They stalk toward me on tall, scaly legs. Steam rises from their backs in the cool night air. The demon paces toward me, too, each step shaking the road, each step one last chance to decide what I’m going to do—run, or fight.

My eyes flick to Lark, body prone on the pavement. My fault.

Fight.

My fists clench, and the red flames of root erupt over my knuckles, roaring up the silver sword in my hand from hilt to tip.

A black blur flashes across my vision, launching itself up onto the uchel’s stony chest. A crystalline blade, called and forged near instantaneously, thrusts through its eye. The uchel rears back, smacking at its attacker, but they’re already gone. They’re around the back of its head now—a shining aether blade plunges into its other eye. Both of the monster’s hands reach up, but its fists find only air—their opponent is gone.

Selwyn Kane lands on the road in between me and the demon, his back to me, both hands spread wide.

The demon falls to the road, knees first. The asphalt vibrates beneath our feet.

Sel’s already forging another weapon. Between his palms, an enormous shining spear forms, hard as a diamond. The foxes gallop toward us, screeching in the night.

His head turns slightly over his shoulder, his face in profile, eyes still on the roaring monster stumbling on the road.

“Run.”

11

I DON’T RUN.

Instead I move to his side, and let the flames flare up to my elbows. We’ll fight them back-to-back. Together.

Sel groans. “Can you listen to directions? For once in your life?”

Before I can snap at him, the foxes split, moving to box us in. Sel pivots. His spine presses tight to mine, and, despite his insult, reassurance and relief rocket through my veins. He’s here, and he’s safe.

He starts to reinforce his spear. The fox in front of me tenses, dips low, braces for a jump—and freezes. Its head whips down the street. It growls and begins a slow, backward retreat.

When I twist around, Sel’s head is facing the same direction, looking back the way I came. His eyes widen. “Hide your flames,” he hisses low in a voice I don’t recognize.

“Why?”

“There will be too many questions before the Rite.”

I hesitate.

He glares at me, incredulous. “Once! Just once—”

The sound of engines approaching, wheels over asphalt.

I turn, hand shielding my eyes against the white shining beams of half a dozen town cars. The doors of the first vehicle open before it has even come to a full stop. Dark figures blur out and into action, breaking around us toward the demons in the street.

Oh. I clench my fists to douse the root between my fingers. The red flames dissolve into mist around the sword until it’s a plain silver blade in my hand once again.