He snatched at the drawing but Robin lifted it out of reach. “Have you ever seen or heard of an infernus like this?”

“Is it an infernus?” he breathed, gaze darting between the drawing and her silver pendant. “Where did you learn about this? Where did you get your demon? Your demon must be the first House. The same sigil is in the center of the design.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” she replied coolly.

“I’ve never seen an artifact like that before. But if you give me the drawing, I can certainly look into—”

She folded the paper and tucked it back into her pocket. “Tori? You had questions?”

I snapped out of my daze. “Uh. Questions. Right.”

My brain whirred like a truck spinning its wheels. I was here to ask about the same thing as Robin, but how was I supposed to do that now? It would look damn suspicious.

Good thing I’d prepared a cover story—one that allowed me to tackle two birds with one stone. After my conversation with Zak about Ezra’s fate, I’d decided that the demon amulet wasn’t the only thing I needed more information on.

I flipped my folder open. “I’m investigating a series of unsolved bounties on demon mages.”

Naim’s expression turned sullen as he squinted at my stack of printouts from the MPD database—cold cases from across the west coast spanning the last twenty years. I’d printed everything that mentioned a demon summoner.

“Certain sources and witnesses,” I went on, trying to sound pompous and official, “have suggested a summoner is creating demon mages using an artifact imbued with demon magic. What do you know about demonic artifacts?”

“I’ve never created a demon mage,” Naim replied flatly. “I don’t know how it’s done, or if it requires artifacts.”

“Yes, of course. I’m just looking for information.” I shuffled through my papers in a purposeful way. Robin watched curiously as I flipped past several pages with black and white photos of blurry-faced men. “You don’t know any—”

She inhaled sharply.

I glanced at her. She jerked her gaze up—away from my folder. “S-sorry,” she stammered, her face white. “Go on.”

The page she’d been looking at featured a grainy photo, taken with a zoom lens, of two men talking. One face was clear, the other in profile. I had no idea what the photo was; I’d just printed a bunch of cases.

Clearing my throat, I refocused on Naim. “You don’t know anything about how demon mages are created? I thought you were a big-shot Demonica expert.”

He rubbed his hands together nervously. “Demon-mage creation is so rare, and the summoners who engage in it are so secretive, that there’s no standard procedure. Every demon-mage summoner has their own method. If you want to know anything about how a particular demon mage was made or if the summoner used an artifact, you’d have to ask the summoner directly.”

“Like they’d talk to me.”

“Precisely. That’s why no one knows. I’ve heard MagiPol doesn’t even know how it’s done.”

“What can you tell me?”

He studied me with dark, cold eyes. “In regular summoning, the demon is summoned into a circle, the boundary of which is impenetrable to the demon. In demon-mage creation, the demon is summoned into a human body.”

Robin made a small, horrified sound.

“The human body—or, some say, their soul—is the cage that traps the demon. It will either assimilate into its host or keep fighting to escape until it kills the fool that offered himself up for the ritual. When the human dies, so does the demon.”

“That’s horrible,” Robin whispered, pressing her fingers to her mouth.

“Wait.” Chills ran down my limbs. “If the demon is summoned right into the human, is there even a contract? Or is the demon simply trapped and it just … goes along with everything so it doesn’t die?”

“I assume there’s a contract, or at least binding magic involved.” He shrugged. “As I said, if you want specifics, you need the summoner. No two demon mages are exactly the same—though they all meet the same end.”

Shuddering at the reminder, I snapped my folder shut. “’Kay, well, thanks for nothing.”

His mouth twisted and he dismissed me with a jerk of his chin. His attention returned to Robin. “Now, girl, where did you get your demon?”

Robin rose to her feet. “If you learn anything about the artifact I’m interested in, or the demonic artifacts Tori asked about, let us know. You can reach us through the Crow and Hammer.”

“Wait—you agreed to tell me if I answered your questions!”

“You didn’t have any answers, did you? I expected more from a so-called expert.”

Oh, burn. I mentally cheered her on as she gave him an even more coldly dismissive glance than he’d given me, then stepped around the coffee table. I hopped up and strode after her, leaving the ex-summoner spluttering in his recliner.

Robin marched across the room to the door and pushed it open. I followed her into the stairwell, bummed to see that Mario and his pals had left while we’d been talking to Naim. So much for my Mario-original Caesar.

The moment the stairwell door closed behind us, Robin deflated like a punctured balloon.

“Was I too rude?” she asked in a small voice. “I should’ve been nicer. He was sort of helpful. I shouldn’t have—”

“That was perfect.” I grinned. “He was a dick. You’re one tough cookie, Robin.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“You didn’t let him intimidate you for a second.”

She blinked again. “Was he intimidating?”

“Kind of, yeah. But still.” My gaze flicked to the pocket where she’d tucked her drawing of the demonic artifact. I opened my mouth—then closed it again.

If she wanted the amulet, and I revealed I had it … Aaron and Kai’s warning repeated in my head. She wasn’t a pushover, and she’d played that summoner no problem. Plus, her demon was a super-scary murder machine.

I couldn’t reveal the amulet to her. It was my best chance at saving Ezra, and I wasn’t about to risk it. She could take it from me—her and her demon. I had to keep it hidden.

But maybe I could find out more without revealing I had it.

“So, what’s that ancient infernus thing you’re researching?” I asked lightly as we headed down the stairs. “It looked interesting.”

“I ran across it in an old grimoire,” she replied, equally blasé. “What about your demon-mage case? What got you started on an investigation?”

“I’m just doing some legwork for Aaron and Kai,” I answered evasively. “It’s their job.”

“Oh, I see.”

We reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. I gazed at her and she stared back, blue eyes unexpectedly piercing. Neither of us was willing to reveal anything about our “research,” and I didn’t know how to push her for more information without revealing why I needed to know.

Shrugging, I stepped into the hall—and almost crashed into a familiar mythic.

“Oh!” I forced a smile. “Hi, Izzah.”

I had to hide my cringe, not because I didn’t like Izzah—I thought she was awesome—but because I had no answers for her about Kai, and I didn’t want to lie when she inevitably asked why he’d vanished.

“Tori?” Her brow furrowed. “Wei, what are you doing here?”

She’d traded her leather combat gear for a stylish blouse, tight black jeans, and tall boots. It wasn’t quite business-professional wear, but close. My gaze flicked past her to three more Odin’s Eye mythics, waiting politely while I blocked the hall—and behind them, almost unseen, was a bald head I recognized.

Shane Davila pushed his round glasses up his nose as he examined me like a scientist with a sample under his microscope. Now I knew who her “meeting” had been with—and clearly, she’d dressed to impress. What did Shane want with Odin’s Eye?

Either way, the last thing I needed was more attention from the bounty hunter.

I gave the whole group a casual salute. “Nice to see ya. We’re just heading out.”

“What were you here for?” Izzah began. “Tori—”

Waving as though I hadn’t heard her, I strode down the hall. Quick footsteps told me Robin was right behind me, and I made a beeline for the exit.

The petite contractor trotted to catch up. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” I slowed my pace as we reached the lobby. Izzah hadn’t followed us; she was probably saying her professional goodbyes to Shane. “It’s just that guy—the short, bald one at the back—is a famous bounty hunter and he was a dick to me at the pub the other day.”

“A famous bounty hunter? What’s his name?”

“Shane Davila.” Reaching for the front door, I glanced back at her. “Have you heard of—”

With an earsplitting crash, the entire building shook like a wrecking ball had hit it. I staggered into Robin, almost knocking her over. As shouts sounded from deeper in the building, I gawked at the front doors, terrified it might be an earthquake and equally terrified it wasn’t.

For a moment, the door was dark, nothing showing beyond the frosted glass. Then amber light lit up the parking lot—and blazed brightly. Glowing orange burst across the glass.

I whipped out my Queen of Spades as the glass creaked, the frosting melting. Ripples ran across its surface. The pane bowed inward.

The door shattered.

“Ori repercutio!” I screamed.

A wall of flame exploded into the room, hit the shimmering reflection of my artifact, and rebounded. Fire burst across the walls.

As the flames died, Robin clutched my arm. “I thought you were a witch!”

“Yeah, well—”