My hands tightened and pain flared. I’d balled a few tissues against my cut thumb to stanch the bleeding, but it hurt a lot. “Why didn’t you explain champions to me before?”
“I forgot you didn’t know,” she replied grouchily. “But don’t you think it’s kind of obvious? Controlling a demon in a fight takes concentration. Contractors can’t defend themselves at the same time, so they need a protector.”
And that protector was their “champion,” a mythic partner who guarded the contractor’s back.
“It’s a good thing your crazy demon can fight on its own,” she added, “because I’ll be a useless champion. But remember”—she leaned close and lowered her voice—“if he fights, he can’t use any magic. It’ll be a dead giveaway that he’s not—”
The door behind us opened, causing Amalia and me to jump. We exchanged alarmed looks and I vowed to be more careful about what we discussed in public.
Tae-min stepped outside, accompanied by another man—almost as thick and muscled as Burly, but several inches shorter. “This is George. We’re partnering for the search. Let’s go.”
Since Tae-min was a sorcerer—he’d been waving around sorcery artifacts earlier—that would make George a contractor. The guild was half contractors, half champions.
The officer led us out of the alcove, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I followed him into the cold rain. His car was parked in the alley adjacent to the guild and we piled into it. As the vehicle pulled out onto the quiet road, I hunched in my seat, wishing I could wake from this nightmare.
Thanks to Zylas, there was a demon loose in the city, and every combat mythic from every guild was hunting it. The Grand Grimoire, as the city’s primary Demonica guild, was crucial to the hunt—and Amalia and I were now part of the search effort.
The wipers swept across the windshield, chasing the rain. Six months ago, I’d been living with my parents, going to college, and studying mythic history in my spare time. Two weeks ago, I’d been losing sleep over Uncle Jack stealing my mom’s grimoire.
Now I was bound to a demon, newly inducted into a Demonica guild, and about to hunt the most dangerous adversary a mythic could face. And until I dealt with that, I couldn’t do a thing about the missing grimoire.
* * *
Glumly, I wiped rain off the lenses of my glasses.
Oblivious to the downpour drenching the abandoned intersection, Tae-min squinted at the MPD app on his phone for the “grid” we were supposed to be searching. The entire neighborhood had been cleared for the combat teams hunting the demon, and the MPD was coordinating every team’s search zone.
“Our grid is three blocks,” Tae-min declared, pocketing his phone. “We’ll search it from west to east, then they’ll assign us a new grid.”
“I can’t believe we don’t have central communication yet,” George complained in a chain-smoker’s gravelly voice. “We should have headsets.”
“That’s not in our budget,” Tae-min muttered. “Anyway, let’s split up. Check everything, then come back here. Remember, unbound demons are fast and in full command of their magic. Shout if you see any sign of it.”
With that, he and George strode away.
I stood blankly in the middle of the street. Um … were we supposed to just … walk around, then? Uncertainly, I started in the opposite direction. Amalia followed me onto a narrow street lined with businesses, then ducked under the awning of a health food store.
I stopped, cold water pattering on my head. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting here.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m not wandering around in the rain, searching for an unbound demon. It’s suicide.”
“But,” I spluttered, “your dad is the one who summoned it. If anyone should be—”
“Yeah, but I didn’t summon it. Look, Robin.” She put a hand on her hip. “We’re no match for an unbound demon and you know it. It isn’t killing people, so let’s just chill and let the pros handle things.”
“It isn’t killing people? Then what’s it doing?”
“No idea. Demons on the loose usually go on killing sprees, but this one is just lurking around the Eastside.” She waved her phone. “Either way, I checked the latest MPD update. The demon has injured a few mythics but no one’s died. We don’t need to get involved.”
“We’re already involved, and we have a responsibility to—”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Knock yourself out, then. I’m staying here.”
Huffing, I marched down the sidewalk. I would search for the demon, especially since I was partly responsible for its escape.
The constant drumming of the rain deadened all other sound and shadows encroached on the streetlights’ glow. My stubborn determination to do the right thing withered beneath a wave of apprehension, but I continued to the next intersection. Where did our grid end? This seemed awfully slapdash for a highly organized, multi-guild search.
As I stood there, unsure of what to do, movement caught my eye.
Four people were jogging down the adjacent street, two on each side. As they reached an intersecting alley, the pairs swept into the shadowy passageways with the determined proficiency of a SWAT team. A minute later, they reappeared, giving each other hand signals that I assumed meant, “All clear.”
I hurried behind a bus stop shelter and peered out as they reconvened in the street, pausing while one checked his phone. They all wore black clothes, lots of leather, and what appeared to be bullet-proof vests. The three men stood beside a short blond woman with something sticking up over her shoulder.
The man on his phone pressed a finger to his ear. “Copy that, Felix. We’re almost finished this grid.”
“I’m beat.” Stretching her arms over her head, the woman turned to her teammate, revealing the sword strapped to her back. “How much longer on this shift?”
“Two more hours.”
“Damn.” She stifled a yawn. “I haven’t gone on this little sleep since the Lynn Creek shifter stakeout.”
A guy chuckled. “That was a fun one!”
“Let’s get back to it, guys,” the leader said.
Reforming their pairs, they set out in a swift but cautious jog. I watched the woman’s retreating back with hungry awe. She was petite—almost as short as me—but she oozed toughness with each step. Could I ever be like that?
I watched the team methodically sweep the street until they disappeared in the rain. Wow. So that’s what we were supposed to be doing. Did Tae-min know how this search should be performed? I retreated half a block and peered down a dark alley. Going in there alone struck me as a dumb plan.
Heat flared against my chest, radiating from the infernus, and Zylas materialized beside me in a burst of red light. Ignoring my shocked gasp, he peered upward. Rain peppered his face and he frowned as though the weather’s daring offended him.
“What are you doing?” I hissed in alarm. “You can’t just pop out whenever you feel like it!”
Crimson eyes glowing in the dim light, he cast me a dismissive glance. The cut on his cheek was a dark line, no longer bleeding. “Why not?”
“Someone might see you!”
“I knew you were alone.”
“How?”
He stretched lazily, arching his back. “You thought about it.”
“You—you can hear my thoughts?”
“In the infernus, there is nothing.” He wrinkled his nose. “Quiet and dark. Boring. But I can hear you.”
I didn’t know how to react. Crawling into a sewer and dying of humiliation was appealing. “Don’t eavesdrop on my thoughts! That’s—that’s private!”
He studied a streetlamp as though wondering if he could climb it, then wandered into the alley.
Ignoring me. Completely.
I stalked after him. “Zylas—”
He spun around. Seizing my wrist, he forced my hand up, a bloody tissue pinched against my cut thumb.
“Do you mind?” I asked as I tugged on my arm.
/> He ripped the tissue out of my grasp and tossed it aside. “You are still bleeding? How much are you hurt?”
I reluctantly opened my hand. Fresh blood welled in the deep cut and a drop spilled over, running down my palm.
Watching the bright red line snake over my wrist, Zylas pulled my arm closer to his face—then licked the blood, his hot tongue running up my wrist to the cut.
“Aaagh!” I squealed, wrenching my arm free. “What are you doing?”
Gaze unfocused, he worked his mouth as though experiencing a new flavor.
“That’s disgusting,” I whined, vigorously wiping my wrist on my jeans. “I can’t believe you—”
He spat on the ground. My jaw dropped, my complaint forgotten as his face contorted with complete and utter revulsion.
“Guh! Does all human blood taste like that?” he demanded.
“Of course it does.”
He stuck his tongue out like he wanted to wipe it clean. “Tastes like metal.”
I glared at him, unreasonably offended that he thought my blood was gross. “Serves you right for licking me.”
“Hh’ainun blood is supposed to be the finest flavor.” He shot me a look like I’d severely disappointed him. “A stupid rumor.”
He grasped my wrist again. Turning my palm up, he pressed two fingers into the cut. I flinched, but before I could draw away, red magic glowed across his hand. A miniature swirl of lines and runes flashed out, and he whispered a few words.
I gasped as searing pain burrowed into my palm. The magic brightened, then drained into the cut. As the light faded, he wiped away the blood, and we peered at the new pink scar at the base of my thumb.
“That happened last time,” he muttered, prodding the slight ridge with one finger. “Your skin does not grow right.”
“You healed it,” I whispered, lifting my gaze to his. “Why?”
“Your blood smells as bad as it tastes.”
The soft, confusing feeling of gratitude in my chest snuffed out. “Ugh.” I yanked my hand away. “You’re awful.”
“But I do not taste bad.”
“I never want to know what you taste like.” I pulled myself together. “We’re out here because we need to stop the escaped demon. Do you know how to find it?”
He glanced skyward, his pupils constricting to near-invisible slits against the muted light.
“Zylas?” I prompted impatiently. “How do we find the demon?”
“Mailēshta.”
“What?”
“Annoying,” he translated.
“What’s annoying?”
“You.”
I gritted my teeth. “Very mature, Zylas.”
He focused on the lower portion of a rusty fire escape two feet above his head.
“Don’t even think about climbing that.” I folded my arms. “The demon is on the loose because of you, so the least you can do is help stop it.”
“No.”
“Why not? Are you afraid you’d lose in a fight?”
His attention snapped to me. He bared his teeth, but I couldn’t tell if it was a snarl or a smile. “Vh’renith vē thāit.”
I waited a moment. “What does that mean?”
“It means I never lose.”
My eyebrows rose at his arrogance, but who was I to question him on it? From everything I’d seen, he was utterly lethal. Uncle Jack and Claude had said this mysterious demon could be the strongest ever summoned.
His gaze shifted away again as he scanned the alley.
“In that case,” I continued firmly, attempting to draw his attention back, “you shouldn’t have any problem helping—”
“Quiet, payilas.”
“Would you stop—”
He clamped his hand over my mouth and swept me against his chest with his other arm. “Quiet. I am listening.”
Mashed against him, I halted in the midst of digging my fingernails into his abdomen. Sucking in air through my nose, I stilled, ignoring the discomfort of being pressed against him. Warmth radiated from his body, his hand hot on my mouth, his other arm across my back, holding me in place.
He smelled like leather and sweet hickory smoke. The thought crowded into my head, heightening my discomfort.
Nostrils flaring as he scented the damp breeze, he looked one way then the other. After a long moment, he stepped backward into the shadows beneath the fire escape, pulling me with him. A faint buzz of power passed over his body, then the surrounding air cooled—and the shadows thickened like black fog.
We stood in chilly darkness, Zylas holding me tight against him as though I might bolt straight into danger. “Danger” was the only conclusion I could draw from his sudden desire to hide.
A soft footstep crunched on broken glass, the sound traveling down the alley.
“Where are they?” a male voice asked, the rain muffling his quiet words.
“I’m not sure,” another voice answered. “I lost them.”
“Let’s keep moving.”
The glass crunched again. I strained my ears but only heard the increasing downpour. What the heck had that been about? Were those men part of another search team?
Zylas held his position, only his head moving as he tracked sounds I couldn’t hear. I waited. One minute stretched into two, then three, and my discomfort grew. When no other sounds came from the alley, I tugged on his wrist. He didn’t release my mouth. I tugged harder. He ignored me.
Growling against his palm, I dug my fingernails into the back of his hand as hard as I could.
He looked down, surprise widening his crimson eyes. “What are you doing, payilas?”
Let me go! I thought at him, since I couldn’t speak out loud.
He tilted his head curiously—then a husky laugh rumbled from his throat. “Na, you are trying to hurt me? So I let you go? Too soft, payilas.”
Outwardly, I glowered with extra force. Inwardly, I shriveled. My attempt to hurt him was so ineffective he hadn’t understood my intent? Why was his skin so impenetrable?
“Robin? Where are you?”
Amalia’s voice rang out over the drumming rain. Zylas graced me with his taunting smirk, then red light glowed over him. His hand disappeared from my face as his body dissolved into sweeping red light that swirled into the infernus. It vibrated, hot and electric, then returned to an inanimate metal disc.
I clenched my jaw. Stupid jerk of a demon. A bully. That’s what he was.
Grimly pleased that he could probably hear me insulting him, I hastened to join Amalia and resume our hunt for the escaped demon.
Chapter Twenty
This was stupid.
The thought repeated more and more as the afternoon dragged on. Tae-min had no idea how to manage our search. We wandered around at a quick walk, gazing pointlessly into alleys. Anytime we split from the two men, Amalia chose the driest spot and waited, letting me search on my own. Like we’d ever find the demon this way.
I marched alone up another street, fuming at them. Tae-min for his incompetence. George the Contractor for failing to recognize how futile this was. Amalia for refusing to help. And Zylas for … for everything.
The rain had softened to intermittent spitting—the only bright spot in this crappy day. As I glared across an intersection, the traffic light blinked from red to green, but there were no vehicles. The neighborhood was eerily deserted and the quiet was so intense I could hear myself breathe.
As I turned to go back the way I’d come, a glimpse of movement brought me up short. Had I just seen a human-sized shadow duck out of sight, or were my eyes playing tricks on me? Maybe it was another search team.
“Hello?” I called. “Anyone there?”
I waited a minute, but no one answered. I must’ve imagined it …
The phantom memory of Zylas’s hand on my face shivered through me. Those men in the alley had said, “I lost them.” Them. Not “it” or “the demon.” Who had those men been looking for?
“Hello?” I shouted again.
&nbs
p; Half a block away, a shadow moved. A man in dark clothes, his shape blurred by the misty rain, stepped out of a shop doorway and raised his arm.
Green light flashed over his hand—and shot toward me.
I lurched backward and my heel caught on the pavement. As I tumbled to the ground, the green light whizzed over my head. A sorcery spell? Was he attacking me?
Shoving to my feet, I yanked out my infernus. Pivoting, the man whipped around a corner and vanished from sight.
“Heyo!”
The call came from behind me. I spun around.
Three men, also in dark clothes but with reflective patches on their upper arms, were jogging up the street. Weapons were strapped over their torsos and they wore protective vests like the other search team, but these men were older—in their fifties, I was guessing.
“Are you the one who was calling?” the lead man asked as they neared me. “What are you doing out—”
His gaze caught on my infernus and surprise blanked his face. His rain-dampened hair was dark, but dry, I suspected it would be salt-and-pepper gray like his close-cropped beard. Four silver daggers were belted around his waist.
His teammate, a man with wavy, shoulder-length hair, let out an impressed whistle and grinned through his luxuriously thick beard and mustache. “Well I’ll be damned. A contractor?”
I pretended the contractor label didn’t bother me.
“Are you part of the search?” the leader asked, his gray eyes flicking over my decidedly non-combat-ready outfit. “What’s your guild?”
“Grand Grimoire,” I muttered. “Did you see the sorcerer? He shot a spell at me then ran off down that alley.”
“Someone attacked you?” the third man rumbled. His bare arms were tattooed and coated in rain, but he didn’t seem to mind the cold as he rested a long, rune-carved staff on his shoulder.
The leader appraised the empty street. “Where’s your team?”
“Back that way.” I waved over my shoulder.
The leader made a swift gesture at his teammates. Nodding, they broke into a jog, heading in the direction the sorcerer had fled.
Taming Demons for Beginners: The Guild Codex: Demonized / One Page 15