Fangs exposed. Black-and-white eyes marked with bright red rings.

The vampires charged Zylas and he leaped to meet them. Crimson magic spiraled up his arms and glowing talons extended from his fingers. He ducked a vampire’s grabbing hands, rammed another with his shoulder, and slashed his claws across the third’s stomach.

Blood spilled down the vamp’s front but he scarcely stumbled. Blurring with speed, the vampires encircled Zylas. He spun through them, grace and power. They were fast and strong, but he was experienced.

Another slashing exchange. Two vampires flew back, thrown by powerful blows, and Zylas rammed his talons into the chest of the third, stopping the creature’s heart. He ripped his talons out and whirled, but not toward the remaining vampires.

Toward me.

A blur interrupted my line of sight. The new vampire, attacking from my left, snatched at the grimoire and I frantically twisted away. His claws caught on my infernus chain. Sharp pain cut into my neck, then the chain snapped.

Zylas lunged for my attacker and the vampire darted out of reach. A flash of motion behind him.

Between one instant and the next, a man appeared. Arms clamped around Zylas. A hand seized his jaw and twisted his head sideways.

The vampire bit into Zylas’s neck.

As a horrified scream rang through my head, someone grabbed me and hauled me backward—Amalia, her breath coming in fearful pants. She dragged me away from the vampire and Zylas.

Daimon, hesychaze! I silently shouted.

Zylas didn’t ignite into a crimson glow. The magic on his hands dissolved, his body limp in his assailant’s hold, his eyes darkening by the second. I looked down. My new artifact was tangled on the broken chain of my infernus, still hanging off my neck, but the silver pendant was missing.

The vampire pulled his fangs from Zylas’s neck and lifted his head.

Vasilii, the vampires’ leader. As his slow gaze moved across me, I met his eyes. They weren’t white on black like the other vampires. They were solid, unbroken black.

Red light flared—but not Zylas’s magic. The power leaped from the infernus around Uncle Jack’s neck. His demon materialized beside him, towering at eight feet tall with scaled patches over its arms and legs. A long tail hung, unmoving, behind it, its stare eerily blank in an apelike face crowned by four long horns.

As the demon turned with robotic steps to face the vampires, Uncle Jack swung his rifle toward Vasilii.

“No!” I cried, lunging forward. I shoved the gun sideways.

Uncle Jack shouldered me out of the way and raised the gun again, pointing it at the vampire’s heart—except the vampire was holding Zylas in front of him, heart over heart. To kill the vampire, Uncle Jack would have to shoot the rifle’s unstoppable bullet right through Zylas.

Vasilii glanced dismissively at Uncle Jack before returning his attention to me. His tongue slipped between his thin lips and licked at the blood smearing his mouth.

“Exquisite,” he rasped. “Rich with power and … superbly fresh. Her infernus?”

Another vampire moved, and Uncle Jack jerked his rifle as though unsure who to aim at. The vampire stooped, picked something off the floor, and handed it to Vasilii. Rejoining the vampire lord’s other two lackeys, who waited off to one side, he resumed staring at Zylas’s bleeding neck with ravenous hunger.

Vasilii examined the small object—my infernus—then tucked it in his pocket. Smiling faintly, he slid a hand across Zylas’s shoulder. A twist of his fingers, a quiet tear, and Zylas’s small armor plate fell, its straps severed. It hit the floor with a clang, leaving the demon’s chest exposed.

Vasilii turned his inky eyes on Uncle Jack, silently daring the man to shoot.

Panic screamed through my head. Holding Uncle Jack’s rifle with one hand, I clutched the grimoire to my chest. “Let my demon go.”

“An interesting proposition,” Vasilii replied in his dry monotone.

I shivered involuntarily. My gaze darted to Zylas, lifeless and unmoving, with Vasilii’s arm curled around his unprotected chest, thin fingers gripping the demon’s throat.

“Robin,” Uncle Jack growled, “get your hand off the gun. A shot through the heart will kill him.”

“And my demon too!”

“You can summon another demon,” he snapped.

Vasilii’s black eyes stared right through me. “Robin Page, daughter of Sarah Page, owner of the Athanas Grimoire. Would you like to bargain?”

Tension burned in my muscles. “Why would I trust a vampire’s word?”

“I am not a vampire.” The slightest smile. “I am … as you call us … a fae.”

That took a moment to sink in. “But fae spirits create vampires by infecting humans, so …”

“I am not as they are,” he countered, each sound measured carefully in his toneless voice. “They are lowly, bodiless shades, ruled by their basest nature, and I am … how to explain so you might understand?” He paused thoughtfully. “I am to my brethren as the wolf is to the flies that crawl upon its kill.”

Not the best analogy, but it got his point across.

“I prefer my kin—other fae—as my quarries, but I enjoy the power I gain from these … demons.” He pulled Zylas’s head back, the wound on his neck reopening with another trickle of dark blood. “Now, Robin Page, that you know I am of honor, I ask again: Would you like to bargain?”

Fae. I didn’t know enough about fae for this. I’d read about them, that bargaining and exchanges were part of their mysterious culture, similar to negotiating with a demon, but I had no idea what the rules were. They were known for keeping their word, weren’t they? But I suspected Vasilii, whatever he was, might be a far less trustworthy darkfae.

“What’s your offer?” I asked cautiously.

“The grimoire. I will claim it regardless, but should it be damaged …” His black eyes bored into me. “Give me the grimoire, Robin Page, and I will release your demon to you, no further harm inflicted.”

The rifle twitched as Uncle Jack tried to pull it out from under my hand. Amalia stood rigid on my other side, her gaze darting from the three vampires to Vasilii to Uncle Jack’s unmoving demon as though calculating our odds.

“Why do you want the grimoire?” I asked, my voice cracking with suppressed panic. “What use would a fae have for it?”

“A trade, Robin Page. An item of value to be exchanged for that of equal value.” He twisted Zylas’s neck a little further, threatening to break it. “I will answer no more questions. My offer is given. Do you agree?”

I swallowed hard. Vasilii was our greatest threat, but even a super-speed fae wasn’t as fast as a bullet from fifteen feet away. Uncle Jack’s demon, with its armored skin and large size, could probably kill the remaining vampires—or buy us enough time to run to the car and escape.

All we had to do was sacrifice Zylas.

One shot. Vasilii and Zylas would both die, and Uncle Jack, Amalia, and I could escape. The grimoire would be safe. I could go home, no longer a Demonica mythic, no longer in danger of being found out as an illegal contractor. Zora could report me to the MPD and it wouldn’t matter. I would have no demon for them to investigate.

Or I could give up the grimoire and save Zylas’s life.