“Games? What kind of games?”

“Stalking games. He likes to hunt weak things on the ground.”

“Do you know this demon?” I asked incredulously.

“His name is Tahēsh. He is the Dīnen …” His nose scrunched. “I do not know your word. He is … king?”

“King?” I gasped. “He’s a demon king?”

Zylas hopped onto a dumpster, crouched on its edge, and peered up into the erratic rain. “He is Dīnen of the First House. All of my kind know his name.”

A memory stirred—Uncle Jack’s email to his partner Claude. I think this is the 12th house??

“How many demon kings are there?” I asked.

He watched the sky, his nostrils flaring as he scented the breeze. “Twelve.”

A king for each House. I rubbed my hands over my face, smearing raindrops across my skin. “Uncle Jack summoned a demon king. That’s insane. And you set him free!”

“What is so impressive, payilas? He lived longest, so he became Dīnen.”

“But … a king! Does that mean he commands other demons?”

“He rules his House.” Zylas’s gaze traced the rooftops. “It is not a great thing.”

I snorted. “Now you just sound jealous. You wish you were a demon king too.”

“Ih?” He looked at me properly, his mouth thinning. “I am.”

“You’re what?”

“Dīnen.”

My expression froze. “Wh … what? You’re a demon king?”

His scowl deepened at my disbelieving tone and his tail lashed, hitting the dumpster’s side with a clang. “Of course, payilas. Do you know anything?”

I stared at him, my heart thudding in a strange rhythm. “You’re King of the Twelfth House …”

He glanced skyward, then hopped off the dumpster. “Finding Tahēsh is stupid, payilas. Leave now. Back to the other hh’ainun.”

“What? No, we have to stop him. I just explained—”

Zylas stepped closer, his dark hair tangled across his eyes and dripping rainwater. “Go back to the hh’ainun.”

“No, I—”

He pushed on my stomach, forcing me back a step. “Go now.”

“Quit it! I’m not leaving until Tahēsh is stopped.”

Zylas shoved me again—gently, but he was so strong I staggered.

“Stop it!” I seethed, skittering away from him. How did I make him understand our responsibility to stop this demon? Could he understand it or was it beyond his moral conception?

His eyes glowed menacingly as he herded me toward the alley’s entrance, his teeth glinting, half bared. His contractual promise to protect me suddenly felt all too flimsy.

“Faster, payilas,” he growled, shoving me with more force. As I grabbed a wall for balance, I almost missed the darting glance he shot toward the rooftops.

And I realized it wasn’t aggression fueling his tension. It was muted urgency. Zylas was desperate to get me away from here without revealing the reason—but I could guess why.

Chapter Twenty-One

Whichever direction Zylas didn’t want me heading was the way I planned to go. Diving under his reaching arm, I bolted deeper into the alley—but he grabbed my jacket, hauling me back. I smacked into his chest, my feet dangling off the ground.

“What are you doing?” he snarled in my ear, his arms banded around me, squeezing my lungs.

“Tahēsh is nearby, isn’t he?” I fought to inhale as his hold tightened. “That’s why you keep looking at the sky and want to leave.”

“If you know, why do you run toward him? Do you want to die?”

Determination eclipsed my fear. “You have to protect me.”

If Tahēsh came after us, the contract’s magic would force Zylas to fight him to keep me safe. He couldn’t refuse to fix his mistake if I was in danger. And he’d told me himself—he never lost.

I sucked in a deep breath and loosed the loudest shout my lungs could produce. “Tahēsh!”

Zylas clamped his hand over my mouth and ducked backward into a dark nook where two buildings met. Satisfaction filtered through me, and I tilted my head back to see Zylas’s face, silently gloating that I had outsmarted him.

He pressed against the wall, head turning, nostrils flaring wide. His crimson eyes were wide and … alarmed. Almost … afraid.

My smug feeling of victory faltered.

Zylas’s head snapped back. Clutching me tight, he leaped out of the alcove.

Red light flashed and the doorway exploded. The force hit Zylas from behind, hurling us toward the opposite building. He twisted at the last second so that his back slammed into the wall instead of me, his body absorbing my momentum. Bricks shattered, the falling debris narrowly missing my head.

He shoved off the wall, threw me over his shoulder, and sprinted away. The buildings on either side blurred with his speed. He veered around a corner, feet sliding on the wet pavement and tail sweeping out.

A red glow bathed the alley.

Zylas dropped, the armor covering his knees and shins screeching across the asphalt. He slapped his hand against the ground and red magic shot down his arm, spiraling into a rune-filled circle.

The sky turned scarlet as power blasted downward. Zylas’s magic arched over us and the two forces collided in a blazing detonation that threw him into me. His forearms hit the asphalt and he shuddered under the impact, braced above me like a shield—with hatred blazing in his eyes.

The ground was still vibrating when he lunged up. He seized my coat, heaved me off the asphalt, and clamped me against his side. Leaping onto a fire escape, he dragged us up with one arm, got his feet onto the steel grating, and raced for the top.

On a building across the alley, a dark shape appeared. Wings spreading from heavy shoulders, the demon stepped to the rooftop’s edge. His eyes glowed as magic rippled up his arms—an attack taking form.

“Watch out!” I cried.

Zylas flung us off the fire escape just before the crimson blast hit it. Metal shrieked as the structure tore away and plunged down to the street. We soared through the air, then Zylas caught the wall with one hand. His claws ripped down the bricks and caught on a windowsill. He clung precariously to his narrow handhold, a three-story drop onto pavement and twisted metal below.

From his rooftop, Tahēsh loosed a deep, throbbing laugh. “Eshathē gūkkinanin venarish antin hh’ainun taridis, Dīnen et Vh’alyir.”

Zylas bared his teeth. He dropped off the wall, plunged downward, and landed on a parked car. The roof caved under his feet. He hit the ground running, his arm a steel band crushing my lungs.

I could hear Tahēsh laughing.

We burst out of the alley into a small parking lot surrounded by three-and four-story buildings. Zylas dashed toward a dumpster, probably to use it as a launching block to get onto a roof—high ground against the winged demon. I desperately clutched his arm.

A few yards from the dumpster, he sprang upward like a startled rabbit.

A blast struck the pavement right under us. Red power hurled us in a violent spin and Zylas hit the ground on his back. Torn out of his grasp, I tumbled to a painful, dizzying stop beside the dumpster.

Zylas flipped onto his feet, red magic spiraling over his arms. He thrust his hands up.

Wings flared wide, Tahēsh plunged out of the sky and slammed into the smaller demon. Red magic rippled out from them like a sonic wave and Zylas buckled under the attack. He rolled clear. As he sidestepped away from his adversary, crimson magic glowed over his hands and extended past his fingertips, forming six-inch-long talons.

Rumbling with amusement, Tahēsh raised his hands and even longer talons of magic sprouted off his thick fingers. “Kirritavh’an Zylas nailēris? Eshanā agrēris.”

Zylas didn’t respond, his eyes glowing and body coiled in readiness. As he faced the winged demon king, I clutched the infernus. Seven feet tall, Tahēsh rippled with bulging muscles, his size magnified by his curved wings and thick tail. And Zylas, facing him, looked like a scrawny adolescent about to take on a wrestling heavyweight.

The two demons stared at each other—then Tahēsh attacked.

Zylas ducked away from the streaking crimson claws. The two demons blurred with speed, Tahēsh striking and slashing while Zylas dodged and retreated. I couldn’t follow their movements—couldn’t tell who was winning and who was losing.

Red power burst off Tahēsh. Zylas slammed into the ground—and the pavement caved under his body. The earth shook from the impact.

For two heart-stopping seconds, Zylas didn’t move. Then he rolled, barely escaping Tahēsh’s downward strike. As he sprang up, Tahēsh’s tail swung around and the bony plate on the end caught Zylas in the stomach.

They blurred again, their slashing, dodging motions interspersed with glimmers of crimson light. Blood sprayed across the ground but I didn’t know whose. Slamming blows, vicious snarls. They broke apart—blood running from deep gashes in Zylas’s upper arm—then clashed again, magic flaring.

Zylas whirled away as the pointed tips of Tahēsh’s talons ripped across his chest. He stumbled, tail lashing, balance lost—and as he faltered, Tahēsh pounced.