Chapter 7

"Is this the place?" I asked.

Amalia shot me a cold look and I privately admitted my tone hadn't been particularly polite. I was still furious. Right before leaving our apartment this morning, I'd caught Zylas terrifying the kitten again. This time, he'd been crouched in front of her cage, and poor little Socks had been huddled in the back corner, shaking with fear.

I shouldn't have named her. It would just make it harder to take her to the shelter this afternoon.

"Claude's unit is the third one," Amalia said, tucking her phone in her pocket now that we were done navigating. "Do you want to find a spot to call out Zylas?"

Last night, we'd decided to tackle our infiltration of the summoner's home in two phases. First, during the day when the street was busy and loiterers would be less conspicuous, we'd scope out the area and Zylas would check for signs of Claude and his demon. Then we'd go home, plan our attack, and return at night to sneak in.

I glanced around at the rows of neat townhouses facing each other across a narrow street, each identical front door framed by a white railing and three steps. The only differences between the houses were the drapes in the windows and the occasional blow-up Santa Claus or snowman decorating a front lawn. It wasn't as busy as I'd hoped.

"Let's walk down the street first," I decided. "We'll find a back alley and I'll call Zylas out there."

My suggestion had nothing to do with delaying the moment I had to see my demon. Nope, not at all.

Amalia fell into step beside me as we strolled along the sidewalk. I wasn't surprised to see that Claude's townhouse was devoid of Christmas decorations. His blinds were closed and no car was parked out front; he didn't seem to be home. Now that his business partner was in hiding, what was Claude doing with his time? Was he spending every minute searching for Uncle Jack?

"I can't wait for this," Amalia whispered excitedly as we turned the corner. "We're going to catch that rat bastard and find out where my dad is. I can feel it."

I wasn't so sure but I held my tongue as we cut into a back alley.

"Are you going to call Zylas now?" she asked.

Normally, she was the last person to encourage me to bring out Zylas, but as she glanced nervously across the rooftops on either side of us, I knew where her eagerness for a protector came from. In our last encounter with Claude, his demon had choked Amalia unconscious.

"Not yet," I answered as I waved at all the windows that overlooked the alley. "Anyone could be watching."

She frowned but didn't argue. We unhurriedly walked along, the alley bordered by tiny backyards with chain-link fences. The townhouses were nice enough, but any residence in this neighborhood was a far cry from Uncle Jack's oversized mansion. Yet another way in which Claude and Uncle Jack were complete opposites.

As we drew level with Claude's unit, I scanned the empty backyard. The grass behind each property was the same length, which suggested the lawns were maintained by the same company. His yard was empty—no plastic lawn chairs, no grill on the small patio beside the back door.

Was it my imagination, or was the back door cracked open an inch?

"Robin," Amalia hissed. "Do you see that?"

I started to nod.

"The window is broken."

I stopped nodding and scanned the townhouse. She was right. The window beside the door was broken, the gauzy white drapes fluttering in the icy breeze. It was easy to miss; most of the glass was gone, with only a few shards sticking out of the frame.

"The door is open too," I whispered.

"Now will you call Zylas out?"

I reached for my chest, the infernus hidden under my jacket, but voices rolled down the alley. Three people stood on a patio six units down, talking conversationally. No way they wouldn't notice me summon a demon.

"Shit," Amalia muttered. "What do we do now?"

I looked again at the broken window, then pulled the gate open. Projecting confidence, I walked across the grass and onto the patio. My nerves twanged as I strained my ears. No sound aside from Amalia's footsteps on the grass as she followed me.

Ready to call Zylas at the first sign of movement, I pushed on the heavy back door. It swung silently inward, revealing a living room illuminated by sunlight streaking around the blinds.

"I… don't think Claude is here," I whispered.

"Yeah," Amalia agreed faintly.

I stepped across the threshold and onto a forgettable beige rug. Amalia slipped in behind me, and we took in Claude's home.

The living room, with a leather sectional around a gas fireplace, filled one side of the space. On the other side, an oak desk sat near a chaise lounge, and its cushions and accent pillows lay on the rug beside it, their fabric slit and cotton innards scattered everywhere. The desk was empty except for the monitor, severed cords hanging off it; someone had hastily cut the computer free. The drawers hung open, and papers had been dumped all over the floor.

The flat-screen TV was on the floor too, and the drywall around the mount had been punched in. Evenly spaced holes marred every wall, as though someone had taken a sledgehammer around the room and smashed it between every stud. The sofa cushions had received the same tender treatment as the chaise.

"Shit," Amalia muttered.

"I'm thinking Claude wasn't the one who broke into your dad's safe."

"Whoever did that came here next, didn't they?" She gave her head a single sharp shake. "They searched this place from top to bottom. Damn, look, they even ripped up the carpet over there."

"Well." I gloomily unzipped my jacket before I overheated. "We should still check it out. Maybe we'll find something the other guys missed."

"But first, call out your damn demon so he can spring any nasty surprises that might be waiting for us."

Grimacing, I tapped the infernus against my chest as though knocking on a door. Daimon, anastethi.

At my command, glowing light spilled down to the floor and formed the demon's shape. He solidified beside me, eyes already narrowed with fury.

"Someone beat us here and searched everything," I informed him brusquely. "Check the house for danger."

A long moment passed where he didn't react.

Crimson radiance erupted. His body dissolved into light and sucked into the infernus, leaving me and Amalia alone in the townhouse.

"What are you doing?" I growled at the infernus. "Zylas!"

"Now you've done it!" Amalia threw her hands up. "Of course he won't help after that. Ugh."

"Zylas! Daimon, anastethi!"

Red light blazed. It spilled to the floor, reforming his shape—then blurred. The power streaked back into the infernus.

"Get out here, Zylas!"

"You're as immature as he is," Amalia snapped, stomping away. "Let's just hurry up and search this mess."

I glared at her, then shook the infernus, imagining a two-inch-tall Zylas bouncing around inside it like a pinball.

"You're horrible," I hissed at the silver pendant. "Completely useless. We don't need your help anyway."

Amalia's remark about my maturity echoed in my head and I scowled. Dropping the infernus against my chest, I stormed over to the wreckage of the desk. My anger faded into hopelessness as I knelt and gathered the papers. There wasn't much, mostly scraps with handwritten reminders in a masculine print. "Email so-and-so" and "pick up such-and-such."

I shuffled through a few printouts of flights and hotels, all months old. As I tossed them down, a glimpse of white caught the corner of my eye—a page that had slid under the desk. Pinching the corner, I tugged it out and flipped it over.

The MPD logo filled the top left corner, and I recognized the layout immediately—a mythic profile. All registered mythics could be looked up in the MPD archives, though the amount of information displayed depended on your clearance level. Being a nobody, I could see only a mythic's name and current guild. Someone like a GM could see everything the MPD had ever logged.

This page was the latter kind. It showed the mythic's photo, name, age, description, class, guild history, job and bounty history, even criminal charges—none, in this case. I brushed my finger across the mythic's name, utterly bewildered by the familiar face in the photo.

"‘Ezra Rowe,'" I read in a whisper.

The bold white scar that cut down his face from hairline to cheek was hard to forget. He was one of Tori's mage friends who had fled the scene after Tahēsh's death. One of the mythics Zylas had said carried the scent of demon magic.

Getting on my hands and knees, I searched all around the desk. Either Claude hadn't printed out anything on the other two mages, or whoever had trashed the townhouse had already taken the additional printouts. I sat back on my heels, scanning Ezra's profile. What did Claude know about the mysterious three mages who smelled like demon magic?

A clatter sounded from the other end of the townhouse. Rising to my feet, I folded the paper and stuffed it in my back pocket. Lost in thought, I hurried past the staircase and into the eat-in kitchen.

"Amalia, I just found—"

I broke off, my mouth hanging open. That clatter hadn't been Amalia searching the kitchen. It had been the sound of the front door opening.

A strange man swung the door shut with a thump. Tall, thin, with short black hair and opaque sunglasses perched on his nose, the lenses reflecting my white face back at me from across the kitchen. His dark windbreaker was open, revealing a blue sweater underneath. I had no idea who he was.

"What's this?" the man murmured. "A little mouse wandering about?"

I inched backward, silently panicking. I'd been caught breaking and entering. Was this man a mythic? An MPD agent? A friend of Claude's? A—

He used one finger to push his sunglasses up.

—a vampire?

I gawked at his reverse-colored eyes, the sclera black as pitch with a blank white circle in the center. A vampire. A vampire had just walked into Claude's apartment.

"Scared, little mouse?" he breathed.

Only when he spoke did I realize he'd covered half the distance between us. My gaze was locked on his eerie stare and I couldn't look away.

He drifted closer. I needed to move. I needed to run.

"They say ‘fight or flight,' little mouse, but the most common response to a predator"—his lips pulled into a smile, revealing the fangs that curved down from his upper jaw—"is to freeze."

He lunged for me.

"Zylas!" I screamed, throwing myself backward.

Red light blazed over my infernus. Zylas appeared in front of me, hand already snapping out. His open palm slammed into the vampire's chest and hurled the man backward. He landed on the kitchen table, slid across it, and fell off the other side, taking a chair out with him.

Gasping, I stumbled to Zylas. He looked down at me, his glowing eyes cold.

The vampire clambered to his feet and straightened his jacket, his sunglasses gone and creepy eyes taking in Zylas. "The little mouse is a contractor? Hmm."

A shiver ran over me. This vampire was very different from the one Zora had tracked and killed.

He studied us a moment longer, then casually picked up a chair, weighed it with one hand, and hurled it. I shrieked and dove for the floor, landing painfully. Zylas stepped aside and the chair crashed down in the hallway. As I shoved myself up, the vampire shot toward me.

He was attacking the contractor. He thought killing me would eliminate my demon too.

Screaming breathlessly, I lurched away, slipped, and sprawled onto my face. The vampire overshot me and bounced off the wall. He whirled on me again. His fingers had turned to rigid claws, the nails extending to sharp points.

Zylas stood four long steps away, leaning against the counter as he watched us.

Gawking at my demon, I almost missed the vampire's leap. I scrambled under the table, hands slapping against the tile floor, and shoved past a chair.

"Zylas!" I gasped, bursting out from under the table. "Fight him!"

"Na?" He folded his arms, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "But I am useless, payilas. That is what you said."

My eyes bulged in disbelief.

Wood crunched behind me, and I flung myself away as the vampire vaulted across the table. I tumbled over a chair and fell to the floor, my elbow scraping painfully across the rough grout between tiles. I scrambled backward on my butt as the vampire landed on his feet and turned toward me.

His nostrils flared. He opened his mouth, exposing his fangs as a blood-red ring appeared around the white circles that had replaced his pupils and irises. A line of drool spilled down his chin.

My panicked gaze snapped to my elbow, where blood beaded from a shallow scrape.

With a feral hiss, the vampire pounced. I dove back under the table, and the vampire crawled after me. His clawed fingers caught my pant leg. A powerful hand closed around my ankle and the vampire dragged me backward.

"Zylas!" I choked, kicking with my other leg. "Help me!"

I wrenched my leg free and shot out the other side of the table, throwing a chair down behind me to block the vampire. Stumbling on shaking legs, I pressed my back to the wall. I'd come out in a corner. I was trapped.

Zylas ambled around the table, observing indifferently. The vampire shoved past the chair and rose, oblivious to the demon a few feet away. Drool dripped off the vamp's hanging jaw as he stalked closer.

"Zylas," I whispered, cowering against the wall.

A yard behind the vampire, Zylas did nothing. How could he just stand there? He'd sworn—he'd promised—

Fangs glistening, the vampire sprang.

"Zylas!" I screamed. "Please!"

The vampire's mouth flashed toward my throat—then his head slammed into the wall beside me, punching through it.

Zylas gripped the back of the vampire's neck. Tugging the man's head out of the wall, he slammed the stunned creature down on the table. Red magic spiraled over his fingers, forming six-inch talons, and he drove them into the vampire's chest.

The vampire convulsed, then his limbs flopped onto the table.

Zylas swung toward me. He caught my chin and forced my face up as he leaned down. With nowhere to retreat, I pushed deeper into the corner.

"I am no hh'ainun's slave," he hissed softly. "Do not try to make me into one."

I trembled against the wall, lungs empty and head spinning as I waited for him to attack. To turn that crushing strength on me. To unleash his deadly claws. To crunch through my delicate bones.

He released my chin, stepped over the fallen chair, and walked away.

I slumped against the wall, breathing fast. My chin tingled in the absence of his touch and fear trembled through me. My every instinct told me to run, to flee, to get as far away from the dark-haired, crimson-eyed killing machine a few yards away.

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Then another. By the fifth breath, my head was no longer spinning. I pushed off the wall and stumbled past the table. The vampire lay across it. In death, his eyes had turned completely white.

Zylas stood at the counter again, sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose. I stopped beside him and forced my gaze up. Past his bare abdomen, banded with muscle. Past his leather-and-plate armor. Past his tight jaw.

My eyes met burning, arctic crimson. Fighting the deeply ingrained habit, I didn't look away.

"We're in this together," I said tersely, "and whether you think so or not, I'm doing my best to get us where we need to go and learn the things we need to learn. You have only one obligation in all of this—to protect me."

He gazed down at me without expression. My hands curled into fists, anger burning through my fear of confrontation.

"You're bigger than me!" I yelled. "You're stronger and you're faster! I can't make you do anything—except get in or out of the infernus for two seconds! Is that really so offensive to your pride? Is it reason enough to go back on your word? You bully me and disrespect me and torment my only friend and destroy my belongings every day, but I'm still keeping up my end of our agreement!"

"I did not go back on my word."

"You let that vampire attack me!"

"You were not in danger."

Enraged, betrayed tears stung my eyes. "So the bare minimum is all you're willing to do? You'll keep me alive and nothing more?" I paused. "But you expect far more than my minimum effort."

He said nothing, unmoving. Not even his tail snapped back and forth to betray his anger. We stared at each other and I struggled to hold eye contact, unwilling to concede.

His arm swept out, nearly knocking me off my feet—and suddenly, I was behind him. He backed into me, pushing me into the wall. I was too short to see over his shoulder so I squeezed sideways to peer around his arm.

Two new arrivals stood just inside the front door, one propping a sledgehammer on his shoulder. Two pairs of ravenous black eyes, red rings glowing eerily around the white irises, were fixed on us, and the newcomers' fingers were already extending into long, sharp claws.

Two more vampires had just crashed our party.