Darius’s eyes narrowed. “If I make the guild a safe place for Robin, you’ll protect the guild? Is that what you’re saying?”

Zylas bared his teeth in a wolfish grin.

“And”—the GM’s gaze sharpened—“you’ll protect the guild against Claude and his demon?”

“One thing for another thing, hh’ainun.”

“I see.” A faint smile curved Darius’s lips. “I believe I’ve been outsmarted. This is not my night.” Pushing to his feet, he nodded toward the door. “Robin, could you please give me and Zora a minute alone?”

“Sure,” I mumbled, feeling sick. Grabbing Zylas’s wrist, I pulled him into the empty room beyond. Closing the door, I sagged against the wall. “I can’t believe you did that, Zylas.”

He gazed intently at the door. “Better this way, vayanin. The female hh’ainun was too dangerous. Now she will do what her leader tells her.”

“You’ve been waiting for something like this to happen, haven’t you?” I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with that level of scheming from my demon. “How many plans did you have for keeping Zora from blowing our secret?”

“Too many for your hh’ainun mind.”

“Ha ha.” Sighing, I let my head fall back against the wall. “You’re putting more thought and effort into my safety than I am.”

“I know. You need to make me more food, vayanin, or I will think you do not want our contract.”

My cheeks heated. I hadn’t given him any food, let alone baked for him, since the whole “sharing food is a courting ritual” conversation. Any thought of how my end of our binding contract was the demon equivalent of hot and heavy flirting … it made me want to crawl under a rock and die.

The office door opened. Cheeks still warm, I minced back into the room, Zylas behind me. Zora stood beside the desk, warily eyeing the demon as Darius returned to his chair.

“Well,” he said, his tone a mystery; I couldn’t tell if he was amused, angry, or resigned. “We’re all agreed, then. Zora will keep your secret, Robin, and in return, you and Zylas will protect our combat teams from Claude, his demon, and any additional threats he might introduce tomorrow night.”

I nodded.

“And I’ll be going with you.”

My gaze jerked to Zora.

She folded her arms. “Illegal contractor or not, you can’t go out there unprotected. You need a champion.”

“You … you’re going to …”

She glanced at Zylas, her expression a mix of wariness, determination, and a hint of curiosity. “If nothing else, it should be interesting.”

Chapter Nine

“Stealth is crucial for this mission.” Crouched in the shrubbery beside me, Zora kept her voice low. “At this very minute, we have five teams moving in on different locations. They have to simultaneously disable Varvara’s golems, ambush her rogue soldiers, and capture the sorceress. If any one part fails, the whole mission and all our guildmates will be in severe danger.”

I nodded earnestly, my gloved hands tucked in my leather jacket’s pockets for warmth.

“So why,” she asked, her voice roughening, “did you just let your demon run off by itself?”

“Himself,” I corrected. “He’s not an ‘it.’”

“Why did you let him go off alone? He could be doing anything. If he’s seen—if he attacks anyone—”

“He won’t do anything like that. He’s scouting around for any traces of Claude and his demon. No one will see him. He’s very sneaky.”

Pressing her lips together, she adjusted her sword baldric. We’d hidden ourselves in a strip of trees and bushes bordering a road, but aside from that, this area was solid concrete—an industrial complex that edged the harbor where massive quantities of cargo were moved between huge freighters, long trains, and endless trucks. It was called a stevedoring operation, and I’d had to look up the term. It had evolved from the Portuguese estivador, the original name for dockworkers who loaded cargo on ships.

“How can you just trust that demon to wander around alone?” Zora demanded. “You didn’t even give him a command before he went.”

“He already knows the plan,” I said with a shrug.

A quiet snort sounded from my other side. Amalia, sitting with her back against a tree, rolled her eyes at Zora.

“You’re used to brainless contracted demons,” she told the sorceress. “Zylas is an asshole, but he’s a goddamn smart one. Don’t make the mistake of thinking he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.”

Zora rubbed her hands over her face and into her short blond hair. Huffing, she sat back on her heels and checked her watch. “We still have a few minutes. Why don’t you give me the whole story?”

“You want to know now?” I asked cautiously. I reached up to adjust my glasses only to remember I was wearing contacts. “I offered to tell you a bunch of times …”

She looked away, her face in shadow. “I’ve made mistakes before about who to trust. I was afraid if I heard your story …” She huffed again. “You seem like a good kid, and I didn’t want to fall for someone’s innocent act again.”

“Oh,” I said, my defensiveness softening.

“Darius trusts you, and I trust him.” She was quiet for a long moment. “I’d like to know, if you’re still willing to tell me.”

I settled down beside Amalia. “I guess it all started with Claude.”

Zora listened attentively as I gave a highly abbreviated version of my accidental contract with Zylas, how I’d come to join the Crow and Hammer, and Claude’s role in my parents’ murder and the vampire outbreak last month. The only thing I left out was the true nature—and value—of my family’s grimoire.

When I finished, Zora pursed her lips in a silent, wowed whistle. “Demon-blood-enhanced vampires. That explains a lot.” She drummed her fingers on her knee. “What would he want from Varvara in exchange for the enhanced golems?”

“He wants all the demon names for himself, but Varvara can’t help him with that.”

“Claude Mercier is an alias, right? Have you uncovered anything about his true identity?”