Angling his head, he watched me work on the taut muscle group. His muscles were so toned it was easy to trace their lines and follow the tension. I kneaded his stiff shoulder, then worked down his back. He didn’t move, warily observing as though I might pull a knife and jam it through his ribs. Maybe, in his mind, that wasn’t a far-fetched possibility—nothing in our contract prevented me from hurting him.

Shifting onto the bed, I started on his left shoulder. As I searched out the tightest muscles, my mind skittered wildly over this bizarre situation. Massaging a demon was quite possibly even stranger than feeding a demon homemade cookies … especially since his back was all stunningly defined muscle and smooth, unblemished skin. Unease trickled through me and I peeked at his face.

He was no longer watching me. Instead, he gazed vaguely at the wall, eyes half-lidded, jaw relaxed, breathing slow.

Pleasantly surprised, I hid my smile and kept going. My hands were getting tired, but the ache in my fingers was nothing compared to the pain he’d suffered because of me. Resolutely, I massaged his left shoulder then shifted down that side of his torso. When I couldn’t find any knots, I lightly traced his muscles, searching for tension.

His shoulders lifted and fell in a deep breath. I glanced up. His eyes were closed. My hands stilled, but he didn’t move.

Was he asleep?

An odd flip of pleasure in my middle caught me off guard. He’d fallen asleep while I was touching him. If that wasn’t a tiny step toward trust, I didn’t know what was.

I settled more comfortably on the bed. His breathing was slow and even, his body limp and free of tension. I slid my hand up his spine to the back of his neck, quiet wonder displacing my earlier discomfort. So close to being human, yet so different.

His skin was cooler than mine, meaning he’d yet to fully recover. Watching his face, I inched my fingers into his damp, messy black hair. My soft sense of amazement deepened.

We were bound together. I had saved his life and he had saved mine. Though it was the magic that forced him to protect me, he had fought and bled to keep me safe. I would never abuse the power I had over him again. He and I were in this together, and demon or not, he deserved as much respect and consideration as I would give anyone else who’d saved my life.

In the dark room, I settled beside him, keeping quiet watch over the sleeping demon.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hunched over the motel desk, I jotted notes on a pad of white stationary. My phone was propped beside me, the MPD app open on the screen. I’d spent the better part of the last two days researching every guild and mythic in the country that specialized in mythic history, knowledge, or magical study, plus everything I could find about Demonica.

The MPD archives weren’t my best source of information, but it was all I had to go on. Once Tahēsh was dealt with, I’d visit these guilds and begin building out the puzzle of demonic gateways—or however demons entered and exited our world.

Beside my phone was a thick textbook—The Complete Compilation of Arcane Cantrips—pulled from my suitcase. In between research, I’d been reviewing its contents. Cantrips were the weakest form of sorcery but they were all I knew and recent events had convinced me to refresh my memory.

With nothing exciting going on, I’d expected Zylas to drive me insane, but he’d turned out to be an extremely accomplished lounger. During the day, he hid on the motel roof and absorbed as much sun as he could through the persistent cloud cover. In the evenings, he entered a sort of “low-power mode,” where he lazed around the room, cat-napping and recuperating strength.

At night, Amalia insisted he return to the infernus. I was glad she’d taken that stance because I hadn’t wanted to tell Zylas that neither of us could sleep with his crimson eyes glowing in the corner. He’d be delighted to learn he was extra terrifying in the dark.

He was currently sprawled across my bed on his stomach, face in my pillow. His armor was back on, and he’d repaired the damage to the leather and metal with a series of fine-tuned spells that I was dying to learn more about. Demon magic was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was as powerful and complex as Arcana spellwork, but as fast as elemental magery.

Adding a final guild name to my list, I sighed at the daunting scope of this task. Cracking the mystery of demonic gateways, which had gone unsolved for centuries or maybe even millennia, should’ve had me freaking out, but I was as quietly excited as I was intimidated. Uncovering ancient history was one of my favorite things ever, and it was the best sort of excuse to read all kinds of fascinating new books. Yeah, I was that much of a nerd.

But it wouldn’t be a quick process, and I hoped Zylas would be patient.

As though my thought had woken him, he rolled over and sat up, his attention turning to the door. A moment later, the handle clacked. Amalia slipped inside, a takeout bag hanging off her arm, and bolted the lock.

“Ugh,” she grunted, dropping the bag on the desk beside me. “Would you believe some creeps in a car followed me to the bus stop?”

I opened the takeout bag to find two containers of Chinese food. “What did they do?”

“Nothing … just followed me. The bus came right away, so I didn’t have to wait around.” Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she lifted out a box and a pair of chopsticks. “I got you sweet and sour chicken.”

“Thanks.” I cracked the box open and dug into the rice with a fork. “How did it go at the guild?”

“Tae-min is pissed you won’t come in.” She shrugged. “But what’re you gonna do? We can’t tell him your demon got his ass kicked.”

I regretted informing Amalia how badly Tahēsh had beaten Zylas. It’d only confirmed her suspicion that he was a weak and useless demon.

The demon in question appeared beside me, but he didn’t acknowledge her taunt. His attention was fixed on my takeout box.

“Any updates on the demon hunt?” I pulled out a napkin. “I can’t believe Tahēsh has evaded capture for three days now.”

“They aren’t going to capture the demon,” Amalia corrected with a roll of her eyes. She used her chopsticks to lift a tangle of noodles out of her container. “They’re going to kill it. Also, do you have to do that?”

I glanced up, then resumed scooping a few bites of saucy rice onto the napkin. I handed the sample to Zylas. He examined the offering, smelled it, then dumped it in his mouth and swallowed. I’d told him several times he’d get more out of food if he chewed it but he wouldn’t take my advice.

As soon as he was done, I plucked the napkin from his hand. He had a terrible habit of dropping literally everything on the floor when he was done with it. At least he wasn’t burning things like he had in the summoning circle.

As I stuffed the garbage in the bag, Amalia made a disgusted noise. “He doesn’t need food. Why are you wasting it on him?”

“Because he likes to try it,” I said simply. He wanted to taste anything I ate—except meat. Apparently, meat from this world tasted as bad as my blood and he was going full vegetarian for the duration of his earthly visit. “So? The hunt?”

“Quit indulging him. He’s already useless. You don’t need to—hey!”

In one swift move, Zylas had plucked her takeout container from her grasp. He dug his hand into it, lifted a glob of noodles, and tipped his head back to drop them in his mouth.

“That’s mine, you horned freak of—ahk!”

Her chair tipped over backward and she slammed into the floor. Zylas unhooked his barbed tail from the leg and swished it innocently as he licked sauce off his fingers.

Amalia clambered off the fallen chair. “You promised not to hurt me if I helped Robin!”

“But are you helping?” he crooned malevolently. “Are you useful? How?”

Her jaw clenched, fear dilating her pupils.

I grabbed her noodle box from Zylas in case he was planning to drop it. When I held it out to Amalia, she stepped back.

“Not after he stuck his hand in it. Yuck.”

I offered my sweet and sour chicken instead, and her eyes widened in surprise. She hesitated, then took it. I dug my fork into her noodles. Yeah, Zylas had touched them, but … whatever.

“Demon hunt?” I prompted yet again.

She picked up a chicken bite with her chopsticks. “The body count is rising. Several combat teams have engaged it, but no one has had much luck.”

My stomach twisted with guilt. As I’d feared, Tahēsh had escalated to killing his mythic hunters. I unenthusiastically hefted a forkful of slimy noodles, no longer sure I could stomach any food. “I don’t understand what Tahēsh is doing. Why is he only roaming around the Eastside? He could go anywhere. He must have a goal or purpose in mind.”

I glanced at Zylas, hoping he had a theory, but he was observing Amalia like a kid about to step on an ant hill.

“Does it matter?” she asked with a shrug. “Maybe he can’t get away anymore. One team reported that the demon is injured and can’t fly well.”

“Injured?” Zylas repeated unexpectedly. “What injuries?”

“A broken wing and a damaged hand, according to the report. Its injuries aren’t really slowing it down.”

Zylas’s eyes gleamed. He wandered to the window, his tail snapping back and forth.