Secondly, our contract was illegal as well as ludicrous. If anyone realized the truth, the MPD would put a bounty on my and Zylas’s heads. We wouldn’t last long. Bounty hunters knew how to kill demons.

Lastly, I didn’t practice magic. I avoided magic. Now I was bound to an extremely magical demon. Contractors were universally feared, with reputations as power-hungry bullies. After all, nice people didn’t sell their souls for a demon’s power.

I glanced around the dark street. “Uh, Amalia? Are we going the right way?”

“I told you I don’t know this area. My phone has eleven percent battery and I’m not wasting it on GPS.”

“But …” My gaze skipped from a graffitied wall to boarded-up windows. “I think we’re going the wrong way.”

“We just need to find a hotel. This is downtown. There are hotels everywhere.”

She strode onward, flipflops smacking her heels. I dug my phone out of my bag and ran to catch up with her. The streetlights buzzed in the hush of nightfall. A few cars sped past, their headlights flashing over us. A truck slowed on its way by and the passenger wolf-whistled.

Hunching my shoulders, I pulled up a GPS app and waited for it to load.

“We aren’t in the downtown core.” I squinted at the screen. “This is … the Downtown Eastside?”

Her steps hesitated and our eyes met in shared realization. The Downtown Eastside was the worst neighborhood in the city. And we—two girls, alone and on foot—were lost in the middle of it.

Chapter Sixteen

“We should go west,” I said urgently. “Toward the downtown core.”

“I’m not walking all the way back,” Amalia groused. She pointed at a glowing orange sign, the text partially obscured by a scraggy tree. “Look, there’s a Travelodge right there. We’ll get a room for the night and find a better place tomorrow.”

I squinted at the “LODGE” visible through tree branches. We hastened up the sidewalk, ducked under the tree’s lowest boughs, and stopped. My suitcase rolled into the back of my leg.

“Booty … Lodge,” I read, repulsed by the neon outline of a yellow butt under the letters. A lightbulb glowed above the business’s open door, and a dance beat trickled out. Smokers clustered around the entrance in hazy clouds.

Amalia swore under her breath. “A strip club, ugh.”

“Hey there, pretty ladies,” a heavyset man at the door called. “Coming inside?”

“Eat a dick,” Amalia snapped.

Another man whistled. “Got a firecracker here, boys.”

Male gazes burned my skin. The club’s patrons had a sleezy, disreputable air to them, and I didn’t like what they were seeing—not confident, in-control women, but two girls who were clearly lost and frazzled, one in a short dress, the other dragging a suitcase.

I grabbed Amalia’s arm and hissed, “Let’s get out of here. Quickly.”

She nodded and we hurried back the way we’d come.

“Where ya goin’?” the whistler called. “You girls lost?”

We kept walking. I fumbled with my phone, looking for the nearest hotel. There was nothing nearby. Not even a gas station where we could take shelter and get our bearings.

“Hey girlies. What’s the rush?”

My head whipped around. Four men from the Booty Lodge trailed after us, still smoking. Amalia muttered a vile curse and hitched her backpack up her shoulder. She kept her pace steady and I matched it, my heart racing.

For two blocks, the men followed us, laughing and bantering in drunken slurs. Breathing hard, I checked my phone again. There was a twenty-four-hour convenience store a block and a half away. We could hide in there.

“Come on, pretty ladies,” one of our stalkers called. “Let us buy you some drinks.”

Amalia’s jaw tightened and she glanced back. Her head snapped straight again, her face paling, and she extended her stride.

“Yeah, baby. Work that ass. Whatchya wearing under the dress?”

I rushed after her, my suitcase clattering after me, and glanced back too.

The men were gaining on us.

Fear cut through me. I didn’t want to find out what they’d do if they caught up. The street was dark, abandoned except for our urgent procession. The convenience store wasn’t in sight yet and I stretched my legs, taking the biggest, fastest steps I could without running.

“I call dibs on the little pixie girl.”

My nerve broke and I bolted.

Amalia was a step behind me, and raucous laughter rang out as the men gave chase. My suitcase bounced on its wheels, dragging at my arm, but I couldn’t bear to release it. Amalia drew ahead, her longer legs pumping—then her flimsy sandal twisted.

She fell in a sprawl. I skidded around to help her, and then the men were on us.

Amalia shoved to her feet as the group formed a half circle around us. My heart hammered in my throat and my voice had vanished again. Even Amalia had run out of insults.

The men advanced. As Amalia and I backed away, shadows closed in—we were retreating into an alley. No, the men were herding us into an alley. My throat closed. Stupidly, I was still clutching the handle of my suitcase. I couldn’t let it go. It was all I had left.

The two closest men lunged and I stumbled backward, smacking hard into a brick wall. Amalia screamed as the other two men went for her.

Leering drunkenly, a greasy, bearded man grabbed the front of my sweater and pushed me into the wall, his hot, cigarette-stale breath bathing my face.

“No!” I cried.

Heat scorched my stomach and crimson light burst through my shirt. The glow coalesced between me and the man, shoving him backward. The light flared then faded, and suddenly, a warm body was pressed against mine.

Zylas. He stood with his back against me, facing my assailant.

“What the—” the man spluttered.

Zylas seized him by the throat and threw him. The man soared ten feet, crashed into the opposite wall, and slumped to the ground, stunned. My second attacker backed away, his face a mask of horror.

The other two creeps looked around at us. “Who the hell is that guy? Where’d he come from?”

Zylas turned his glowing red eyes on them and his husky laugh rolled through the dark alley. Silence shivered between the men, then they bolted. The one Zylas had thrown scrambled after them, groaning with each pained breath.

Eyes gleaming, Zylas bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, as though warming up for a sprint, then stepped after them.

Panic gripped me and I flung myself at him. I smacked into his back, and when he didn’t stop, I grabbed him around the middle, my hands clamped over his stomach.

That he noticed. He twisted to peer at me over his shoulder.

“Stop!” I gasped. “No one can see you, remember?”

“Then I will make sure I am not seen.” His mouth curved up. “A challenge, na? Will be fun.”

“No! Just stay here. You can’t protect me if you’re chasing them.” I unwrapped my arms from his bare stomach. He needed clothes with better coverage.

His tail flicked. “She has seen me. I can kill her.”

I jerked around.

Amalia was pressed against the wall, her face white and mouth gaping in a horrified O. When we looked at her, she sidled away from us.

“Uh,” I squeaked. “I—I can explain—”

“You’re a contractor?” she whispered in disbelief. “You said you didn’t know anything about Demonica …”

Zylas canted his head. “I should kill her, yes?”

“No!”

“The demon is talking,” Amalia added, her voice faint. Her legs gave out and she sat heavily on the dirty pavement. “Contracted demons can’t speak. They give up their voices when they give up their autonomy.”

Zylas’s fingers curled, his claws extending past his fingertips. I grabbed his arm and clutched it to my chest. He probably wouldn’t hurt me but Amalia was in danger.

“Zylas,” I said shrilly, “you can’t kill her!”

“It will be easy.”

“I mean you shouldn’t kill her! She’s—she’s my cousin. My family.” I tightened my hold on his arm, knowing it wouldn’t stop him. “I need her help to survive this.”

Tail lashing in annoyance, he relaxed his hands. His claws retracted.

Amalia stared at us without blinking. “You said you weren’t a summoner and I believed you. I believed you!” Anger burned through her shock and she pushed to her feet, speaking right over my weak protest. “You did come to steal Dad’s demon names, didn’t you? You wanted the glory of a new lineage for—”

She broke off, her eyes widening in sudden realization.

“No way!” she burst out furiously, pointing at Zylas. “That’s Dad’s demon, isn’t it? That’s the hidden one from the library!”

“Wait, Amalia,” I pleaded. “You don’t understand—”

“How did you even—no, I don’t want to know.” She shoved away from the wall. “Your ‘sweet, na?ve girl’ act is good, Robin, but you should’ve put more effort into your summoning apprenticeship instead. That demon is going to kill you.”

“Amalia—”

“Forget it, Robin.” Venom coated her voice. “I’m done. I never should’ve believed you.”

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she took a step toward the street, realized she’d have to pass Zylas, then spun and marched deeper into the alley. I watched her go, my heart racing faster and faster.