“Amalia, I just found—”

I broke off, my mouth hanging open. That clatter hadn’t been Amalia searching the kitchen. It had been the sound of the front door opening.

A strange man swung the door shut with a thump. Tall, thin, with short black hair and opaque sunglasses perched on his nose, the lenses reflecting my white face back at me from across the kitchen. His dark windbreaker was open, revealing a blue sweater underneath. I had no idea who he was.

“What’s this?” the man murmured. “A little mouse wandering about?”

I inched backward, silently panicking. I’d been caught breaking and entering. Was this man a mythic? An MPD agent? A friend of Claude’s? A—

He used one finger to push his sunglasses up.

—a vampire?

I gawked at his reverse-colored eyes, the sclera black as pitch with a blank white circle in the center. A vampire. A vampire had just walked into Claude’s apartment.

“Scared, little mouse?” he breathed.

Only when he spoke did I realize he’d covered half the distance between us. My gaze was locked on his eerie stare and I couldn’t look away.

He drifted closer. I needed to move. I needed to run.

“They say ‘fight or flight,’ little mouse, but the most common response to a predator”—his lips pulled into a smile, revealing the fangs that curved down from his upper jaw—“is to freeze.”

He lunged for me.

“Zylas!” I screamed, throwing myself backward.

Red light blazed over my infernus. Zylas appeared in front of me, hand already snapping out. His open palm slammed into the vampire’s chest and hurled the man backward. He landed on the kitchen table, slid across it, and fell off the other side, taking a chair out with him.

Gasping, I stumbled to Zylas. He looked down at me, his glowing eyes cold.

The vampire clambered to his feet and straightened his jacket, his sunglasses gone and creepy eyes taking in Zylas. “The little mouse is a contractor? Hmm.”

A shiver ran over me. This vampire was very different from the one Zora had tracked and killed.

He studied us a moment longer, then casually picked up a chair, weighed it with one hand, and hurled it. I shrieked and dove for the floor, landing painfully. Zylas stepped aside and the chair crashed down in the hallway. As I shoved myself up, the vampire shot toward me.

He was attacking the contractor. He thought killing me would eliminate my demon too.

Screaming breathlessly, I lurched away, slipped, and sprawled onto my face. The vampire overshot me and bounced off the wall. He whirled on me again. His fingers had turned to rigid claws, the nails extending to sharp points.

Zylas stood four long steps away, leaning against the counter as he watched us.

Gawking at my demon, I almost missed the vampire’s leap. I scrambled under the table, hands slapping against the tile floor, and shoved past a chair.

“Zylas!” I gasped, bursting out from under the table. “Fight him!”

“Na?” He folded his arms, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “But I am useless, payilas. That is what you said.”

My eyes bulged in disbelief.

Wood crunched behind me, and I flung myself away as the vampire vaulted across the table. I tumbled over a chair and fell to the floor, my elbow scraping painfully across the rough grout between tiles. I scrambled backward on my butt as the vampire landed on his feet and turned toward me.

His nostrils flared. He opened his mouth, exposing his fangs as a blood-red ring appeared around the white circles that had replaced his pupils and irises. A line of drool spilled down his chin.

My panicked gaze snapped to my elbow, where blood beaded from a shallow scrape.

With a feral hiss, the vampire pounced. I dove back under the table, and the vampire crawled after me. His clawed fingers caught my pant leg. A powerful hand closed around my ankle and the vampire dragged me backward.

“Zylas!” I choked, kicking with my other leg. “Help me!”

I wrenched my leg free and shot out the other side of the table, throwing a chair down behind me to block the vampire. Stumbling on shaking legs, I pressed my back to the wall. I’d come out in a corner. I was trapped.

Zylas ambled around the table, observing indifferently. The vampire shoved past the chair and rose, oblivious to the demon a few feet away. Drool dripped off the vamp’s hanging jaw as he stalked closer.

“Zylas,” I whispered, cowering against the wall.

A yard behind the vampire, Zylas did nothing. How could he just stand there? He’d sworn—he’d promised—

Fangs glistening, the vampire sprang.

“Zylas!” I screamed. “Please!”

The vampire’s mouth flashed toward my throat—then his head slammed into the wall beside me, punching through it.

Zylas gripped the back of the vampire’s neck. Tugging the man’s head out of the wall, he slammed the stunned creature down on the table. Red magic spiraled over his fingers, forming six-inch talons, and he drove them into the vampire’s chest.

The vampire convulsed, then his limbs flopped onto the table.

Zylas swung toward me. He caught my chin and forced my face up as he leaned down. With nowhere to retreat, I pushed deeper into the corner.

“I am no hh’ainun’s slave,” he hissed softly. “Do not try to make me into one.”

I trembled against the wall, lungs empty and head spinning as I waited for him to attack. To turn that crushing strength on me. To unleash his deadly claws. To crunch through my delicate bones.

He released my chin, stepped over the fallen chair, and walked away.

I slumped against the wall, breathing fast. My chin tingled in the absence of his touch and fear trembled through me. My every instinct told me to run, to flee, to get as far away from the dark-haired, crimson-eyed killing machine a few yards away.

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Then another. By the fifth breath, my head was no longer spinning. I pushed off the wall and stumbled past the table. The vampire lay across it. In death, his eyes had turned completely white.

Zylas stood at the counter again, sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose. I stopped beside him and forced my gaze up. Past his bare abdomen, banded with muscle. Past his leather-and-plate armor. Past his tight jaw.

My eyes met burning, arctic crimson. Fighting the deeply ingrained habit, I didn’t look away.

“We’re in this together,” I said tersely, “and whether you think so or not, I’m doing my best to get us where we need to go and learn the things we need to learn. You have only one obligation in all of this—to protect me.”

He gazed down at me without expression. My hands curled into fists, anger burning through my fear of confrontation.

“You’re bigger than me!” I yelled. “You’re stronger and you’re faster! I can’t make you do anything—except get in or out of the infernus for two seconds! Is that really so offensive to your pride? Is it reason enough to go back on your word? You bully me and disrespect me and torment my only friend and destroy my belongings every day, but I’m still keeping up my end of our agreement!”

“I did not go back on my word.”

“You let that vampire attack me!”

“You were not in danger.”

Enraged, betrayed tears stung my eyes. “So the bare minimum is all you’re willing to do? You’ll keep me alive and nothing more?” I paused. “But you expect far more than my minimum effort.”