“Sunlight in Key West.”

“Shit.”

“I could maybe work up a protection, but it would take time.”

“Which we don’t have.” Heat flared on my back as a demonette tried to flank me, I turned, caught it through the middle, brushed away the flakes of ash, and looked around.

Lulu. Connor and his wolves. Ariel and her ghosts. Petra. Me. Black. Two dozen Sups weren’t enough to command this woman, even locked into a sigil . . . and they were running out of time.

Desperate Sups called for desperate measures. It had to be done, and I was the best one to do it.

“I’ll heal,” I said. “When I give you the signal, keep her occupied. She’s really vain. Use that. And then you have to keep her still long enough for me to draw it.”

I heard her hesitation, knew she’d have preferred to do that part.

“You can’t both do this and hold the sigil. I’m the best option.”

Even if it scared me to death.

“Nine minutes!” Theo called out.

I managed to tell Connor what I needed, saw the instinctive rejection of the idea in his eyes. But he rubbed his muzzle against my leg, gave a series of yips to communicate with the others. He and Alexei stayed near me to protect me from demonettes while I did what I had to do.

I prepared myself for what I knew was really going to suck.

“I meant to ask you about your dye job,” Lulu called out, and had Rosantine whipping toward her. “Does the fake-ass color not bother you? I mean, I think it’s super brave.”

She had Rosantine’s furious attention now and kept talking as I circled around, putting myself just behind Rosantine and out of her peripheral vision. I had to be fast. I just wasn’t sure if I could be fast enough.

The other real wolves and all the ghostly army moved to her other side. She instinctively moved away from the howling . . . and closer to me.

I looked down at the sigil one last time, ensuring I’d committed the design to memory. And when Rosantine was close enough, distracted enough, I plunged my hand into the circle.

* * *

So far this week, I’d been thrown to the ground, fireballed, mauled by a panther, and clawed by a ghost. And that was just the highlight reel. But no pain I’d experienced before—and hopefully ever would again—was as bad as willfully breaching a demon circle.

The heat was unfathomable. The pain so instant and cruel that my legs nearly failed me, and I had to use half of my strength and will just to stay upright. It felt like every nerve was being simultaneously stabbed and pressed onto a hot stovetop. But this was only the first step.

I ignored the tears that welled and fell, tried to push the pain into a corner of my attention.

I punched farther through the magic, sweat joining the tears on my face, until I touched Rosantine and drew a quick circle on her shoulder with a fingertip. I hoped I wasn’t supposed to see anything happen, because her skin stayed clear.