“Up?” I whispered, hesitating with one hand on the door. The basement seemed more bloodsucking-monster-friendly. “Are you sure?”

He glanced back, eyes glowing. “I smell fresh blood.”

Gulping, I eased the door closed. The instant it snicked shut, utter darkness plunged over the stairwell. There were no windows and no lights.

“Zylas?” I whispered faintly. “I can’t see anything.”

His softly glowing eyes reappeared as he turned. Judging by their location, he was already halfway up the first flight of stairs. His eyes drew closer as he returned, then warm hands touched my wrists. He drew my arms around his neck, then hooked his fingers under my knee and tugged. I pulled myself onto his back and locked my legs around his waist.

As he trotted up the stairs, I sighed glumly. “I really am useless, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

I lightly smacked his right shoulder—the unarmored one. “Don’t agree with me. You should say something encouraging.”

He glided up the next flight. “Why?”

“To make me feel better.”

A pause. “Why?”

“Do you ever do anything that doesn’t benefit you somehow?”

“Like what?”

His gait leveled out as he turned away from the next flight. His shoulders shifted, then I heard a door open. The faintest light, leaking around the plywood blocking the windows, scarcely penetrated the darkness of what looked like a hallway.

Seeming to realize it wasn’t enough light for a human to navigate by, Zylas didn’t try to put me down. He continued onward with cautious steps.

I wiggled against his back, getting more comfortable, and he hooked his arms under my knees to better support my weight. “Okay, here’s a hypothetical situation.”

“I do not know that word.”

“Hypothetical? In this case, it means imagining an event as if it’s real, so you can decide how you would react. So, imagine you’re walking through the woods and you hear someone calling for help.”

He paused, inhaled through his nose, then turned down a corridor that led away from the boarded windows and their weak light. “This sounds zh’ūltis.”

“Just play along, okay?” I put my mouth closer to his ear so I could whisper more quietly. “You hear a call for help in the woods. What do you do?”

“I would see who is calling.”

Surprised, I allowed a spark of hope. “What if you found … a woman? She’s trapped under a fallen tree. What would you do next?”

He paused again and released one of my knees. The clack of a door. He leaned forward, sniffing at the air, then withdrew and walked on. Away from the windows, the darkness was eerily complete, and I doubted Zylas could’ve navigated it without his infrared vision.

“Who is the woman?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The trapped female. Do I know her?”

“No, you don’t. She’s a stranger.”

“Is she a demon or hh’ainun?”

“Uh … a demon.”

“Then I would flee before she saw me.” He dropped into a crouch and I squeaked, clutching his back. I felt his arm move. “There is old blood here.”

“Are there vampires close by?”

“They have walked here, but not in many days.” Rising, he hitched me higher on his back and continued on. “I can hear voices. They are close but I do not know how to get to them.”

We must have come in the wrong door. I was betting there was a closer stairwell to wherever the owners of the voices were stationed.

“We’ll find a way eventually,” I assured him. “We don’t need to rush.”

“The longer it takes, the longer I have to carry you.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not that heavy.”

His shoulders twitched in annoyance. “You are not heavy at all, but you keep talking in my ear. Mailēshta.”

I smiled into the darkness and leaned close to his ear again. “So why would you run away from a trapped female demon?”

“Because she might kill me.”

Oh, right. He’d told me that female demons had magic more powerful than males. “Maybe she would be grateful to you for saving her.”

“Or she would kill me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. Let’s say it’s a female human. What would you do?”

“Hnn.” He walked a few steps in silence. “How is she trapped?”

“Under a tree. You could lift it no problem,” I added to make this easy for him.

Another thoughtful silence. “Why is she there? In the woods under a tree?”

“Does it matter?”

“It is suspicious.”

I huffed with impatience. “Pretend there’s nothing suspicious about her. She isn’t armed or dangerous. She’s just a trapped human who needs help or she’ll die.”

He rounded an invisible corner and prowled onward.

“Well?” I persisted. “Would you save her?”

“You want me to say yes.”

“Of course I do!” My heart was sinking, leaving an unpleasant burn in my chest. “Why wouldn’t you? You could save her life with almost no effort. It would cost you nothing.”

He crouched again, inhaling through his nose. “Your hypothetical does not make sense, drādah. I cannot be seen by any hh’ainun or you would be in danger. You told me this.”

“What if you could save her without being seen?” I asked desperately.

He held himself still, either thinking or listening. “Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset.”

A soft scuff behind us, and I imagined his tail swishing across the floor.

“You are lying.”

Damn it. I’d forgotten he could tell when I lied. “I want you to say you would save the woman, because if you wouldn’t save her, then you’re …”

“I am what?”

“Evil,” I whispered.

He said nothing, and in his silence was the answer I feared. He wouldn’t save a helpless person from certain death. His questions revealed his thought process. Did he know the person? Were they dangerous? Why were they there? In other words, he wanted to know the risks or rewards for him.

Selfish. A selfish demon who only cared about himself.

“Why?” I whispered miserably. “Why wouldn’t you help someone who was hurt or trapped?”

Another scuff of his tail. “I hear voices behind this door.”

I gripped his shoulders. “What door? Where?”

“The one right here. If I open it, they will probably see.”

Pushing the hypothetical scenario out of my head—he was right, it had been stupid—I focused on our mission. How would we get into the room without being seen? Squeezing my eyes shut since I couldn’t see anyway, I tried to think of a different way in. The unfinished lobby materialized in my mind’s eye.

“Zylas,” I whispered. “What does the ceiling in here look like?”

He looked up, his head so close that his hair brushed across my cheek. His muscles tensed, then he stood.

“Var,” he whispered. “Good idea, drādah.”