“If we figure out one, we could probably figure out the other, but we just don’t have enough information.” She pointed at a flashcard. “I think the creepy sorcerer is our best lead. He knows Nazhivēr, and he was taking one of the golems. I’d bet he knows the deal Claude made with Varvara.”

“I’m going to find Tori’s case about him.”

“You do that.” She pushed to her feet again. “I have some errands to run, and we’re low on groceries. Want me to stop at the store?”

“Yes, please. Can you pick out something for Zora while you’re there? Flowers or a get-well card or something …”

Amalia’s expression softened. “How is she?”

“I called the healer this morning. No change.”

After Amalia left, I checked on Zylas—catnapping in the middle of my bed with Socks sprawled across his legs—then set up with my laptop. I started searching for demon mage cases, since they were what Tori had asked Naim Ashraf about, but when that turned up nothing, I tried a bunch of keyword combinations. Morning crept into afternoon as I clicked through case after Demonica case.

As the afternoon waned, I set aside my laptop with a frustrated sigh. My head ached from too much time staring at a screen. I needed to do something else.

When I pulled the grimoire’s metal case from under my bed, Zylas woke up enough to give me a sleepy stare, but he didn’t shift from his lazy sprawl. I promised him something to eat later, then carried the grimoire out to the breakfast bar.

Opening the ancient book to Myrrine’s first entry, I studied the short passage, then flipped ahead. I found her name only six pages later, squashed in the bottom corner of a page detailing incantations for one of Anthea’s experimental arrays. This entry was longer and took a while to translate. By the time I set my pencil down, my headache had increased significantly.

My eyes linger, sister, on a marvel unlike any other.

As I write these words, a son of Vh’alyir watches me. He is not beastly as I expected, and I confess I am surprised to find his form and visage pleasing to look upon.

Do you laugh at my foolishness? At times, I question my own wisdom, that I would trust this creature. You certainly doubt, Melitta, though his promises are sound and thus far, he has held our safety above all else.

I have not told you my promise to him. You are too young yet to understand, but an elder sister must walk harsh roads to protect her family.

I have two years still to tell you … two years before my soul is his.

To think I have set the final moment of my life makes my heart tremble, but if this astonishing, bold, regal Vh’alyir lord ensures your escape from the nightmare that has descended upon us … in that event, my dearest sister, I will go happily into the ether by his hand.

- Myrrine Athanas

My pulse beat hard in my throat. Myrrine had successfully summoned a Twelfth House demon—and she’d promised him her soul. She’d chosen to end her life to protect her younger sister and keep the Athanas legacy alive.

She had been far braver than I could ever hope to be.

Though Myrrine had survived summoning a Vh’alyir, and even made a contract with him, she hadn’t mentioned the grimoire’s dire warning about the Twelfth House. Had she learned anything from the ancient Dīnen? Was the warning wrong, or had she not yet discovered why her predecessors had so feared the demons of Vh’alyir?

Turning on my stool, I studied the link chart on the coffee table with Claude in the center. Why did every new thing I learned create more questions?

Chapter Twelve

“I give up,” I groaned, my cheek resting on my laptop keyboard. “It’s not here. Someone deleted it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Amalia leaned a hip on the counter as she scooped a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. “If Tori found the case, you can find it too.”

“I’ve looked at every single case about demons, summoners, and demon mages from the last thirty years. I’m seeing case files in my sleep.”

She scraped the last of the yogurt out of her bowl. “Or, like I suggested yesterday morning, you could just ask Tori.”

I flopped back against the sofa cushions. “If I ask Tori, I might as well tell her friends too. Aaron and Kai think I’m a rogue traitor. You haven’t seen the way they look at me—like I might sic Zylas on the whole guild any second.”

She threw up her hands. “What do you want me to say? Either you ask Tori, you spend the next three months sifting through every single case in the archives, or we move to the Bahamas and forget Claude exists. Those are our options.”

“Claude killed my parents,” I said quietly. “I can’t forget he exists.”

“Then take a chance.” She smoothed her hair. “How do I look?”

I glanced over her black skirt and mauve blouse. “Very professional. Where are you going?”

“Um … out. I’ll tell you about it later.” She grabbed her jacket and hoisted a tote bag over her shoulder. “See you in a few hours.”

“Sure …” I muttered dubiously as she breezed out the apartment door and locked it behind her. She’d been going out for “errands” a lot lately, and I figured it had something to do with the obsessive amount of sewing she’d been doing when she was home. She’d fill me in when she was ready.

Yawning widely, I looked again at my laptop. The MPD’s archive search tool stared back at me, mocking my lack of new ideas on how to find the case.

“Fine,” I growled under my breath. Picking up my phone, I opened my contacts. I’d looked up Tori’s number before our Odin’s Eye meeting, but I’d never used it. Gulping, I hit the call button.

It rang in my ear, over and over. Just as I was about to hang up, the line clicked—and sound blared in my ear.

As I jerked the phone away from my face, a voice shouted furiously, “Twiggy, turn the TV down before I throw your green ass out the window!”

The background noise dropped. A clatter echoed across the line, then a puff of air into the mic. “Hello?”

“Tori?” I queried hesitantly.

“Who’s this?”

“Robin.”

“Oh. How are—Don’t you dare turn that up again!” she suddenly shouted. “Wait until I’m off the phone. Geez! Sorry, Robin. Roommates, I tell ya.”