Chapter 4

My hammering pulse beat against the sword's cold steel edge. The constricting pressure of a rope cut into my elbows, pinning my arms to my sides, and its other end was in the swordsman's free hand. The stocky man with short blond hair standing near my shoulder was completely unfamiliar.

Well, shit. Blake had been right. My phone was no longer in my hand, and I had no clue if our call was still connected.

Ezra, halfway out of the sunken stairwell, stood unmoving, his gaze snapping between the blade at my throat and my captor.

"We finally meet, Enéas."

Without moving, I strained to see the speaker. A second man, tall and rail-thin, stood just beyond the cenotaph ruins, his arms folded over his narrow chest. He wasn't wearing the Court's oh-so-classy scarlet cloak of villainy, but he had the hood of his jacket pulled up, shadows covering most of his face.

"But you don't go by that name anymore, do you?" the man added.

"Who are you?" Ezra's voice was eerily calm—but frost was forming on the ground around him.

"The Magna Ducissa asked us to speak with you."

"Afraid to face me herself?"

The man smiled. "She's a busy woman."

"I'm sure she is."

"We're very pleased you survived, Enéas," the cultist said, sounding more sour than delighted. "If we'd known you escaped Enright, we would've extended a welcoming hand of support many years ago."

"Of course."

The man's thin lips twitched downward as he tried to parse Ezra's flat tone. "We wish to extend that helping hand now to a blessed child of the Goddess."

"Thank you. I accept."

Silence fell over the clearing, and despite the sword poised at my jugular, I almost laughed at the cultists' palpable confusion.

"Are—are you committed to returning to the Court's ways?" the lead cultist asked tentatively.

"Absolutely. You should've invited me sooner." Ezra ascended the last few steps, keeping his movements slow, then pivoted toward me and the blond swordsman. "Tori will come too. She's wanted to experience the Goddess's Light for herself ever since I told her about it."

Oh yeah. Sign me up.

Ezra raised his hand toward me as though indicating the awesomeness that was Tori Dawson and her burning desire to become a cultist. His expression was vaguely pleasant, and only because I knew him so well did I see the slight tightening of his jaw.

He snapped his fingers into a tight fist—and a burst of wind hit the swordsman. He and his blade flew backward, and I rolled in the opposite direction. Launching onto my feet, I sprang over the sunken stairwell. Ezra caught me in mid-leap and swept me behind him.

An instant later, the reedy cultist, the stocky swordsman, and a third mythic had surrounded us in a half-circle, fifteen feet away.

"This will be your only warning," the thin cultist intoned icily. "Return to the Court, or we will have no choice but to silence you."

Crimson light ignited over Ezra's fingers and snaked up his wrists. "Go ahead, then. Silence me."

"Perhaps you don't appreciate the ramifications of your actions. We will—"

Ezra raised his hand, fingers spread. Scarlet light blazed in his left eye and a swirl of magic erupted from his palm, solidifying into a hexagonal spell. Lips curling in a sneer, the cultist shoved his hood back to reveal a long face with flat cheekbones—and eyes sheened with red.

The man was a demon mage.

And I was standing in the wrong spot. No way did I want to be this close to a demon mage duel. I frantically wiggled my arms, trying to loosen the rope cutting off the circulation below my elbows.

The demon mage cultist bared his teeth. "You are a prodigy, Enéas. A child of the Goddess in true union with his Servus. You could become the first true apostle of the Goddess in living memory. Will you throw it away?"

Ezra's spell flared brighter, and when he spoke, a guttural accent had infected his voice.

"Ask your Servus what he thinks of your disgusting fairytale," he growled. "Thāit ad hh'ainun, hrātir."

The glow in the cultist demon mage's eyes flashed brighter, and the man gritted his teeth.

The swordsman surged toward Ezra.

Ezra spun with unbelievable speed and unleashed his spell—spears of crimson light. But the swordsman had already changed direction and dove away, the attack missing him.

I scrambled backward. "Hoshi!"

She burst out of my belt pouch, her silvery glow washing over me.

"Get this rope off me!" I told her urgently, still retreating as the three cultists circled Ezra, none of them willing to get in range of his attacks—but that wouldn't last long.

She ducked behind me and I felt a hard tug on the ropes pinning my arms to my sides.

The demon mage cultist leered at Ezra, then raised his hand. A new spell snaked across Ezra's hand in answer. The demon mage vaulted toward Ezra, then swerved sideways as Ezra flung a blast of red power. It shot past the cultist, hit the ground, and exploded in a rain of dirt clods.

The rope around my arms dropped away.

Ezra spun on his heel and sprang at the demon mage cultist. The third man lunged in, and as the swordsman lifted his weapon, I launched into action.

"Come on, Hoshi!"

She zoomed ahead of me and flashed past the swordsman's face, causing him to pull up short. I jammed my brass knuckles on my fingers as the man pivoted toward me, his lethal blade angling for my chest.

I dove at his legs. As he stumbled back in surprise at my unexpected move, I thrust out my fist and shouted, "Ori amplifico!"

My knuckles hit his kneecap with a horrifying crunch. His leg flew backward from the blow, which caused him to pitch forward—on top of me.

The air puffed from my lungs as he flattened me into the grass. I whipped an elbow into a soft spot in his torso, then shoved up and sideways, throwing him off me. He rolled onto his side, clutching his leg, his face white and eyes bulging.

A few feet away, Hoshi clutched the pommel of his sword, the point dragging on the ground as she floated backward.

As I leaped up, a detonation of red power blasted me right off my feet again. A concussive wave of crimson magic swept out from Ezra, throwing his assailants back. The two cultists slammed down.

"Ori celare caligine!" the third one gasped.

Maroon-tinged smoke boiled out from him. It swept across the clearing, covering ten times the square footage of my smoke bombs. My vision blurred, and I rose into an uncertain crouch.

"Hoshi!"

Her glowing form appeared, and she flicked her tail. A powerful gust of wind blew across me, but the mist barely stirred.

Footsteps thudded loudly, and I tensed. Two shadows appeared, one with gleaming red eyes. The cultists. The sorcerer grabbed his newly gimped pal, while the demon mage swiveled toward me.

I didn't move, painfully aware that he could kill me before I could get my paintball gun out. Hoshi drifted closer, her fear dancing in my mind.

The demon mage sneered, then swept into the mist. His two minions rushed after him, one supporting the other.

I shot to my feet and whipped out my paintball gun, but they'd already disappeared. Shit.

"Ezra?" I yelled.

He rushed out of the mist, left eye glowing. "Where are they?"

I pointed in the direction they'd vanished. "That way."

He hesitated, then shook his head. "This spell is messing with my aero magic. I can't sense their movements."

"Then we find them the old-fashioned way," I declared, marching forward.

I got two steps before he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "No… we should let them go."

"What? Why?"

"Because I think they want us to follow them." His frown deepened. "Or… maybe not, but they want something. They weren't even trying to kill me. The demon mage didn't use his magic."

I holstered my gun as my stomach sank with cold dread. "Then what was the point of ambushing us?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to walk into another trap."

The Court was good at setting traps. Even though our guild had watched this location for any sign of cult activity, it seemed the cult had been spying on us instead. And as much as I hated backing down, I had to agree with Ezra's assessment. Chasing them was stupid, especially when it was just me and Ezra against another demon mage.

But what had the cult wanted—and had they gotten it?