Chapter 2

Thanks to a cold walk home, I was sober enough to hesitate as I swung open the door to my basement apartment. Poised at the top of the steps, I listened.

Silence.

And that was all kinds of wrong.

My hand went to my back pocket, where for eight months I'd carried the Queen of Spades. But my trump card was no more, and I hadn't replaced any of my magical defenses. I didn't even have my phone on me.

Well, if trouble was waiting for me, I'd just have to improvise. With my fists.

"Hoshi," I whispered.

A silver shimmer. She appeared behind me, paws resting on my shoulders and nose bumping my cheek.

"Are there any fae or druids down there?"

She cocked her head, then sent me a blip of dark red. Negative. Thank goodness.

I opened the back door then slammed it shut to make it seem like I'd left the house again. With Hoshi trailing behind me, I tiptoed down the stairs, skipping the squeaky fifth step. Heart thudding with adrenaline, I crept to the bottom, crouched, and peeked down the hallway toward my living room.

There was someone in my apartment. A man sat on my sofa, his back to the hallway, but I recognized that brown hair and those broad shoulders.

The tension left me all at once. I sucked in a deep breath—then let it out in a furious shout. "Justin!"

My brother started violently and whipped around.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" I snarled, my post-adrenaline-rush temper riled real good. "Did you break in? What's wrong with you?"

"I didn't break in," he spluttered, shoving to his feet. "You gave me a key!"

My stomping steps faltered. Oh right. I had given him a key—back when we'd been speaking. Before I'd killed a mythic in self-defense and Justin had unilaterally decided I was a criminal in a magic street gang.

He scrabbled for something on the sofa cushions, then straightened, a cell phone in his hand. "I called you about six times. Why did you leave your phone at home?"

I strode over and snatched my phone from his hand. "Why are you here? In case you forgot, we haven't talked since before Christmas, when you shouted at me that we weren't family anymore and stormed out."

He flinched.

"And," I added, summoning more anger to hide my hurt, "you didn't even respond to my Merry Christmas message."

He stared at the floor, arms hanging limply at his sides.

Heaving a sigh, I headed into the kitchen. "So? What do you want?"

He stopped beside the breakfast bar as I opened the fridge. "I'm sorry, Tori. For what I said …and for everything else."

I straightened so fast I almost clipped my head on the inside of the fridge and goggled at my brother. He wasn't the apologizing type.

"It isn't an excuse, but I—I haven't been coping well with things." He sat heavily on a stool. "Back in August, when you were arrested and I found out you …you'd joined that guild …Sophie had left me a couple weeks before that and I felt like I'd lost both of you."

He scrubbed at his short beard, unable to meet my eyes. "I did a lot of thinking while I was away over Christmas, and I realized I'd handled this all wrong."

Eyebrows scrunched, I pulled cheese and butter from the fridge. "Want a grilled cheese sandwich?"

He smiled weakly. "Sure."

Grabbing a loaf of bread and a cutting board, I started laying out slices. Surreptitiously, I studied my brother. His brown hair was cut shorter than I remembered, the beard I'd convinced him to grow neatly trimmed, but despite his well-groomed appearance, there were dark circles under his hazel eyes.

"You've been a massive asshole," I told him bluntly, slathering butter across the bread.

He nodded.

"I tried to explain things to you, but you wouldn't listen. I tried to introduce you to my friends, but you didn't want to meet them."

Another nod.

"And you've changed your mind about all that?"

"Yes. I want to know everything."

Dropping my gaze to the cutting board, I cut slices of marble cheese and stacked them beside the bread. My chest ached, old wounds and more recent ones reopened by his presence. Part of me wanted to run around the counter, throw my arms around my big brother, and tearfully unload all my pain and fears on him.

Before Christmas and our fight, I would've done exactly that. But now, after so much had happened, I wasn't pouring my heart out to anyone with the potential to add to the beating it'd already taken.

"Well, I'm not explaining anything." Pulling out a frying pan, I set it on the stovetop and turned on the burner. "Not anymore. I gave you a chance—several chances—and you threw it all back in my face. I want things to be right between us again, but I'm done justifying my choices to you."

"How am I supposed to understand if you won't tell me anything?" he asked stiffly.

I spooned a blob of butter into the warming pan, fighting a fresh wave of anger. "Are we family, Justin?"

"Of course. Tori—"

"Then you don't need to understand anything. You just need to be my big brother."

He put his elbows on the counter. "You can't expect me to pretend nothing has changed. I need to know what's really going on."

"Why?" I demanded.

"So—so I can …"

"So you can decide once and for all if I'm a mythic crook?" I pointed my spatula at him. "Is that why you're here? So you can judge me some more?"

"No! I want to fix this, Tori."

I tossed the buttered bread into the pan and let the slices warm. As I flipped them and layered cheese on, Justin watched me, his brow furrowed and jaw set with stubbornness.

I closed up the sandwiches and flipped them again. When the outsides were golden brown and crispy, I slid them onto two small plates and set one in front of Justin.

"Then be my brother," I told him. "Not the moral police."

He looked down at his sandwich, a breath rushing through his nose. "All right."

We ate in silence, weighing each other with our gazes. Justin and I knew each other very well, but our adult selves kept running face-first into our past expectations. He was wondering how hard he could push this grown-up Tori, and I was wondering how far I could trust my once-hero brother with my poor, battered heart.

I shoved the last corner of my sandwich into my mouth. "I'll be busy until next week at the earliest. When I'm free, we should get coffee on your lunch break like we used to."

"What are you busy with?"

I narrowed my eyes, warning him not to go all "interrogator" on me. "A friend needs help. I'll be busy with him."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Yeah, he could not twist up my emotions when I already had so much to deal with, but I wasn't mean enough to say that. "Thanks, but no. I'll send you a message next week."

Recognizing his dismissal, Justin scooted off his stool and stood. He hesitated, then held out his arms hopefully. I circled the bar and stepped into his hug. He squeezed me tightly.

"Missed you, Tor," he murmured.

"Missed you too," I sighed. "Please don't be a dick this time."

He huffed a laugh.

I saw him to the door, shaking my head as he climbed into his shiny, dark blue Dodge Challenger. My brother and his muscle cars. I should've noticed it parked on the curb.

Grinning at the memory of him teaching my seventeen-year-old self how to do a burnout in his old Mustang GT, I hurried back inside. As I hopped the last step, a bush poked up from behind the sofa, followed by a pair of huge chartreuse eyes.

"The human is gone?" Twiggy asked in his high voice.

"Just left." I swept into the kitchen and turned on the tap. It'd need to run for two minutes before I got any hot water. "I'm surprised you didn't scare him off."

"I tried, but he wasn't scared."

I almost dropped the plates I'd picked up off the counter. "You did? What did you try?"

"Spooky noises first." Twiggy walked along the sofa cushions, head bobbing as he searched. "I made the lights go on and off, and the shadows move, but he didn't run away."

He stuffed a long-fingered hand between the cushion and armrest and pulled out a TV remote. Turning to the screen, he pressed a button. The television came on with an ear-splitting blare of sound—an audience cheering.

"Turn it down!" I yelled, dunking the plates in the sink. "What else did you do to Justin?"

Twiggy dropped the volume by a few notches, his eyes glued to the spinning wheel on the screen as the game-show announcer described the prizes on the line for contestants. The faery didn't react to my question, all thoughts of Justin gone from his leafy head.

Rolling my eyes, I finished up the dishes, headed into my room, and pushed up my sleeves. Aaron and I were hitting the road tomorrow, and I needed to pack.

Problem was, I wasn't sure what to pack.

Combat gear, for sure. I hauled it out of my closet and tossed it on my bed. What else? I might need to blend in, so street clothes of several varieties. I rifled through my closet, selecting likely contenders. Crouching, I dug through my shoes, tossing the occasional pair over my shoulder. What else?

Toiletries, I supposed.

When I opened my bedroom door, another blast of sound hit me. A screeching woman on the screen was jumping up and down in hysterical excitement as three beautiful models posed beside the powerboat she'd won. Shaking my head, I wondered if the woman even wanted a powerboat. Did she live near water?

In the bathroom, I pulled out my toiletry bag and loaded it with the usual hygiene supplies. Zipping it shut, I opened my makeup bag and pondered its contents for what I might need. Fake eyelashes? Yeah, no. Been there, done that, and never doing it again.

My fingers drifted past a tube of mascara to a round powder compact. I picked it up, brushed some pink dust off the top, and flipped it open. My pale face frowned back at me in the tiny mirror as I lifted the spongy applicator puff.

Dark metal glinted beneath it.

The demonic amulet lay in the compact, neatly nestled on top of its chain. A ring of creepy sigils encircled a larger symbol in the center—a symbol that matched the one etched into the breastplate of Robin Page's demon.

Vh'alyir's Amulet, Eterran had called it. All I knew was that it could interrupt a demon contract. How the spell worked, why a demon had been carrying it, what the sigils meant, how it was connected to Robin's demon—I had no answers. I'd spent a month searching for answers and found nothing.

Maybe the amulet could save Ezra, or maybe it would give Eterran full control of his body. I didn't know, but if I couldn't find answers in Enright, I would try it. How could I not? Ezra would die anyway. If there was even a tiny chance this could save him …

Replacing the puff, I snapped the compact shut and returned it to my makeup bag. With the two bags tucked under my arm, I walked out of the bathroom—and heard the faint ringing of my phone.

Twiggy's game-show audience let out another eardrum-rupturing cheer as I dove for the counter where my phone sat, the screen alight with an incoming call from an unknown number.

"Turn it down," I called as I fumbled for the phone. The volume didn't change, and as I hit the answer button, I whirled toward the sofa. "Twiggy, turn the TV down before I throw your green ass out the window!"

With a rebellious scowl, he lowered the volume by half.

Returning his glare, I slapped my phone against my ear. "Hello?"

"Tori?" a female voice inquired with a distinct note of uncertainty.

"Who's this?"

"Robin."

"Oh." Why on earth was the petite, mysterious demon contractor calling me? "How are—"

As I spoke, the cheering of the audience swelled.

"Don't you dare turn that up again!" I bellowed at the faery, belatedly pulling the phone away from my face. "Wait until I'm off the phone. Geez!"

Shoulders hunching, Twiggy hit the pause button. The room went blissfully silent.

"Sorry, Robin," I said into the phone as I stalked over to the breakfast bar. "Roommates, I tell ya."

Twiggy shot me a half-pouting, half-pleased look over the top of the sofa. Despite his annoyance at my television tyranny, he loved it when I called him my roommate. It made his little green day every time.

"I just have a quick question, if that's okay," Robin said, her sweet alto voice hollowed by the phone connection.

"Sure. What's up?"

"When we were meeting with Naim at Odin's Eye," she began, "you, um …you had some MDP cases in your folder. I noticed a photo in one, and I was wondering …could I get the case file?"

"Oh?" I murmured, sliding onto a stool. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Our ill-fated appointment at Odin's Eye—which had ended in fire, steel monsters, and getting more up close and personal with her demon than I would've liked—had begun with a friendly interrogation of ex-summoner Naim Ashraf. I'd bluffed him with a folder of MPD cold cases, and as I'd flipped through the printouts, Robin had gone all gaspy over a particular page of photos.

"Sure," I told her. "On one condition."

A wary pause. "What condition?"

"You tell me what's special about that photo."

Another longer pause as she decided what she wanted to tell me. "One of the men in the photo looked like the mythic who summoned my demon."

That wasn't the answer I'd been hoping for. "It doesn't have anything to do with that ancient amulet thingy?"

Ancient amulet thingy—by which I meant the very same amulet hidden in my makeup bag. She'd shown up to our meeting with a perfect drawing of it, claiming it was a medieval infernus she was researching.

"No," she replied firmly.

Too firmly?

"Hm. All right, give me a moment." I hopped up and returned to my room. Where had I left that folder? I wasn't actually investigating any of the files and I probably should've thrown it out, but that would've required a level of organization I didn't possess right now.

I shuffled through a stack of mail on my nightstand. As I opened the drawer, I stepped on a shirtsleeve hanging off my bed. It and my toiletry bag tumbled to the floor. Swearing under my breath, I nudged the makeup bag into the middle of my mattress before it fell too.

"Sorry," I told Robin, pinching my phone to my ear with my shoulder. "I'm in the middle of packing and my place is a mess. I think I buried the folder."

"Are you moving?"

"Huh?" I dug into the drawer, but it was frustratingly folderless. "Oh, no, not that kind of packing. I'm going on a trip."

"Where to?"

Oh, nowhere. Just Enright—you know, the infamous location where the largest group of demon mages in modern history were found and brutally exterminated.

"South," I said, turning toward my closet. "We're leaving soon, so I need to—" As I stepped over my suitcase, my foot caught on the handle and the suitcase landed flat on its face, spilling all three things I'd managed to pack so far.

"Shit." I picked it up, tossed the now unfolded clothes on my bed, and faced the closet again. "What was I …right, the folder."

"Are you going with your friends?" Robin asked. "The mages?"

"Yeah." I shoved a heap of shoes aside, revealing a brown folder lying on the floor. "Aha!"

I remembered now. I'd decided the papers should be shredded, not thrown out, so I'd put them somewhere "safe."

"Got it. Let's see …" I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the folder. "It was a photo of two dudes, right?" I flipped through cases until I found a photo with a pair of men talking. "Here it is. Case 97-5923."

"Thank you."

"No problem. So, you think your demon's summoner is skeevy?"

"I know he's skeevy. Just not sure how much."

Oh, interesting. Did that imply her contract might be on the skeevy side too? Her demon was kind of strange. "Hope that case has some juicy details for you, then. Let me know if you need any help. I owe you one for taking me to see Naim."

"He wasn't any use."

"Yeah, but you still shared your lead with me." My gaze turned to my makeup bag, sitting innocently beside me. Robin was researching the amulet too. Had she found answers I hadn't? What did she know?

When I'd first seen her drawing of it, I'd decided that pressing her for information was too risky—but after Ezra's dip into madness three days ago, the time for caution was well and truly over.

"Robin, can I ask you something?"

"Okay."

"That amulet." I gripped my phone more tightly. "Do you know what it does?"

A pause. "No …I'm trying to learn more about it."

"If you find out anything, will you tell me?"

"Have you seen it, Tori?" Intensity sharpened her voice. "Do you know where the amulet is?"

Shit. I'd said too much. "I have to go." I hesitated, then added, "I'll talk to you when I get back, okay?"

Before she could say anything else, I ended the call. I had no choice anymore. If we didn't find answers in Enright, then Robin and I would be having a chat. She knew something about the amulet, and I'd find out what.

How I'd force information out of the shrimpy contractor was a challenge I'd tackle when the time came. Robin wasn't as timid as she seemed, and she had an unstoppable weapon in the shape of an abs-tastic demon to protect her.

I pushed to my feet and surveyed the disaster that my room had become. Enright and its mysteries first. Then Robin and her unknown knowledge of the amulet next.

One way or another, I would save Ezra.