Soraya could see the pain in her eyes, could hear it in the tremors in her voice. She was a good person who, by no fault of her own, found herself in an impossible situation. “When did you first realize the nightdemon was Seela?”

She shrugged. “About a month ago? For three straight nights she made excuses to leave after curfew. The first two nights I begged her not to go, but she was determined. Said the tavern depended on her ability to procure cheap booze. Except she never came back with any. She was always dirty and bloody and had the most incredible stories to tell about narrowly escaping the nightdemon. Except others had not been so fortunate on those nights.”

“But the third night you followed her,” Soraya guessed.

“Yes. I told myself I was only doing it to protect her. But looking back I think I already knew at that point. As mad as it was, I knew. And yet I needed to see. I needed to understand.”

“And do you? Understand?”

“Would you? Would you understand if the person who meant the most to you in the world was suddenly a monster part of the time and an angel the rest of the time? It’s impossible.”

“And yet you didn’t turn her in.”

“I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I did. The only problem is that I can hardly live with myself now.”

“May I touch your hand?” Soraya asked. Her jaunt into Commander Destin’s mind had been brief enough that she still had strength to spare.

“You’re a sorceress, aren’t you? Can you help Seela?”

“I don’t know yet. But I will try. It’s the whole reason we’re here.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you that, but please know that our intentions are pure.”

Sunny pursed her lips but then extended her hand in Soraya’s direction. She took it and the world changed once more.

“Oh no,” she heard herself whisper when she saw the tavern’s open door. Deep runnels were carved into its surface. Claw marks. She crept inside to find a mess. Two tables had been swept aside like they weighed nothing, clearing a path inside The Naughty Minx to the staircase.

She tried to tiptoe toward the steps, but her weight caused every floorboard to creak, making her heart beat faster.

There were more claw marks on the wooden planks climbing to the second floor.

“Seela?” she called.

Something banged upstairs, like a door slamming shut.

She crept up the steps, pausing every few to listen to the night. There were more sounds—a thump, another bang, and then a sort of scratching noise.

She reached the top of the landing, creeping down the hall until she found a door marked with fresh, deep scratches. They’d not had a guest in a few weeks, thank the gods.

Slowly, she turned the knob and pushed open the door.