Chapter 2

Sometimes, being a shrimpy waif of a twenty-year-old girl came in handy. My acting skills weren't great, but I hadn't needed to fake my tearful, hand-wringing apologies to the librarian. Nor had it been much of a stretch to insist that I hadn't broken the door. I'd been on my way to the bathroom when I noticed it was open. That's all.

Deciding I was too young, innocent, and wimpy to break through magically locked doors, she'd sighed, told me to leave, and started inspecting the restoration room for anything missing. Thank goodness I'd stopped Zylas from breaking the cabinet's padlock.

Thirty minutes later, I was getting off a bus in the shabby Downtown Eastside. The chill air threatened rain and I pulled my jacket tighter against the December wind. With no desire to linger, I hurried past a rundown bike repair shop and a tattoo parlor with barred windows.

Twenty yards ahead, a three-story, cube-shaped building squatted between a small parking lot and a construction site, its shadowed doorway almost lost in its blank fa?ade. Pulling out my phone, I checked for messages—none—then sent a quick text to Amalia, reminding her not to be late.

Steeling myself—this was my guild and I shouldn't be afraid of it—I approached the door, a faded crow and mallet painted on the black wood. Above it, Old English lettering spelled out, "The Crow and Hammer." It'd been over a month since I'd first set foot inside, and I'd only been back a few times. Partly because I'd caught the worst flu of my life—probably a result of all the preceding stress—and partly because… well…

With an unsteady breath, I reminded myself I was a badass demon contractor and pushed the door open. Sound rolled out, chattering voices welcoming me into the warmth and light. I slipped inside.

The pub was both cozy and spacious. Wooden chairs surrounded the polished tables, and dark beams crossed the ceiling. Opposite the door, a bar stretched across the pub's back wall, stools lined up in front of it. A huge steel war hammer was affixed to the wall above the liquor cabinets.

I moved toward the nearest table, keeping well away from the small groups of mythics around the bar. Everyone was busy catching up, laughter peppering the exuberant conversations. Tonight was the guild's monthly meeting, and every member was gathering for a solid hour of updates, presentations, and group training.

Rubbing my hands together to warm them, I allowed myself to relax. This wasn't so bad. The atmosphere was a thousand times better than at my last guild. I even dared to unzip my coat and hang it on the back of a chair.

No one had noticed me, and I was perfectly okay with that. Being noticed was one of my least favorite things, especially when everyone here knew everyone else—and I knew no one.

The guild door swung open with the cheerful jingle of a bell. A tall, willowy woman a bit older than me and an even taller, ruggedly built man waltzed in. Her dark hair hung loose around her, and his was pulled into a shaggy topknot.

"We're here!" the guy called. "Not even late this time!"

Chuckles ran through the guild, faces turning toward them and hands waving in greeting.

"Kier, Kaveri!"

"Whoa, they're on time!"

The couple swept toward the group. The newcomers hadn't spotted me, but with their entrance, others had. I couldn't lurk in the corner any longer, not without looking like a total weirdo. Gulping, I trailed after the couple, each step carrying me closer to the terrifying prospect of social interaction.

I scanned the Crow and Hammer mythics. Ranging from eighteen to middle-aged, many of them exuded an air of toughness. Instinctively, I veered toward a group closer to my age, but when I met their eyes, hostility hit me like an icy wave.

Thatwas the other reason I hadn't spent any time at the guild.

"Well, well," drawled a large man with brown hair and a thick beard that made his age difficult to guess. "If it isn't the little contractor."

Beside him, a guy with a rangy build and a wide smirk scanned me from head to toe as though debating whether he could pick me up with one hand.

A woman in her mid-twenties pushed between them, her pale blond hair damp as though she'd just showered. "We were wagering on whether you'd show. You haven't turned up for anything else."

Had I missed guild events while I'd been sick? No one had contacted me about anything.

Fighting not to hyperventilate, I dragged my gaze upward. "I didn't mean to miss anything, but I was—"

"I didn't hear a word of that," she interrupted loudly. "Speak up."

My face burned and I couldn't stop my hunch. Gripping the hem of my black sweater, I tried to respond but my mind had gone blank. I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

"You're a mysterious one," the rangy guy said. "We haven't heard a thing about you. How did you get into Demonica?"

I peered up through my bangs, squeezing my sweater tighter as I tried to determine if he was genuinely curious or about to humiliate me.

"Well?" the big guy demanded, stepping closer. "What's your training background? How long have you been contracting?"

Thosequestions were definitely not friendly.

"You killed the unbound demon, didn't you?" The blond woman sniffed dismissively. "How did you manage it?"

By letting my illegally contracted demon do all the work. But I couldn't say that. They were waiting expectantly so I muttered, "The unbound demon was already injured."

My response did not impress them.

The big guy sneered. "Why are you a contractor, anyway? What use does a little girl like you have for a demon?"

I flinched, wondering if I should make an excuse to leave. But where would I go? Attendance was mandatory.

"Who ordered the Moscow Mules?" The female voice rang out over the chatter. "Come get 'em before I throw them at you!"

Jolting, I peeked toward the bar, my view blocked by mingling guild members. Was that the bartender shouting? Was she allowed to threaten people like that?

The large man stepped closer, towering more than a foot over me. The handful of mythics looking our way wore neutral expressions, and no one was jumping to my defense. I could hear it in the undertone of conversations around me, in their aggressive questions: Outsider. I was an intruder in their guild.

Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I pressed my lips together before their trembling betrayed me.

"Hey, new girl!"

I started a second time. Was that voice calling to me? My gaze slid past unfamiliar faces and found one I actually knew. Sort of. Not really.

"Over here," the red-haired bartender ordered imperiously.

I blinked in confusion—but I wasn't about to argue. Ducking around the large man, I hurried past another group and stopped uncertainly at the bar. The woman pointed at the stool across from her, so I climbed onto the seat and braced my toes on the footrest.

She assessed me with sharp hazel eyes, her nose and cheeks dusted with freckles. Her wild curls were damp and shiny—why did half the mythics look like they'd just left a swimming pool?—and hung past her shoulders. Six weeks ago, I'd seen this woman during a demon attack. After Zylas had killed Tahēsh, she'd jumped into a car with three men and fled the scene.

As far as I was concerned, she was the suspicious one, but she was peering at me as though she could peel back my skin with the force of her gaze. Her eyes narrowed to amber-green slits.

Then, to my shock, she offered her hand. "I'm Tori."

She was the first person to introduce herself.

I took her hand and gingerly shook it. "Robin."

"Want something to drink?"

An actual polite question? "Um—"

"Hey!" The big, aggressive man shouldered a small guy with round sunglasses out of his way. His glower said all too clearly that I wasn't getting out of our "conversation" that easily. "Where's your infernus? Are you even a contractor or just a wannabe pretending—"

"Darren, shut your hole before you contaminate my bar with your stupidity."

My jaw fell open, and my gaze swung to Tori.

The big guy whirled on her. "I'm just asking what everyone else is think—"

"No one asked you, dipshit."

My eyes popped wider.

Tori glared at Darren, then leaned toward me. "Don't let him push you around."

Push me around? My gaze darted to him, then to the cold blond woman, the smirking guy, and the others who hadn't made a single move to defend their new member. Again, I was struck by their understated toughness, the rough edge hidden under unassuming exteriors. I'd thought this guild was far softer than the Grand Grimoire, but maybe I was wrong.

Zylas, are you paying attention? I silently asked as I cautiously reached under the neck of my sweater and closed my fingers around the cool silver pendant. Withdrawing the infernus, I settled it on my chest. Darren's gaze followed it, his expression torn between curiosity and derision.

"Would you like to see my demon?" I asked him. "Right now?"

He crossed his arms over his thick chest. "Yeah, let's see it."

I ran my thumb across the infernus. Let's play the game, Zylas.

The pendant blazed with crimson light. Power spilled down, hit the floor, then pooled upward into my demon's shape. The glow flared into solidity, then faded. Zylas stood still and silent, staring blankly at nothing in a flawless imitation of an enslaved demon with no autonomy.

Despite his ornery defiance, Zylas was nothing if not intelligent. He knew this moment was too crucial for disobedience. Both our lives depended on his acting skills.

At his appearance, gasps flew through the pub and I resisted the urge to shrink. We had everyone's attention now. They were staring at Zylas, measuring him, judging him, and all he could do was stand there and endure it. At least no one laughed this time.

"Seriously?"

Or maybe the laughter hadn't begun yet.

"This is your demon?" Darren planted his feet almost on Zylas's toes, smirking into the demon's face. "I've never seen such a small, pathetic demon in my life!"

The blond woman mock-whispered to the rangy guy, "Do you think she got it for cheap because it's a runt?"

When Darius, the Crow and Hammer's GM, had allowed me to join, I'd hoped this guild would be different from the Grand Grimoire, but maybe all guilds were the same. Maybe Zylas and I were too small and weak for anyone to respect.

The barbed tip of his tail gave the tiniest twitch, unnoticed by the watching mythics.

"Forgetting something, dumbasses?" Tori's acidic snap cut into my thoughts. "Robin and her demon killed the unbound one on Halloween. Obviously they're not weak."

She was defending us?

"Not weak?" Darren scoffed. His hand rose toward Zylas. "This thing couldn't—"

Uh-oh, not good. "Don't touch him."

Darren's reach stuttered, then he boldly rammed his palm into Zylas. The demon didn't move and Darren stumbled backward, thrown off balance. He shook his head and glanced at his hand, as though confused about how his powerful muscles had failed to affect the shorter, lighter demon.

He thought we were weak. No one here respected us. Unwelcome and disregarded… but what had Tori said? Don't let him push you around.

I pressed my thumb against the sigil at the center of the infernus. Zylas?

I didn't need to finish the thought—his hand was already closing around Darren's throat. With strength the mythic could only dream of, Zylas swung him off his feet and slammed him down on the bar.

Not too rough,I warned.

He bent Darren backward over the bar. The mythic spluttered and flailed helplessly. Everyone else had withdrawn, shock and fear on their faces. I hated that we had to prove our strength, but this was much better than last time. Zylas was making the proper impression without having to pound half the guild into the floor.

I straightened my glasses, turned toward the bartender, and forced a smile. "Could I have a water, please, Tori?"

Her mouth hung open, and her gaze darted between me and Zylas. Pulling herself together, she flashed a grin that caught me off guard, then plunked a glass on the counter. Zylas held Darren against the bar, still as a statue and probably bored out of his mind. Pinning people down wasn't nearly violent enough to entertain him.

One more minute,I told him. Then—

His head jerked up.

Like a startled herd of deer, every nearby mythic jumped away. What was he doing?

Back in the infernus!I commanded urgently.

Crimson light rushed across him, softening his form, and the power swept into my infernus. As he disappeared, I tucked the pendant away and glanced around, hoping no one would question the way my demon had suddenly looked up. Darren stumbled away from the bar, rubbing his bruised throat.

I peeked in the direction Zylas had looked.

Three men stood at the end of the bar. The redhead in the middle, tallest by an inch or two, watched me with intent blue eyes, his handsome features unmarred by his frown. On his left was a dark-haired man with a leaner build and looks that had skipped handsome and jumped straight to smoldering perfection. His expression was inscrutable, his dark eyes drifting past me. The third man, falling between the heights of the other two, ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair, his bronze skin interrupted by a scar that ran from his left temple, across his eye, and into the hollow of his cheek.

I recognized them too: the three men who had fled with Tori after Tahēsh's death. And hidden among them was a demon.

I didn't know how it was possible, but Zylas was certain. A third demon had been present that night, one that wielded powerful magic. The unknown demon's scent had been all over Tori and these three men.

A water glass, rattling with ice, slid in front of me. I looked up.

Suspicion burned in Tori's eyes, her full lips pressed thin. She knew Zylas had done something strange. She'd seen him battle and slay Tahēsh with more speed and ease than a contracted demon should be capable of.

But I'd watched her and her companions flee the scene. I knew they were concealing a demonic secret of their own.

I wrapped my hand around the cold glass and gave her the smallest nod. She shifted her attention to a mythic waiting to order, and as she asked him what he wanted, I let out a shaky breath. This guild was supposed to be my haven, but it might be a viper pit in disguise.