Chapter 27

As one, the three demons went completely, unnaturally still. Their magma stares were blank, their bodies as motionless as flesh statues.

"N-no," Xanthe stammered. "No!"

Aaron leaped over a cooling lava fissure. Sharpie's blade glowed red with heat, flames licking the steel. He swung the weapon at the nearest demon's neck. The super-heated blade passed clean through flesh and bone.

The demon's headless body collapsed to the ground with a dull, heavy thud.

Xanthe's weight vanished from my back. Her shoes scuffed across the ground, then broke into a pounding run. I lurched up—and gagged as agony burned through my shoulder. Half blind with pain, I broke into a run, my blurred vision locked on her.

The gap between us widened. She was escaping.

She skidded to a halt. Her arms flew up, and she cringed backward. "No!"

Terror laced her high-pitched cry. My steps slowed, my gaze jolting over the dark, empty street for whatever was scaring her.

Then I saw them—the mob of combat-geared mythics streaming toward us.

For a terrifying instant, I thought they were cult reinforcements. Then I saw the woman at the head of the line, her long ponytail swinging with each step and a silver badge displayed on her chest.

Agent Lienna Shen. And the mythics with her—

"Pandora Knights!" she called. "Take the west side. Odin's Eye, take the east. SeaDevils, set up a triage immediately."

I stood in the center of the street, numb with disbelief as thirty mythics sprinted past me on either side, rushing toward the flashes of magic, booming bursts of power, and cries of pain that still echoed from the battlefield behind me.

They sped past, and then it was just me… and Xanthe. The cult leader cringed where she stood, hands gripping her head and fingers digging into her skull.

A footstep crunched, the sound almost lost in the weak patter of rain, and I realized there was one more mythic here.

Kit walked down the center of the street, his hands in his pockets and his badge hanging around his neck, the small shield gleaming. His stare was locked on Xanthe.

Choking on a terrified sob, she sank to her knees.

"Isn't it fun?" His voice was quiet, devoid of humor or snark. "Messing with people's minds."

"Stop it," she gasped, still clutching her head. "Make it stop. Please."

He halted six paces away from her. "Not so fun when it's happening to you, is it?"

"Please," she whimpered.

I pushed forward. As I lifted my last ruby artifact over my head, I murmured, "Ori decidas."

I pressed the artifact against the back of her neck, and she crumpled bonelessly. As she thudded to the pavement, Kit pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. He snapped them around her wrists.

His blue eyes rose to mine. "You okay?"

I belatedly noticed I was trembling. "Um. More or less. Where did you come from?"

"The precinct?"

"Did you…" I squinted. "What happened with Agent S?ze and the damnation order thing?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Ignorance is bliss, my friend. You should go find a healer. I'll handle her."

"Oh… yeah, okay."

In too much pain to press him for answers, I left him with Xanthe and walked back toward the intersection. Sound filtered into my ears, gradually registering in my brain.

Gone were the blasts and screams. Instead, I heard raised voices calling to each other and the occasional clank of steel. No more magic flashed, and dark shapes moved about the intersection with purpose. The other guilds had subdued the last of the cultists.

Was it over? Really, truly over?

Xanthe's three winged demons lay on the ground, headless and macabre. The silver war hammer was still abandoned on the pavement, its crushing end splattered with rain-streaked blood.

My foot landed on something soft instead of the wet, crunchy grit that coated everything. Purple fabric.

Bending down, I picked up the Carapace. It hung from my fingers in a very mundane way, the fabric shimmery and soft like a blend between cotton and silk, but it didn't glow or sparkle or float eerily. Regret punctured my numb bubble and I spread the fabric out, my shoulder burning.

An almost indiscernible shimmer ran across the cloak, the faint sparkles dancing like midnight stars.

I lowered the Carapace—and blinked as a thick smear of shadows condensed in front of me.

Zak stepped out of the dark nothingness. His leather jacket was tattered, tears in the fabric wet with blood. His face was pale but his eyes glowed with fierce fae power.

Alarm pricked me. "MPD agents are here. You need to leave."

"I know," he said in a low rasp. "I just had to make sure you weren't dead."

"I'm not dead."

"Yes, I noticed." His eyes flicked over my face. "I'll see you again."

It wasn't quite a question, but his inflection lifted on the last syllable, revealing his uncertainty.

I wanted to ask him what he'd offered Lallakai in exchange for the power to defend my guild. I wanted to demand that she release his body and soul from her heartless talons this very moment. I wanted to beg him to cut ties with the toxic fae forever.

But not only did I have no time to broach those questions, but his problems weren't mine to solve. As much as I wanted to help him, some burdens couldn't be shared. Lallakai was deeply entrenched in his life, his past, and his magic, and he was the only one who could change that.

I swept the draping fabric of the Carapace together and rapidly folded it. It compacted into an unnaturally small, heavy square like it usually did.

Grabbing his wrist, I pressed the fae artifact into his palm. "I know you told me to keep this, but you need it more."

"I already told you I can't use it without sacrificing—"

I tightened my grip on his wrist. "The day is coming when you'll need it, Zak."

His eyes narrowed, and I wondered if I was imagining the flash of anger in them that could only belong to Lallakai. He considered me for a moment longer, then curled his fingers over the artifact.

Releasing his wrist, I threw my arms around him, ignoring the flare of pain in my injured shoulder.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for protecting my friends."

His arms wrapped around me and, for two long heartbeats, he crushed me to his chest.

"Come visit me soon," I added, my throat tight. "Hoshi and I will need a new familiar bond and I want you to do it this time."

"All right," he murmured.

I stepped back, a hand on his shoulder as I stared up at his face, hoping Lallakai would hear my next words. "If you need help, I'm always here."

He nodded. The shadows swirled around him, and Lallakai's transparent wings lifted off his arms. They swept around him and he vanished.

I gulped my heart down, my hand curled around the purple crystal resting on my chest. I needed to find my ruby fall spells—but first, I needed to locate my three mages.

I turned—and there they were. Ezra, striding toward me through the smoke and rain. Aaron followed him, Kai's arm over his shoulder as the electramage limped. Scorched, scuffed, bloody, hurting, exhausted. But alive.

My knees weakened with relief. I stumbled forward.

Ezra caught me, sweeping me into him. I buried my face in his shoulder, shaking. Aaron and Kai joined us, standing close, and none of us spoke. We didn't need to.

We were alive. We were together. That's all that mattered right now.

A quiet disorder filled the intersection. Bits of debris crumbled off the surrounding buildings, their windows shattered, walls smashed, and burst pipes spewing water onto the already drenched streets. The light rain continued to pepper everything, keeping the merrily dancing flames of many small infernos in check.

Mythics from the Pandora Knights, Odin's Eye, and the SeaDevils hurried among the injured and fallen, calling for healers or helping battered combatants clamber painfully to their feet. Among the rubble, a handful of Crow and Hammer members who'd waited out the battle inside the guild assisted them.

The surviving Keys clustered up, and small groups moved among their fallen, searching for survivors. Another group sat along a cracked, scorched wall, their arms bound and weapons confiscated. Blake and Tyrone stood side by side in front of the captured men, conferring together and calling orders.

Reluctantly, I lifted my cheek from Ezra's shoulder. As much as I wanted to collapse in a corner somewhere and pass out for ten or twelve hours, we had one more loose end to sort out: Xever.

We split up. Ezra, whose stamina had yet to recover after his recent injuries, supported Kai, who was limping even worse, and together they headed back toward the guild. Aaron and I briefly scoured the intersection, then ventured down the street where I'd last seen Zylas chasing Nazhivēr.

My tired feet dragged as we headed farther from the intersection, the noise and bustle of people fading until the only sound was the falling rain. There was no doubt we were heading the right way. Fissures split the pavement. Shattered walls. Gaping holes in buildings. The battle between demons had been intense and violent.

"Up ahead," Aaron murmured.

Squinting, I spotted them. Two figures stood beside a third who seemed to be sitting on the ground, hunched over.

As Aaron and I approached, one of the upright mythics—Amalia—turned toward us. Beside her was Zora, the petite blond sorceress smudged with blood and two huge swords sheathed in an X on her back.

Their comrade on the ground pushed to his feet, and I realized it wasn't one person but two: Zylas with Robin cradled in his arms, her face tucked against the side of his hood.

"You're alive," Amalia observed as Aaron and I walked into earshot.

"For the most part," I agreed, my gaze flicking across Zylas and Robin. "Is she okay?"

Robin lifted her head from the demon's shoulder. "I'm fine. Just… unsteady."

Zylas lowered her feet to the ground and she leaned against him, one hand hooked on his shoulder. The hood of his black jacket-like top shadowed his face, his telltale magma eyes dimmer than usual.

"Xever and Nazhivēr?" I asked quietly.

Robin pushed her tangled hair off her forehead, her eyes even larger without her glasses. "Escaped. Nazhivēr flew off with him."

My jaw clenched with dismay.

"They are not the hunters any longer." Zylas's husky growl sent a shiver down my spine. "Now I will hunt them."

Robin's hand tightened on his shoulder, her gaze rising to his face. "We will hunt them."

The demon's lips curved in a savage smile that revealed his predatory canines. She slid her hand down his arm and took his hand. Turning, she glanced back at me—and her stare was almost as fierce as her demon's smile.

"Leave Xever to us."

With Amalia on one side and Zylas on the other, she walked away. Zora arched an eyebrow at me and Aaron, completely unruffled by Zylas's obvious free will, then turned and followed the trio.

I watched them go, my heart pounding in my throat. How they would find Xever and his demon, I didn't know.

But I had no doubt they would.

* * *

The good news: by some inexplicable miracle, no one from the Crow and Hammer had died yet. I wasn't celebrating—the list of injuries was terrifying, from broken bones to concussions to lacerations to burns to internal bleeding—but the outlook was decent, especially with extra healers on loan from other guilds.

The bad news: we were back in the MPD precinct.

I would've been delighted to never set foot in a precinct again, but that wasn't possible—not when I'd been charged with serious crimes, taken into custody, charged with a dozen more crimes, then mysteriously vanished from lockup.

Standing between Aaron and Kai, I observed in silence.

A long, plain table filled one end of the long, plain room. Four elderly men and women in suits sat behind it, as did a not-quite-elderly man with shoulder-length auburn hair tied back in a ponytail and an ancient woman who wore a patterned knit sweater instead of a suit. They also observed wordlessly.

Across the table from them, Ezra held his hand against a carefully drawn sorcery circle as a wave of pale light rushed over his body and infused the crystal placed in the array. The portly sorcerer who'd prepared the ritual picked up the now ivory-white gem and held it close to his nose, examining it carefully.

"Negative," he announced in a nasal voice. "No demonic contamination."

Ezra lifted his hand off the spell. "Am I cleared of charges?"

The elderly man in the middle nodded slowly and made a note on a paper. "Cleared of demon magery, but your behavior merits further investigation."

Ponytail Man leaned back in his chair. "Based on what, Everett? He was fleeing for his life with a DOD bounty on his head—a bounty you authorized."

"We can examine him more closely after we investigate the circumstances of the indictments and sentencing procedure," Sweater Woman added serenely, hands folded on the table as though she missed her knitting needles.

The centermost man frowned at his paper. "In that case… Ezra Rowe, all charges against you are dismissed. You're free to go."

The aeromage didn't show any relief, but he also didn't waste any time striding over to me, Aaron, and Kai and joining our line.

"Excellent," Darius murmured. "All charges against my guild are dismissed, then?"

I flicked a hopeful glance at the GM, who stood at one end of the table beside the sternly beautiful Captain Blythe.

"Hm," the old man croaked, glancing at his outspoken colleagues. At a glacial pace, he riffled through the papers on his desk. "That may be… ah… but…"

I shifted my feet, resisting the urge to shout at him to hurry. It'd been just over eight hours since our guild had nearly been obliterated. I was aching, exhausted, and my abused shoulder burned fiercely despite my arm resting in a sling.

Unfortunately, shouting at the MPD's Emergency Judiciary Council would be counterproductive to my goal of leaving ASAP.

"The only charges remaining," the wrinkled old relic wheezed, "are those against Miss Robin Page. The accusations of an illegal contract are serious, very serious."

"And lack any proof aside from unreliable witness accounts," Darius interjected smoothly. "As we determined already, the charges against my guildeds stemmed entirely from the Court of the Red Queen's attempt to discredit and destroy my guild before I could uncover their secret operations."

"Exactly so," Sweater Woman agreed, as though nothing in Darius's statement was at all alarming. Not that we hadn't been over it already in this meeting, but it was still shocking to me, so why not her?

The center council member hesitated over his papers.

A slight cough from the far corner of the room.

"Sorry to interrupt." Agent Lienna Shen stepped forward. "I'd like to add that our investigation into the attack on the Crow and Hammer so far indicates that Robin was present, but no one reported seeing her demon."

Nope. And no one would report seeing her demon, because all anyone had seen was a mysterious "demon mage" running around in all black clothing and a hood. Who even knew which side the unknown demon mage had been on?

"Thank you, Agent Shen." Ponytail Man nodded firmly. "Charges dismissed, and we'll leave the rest to you, Captain Blythe. We expect a full report on this week's events, and if further investigation is required, notify us immediately."

"Of course." Blythe cast a flinty look across Darius. "You're free to go… for now."

Darius's smile was faint, but judging by Blythe's suddenly clenched jaw, she hadn't missed it.

Stifling a victorious grin, I hustled after Darius and the guys as they headed for the exit. As we filed through the door, I caught a pair of mischievous blue eyes—Agent Kit Morris, standing in the corner with his partner, Lienna. He smiled crookedly as I passed him.

Darius knew where he was going and led us unerringly to the staircase. As he started down, the guys following eagerly on his heels, the strangest thing happened.

The word "WAIT" appeared in front of my face, glowing like a neon sign.

I jerked to a halt, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Was I hallucinating? Did I need medical attention?

The commanding vision vanished and a voice called my name.

I turned around to find Kit striding down the hall toward me.

He grinned. "Don't look so freaked out. That was me, not you."

Him? He was the reason I'd just seen a disembodied word?

My eyes narrowed. "What sort of mythic are you?"

"I've been told I'm quite charming."

"Huh?"

"I'm a charming sort of mythic, obviously." He held out his hand, fingers curled loosely around a small object. "You should take this."

Brow furrowing, I held up my palm. He dropped a grape-sized white crystal into my hand—the gem that had proved Ezra was Demonica-free.

"I convinced the gremlins that, after all he went through, Ezra should get a souvenir for his trouble. Since they'd already witnessed the test results, they agreed."

Gremlins? Oh, he meant the Judiciary Council. I peered at the crystal. "So why're you giving it to me?"

His humor faded. "Take a closer look."

I pushed the crystal with my thumb, rolling it across my palm. The fluorescent lights overhead shone across the glossy white surface. I flipped the gem over.

On the bottom, a crimson starburst marred the white surface.

"Lienna noticed a similar marking after the first test, too," Kit explained quietly. "She said if Ezra were a demon mage, the crystal would be solid red. If he were a demon contractor, it'd be marbled with red. She can only guess what the starburst means."

My pulse fluttered in my throat. It could only mean there was still a little bit of Eterran in Ezra.

My fingers closed tightly over the crystal. "You hid that mark from the Council, didn't you? Why would you do that?"

"Petty revenge."

"Huh? Seriously?"

"Yep." He pressed a finger to his lips. "So don't tell on me, 'kay?"

Snorting, I pocketed the crystal and turned toward the stairwell. "Later, Agent Morris."

"Later, barkeep."

I hurried through the door and down the stairs. Darius and the guys were waiting for me, and I merely shrugged my good shoulder when Kai asked what had kept me. On another day, they would've pestered me until I answered, but we were all way too tired for that.

As Darius guided us through the precinct's main level toward the exit, I slipped my hand into my pocket and touched the crystal. That crimson starburst…

Whether it was a remnant lingering in Ezra's body or in his soul, a tiny piece of Eterran had survived. His strength lived on in Ezra, and I knew the aeromage wouldn't waste whatever the demon had, knowingly or unknowingly, passed on to him.

Pulling my hand from my pocket, I rushed to catch up as Darius threw open the precinct's front door. Early morning sunlight blazed over us in a wash of amber and gold, the sky a beautiful, clear blue.

As we stepped across the threshold, I caught Ezra's hand and entwined our fingers. He looked down at me, a soft smile on his lips, one eye as warm and sweet as melted chocolate, the other pale as snow and a touch icy.

Would that hint of steely, ruthless power someday fade? Or was it as much a part of him as his aero magic, his scars, and the violent past that had shaped him into who he was?

Only time would tell—and I was more than ready for that journey to begin.