Zylas was reclined across the sofa, head propped on a spare pillow. Our half-grown kitten, Socks, was lying on her back in the gap between his side and the sofa cushions, paws in the air and ears perked toward me.

The demon was watching me too, his limbs relaxed as if he were still napping, but there was no sign of drowsiness in his expression. His gaze moved across my face, intent, almost searching.

Searching for what?

My skin prickled, an odd nervous swoop in my gut. I hastily stepped away from the window—and my foot landed on something small and round.

The cat toy skidded across the carpet and took my foot with it. I hit the floor with a dull thud, my fall accompanied by the jingle of the plastic ball. Socks leaped off the sofa and streaked after the yellow toy, her black tail held high.

Stifling a groan, I sat up and rubbed my elbow.

Zylas folded his arms behind his head. “You were not even going backward this time, vayanin.”

A new insult. Great. “You should clean up after your cat.”

“My cat?”

I scowled at the kitten as she batted the toy into the kitchen. “She likes you the most.”

“Does that make her mine?” His tail flicked. “How much do you like me, vayanin?”

“Ha. Nice try.” I picked myself up off the floor. “What does vayanin mean?”

He smirked.

I crossed my arms. “You better not be calling me clumsy.”

His smirk widened, and I bit the inside of my cheek against a furious growl. He was totally calling me clumsy—or a demonic equivalent. I hoped this new nickname wouldn’t stick.

“How long have you been home?” I asked grumpily.

“Some hours. Before the sun came.” He yawned, flashing his sharp teeth. “Hh’ainun sleep too much.”

“Demons should sleep more.” His leisurely naps didn’t count—he always seemed aware of his surroundings. “Remember to close the drapes when you come in.”

“Hnn.”

I stalked back to my room and dressed in fuzzy lounge pants and an oversized sweater. I wasn’t going out today, so might as well be comfy. After a few minutes in the bathroom for my morning routine, I headed into the kitchen.

Socks had batted her toy into the gap between the fridge and cupboards, and she sat in the middle of the kitchen, staring at me accusingly.

“I didn’t knock your toy in there,” I told her as I fished it out. I tossed the ball over the breakfast bar and she tore out of the kitchen after it.

Sunlight filled the apartment, bright and warm. My good mood returning, I hummed as I poured a glass of strawberry-banana juice, then stacked yogurt, an apple, and a jar of peanut butter on the counter.

As I slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar and began slicing the apple into quarters, Zylas pushed off the sofa. He stretched his arms over his head, then kept arching backward in a feat of flexibility that even the fittest humans would have been hard-pressed to match.

When he straightened, I hastily returned my attention to my breakfast.

Amalia’s door opened. Stumping out, with her hair tangled and a bathrobe hanging open over her t-shirt and leggings, she sagged onto the stool beside me.

“Why are you up so early?” she groaned. “Is that yours?”

Without waiting for an answer, she picked up my glass of juice and gulped half of it down.

“It’s sunny today,” I told her brightly. I circled the breakfast bar, and a moment later returned to my stool with a second glass of juice and another apple, which I set in front of her. I unscrewed the lid from the peanut butter. “Plus, I have lots of work to do. Better to start early.”

“You mean translating the grimoire?” She moaned her way through a yawn. “That’s not exactly a rush.”

“No, but I want to find Myrrine’s extra entries.” I spooned peanut butter onto an apple slice. “I’ve been translating the grimoire for over two weeks now, and I haven’t found a single thing related to summoning or demons. It’s time to skip ahead. Searching for Myrrine’s entries gives me a place to start.”

She sipped her juice. “’Suppose.”

As I bit into my peanut-butter apple slice, Zylas wandered over. He held Socks with one arm, her four paws dangling as she purred impossibly loud for such a small creature.

“Did you find out anything about the retired summoner?” I asked Amalia.

“Dad said his name is Naim Ashraf. He’s a member of Odin’s Eye now. Does consulting for them.” She squinched one eye. “You sure you want to take Tori with you to meet him? You might need to get forceful with the guy.”

I’d told her about my encounter with Tori last night. “You and I can always meet with him again later. I want to know what Tori is hiding—and why she’s so desperate to learn about demonic artifacts.”

Zylas watched me finish my apple slice. I picked up another one and loaded it with peanut butter.

“Maybe she saw the amulet on Tahēsh,” Amalia suggested. “Or maybe she has the amulet. She was right there when he died. She could’ve—ugh. Do you have to do that?”

I held the slice out to Zylas. He lifted Socks onto his shoulder and took the slice, sniffing it curiously. The kitten head-butted his cheek and purred even louder.

“He doesn’t need food,” Amalia complained. “Why do you—”

“Tori seemed really upset,” I interrupted. “I don’t think she’d be that frantic over a random amulet she looted off a demon’s body. Even if she has it, how would she know what it does or how important it is? We don’t know and we have the grimoire.”

“That’s true,” she muttered, observing with morbid fascination as Zylas swallowed half his apple slice whole. “It isn’t even a demonic artifact, technically speaking. The array on the back is mostly Arcana.”

I scooped a healthy dollop of peanut butter onto a third slice.

Amalia scowled. “That better not be for him.”

Matching her scowl with one of my own, I stubbornly offered my demon the slice. “Why not? Does him enjoying something offend you?”

“That’s not—it’s just weird, okay?” She turned her glower on Zylas as he lifted the second slice to his mouth. “What about you? Don’t you care that she keeps feeding you like a toddler?”