“I don’t trust him. He must have an ulterior motive. Otherwise, why would he let you into his guild knowing your demon is out of control?”

I didn’t let her pessimism dampen my hope that the Crow and Hammer would be everything the Grand Grimoire hadn’t been. “Zylas has been behaving himself really well.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” She pointed. “Is that the place?”

Across the street, a square building with a brick fa?ade rose three stories, its dark front door hiding in the shadows of a recessed entrance. We crossed the quiet road and stopped in the alcove. Painted on the old wooden door was a crow, wings flared aggressively, perched on a war hammer.

My nerves ratcheted at the faint music leaking through the door. “Amalia …”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for sticking with me.”

She grimaced at the door, struggling internally with something. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Huh?”

“When Red Rum had us. You and that speedy demon of yours could’ve run for it, but you saved me instead. You two came right for me when you burst out of that shipping container.” She blinked at the ground, avoiding my eyes. “My own dad ditched me to protect himself and my lousy stepbrother straight up betrayed me. But even though I’ve been a bitch to you, you still saved me.”

Her gray eyes met mine. “I think I’d rather stick with you than go back to those worthless cowards.”

An amazed smile spread across my face, and she returned it.

“Though,” she added, “Zylas makes me damn nervous. Have you figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out?”

“How he’s interpreting the protection clause of your contract.”

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “We already know that. Protecting me means he can’t hurt me or put me in danger, which is why he mostly does what I ask.”

She’d started shaking her head before I’d finished. “Robin, didn’t you notice?”

“Notice what?”

“When Red Rum was forcing you to give up your contract,” she said, “Zylas caused them to cut your throat. If the contract prevented him from endangering you, he wouldn’t have been able to move while that knife was anywhere near your neck.”

“Wait … what?” I suddenly felt dizzy. “I don’t understand.”

“It means we have no idea what he can and can’t do under the contract.” Her stare pierced me warningly. “But you need to figure it out.”

I was still gaping at her when she knocked on the guild door.

Wild questions spun through my mind and I almost missed the door opening, but the shocking sight of Darius with a long beard derailed me. As he invited us in, I realized he was in costume, along with the dozen or more people gathering around the entrance. A Halloween party. Were Amalia and I supposed to be in costume too?

The thought scarcely registered, my mind consumed with bigger worries than whether I was dressed correctly.

Zylas had put me in danger. Did that mean the contract wasn’t stopping him from letting harm befall me? No coercive magic was forcing him to behave like an enslaved demon, to obey me, to promise not to harm my allies?

Girard, the volcanomage Alistair, and a woman in a scarecrow costume—the assistant guild master, I remembered—were welcoming me and Amalia to the guild. I barely heard them.

Was Zylas choosing to do all those things of his own free will? How did the contract bind us, then?

Darius faced the gathered mythics. He was speaking to the small crowd.

Where was the line between contract and choice?

Gesturing to Amalia, Darius proudly introduced her as an apprentice sorceress.

Why would Zylas go to such lengths to keep me safe from all danger if the contract wasn’t forcing him?

Darius reached around Amalia.

Why?

His hand closed on my shoulder and he pulled me to the front. All eyes fixed on me and I froze as a surprised murmur rippled through the assembled guild members.

“And this,” Darius announced, “is Robin Page, our very first demon contractor.”

Gasps whispered through the mythics. Quaking where I stood, I forced myself to look up into the shocked faces of my new guild mates, and my gaze caught on a pair of wide hazel eyes. The redhaired woman stared at me, her lips parted in what might have been horror.

I recognized her.

Three handsome men surrounded the woman, and I recognized them too—one with copper hair and blue eyes, one with black hair and dark eyes, and a third with curly brown hair and a bold scar that cut down the left side of his face.

Those four were the mysterious bystanders who’d witnessed Zylas’s defeat of Tahēsh. The ones who’d fled the scene immediately afterward, racing away in a red sports car. The ones who Zylas had said carried the scent of a third demon—the unknown, unseen, powerful demon that had wounded Tahēsh when Zylas couldn’t land a single blow.

I stared at the four mythics, and they stared back at me.

This guild had far more secrets than I’d realized, and keeping my own safe and hidden had just gotten perilously complicated.