When Darius, the Crow and Hammer’s GM, had allowed me to join, I’d hoped this guild would be different from the Grand Grimoire, but maybe all guilds were the same. Maybe Zylas and I were too small and weak for anyone to respect.

The barbed tip of his tail gave the tiniest twitch, unnoticed by the watching mythics.

“Forgetting something, dumbasses?” Tori’s acidic snap cut into my thoughts. “Robin and her demon killed the unbound one on Halloween. Obviously they’re not weak.”

She was defending us?

“Not weak?” Darren scoffed. His hand rose toward Zylas. “This thing couldn’t—”

Uh-oh, not good. “Don’t touch him.”

Darren’s reach stuttered, then he boldly rammed his palm into Zylas. The demon didn’t move and Darren stumbled backward, thrown off balance. He shook his head and glanced at his hand, as though confused about how his powerful muscles had failed to affect the shorter, lighter demon.

He thought we were weak. No one here respected us. Unwelcome and disregarded … but what had Tori said? Don’t let him push you around.

I pressed my thumb against the sigil at the center of the infernus. Zylas?

I didn’t need to finish the thought—his hand was already closing around Darren’s throat. With strength the mythic could only dream of, Zylas swung him off his feet and slammed him down on the bar.

Not too rough, I warned.

He bent Darren backward over the bar. The mythic spluttered and flailed helplessly. Everyone else had withdrawn, shock and fear on their faces. I hated that we had to prove our strength, but this was much better than last time. Zylas was making the proper impression without having to pound half the guild into the floor.

I straightened my glasses, turned toward the bartender, and forced a smile. “Could I have a water, please, Tori?”

Her mouth hung open, and her gaze darted between me and Zylas. Pulling herself together, she flashed a grin that caught me off guard, then plunked a glass on the counter. Zylas held Darren against the bar, still as a statue and probably bored out of his mind. Pinning people down wasn’t nearly violent enough to entertain him.

One more minute, I told him. Then—

His head jerked up.

Like a startled herd of deer, every nearby mythic jumped away. What was he doing?

Back in the infernus! I commanded urgently.

Crimson light rushed across him, softening his form, and the power swept into my infernus. As he disappeared, I tucked the pendant away and glanced around, hoping no one would question the way my demon had suddenly looked up. Darren stumbled away from the bar, rubbing his bruised throat.

I peeked in the direction Zylas had looked.

Three men stood at the end of the bar. The redhead in the middle, tallest by an inch or two, watched me with intent blue eyes, his handsome features unmarred by his frown. On his left was a dark-haired man with a leaner build and looks that had skipped handsome and jumped straight to smoldering perfection. His expression was inscrutable, his dark eyes drifting past me. The third man, falling between the heights of the other two, ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair, his bronze skin interrupted by a scar that ran from his left temple, across his eye, and into the hollow of his cheek.

I recognized them too: the three men who had fled with Tori after Tahēsh’s death. And hidden among them was a demon.

I didn’t know how it was possible, but Zylas was certain. A third demon had been present that night, one that wielded powerful magic. The unknown demon’s scent had been all over Tori and these three men.

A water glass, rattling with ice, slid in front of me. I looked up.

Suspicion burned in Tori’s eyes, her full lips pressed thin. She knew Zylas had done something strange. She’d seen him battle and slay Tahēsh with more speed and ease than a contracted demon should be capable of.

But I’d watched her and her companions flee the scene. I knew they were concealing a demonic secret of their own.

I wrapped my hand around the cold glass and gave her the smallest nod. She shifted her attention to a mythic waiting to order, and as she asked him what he wanted, I let out a shaky breath. This guild was supposed to be my haven, but it might be a viper pit in disguise.

Chapter Three

At the front of the room, Darius called for everyone’s attention. He stood near the stairs leading to the second level, his salt-and-pepper hair combed back and his beard neatly trimmed—unlike the last time I’d seen him, when he’d been sporting a Gandalf beard. His guildeds filled the tables, fifty people watching their leader with respectful focus.

Tori stood behind the bar, her elbows braced on the counter and her chin propped on one hand. Her three friends sat on stools in front of her. None of them had paid me any attention since Zylas returned to the infernus.

Several other bar stools were occupied, as were almost all the chairs … except for the three empty ones around my table. My stomach shriveled at the unspoken rejection. Amalia should have been here with me, but—I checked my phone again—she still hadn’t shown up. Her last text, twenty minutes ago, said she was on her way. In Amalia-speak, that meant she’d arrive in an hour.

“For tonight’s safety segment,” Darius began, projecting his voice through the pub, “Felix will present a comparison of this year’s job hazard assessments versus incident reports. But before we delve into that riveting topic”—a brief smile—“let’s highlight last month’s member accomplishments.”

He pulled a paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “First, our congratulations to Katherine on the publication of her paper, “Potency Control in Alchemic Crystallization,” in the prestigious Modern Alchemy journal.”

The Crow and Hammer mythics clapped and called out to an older woman with boyishly short brunette hair and laugh lines around her eyes. She performed a playful bow from her seat.

“A special accolade for Philip,” Darius continued, “who successfully identified, located, and exorcised a new shifter before last month’s full moon.”

As applause rang out for a middle-aged man with a kind smile, a frigid breeze hit my back. I looked over my shoulder as a petite woman slipped through the door. Bundled in a leather jacket with the hood pulled up, she closed the door as quietly as possible, trying to mute the telltale chime of the bell. Strapped to her back was a huge broadsword, the hilt jutting over her shoulder.

“Andrew led Gwen, Bryce, and Drew on a hunt for a rogue terramage, and not only did they secure the bounty, but they tagged him minutes before a team of Pandora Knights mages arrived.”

The guildeds whooped. The late arrival hesitated, then slid into the nearest chair—the one beside me—and pushed her hood off.

I’d seen her before! On the night I’d helped the Grand Grimoire hunt Tahēsh, I’d spotted her with a team of three others, who were also searching the downtown streets.

Up close, I could see she was in her early thirties, with large brown eyes set in a delicate face, a blond pixie cut streaked with pale blue and pink, four piercings in one ear, and the edge of a tattoo creeping up the side of her neck, most of it hidden beneath her collar. She swiped her messy bangs away from her face and tossed me a smile.

I’d never seen anyone so cool. I wanted to be her when I grew up.