A spell circle appeared in front of her. A second formed behind it. A third took form behind that one.

Red light flashed—once, twice, thrice.

The spells struck the fleeing demon one after the other, too fast for him to evade. He plummeted to the earth, leaving a bloody mist on the wind.

A shiver ran through Zylas, his arm clamping around me, then he dragged his attention away from the payashē—and to the portal. Its pink magic glowed brightly, that dark inner circle waiting.

But for how long? The portal’s lifespan depended on how Xever and Saul had constructed it. It could last hours or minutes.

And if it closed, we’d lose our chance to end summoning forever.

“Zylas,” I whispered.

He could sense what I was thinking. His emotions swirled, sharp and conflicted, then he swung me onto his back and sprinted toward the portal.

We could reach it. We could perform the spell while the payashē occupied Xever’s demons. That wasn’t why he’d hesitated.

He’d hesitated because ending summoning required him to pass through the portal—which would leave me alone on this plateau with Xever, his surviving demons, and an enraged payashē.

But we couldn’t let that stop us.

He raced for the portal at top speed, the wind whipping at my hair. Red light burst behind us, but he kept running. Another flash, then a shockwave almost threw him off his feet. He stumbled and kept going.

The portal loomed, no longer pitch black but a deep shade of blue dotted with fading stars. He crossed the array’s outer ring, and arcane magic sizzled through us.

Another flash of crimson—and my vision went red. The sky and ground spun, then Zylas crashed to the ground. The impact tore me from his hold, and I fell away from him, shielding my head with my arms as I tumbled across the granite. Sliding to a stop with my whole body throbbing, I scrambled to my feet, spinning in search of Zylas.

Sweeping red wings, and the payashē landed in front of me.

Ten feet away, blood dripping from a new wound across his back, Zylas rolled onto his hands and knees—then froze as the payashē’s gaze snapped to him. When he didn’t move, staying submissively low to the ground, she turned her attention back to me.

To the human. An alien being of this alien world she’d been dragged into against her will.

Her gaze roved over me, eyes burning, magic glowing over her slim body. I panted for air, dizzy with terror, knees trembling. Without meaning to, I looked past her to the other end of the array.

Xever still stood in his circle, the faint sound of his voice rumbling—but he was the only one standing.

The demons … they were all on the ground. None moved. Some were in pieces.

The most powerful males of the demon world, slaughtered in sixty seconds.

The payashē’s hand shot toward me, and I stumbled backward, far too slow to evade her. She grabbed me by the throat with one glowing hand—and her other thumped against my chest.

She dug her fingers into my breast through my jacket, then patted my hip as though to gauge how curvy I was.

“Payilas hh’ainun?”

Human girl. She was asking if I was a female human.

“Y-yes,” I stammered weakly, then remembered she didn’t speak English. “Var.”

She blinked in surprise, then her face hardened—and her fingers tightened around my bruised throat, threatening to cut off my air. “Seminedh’thē nā?”

Did you summon me?

The translation whispered in my mind, tinged with Zylas’s fear.

“Nul,” I whispered, repeating the word he provided.

Her eyes narrowed. She pulled me closer, her lips curling up to flash her canines. “Aidērathē sim Vh’alyirith. Kir gh’atanizh vēsis hh’ainun? Kir eshanā cun izh? Seminedh’thē izh?”

“N-nul,” I stammered again, recognizing only “Vh’alyir” and “seminedh,” which seemed to mean “summoned.”

I could see her patience dwindling. If I couldn’t provide answers, then I was useless—and she had no reason to spare a loathsome human.

Her free hand rose, fingers curling and dark claws extending an inch from her fingertips.

“Vh’alyir,” I blurted desperately. “He’s my—my amavrah.”

Her thin eyebrows scrunched. She glanced at Zylas, still crouched on the ground, then back to me. “Esha Vh’alyirissā amavrahthēs?”

This Vh’alyir is your chosen?

“Var,” I answered as Zylas translated. “Payashē … you can go home. Ahlēavah. It’s right there. Esha Ahlēavah illar.”

I added the last part at Zylas’s prompting. Movements slow and unthreatening, I pointed at the portal only a few feet away.

She peered in the direction I was indicating—and her hand went slack around my throat. “Ahlēavah?”

“Yes.”

Her nostrils flared as she searched for the scent of home. Relief softened her features—then her eyes widened with shock.

Red light engulfed her body. Her form dissolved, her hand disappearing from my neck. She transformed into glowing power and shot across the plateau.

Straight for Xever.

Her spirit passed through the barrier as though it wasn’t there and slammed into Xever. He disappeared in a crimson blaze. The light flared even brighter, blinding me, then faded.

I blinked, my eyes watering.

Xever stood in the center of his circle, alone, his head bowed and shoulders hunched. The payashē and her magic had vanished.

With a deep breath that straightened his shoulders, Xever lifted his head. A crazed grin stretched his scarred mouth—and his eyes burned red with demonic power.

Chapter Thirty-Two

As dawn’s soft light washed across the plateau, Xever’s laughter rang in the still air. It was a cackling laugh of triumph that bordered on madness, of eager conquest that verged on sadism.

I trembled where I stood, part of me insisting I keep looking for the payashē. Insisting she had to be here somewhere, because Xever couldn’t have done this. It wasn’t possible.

But she was nowhere to be seen, and his eyes glowed with power. Her power.

He’d turned himself into a demon mage using the most powerful type of demon in existence—a payashē.

That’s why he’d needed blood from all twelve Houses—because payashē were related to all the Houses while remaining separate. And that’s why his extra arrays had seemed familiar—because I’d seen parts of them while studying the demon mage ritual to save Ezra.

Four long steps away, Zylas stood hunched in pain from the slashing wound across his back that the payashē had inflicted. His eyes gleamed like hot coals instead of burning magma, most of his magic consumed.

Behind us, the portal waited—but we’d never be able to complete the ritual to end summoning before Xever killed us.

The demon mage’s laughter trailed into silence. Mouth twisted wide with a maniacal grin, he looked across the bloody remains of his demon servants, slaughtered by the very payashē he’d summoned and trapped inside his human body.

“Nazhivēr!” he yelled.

Nothing moved—then a quiet rustle. From among the fallen Dīnen, a pair of torn wings unfurled. Nazhivēr pushed off the ground, blood streaking his limbs and dribbling from a piercing wound in his lower chest. Slowly, the Dh’irath demon straightened, lifted his chin, and sneered at his summoner.