I didn’t see where the new man had come from until his arm had snapped into my path. His forearm struck my upper chest. I slammed into the pavement on my back, the impact seizing my lungs.

My assailant leaned over me—a familiar, pale face with no expression. As I struggled to breathe, footsteps thumped closer. Another face appeared, identical to the first except for his eager grin and the half-healed scratches on his cheek.

The old man joined them, his cold eyes assessing, and staring up at all three men, I finally understood. Not immortal sorcerers who hadn’t aged since the twenty-two-year-old photo with Claude. The twins were the children of the albino man in the photo.

The father and his adult sons contemplated me like hunters appreciating their catch, then the grinning twin reached down, aiming for my throat.

Crimson blazed from my chest. Zylas appeared, a foot on either side of me and claws slashing.

“Ori unum!”

The incantation rang out from all three men, and Zylas’s claws scraped across a trio of blue shields. He dropped and swung his leg into the shins of a twin. Rolling, he slammed into the ankles of the second twin, and both fell. His claws ripped into the calf of the nearer sorcerer.

“Ori quinque!”

The father’s spell hurled Zylas backward—opening a gap so the sorcerers could unleash their arsenal without fear of Zylas’s claws.

“Ori eruptum impello!” I yelled.

A silver dome expanded from my artifact and blasted all three sorcerers away from me. They crashed down on the pavement, and Zylas lunged for the nearest one.

“Ori unum!” he shouted.

Zylas pivoted, ducked, and slashed for his unprotected knee.

“Ori quattuor!”

Indigo spikes exploded from the other twin. Zylas leaped back, the barrage pelting the ground in front of me. They passed through the fallen sorcerer, harmless to anyone but a demon.

“Ori quinque!”

Another silvery blast flung Zylas off his feet. He landed in a skid, claws dragging across the ground and teeth bared. I shoved to my feet, panic choking off my air.

“Ori duo!”

“Ori quattuor!”

“Ori quinque!”

The spells, shouted almost in unison, struck too fast for Zylas to recover. He pitched over, glowing spikes peppering his limbs.

With a wild look around, I bolted away from the fight—racing for the busy street. If I could get to safety, I could call Zylas to me in an instant. The sorcerers wouldn’t attack me on a busy street. Clutching the precious binder, I ran as hard as I could.

“Ori impello potissime!”

An invisible force struck me in the back. I fell for a second time, hitting so hard the elbows of my leather jacket tore. Pain burst through my limbs and my vision blurred.

Thudding footsteps, then rough hands grabbed me and hauled me up. An arm clamped around my throat, my back against my captor’s chest. He squeezed, cutting off my air.

“We do carry a few extra spells,” he whispered mockingly in my ear.

My mouth gaped, sparks flashing in my vision. I yanked on his arm, my fingers biting into the metal bands under his jacket sleeve. My lungs screamed. Where was Zylas?

Daimon, hesychaze! I cried silently.

Red light blazed in my blurred vision. The formless power streaked for my chest and hit the infernus, making the silver disc vibrate and glow.

And that’s when I realized the sorcerer was holding my infernus.

In the instant before Zylas could bounce back out and take physical form, that one instant where his power was contained inside the pendant, the man spat his incantation.

“Ori octo!”

Sparkling green light appeared, forming a perfect cube around the infernus. Demonic power filled it, making the whole thing glow with hideous brown streaks, but Zylas didn’t reappear. Not a single spark of his crimson magic could break through the green cube.

Zylas was trapped in the infernus, and it was my fault.

Blindfolded and gagged. Hands tied behind me, the hard back of a chair digging into my elbows.

My frenzied heart palpitated in my chest, my terror so consuming the organ was on the verge of complete collapse. My breath whistled through my nose, too fast, but I couldn’t slow my lungs.

I couldn’t stop seeing the red stains under the bridge. Couldn’t stop hearing Ezra’s disgusted description of Yana’s death. Couldn’t stop picturing the faces of the other girls who’d looked so much like me: young, petite, dark hair.

“Scared, payashē?” a man whispered in my ear.

I jerked away so violently I almost toppled my chair.

A hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me straight. His breath washed over my cheek as he chuckled.

“Try to be brave. I like it better when they fight.”

My stomach jumped, threatening to expel its contents.

Fingers brushed across my forehead, combing my hair back. “You’re perfect, Robin. You look so close.” Another quiet laugh. “You think I’m delusional, don’t you? You’re thinking, how could he know what a payashē even looks like? I’ll admit, I’ve never seen one … who has? But I’m very familiar with their descriptions.”

He caressed my jaw. “Compared to demon males, they’re tiny—five feet, maybe a bit taller. Slim. Big, beautiful red eyes.” He ran a fingertip up my temple and into my hair. “They have horns just like the males, but more delicate. More curvy.”

I cringed from his touch, panting through the gag. The stale air, reeking of dirt, didn’t have enough oxygen. My head spun.

“They don’t have wings or scales. But they do have …” He forced his hand behind my back and slid it down, pressing his fingers into my lower spine. “… tails.”

He dragged his hand back up and took a fistful of my hair. Damp lips pressed into my ear. “When I paint you red, payashē, you’ll be too beautiful for words.”

A violent, terrified sob shook my body. He tsked in disappointment.

Something thudded against the ceiling, then the clack of boots on the ladder as someone descended into the hidden basement.

“Get off her, Jaden. Fun’s over.”

“What?” Jaden snapped. “The fun is just getting started.”

“She’s too valuable.”

“I wasn’t going to kill her.”

“Accidents happen when you get carried away,” the newcomer sneered as the ladder creaked again. “Besides, I’m not the one saying no.”