Zylas hissed. “Or maybe you will take what you want from us and give nothing in return.”

The demon mage shrugged. “Risk for reward, Zylas.”

I minced to Zylas’s side. “What do you want from us?”

He considered me as though weighing how to respond—and how much to reveal—then his attention darted away. Shadows flickered as headlights cut across the railings on the overpass above our heads, and traffic roared, the echo under the bridge setting my teeth on edge.

Zylas slid sideways—closer to me.

Like an extinguished candle, all the red power crawling over Ezra snuffed out. He stepped backward, deeper into the shadows, and canted his head toward the street in warning.

I turned as gravel crunched underfoot. Someone was approaching from the street.

Ezra had already crashed my and Zylas’s reconnaissance mission, and now someone else was barging in. My fingers curled into fists as I debated the wisdom of calling Zylas back into the infernus.

A man stepped out from behind a thick concrete support. Lights from overhead flashed across him, gleaming across his pale hair, and my breath caught in my throat. We didn’t need to worry about whether Zylas could find the scent of Yana’s killer here. Not anymore.

The albino sorcerer had returned to the scene of the crime.

Chapter Sixteen

He smiled pleasantly. “I wondered if I’d find you here, Robin.”

First Ezra, now this guy.

“Why would you think that?” I demanded, proud that my voice had held steady.

“Just a hunch …” His smirk broadened, pulling at the half-healed scratches I’d left on his face a week ago. “I’m glad my tip to the police paid off.”

My eyes widened.

He unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off, revealing the metal bands that circled his arms from wrists to shoulders. “Submitting a fake address to the MPD for your profile is illegal, you know. And you really should spend more time at your guild. That would’ve made finding you much easier.”

Prickles ran over my skin.

The sorcerer dropped his jacket as his pale blue eyes raked across me. “I’ve been dreaming about you, payashē.”

Zylas hissed, and on his other side, Ezra twitched his shoulders. The motion drew the sorcerer’s attention.

“And you are?” he asked politely.

“I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

The sorcerer smirked. “Why would I do that? Ori quinque.”

A silvery ripple blasted out from him. It struck us so fast not even Zylas could dodge it. The shimmering magic threw him and Ezra backward. They crashed to the ground with painful crunches.

I didn’t move, the spell a cool tickle across my body. I’d barely felt it.

Zylas skidded on his back, twisted, and sprang to his feet with his tail whipping out for balance. Magic shot up his arms as he whirled on the sorcerer, and Ezra was almost as fast, though he’d yet to call on his demonic magic. Crimson gleamed faintly in his left eye.

The sorcerer grinned, laughter in the creases around his mouth.

“Ori septem.”

Pale blue light flashed—but not from the sorcerer.

The spell whipped out of the darkness behind Zylas. A glowing ring of blue latched around his left wrist, and the crimson power veining across his skin and radiating through his armor dimmed, then vanished.

From the trees that bordered the overpass, the caster stepped into view. Metal bands circled his arms from wrist to shoulders, and his pale hair fluttered in the breeze.

My neck twinged as I looked between the two men. Identical. They were identical.

With a shocked glance at the newcomer, Zylas grabbed the ring around his wrist to tear it off. His fingers curled around it—and the power coating his skin faded. He snatched his hand away, and his magic reignited over that hand.

“Ori septem,” the first sorcerer barked. A blue disc shot toward us like a bullet—and Ezra twisted aside with lightning reflexes, the spell just missing his arm.

“Ori quattuor!”

From the second sorcerer, a barrage of indigo spikes launched at us. Zylas grabbed my arm, yanking me clear off my feet, while Ezra leaped in the other direction, but neither was fast enough. Shards of magic bombarded me, blasting into my torso.

“Ori septem!”

The blue ring struck from the opposite side, locking around Ezra’s right elbow. He lurched upright, spikes jutting from his shoulder, side, and thigh.

“Vayanin!” Zylas hissed in my ear.

Panting harshly, I looked down at myself. Not a single spike protruded from my body. They’d passed right through my torso like I was a phantom.

The second sorcerer strode closer, stopping just beneath the overpass. “Who’s the other one?”

“A demon mage, apparently,” the first one answered.

“Enright?”

“I don’t know.” The sorcerer turned a questioning look on Ezra. “Tell us who you are and we might spare you.”

Ezra bared his teeth. Crimson blazed in his left eye and power streaked up his left arm. His right arm, with that blue ring locked around it, didn’t ignite with power. Zylas, too, couldn’t summon any magic from his spell-locked arm—but that didn’t stop him from casting with his other hand.

Spell circles flashed across his wrist. Ezra faced the other sorcerer, his fingers spread as he summoned his own spell. The temperature plunged, ice forming over every surface. The heat rushed from my body, drawn into the demons’ magic.

The sorcerers raised their hands.

Spells exploded from the demon and demon mage, a spiraling blast from Eterran and a spear-like attack from Zylas.

“Ori tres!” the sorcerers shouted in unison.

Glittering green light expanded in front of the sorcerers. The demonic magic struck the barriers and dissolved into nothing.

Zylas and Eterran glanced at each other—then lunged in opposite directions, attacking both sorcerers simultaneously.

“Ori quattuor!”

Another volley of indigo spikes launched at Zylas. He cut sideways, avoiding all except one, which pierced his ankle. As he stumbled, the original sorcerer swung his arm toward his twin.

“Ori unum!” the twin snapped.

Ezra’s crimson-lit fist slammed into a blue barrier, a blast of wind erupting from the impact. The second sorcerer staggered back a step—but the first was shouting his incantation.