Chapter 10

The drive from Enright to Portland was two hours, most of it winding mountain roads. Aaron and I didn't even try to talk until we were back on paved highway. I never wanted to see another dirt road again in my life.

"Tori …" he began in his "bad news" voice. "You know this address is even more of a longshot than Enright was, right?"

"I know." I tugged the strap of my seatbelt away from my neck. "We can always go back to Enright to search the ruins again if we have to."

"I doubt we'll find anything, even if we turn the whole place upside down."

Trees flashed past, sunlight sparkling through their branches, and I wished I could enjoy the nice weather. My stomach grumbled, complaining about the insufficient amount of food I'd eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

"You can do what you want, Aaron," I said, staring out the windshield, "but I don't care how bad the odds are. I'll turn over every rock on that property until I find something. I'll knock on every mythic's door in Portland until I find someone who knows about the cult. As long as Ezra is alive, I'll keep searching."

"I know, Tori. I just don't want you to get your hopes up that we'll find something."

"I want to get my hopes up. You and Kai and Ezra lost hope, and that's why you stopped trying."

Aaron's hands tightened on the wheel. "Kai and I stopped searching because Ezra asked us to. He didn't want us wasting our lives trying to save his. After three years of searching, we'd run out of ideas …"

"I'm not blaming you," I said softly.

He was quiet for a long moment, then his gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. "So …do you want to explain what your brother is doing?"

I scowled at the mirror too. An unfamiliar black pickup truck followed a dozen car lengths behind us. Justin, the sneaky jerk, had rented a vehicle so I wouldn't spot his recognizable Challenger.

"Justin wants to mend bridges," I muttered. "And according to Justin logic, putting a tracking app on my phone and following me when I leave town in the middle of the night is a good way to accomplish that."

"Hmm. Well, it's nice that he's finally trying to understand what you have going on, right?"

"Sure, yeah," I replied sarcastically, resting my head against the passenger window. "And he's getting a fantastic crash course in mythics as a result. Demon cults and mass-murders and a terramage-pyromage battle. Great intro."

"He's stayed pretty levelheaded, though," Aaron pointed out. "He even saved our butts against Blake."

I pressed my hands into my seat. Justin had been more useful than I had, and that grated in a big way.

"He got lucky," I growled. "And we only needed him because you didn't use lethal force on Blake first."

"Suppose. He would've been difficult to beat either way."

Kicking my boots off, I pulled my socked feet onto the seat and hugged my knees. "I wish Kai was here."

"Me too." Aaron's blue eyes dimmed. "I've been texting him updates. He said he almost has Makiko convinced, but he's probably deluding himself."

I hesitated. "How about Ezra? Have you talked to him?"

"Yeah, he said this morning that he was going with Darius to spend the day at the guild."

My heart clenched painfully. I'd texted him four times, but he hadn't answered any of my messages. "I screwed up big time, didn't I?"

"It's …" Aaron took a hand off the wheel to rake his fingers through his hair. "I don't know, Tori. Maybe, maybe not. You've only seen glimpses of what it's like when Eterran …"

His jaw tightened, gaze fixed on the road. "The first time Ezra's demon tried to kill me, we were on a job taking down a small band of rogues—us against five mythics. One of them stabbed Kai in the gut. It was bad, and you know how Ezra reacts when one of us gets hurt."

Yes, I was very aware.

"Right then, a telekinetic hit Ezra in the head with a piece of metal. The blow stunned him, and Eterran took over. He obliterated those rogues with one spell—killing them in a flash.

"Then he turned on me. He could've killed me just as fast, but instead, he pinned me to a wall and grabbed me by the throat. He started choking me and I couldn't do a thing to stop him, not without lighting Ezra on fire."

I hugged my legs harder, muscles vibrating.

"It only lasted a few seconds before Ezra regained control, but …" Aaron glanced my way. "You know why Eterran choked me instead of blowing me up in two seconds with magic? So Ezra would have to watch me die, unable to stop it."

I put my chin on my knees, feeling dizzy. I knew Eterran was lethal, but imagining the demon choking the life out of Aaron just to torment Ezra was something else entirely.

"Do you …do you think Eterran could have changed since then?" I asked hesitantly. "Him being inside Ezra has changed Ezra, hasn't it? Maybe Eterran's been changed too."

"I don't know. The demon's power has changed Ezra's body, but I don't know if it's changed his mind. We'll never know what he was like before becoming a demon mage. I've always wondered, though …"

I raised my head. "Wondered what?"

Aaron frowned at the road. "I've wondered what he'd be like if he didn't always have to worry about Eterran and his emotions."

"Yeah," I murmured. "I've wondered that, too …and I've wondered what he would be like if he knew he had a future? Last night, he said …" My throat closed, and I had to swallow before I could continue. "He usually follows along with whatever the rest of us are doing, but what if …"

"What if he wanted something?" The set of Aaron's jaw changed, and his eyes blazed with sudden determination. "If we can do this …if we can save Ezra from his demon, then we'll finally get to find out."

My arms slid from around my legs and I dropped my feet to the floor. Straightening my spine, I faced the road ahead.

If we can do this …

We could. We would. Finally, Aaron was beginning to hope—and I wouldn't let him, or Ezra, down.

* * *

"It should be around here somewhere," I muttered, checking my GPS app against the photo I'd snapped of the scepter envelope mere moments after escaping the underground room with it. The whole "booby-trap fire" experience had inspired me to save the address in a way that wouldn't get burned up.

And good thing too, since Aaron had turned the envelope to ash.

The address was located on the outskirts of a northern suburb of Portland. We'd already driven through the city center—stopping to grab a fast-food lunch on our way through—then crossed the Columbia River. A few more miles and we'd be out in farmland.

The area we were in was nice, featuring one- and two-acre properties with lots of mature trees lining a quiet, rural road. The houses were set well back from the street, with large lawns of neatly mowed grass. It wasn't my jam—way too quiet and boring—but I got how some people would call it idyllic.

"Oh," I exclaimed, pointing at a mint-green cottage-style home. "That's house 496. Two more properties and we'll be at number 500."

Aaron slowed, and behind us, Justin's black truck closed the gap. We rolled along the narrow road, passing a large brown house half hidden behind huge trees.

"Number 500," I muttered.

I could see only a gravel driveway sweeping up a gentle slope before disappearing into a dense clump of trees. As we drove past, I glimpsed a structure that was either a very small house or a very large garage, then the road curved around a bend, cutting off my view.

Aaron flicked on his signal and pulled onto the grassy shoulder behind a mud-splattered, camo-painted jeep. Justin parked behind us, and I reached for my door handle.

The driver's door of the jeep in front of us flew open. I froze as a large man jumped out of the vehicle, faced our SUV, and folded his arms expectantly.

Blake Cogan, the terramage.

"No freaking way," I growled.

Swearing, Aaron shoved his door open, and I scrambled out of the vehicle too. Blake limped to meet Aaron.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the pyromage demanded.

"Took you long enough," Blake rumbled. "Did you stop for sightseeing?"

I halted beside Aaron, hands balled into fists. "How did you—"

"I saw the address before you burned it," he cut in. "And I'm here because the Enright cult is responsible for the deaths of my friends, guildmates, and my career, and if anyone got away, it's my business far more than it's yours. And"—he spoke over my protest—"it doesn't seem to have occurred to you that whoever lives here could be a demon mage."

I hesitated. No, that hadn't occurred to us—because we knew there'd only ever been eleven demon mages. But someone had killed all the cultists, and it hadn't been Ezra. So maybe Blake had a point.

Aaron and I exchanged angrily resigned glances. Blake wasn't likely to let me shoot him with a sleeping potion again, and even if I could manage it, that might draw attention from the nearby homes. Looked like we were stuck with the Keys terramage as unwelcome backup.

Damn it.

We spent a few minutes discussing a plan of attack—or more accurately, Aaron and Blake strategized while Justin and I listened silently. We donned our gear—my belt, tucked out of sight under the hem of my jacket; Aaron's sword, hidden in its case; Justin's taser, concealed in a pocket; and Blake's innocuous "walking stick"—then ventured into the trees on the neighboring property.

Midafternoon wasn't the best time for a stealth operation, and I hoped no one was peeking through their blinds as we walked up the neighbor's driveway, then cut through the trees and approached house number 500 from the side. It was a large, Tudor-style abode with an attached two-car garage. A detached RV garage took up the spot on the other side of the wide driveway.

We made a circle around the property, then crept up to the ground-level windows and spied on the interior like peeping Toms. When we'd seen all we could from the outside, we reconvened behind the massive raised deck in the back, a cute little stream trickling behind us.

"Well?" I whispered.

Aaron rubbed at the faint stubble on his jaw. "They have a very nice home."

"I didn't see any cult paraphernalia—not out in the open, at least."

"They didn't have anything else personal on display either," Justin murmured. "No photos or knickknacks."

His observation surprised me. I hadn't noticed.

"They aren't likely to leave evidence lying around," Blake said impatiently. "The only way to know if the people who live here are involved in the cult is to question them."

I grimaced in reluctant agreement.

"Hold on," Justin cut in. "You don't know that the current homeowners had anything to do with the cult. It's been eight years. Whoever mailed that package probably went into hiding after the rest of their group was killed. You can't assault an innocent family without any evidence."

He had a point—not that I wanted to admit it.

"Let's check the garages and see if there're any cars," I suggested. "If they aren't home, we can break in and snoop around."

Justin shot me a disparaging look, as though BE were hardly better than assaulting innocent civilians.

Aaron had to climb through a bush to peer into the window of the attached garage. He returned with leaves stuck to his pants and reported that the garage was empty. We approached the tall RV garage, and I took one for the team this time, climbing into the bushes to get at the window.

Cupping my hands to the sides of my face, I pressed my nose to the glass. Even blocking the light, all I could see was my reflection. The interior was completely black.

I climbed out of the bushes with a grumble. Now I had bits of dead leaves in my socks to go with the grit in other places. I wanted a shower so badly.

"I can't see anything," I told the three men, joining them in the shadows beneath the trees. "It's blacked out."

"Blacked out as in there are drapes?" Aaron asked. "Or blacked out as in completely covered?"

"I think the latter."

He cracked his knuckles. "Then let's take a look."

We returned to the garage's side door, and he produced a lock pick. Though it took him three minutes to Kai's thirty seconds, the lock clacked and he pushed the door open. Sunlight flooded the interior as we walked in.

I stared around, then cleared my throat. "So …either the new homeowners are highly opposed to redecoration, or the cult member still lives here."

Aaron didn't disagree. Not even Justin could argue.

Though there were windows and overhead doors visible from the outside, on the inside, the garage was an unbroken room. False walls made of plywood sheets covered the other access points, and everything had been painted scarlet—the walls, ceiling, and floor. In the middle of the room, a silver circle ten-feet across gleamed, mimicking a summoning circle but without the Arcane and demonic markings.

A wooden lectern sat at the head of the room, a three-armed candelabra on top of it. Behind the pedestal, a ruby-red tapestry hung from a pole, its center embroidered with the symbol of the cult: a three-pronged crown inside a circle.

Withdrawing my phone, I opened the camera and began snapping photos. A nervous sweat broke out over the back of my neck as I walked to the lectern and stopped behind it. As I aimed my camera across the room, I realized why I felt such disquiet.

A single worshipper might set up their own personal shrine, even going so far as to decorate it. But why include a lectern? Was it an ugly fill-in for an altar, or was this where the cult's leader stood to address his followers?

Except the Enright cult had been wiped out. There couldn't be a leader or followers, not anymore.

As my heart thumped sickeningly, my gaze dropped, scanning the lectern for something to contradict that terrifying assessment. Beneath its flat top was a shallow gap for storing papers or notes, and I hesitantly slipped my fingers into the darkness.

They brushed against paper, and I pulled out a cheap flip calendar, the kind realtors mailed out every Christmas. The cover had been ripped off, revealing January's page. A different day each week was circled in red.

"Aaron?" I called uncertainly, my stare locked on the calendar. "What's the date today?"

"January twenty-fourth."

On the calendar, today's date was circled in red.