“What about you? That harpoon …”

“It did not make a wound.”

I squinted at his midriff, seeing no sign of a gory hole.

“The smaller spikes didn’t break the skin either,” Ezra revealed. “That wasn’t their purpose.”

“What did they do, then?”

Zylas curled his upper lip. “It was like poison. It made my body cold and numb and weak.”

I shivered. “More abjuration.”

“Abjuration?” Ezra’s forehead creased. “I see.”

Zylas scowled. “I do not know this word, abjuration.”

“It’s a type of sorcery,” I explained. “I didn’t recognize it until I realized their magic had no effect on me. Abjuration is used to block, reflect, or erase other magic. I don’t know much about it, but I’ve read how abjuration spells are all really specific—they block or negate one thing only.”

“Then that’s why they couldn’t stop my aero magic,” Ezra guessed. “They developed their spells for demon magic.”

“It looks like it.” I leaned tiredly against Zylas’s shoulder. “They’ve created the ultimate demon-fighting toolkit. Their incantations are numbers, and that harpoon was number nine. I’m guessing a higher number means a more powerful spell.”

“How do they fight so fast?” Zylas asked. “You said sorcery needs time to get strong again once the spell is used.”

“I was wondering that too.” Ezra straightened his long glove, realigning the steel studs with his knuckles. “No spell can recharge in a matter of seconds.”

I hugged my knees. “I don’t think the spells are recharging. I think they’re carrying dozens of each one.”

“Those armbands?” Ezra realized.

“Armbands,” Zylas muttered. He twisted, looking behind him, then reached back. A scuffing sound, then he straightened and raised his hand. “This?”

I blinked at the broken band of steel he held. “Where did you get that?”

“I tore it off the hh’ainun when I had him down.”

Taking it, I turned the band over in my hands. Spell arrays were etched into the metal, minuscule and dizzying. My lips moved as I counted. “Five. If each band holds five spells, and they’re wearing around fifteen bands on each arm …”

“One hundred and fifty,” Ezra mathed. “There goes the plan I was hatching to waste all their spells before attacking in earnest.”

“Before we figure out how to beat them, we need to figure out how to find them.” My shoulders drooped. “We’re no closer to that now than we were yesterday.”

“On the contrary.” The corner of Ezra’s mouth lifted in a smile. “We have a trail now.”

Zylas scowled. “I cannot track scents from vehicles.”

“You won’t be doing the tracking.” The demon mage pushed to his feet. “Meet me here tomorrow evening. Eight o’clock should be late enough to avoid traffic and witnesses.”

My lips quirked downward. “But …”

He tapped the artifact I held. “Bring that with you. We’ll need it.”

My frown deepened as he walked away. “Ezra!”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“You didn’t tell us,” I reminded him. “What you and Eterran want to trade for.”

Red flared in his left eye. “We will show the Dīnen et Vh’alyir first that debt and payment can take many forms in this world.” Eterran’s lips curved in a smile very different from Ezra’s. “Especially since he will not defeat this enemy without help.”

Zylas snarled under his breath. The demon mage strode to the sidewalk, and a moment later, he disappeared from sight.

I slumped against Zylas’s shoulder, exhausted to the bone. “All we were supposed to do was snoop around a crime scene, and look what happened.”

Zylas grunted. “You did not tell me a crime scene is a place for ambushes.”

Closing my eyes, I rocked my head back and forth in disbelief. “I didn’t know it was.”

Chapter Seventeen

Standing over the coffee table, I squinted at my spread of notes. Claude and Nazhivēr. Varvara Nikolaev and the demon-blood-enhanced golems. Uncle Jack and Amalia. Me, my parents, and the Athanas Grimoire. Zylas and the mysterious Twelfth House. The Vh’alyir Amulet that was “the key to everything.”

I picked up my copy of the photo with young Claude. The printer had crinkled the paper when it had jammed, faint white lines webbing the two men’s faces.

Studying the albino man, I searched for differences between him and the twins. Had someone cloned these super-demon-hunter sorcerers? Had they invented an anti-aging potion? Were they immortal? I wouldn’t be surprised if it had taken twenty years to perfect their demon-battling technique.

I’d done more reading on abjuration because I couldn’t understand why I’d never heard of demon-magic abjuration before. As I’d discovered last Halloween, when most of the mythic community had been hunting Tahēsh, mythics were unprepared to battle a demon in control of his magic.

My brief research had uncovered a famous abjuration sorcerer from the fifties who’d developed the best reflector spells in modern history, but aside from his work, no one had ever invented a spell to combat demon magic—for a very simple reason. Developing counter magic required detailed study of the origin magic. And no one could study demon magic because what demon would allow his magic to be studied?

But the twin sorcerers had studied demon magic, and I had a good theory on how: Nazhivēr. Twenty-two years ago, one of the sorcerers’ victims had seen a winged demon, which suggested Claude had already formed his contract with Nazhivēr. He could have loaned his demon to the sorcerers to study over two decades ago.

And the result? A perfect arsenal of spells that could stop a demon in his tracks.

Massaging my temples, I abandoned the coffee table and headed for my bedroom. I pushed through the door—and came to an abrupt stop.

Zylas sat on my bed, a towel over his head as he scrubbed his hair dry. He wore only his dark shorts, devoid of even his belt. And that left a lot of smooth, reddish-toffee skin on display, dotted with water droplets from the shower.