I raised a hand to stop her, my gaze locked on Varvara’s card, where a list of guild names in my neat handwriting was topped with the title “Attack Locations.”

“Location,” I muttered. “Ezra, of the guild attacks Varvara initiated, which one makes the least sense?”

He looked up from his phone, his complexion still washed out. “Probably the SeaDevils. The Crow and Hammer does way more bounty work than them. It would’ve made sense to take out our guild first.”

“The SeaDevils’ headquarters was destroyed, wasn’t it? The guild isn’t there anymore?

“No, they moved into temporary HQ. It’ll take months for the site to be cleared, and they might lease a new location instead of rebuilding.”

“Where was their guild based? What’s the location like?”

“It’s on the south side of Vancouver Harbour, near Canada Place. The guild runs a shipping business, and aside from their office …” He squinted, picturing it. “Big parking lots. Train tracks across the street.”

My hope crumbled. Nothing about that location sounded useful for setting up and casting a hugely complex array that would—

“Oh, and the floating helipad. You could land three copters on it at the same time. There’s nothing else like it in Vancouver Harbour.”

A tremor ran through my muscles. “That’s it, then. It has to be.”

He and Amalia peered at me questioningly.

“Water cleanses impurities. Building a difficult, sensitive array surrounded by flowing water is an ancient technique to ensure an untainted spell. I read about it in a book on Arcana myths.”

“But if it’s a myth—” Amalia began.

“No, the myth was about buried treasure on islands, when it was actually sorcerers using small islands for spell engineering.”

“The helipad.” Ezra raked his hand through his hair. “You think Claude provided Varvara with golems for her takeover, on the condition that she would drive the SeaDevils guild away from their helipad? That’s …”

“Messed-up shit?” Amalia nodded. “Almost as messed up as befriending my dad for years so he could murder Robin’s parents and steal our family grimoire.”

“We should go,” I said, looking between Zylas, Amalia, and Ezra. “Right away. If we get there in time, we can sabotage the array or prevent them from starting it. Ezra—”

“I can’t come.”

“What?” I asked sharply.

He shoved his phone in his pocket. “They’re not answering. I might be wrong—I hope I’m wrong—but if I’m not—” He broke off with a sharp shake of his head. “I need to go.”

“What are you going on about?” Amalia demanded. “We need you!”

He swept past us and grabbed his coat. “I know, and I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

“Ezra—”

He stopped at the door. “Be careful with those sorcerers. If I’m right, you won’t have to worry about Claude. I’ll deal with him.” Red sparked in his left eye. “And his demon.”

Zylas flicked his tail. “Kah vh’renirathē izh?”

The crimson glow intensified. “Vh’renith vē thāit.”

Zylas nodded, and the demon mage swept out the door, swinging it shut behind him. Quiet fell over the apartment.

“Well, shit,” Amalia muttered. “I was counting on the creepy demon Two-Face helping us.”

“He will fight Nazhivēr. I will fight the three hh’ainun.” Zylas arched his back, stretching. “We will go now?”

Putting aside the mystery of how or why Ezra thought he could intercept Claude and his demon, I checked that my infernus and lone artifact were hanging around my neck where they belonged. “Yes, we need to—”

“Hold up.” Amalia straightened, her eyes flashing with sudden eagerness. “We shouldn’t go into this completely unprepared if we don’t have to.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The cab dropped us off at the farthest edge of the parking lot, which spanned most of the SeaDevils’ property. We stood on the curb, and as the vehicle’s headlights receded, darkness fell over us. High above, stars peeked through a thin, streaky layer of cloud, the waning moon casting silvery light on the harbor’s dark water. The salty ocean tang, underlaid by a tinge of rot, filled my nose.

“I don’t see anyone,” Amalia muttered as she adjusted the backpack on her shoulders.

“We’re too far to see the helipad,” I countered nervously, blinking against my contacts and wishing for my glasses instead.

“Not what I meant.” She glanced around one more time. “Call Zylas out.”

My infernus lit up. As the demon appeared beside me, she slung her backpack off her shoulder, unzipped it, and lifted out a swath of black fabric embroidered with runes—shield cantrips, just like the shirts she’d made for us. This one, however, wasn’t sized for a woman.

Zylas’s nose wrinkled, but he held still as Amalia and I pulled the garments over his limbs and buckled them on with small black clips.

The top resembled a vest that fell to his thighs, with large armholes for flexibility—and to leave room for his shoulder armor. Four fitted pieces protected his legs, leaving his knees unencumbered, and black sleeves slid over his armguard and ran up to his shoulders.

Amalia pulled the hood up and lifted an extra flap of fabric. It crossed the hood’s front, loosely covering his lower face. He turned his head side to side, checking his visibility in the hood.

She stepped back, giving me a clear view of him, and I swallowed. There was something extra terrifying about dressing the lethal demon in black. He was a shadow with glowing magma eyes.

“Those clothes are full of arcane energy,” Amalia told him. “It should interfere with the sorcerer’s abjuration, though it won’t stop it. And if you’re in big trouble, the incantation is indura. Their magic won’t be able to penetrate the fabric for thirty seconds.”

“It will work if I say it?”

“Um, well … I think so? Anyone can trigger a cantrip. I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for a demon.”

His eyebrows lowered, and I knew he was scowling at her.