.

Agony exploded through my entire body. I lost all awareness of my surroundings, trapped in a hellish nightmare of pain, so much pain, never-ending, all-consuming.

Robin.

Warmth and cold rushed through my limbs, then suddenly flashed to scorching hot. The agony quadrupled and my mind recoiled, thoughts spiraling.

Robin!

I jerked myself back from unconsciousness. My entire body throbbed, but it was bearable. I cracked my eyes open with effort.

A pair of crimson eyes, dimmed with fatigue, peered down at me—and I could feel Zylas in my mind, his presence steady and fierce. He’d been there all along, but the pain had consumed my attention.

I blinked—and noticed three more faces behind the demon, all pale and drawn. Amalia and Uncle Jack weren’t a surprise, but …

“Zora?” I croaked.

“That’s me,” she said, not quite managing a flippant tone. “Welcome back.”

“Back …?”

Zylas’s hand brushed across my cheek. Xever’s Ash’amadē demon broke you.

Broke me? I silently repeated, unable to remember which House was called Ash’amadē.

You were very hurt. An echo of his fear shivered through me. I fixed you.

I drew in a deep breath, an unpleasant ache in my lungs. Since I seemed to be fully repaired, I dug my elbows in the ground, attempting to sit up.

“Whoa!” Amalia exclaimed, kneeling on my other side. “Just stay put for a couple minutes, okay, Robin?”

“But what about Xever and Nazhivēr?” I asked, looking past them. The street, darker than before with a lamppost destroyed, was quiet and empty.

“Escaped,” Amalia said. “Nazhivēr grabbed Xever and flew off with him, and the other demon flew after them.”

The Ash’amadē House had wings too?

“Are they going to the portal?” I whispered, cold horror flushing through me.

“Probably.” Amalia rose to her full height and glanced at her father. “Dad, go get the car. We don’t have any time to waste.”

He backed away, reaching for the pendant hanging on his chest. As he grasped it, red light flashed. I hadn’t noticed his unmoving demon until it dissolved into a streak of power that rushed back into the infernus. He hurried away, disappearing in the darkness.

As his footsteps receded, I noticed how quiet it was. The rain had stopped—and so had the distant roar of the life and death battle. A bone-deep chill rolled over me. What had happened to the Crow and Hammer?

“Someone is coming,” Zylas whispered.

I tensed. A moment later, a new sound reached us—two sets of footsteps crunching across the wet pavement. A pair of figures passed beneath a streetlamp, walking toward us.

Amalia turned sharply toward them, and Zora also pivoted. I gathered myself, but before I could sit up, Zylas slid his arms under me. He pulled me to his chest and stood.

The sudden movement set my head to spinning, and I buried my face in the side of his hood, eyes squeezed shut as I fought a wave of nausea. Only after I’d pressed my face to the fabric did I clue in that he was back in his human disguise; he must have redressed after healing me.

The footsteps drew closer.

“You’re alive,” Amalia remarked dryly to the newcomers.

“For the most part,” a familiar voice answered. “Is she okay?”

I gingerly lifted my head from Zylas’s shoulder and met Tori’s exhausted hazel eyes.

Battered, bruised, blood-splattered. Exhausted with a weariness that hung around her like a miasma, as though this night—or perhaps the past week—had drained too much of her, dimming her vibrant spirit.

Aaron stood beside her, his fatigue just as prevalent. He’d acquired more bleeding wounds since I’d last seen him, his wet skin smudged with soot. Despite his sorry state, his gaze swept over me worriedly, searching for injuries.

“I’m fine,” I told them. “Just … unsteady.”

At my silent request, Zylas tipped my feet toward the ground. I straightened, but my knees wobbled weakly and I leaned against him, grateful for his arm around my waist.

Tori searched my face. “Xever and Nazhivēr?”

“Escaped,” I admitted, wiping my wet hair away from my eyes. “Nazhivēr flew off with him.”

They were on the run, and we knew exactly where they were heading.

“They are not the hunters any longer,” Zylas growled, echoing my thoughts. “Now I will hunt them.”

Together, I told him silently, my fingers gripping his shoulder. We hadn’t yet defeated Xever and Nazhivēr, but we would make it happen somehow.

No matter the cost.

“We will hunt them,” I said aloud, and Zylas answered with a sharp, eager smile. Determination steadied my legs, and I slid my hand down to his, curling our fingers together, then turned to Tori.

I had a hundred questions for her—if Ezra was alive, what had happened to the guild, if they needed help—but I couldn’t ask them. The answers would only distract me.

How could I put the Crow and Hammer above thousands of demon lives—and their entire civilization? How could I worry about Ezra? Whether he was alive or not, whether he was still a demon mage or not, I couldn’t help him right now.

Zylas and I had a mission that took priority over all else.

“Leave Xever to us.”

Tori’s eyes widened at my words, but I said nothing else. Gripping Zylas’s hand, I turned. Amalia fell into step on my other side as we strode away, and with Zora trailing after us, we left Tori, Aaron, and the Crow and Hammer behind.