He rose to his feet. “These are made with hh’ainun magic?”

“With sorcery, yes.”

“Do they bleed?”

“No, they’re made of metal.”

“Why is there demon blood in them?”

My brow furrowed. “There isn’t. Blood is rarely used in sorcery.”

His tail snapped sideways. “I could smell demon on the golems. The large one had demon blood coming out after it fell.”

“Demon blood coming out of it?” I stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“Stop asking me that.”

I absorbed his revelation, then hurried to the bookshelf and scanned the titles. Golems were black magic, so I doubted the Crow and Hammer would have instructions on how to construct one, but they might …

“Aha!” I pulled a book out and flipped to the index. “Page three hundred and forty-two.”

Zylas came to stand at my shoulder as I turned to a subheading labeled “Animation Magic – Golems” and skimmed through a page and a half of description and history. The reference book included nothing specific, but it gave me a general idea.

“Golems are constructed using metallurgic and astral sorcery,” I summarized. “Blood doesn’t fit with those. I don’t think it’s supposed to be part of a golem, especially not demon blood.”

My churning thoughts brought an image of a stained book into my mind’s eye: the grimoire of David Whitmore, a deceased sorcerer who’d experimented with incorporating demon blood into Arcana spells.

“Demon blood combined with Arcana.” I looked up at Zylas. “Claude used demon blood to make vampires more powerful. Could he have created the golems? Who else would be experimenting with demon blood?”

“I did not smell him, but there were many scents.”

I closed the book. “If Claude is behind these attacks … but why would he attack guilds? His interest is in Demonica, isn’t it?”

“He uses others to get things he wants.”

Shoving the book back into its spot on the shelf, I threw my torn sweater in the garbage and picked up my leather jacket. “Darius needs to know that Claude might be involved in these attacks. The last thing we want is anyone from the guild going up against Nazhivēr.”

“They would die,” Zylas agreed—though not in a tone that suggested the idea bothered him.

I rolled my eyes. “Back in the infernus.”

He scrunched his nose in annoyance, then dissolved into crimson light. As he streaked into the infernus, I unlocked the door, the motion of the bolt disabling the spell that sealed the room off from the rest of the pub. At least no one had burst in on us this time.

Chapter Eight

I sat in Darius’s office, a thick book propped on my knees. Two more texts rested on the edge of his desk. I’d spent the last few hours reading up on golems—mostly a bust—and trying to identify the sorcery on the back of the Vh’alyir Amulet.

Darius was a level below me, in the middle of a big meeting about the guild attacks and the danger to the Crow and Hammer. I’d considered interrupting, but there were a dozen other people in the room with him. I’d also spotted a short, bald man at the head of the table—likely the famous bounty hunter who’d given Tori trouble—and I’d rather keep my distance from all bounty-hunter types.

I paged through the thick Arcana text, idly hoping I might recognize an array design in one of the many diagrams. Noise rumbled up through the floor, carrying from the pub two levels below. I could’ve gone downstairs to mingle with my guildmates and find out more about what was happening—and why Shane Davila had shown up—but I wasn’t in a socializing mood.

It was hard to be social when you couldn’t stop thinking about your parents’ murderer.

I hadn’t seen Claude since shortly after Red Rum had kidnapped me, when he’d smilingly offered me a place as his valued protégé and partner in translating my mother’s grimoire. How he could have made that offer knowing he’d killed my mother was incomprehensible. Who was that cold and unfeeling?

He was the reason I was translating the grimoire alone instead of with my mom, a mother-daughter project she’d talked about since I was a little girl. Because of him, my mother was gone forever.

Amalia and I hadn’t given up on finding Claude, and Uncle Jack had been putting out feelers too. We’d revisited both Claude’s townhouse and his condo over the last couple weeks, but between vampires and the MPD, not a single clue had been left behind. We didn’t know where he was, where he’d come from, or his real name.

But finally, I had two clues—the old photo in Tori’s folder, and the demon blood in the golems.

I continued perusing my book. Another forty minutes passed, and the noise in the pub gradually quieted. I finished the Arcana text and started skimming a shiny book titled So You Want to Study Sorcery, which included a beginner-friendly breakdown of all Arcana specializations.

As the clock struck midnight, the door behind me opened. Darius paused in the threshold, his eyebrows high in surprise and his salt-and-pepper hair ruffled as though he’d run his hand through it a few times.

“Robin,” he murmured. “What brings you to my office so late?”

I closed the book. “I have information about the attack on Odin’s Eye.”

“We just finished our meeting. Is this something you couldn’t share with the group?”

“It, um … it would’ve been difficult to explain how I know.”

He closed the door and circled his desk. Sinking into his chair, he steepled his fingers. “What did you learn?”

“Zylas figured out that those golems were made using demon blood.”

“Demon blood?” His expression shifted from surprise to contemplation. “I see. That explains some things.”

“It does?”

“We debated whether the golems had been altered to be longer-lasting or more powerful, and others noted that blood may be a component—but we didn’t realize it was demon blood.”

I leaned forward in my chair. “I think Claude is behind these demon-blood golems.”

“The summoner Claude Mercier?”

“He was using demon blood to make vampires stronger. I think he’s been experimenting with combining demon blood and Arcana.”