The sorcerer hit the ground on his back, Zylas’s greave on his chest and fingers squeezing his throat. I scrambled down the stack of pipes, my heart thudding loudly. Glowing spikes were still sticking out of Zylas, and the sight made me ill.

As I jogged over, my earpiece crackled.

“Ro—hear me?—do—see—”

“Amalia?” I pressed the earpiece, frowning. Had my phone lost signal?

“—there! Please—”

“What? I can’t hear you.”

The speaker crackled, then Amalia’s shriek burst across my eardrum at full volume.

“Look up, goddammit! He’s above you!”

My head snapped back—and a demon dropped out of the sky.

Zylas slammed into me and the world spun as I was wrenched off my feet. He landed in a skid and I glimpsed a flash of movement—the dark shape of wings and glowing crimson.

A magic attack shot at us. Zylas dove for the ground, the blast flying over our heads, then caught himself on one hand and flipped back onto his feet as he whirled to face the enemy. My head spun sickeningly from the rapid changes of direction.

Dusky lips pulled back to bare pale fangs, Nazhivēr landed neatly, his wings arched. His clothing and armor were more substantial than Zylas’s but still lightweight. His long black hair was tied back, making his sharp features more severe. Behind the demon, the sorcerer climbed to his feet and rubbed his throat.

“Dīnen et Vh’alyir,” Nazhivēr rumbled.

“Dīnen et Dh’irath,” Zylas snarled back. “Kir aditavh’anthē hh’ainun?”

“Kir anthē?”

“Nazhivēr,” the sorcerer said, moving to the demon’s side. “We’re taking the demon alive, correct? And the girl?”

Nazhivēr sneered. “We are doing nothing, kanish. I will deal with them. Take the golem and go.”

“But …” The sorcerer eyed the six-and-half-foot demon, then shrugged. “Fine.”

My skin prickled. Nazhivēr was in command—and that couldn’t be a good thing. Panic simmered in my gut.

“Rēdirathē payilasith,” the demon rumbled, ice frosting the ground around his feet. “Thē īt nā, Vh’alyir.”

Zylas growled softly, then loosened his arm. He pushed me away from him and muttered, “Drādah ahktallis.”

Smart prey. He was telling me to escape danger. But Zylas—

He shoved me again. As I fell, Nazhivēr slammed into him. Zylas twisted free. Glowing talons blazed over his fingers, and the two demons met with slashing blades of magic. I scrambled backward on the ground, Nazhivēr’s sweeping tail just missing my face.

He drove into Zylas, forcing the smaller demon back. Zylas darted side to side, lightning-fast, but Nazhivēr wasn’t much slower. Second House, Zylas had told me. Like Tahēsh, Nazhivēr belonged to a House that had made a hobby of killing the weaker Twelfth House demons.

The pair crashed together again and broke apart, blood splattering the ground. Zylas skittered back a few steps, then made another sideways evasion. As I sat up, he vaulted over a stack of pipes and dropped onto the other side.

Nazhivēr leaped over the obstacle after his opponent.

Zylas was leading the demon away to give me a chance to reach safety. But should I go back and find Zora, or should I stay to help Zylas? Was he any match for Nazhivēr? This battle was all wrong—Zylas needed to strike when his more powerful opponents were weak or unprepared.

Zylas, what should I do?

Nothing. Was our telepathic connection that broken? Even in a situation this desperate, I couldn’t hear him? I braced my hands on the ground, paralyzed by indecision.

A shadow fell across me, blocking the moon’s silvery light.

The sorcerer crouched, smiling pleasantly. This close, I could see he wasn’t merely pale; he had albinism. His skin was almost translucent, his pale blue eyes framed by lashes as white as his hair.

“I heard rumors about a teenage girl who showed up out of nowhere with a demon from a new House. That must be you.”

I was almost twenty-one, not a teenager. They couldn’t even get my age right?

His pale gaze slid over me. “You have the look, don’t you?”

“Wh … what?” I whispered.

“You really have the look,” he breathed, licking his lips. “It’s almost too perfect, isn’t it?”

A reddish glow lit the sky, the battling demons out of view among the stacks of pipes. I slid back a few more inches. Zylas? Are you okay? Please answer me!

As nearby magic detonated with an ear-splitting boom, the sorcerer reached for me.

“Ori eruptum impello!” I screamed.

The silver dome whooshed out of my artifact, but the spell hadn’t had enough time to recharge. Instead of blasting the sorcerer ten feet, it knocked him on his rear.

I leaped up and sprinted away.

Footsteps pounded after me, the man chasing me down with his much longer stride. A hand grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me off my feet. I smacked into his chest. Ripping my glove off, I raked my fingernails across his face.

He shouted and released me. I dove away, slipped, and crashed down. Gasping, I rolled sideways.

His foot landed on my stomach, pinning me to the concrete. He towered over me, shallow scratches on his cheek leaking blood.

“Fierce,” he crooned, grinning in a way that made my whole body turn to ice. “Exactly how it should be. You’ll be the closest yet. Almost the real thing.”

He extended his hand toward me, moonlight gleaming on the metal bands encircling his entire arm. He opened his mouth.

“Ori defendatur!”

The feminine voice rang out, and a blast like a sparkling pink beachball hit the sorcerer in the chest, hurling him away.

Zora shot out from between stacks of steel and slid to a stop beside me, her sword angled toward the enemy. “Robin, are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m fine,” I panted, shoving to my feet. “Are you—”

“Who is he?”

Standing again, the sorcerer brushed the grit off his shirt.

“I think he—” I began.

“Robin!” Amalia’s voice burbled through the speaker, distorted and almost unintelligible. “What—you need—Zylas!”

I didn’t know what she was saying, but I could hear her panic as she yelled my demon’s name. Terror shot through me.