“Sorry.” Dez’s wings unfurled. “I don’t speak demon-worm.”

The sounds rose and then...then became words—mushy-sounding words I heard perfectly clear. “We are here for the nephilim.”

I rolled my eyes. They must’ve been sent by Gabriel. I guessed he wanted me under his tender, loving care until the Transfiguration. “Trueborn. The appropriate term is Trueborn.”

“We do not care,” the Ghoul replied, and before I could question the “we” part, the entire left side of its body stretched and sort of plopped out another Ghoul.

“What in the actual wide world of fu—?” I snapped my mouth shut as another popped out of the right side of its body.

“I think they left the replicating thing out of the textbooks,” Dez commented.

“You think?”

The one to the right of the main Ghoul went right at Dez. He was fast, spinning out of its grip. The other two came toward me.

I had my iron daggers on me still, but my grace was pushing at me. I wanted to use it. I’d moved past the idea of only using the grace in a worst-case scenario, having realized what I’d been taught and trained had been far more of a hindrance than my eyes.

But the problem with that was I didn’t have a bonded Protector any longer. I couldn’t pull strength to avoid the weakness that followed after using my grace. My nose would most likely bleed, possibly drawing more demons my direction even though it hadn’t the night before.

But not using my grace right now was okay.

I was more than happy to get stabby.

Pushing the grace down, I unsheathed my daggers. Adrenaline kicked my senses alive as the Ghouls charged me. Anticipation licked through me, my muscles tensing. I knew to keep a distance between us so they didn’t end up outside my constricted line of vision, and I waited until the last possible moment and then spun around, kicking out. My sneaker caught the Ghoul in a very unmentionable place. It shrieked, doubling over as I popped back up.

The other Ghoul moved disturbingly fast, reaching for me with hands the size of my head. I dipped under its arm and whirled, slamming the dagger into the center of the Ghoul’s back, right where the heart would be. Jerking the iron out, I waited for the burst of flames signaling its demise.

The Ghoul turned around and opened its mouth, roaring straight in my face.

“Whoa.” My eyes watered. “Your breath...”

“The head!” Dez shouted, landing behind a Ghoul, and wrapped one arm around its neck. “You got to separate its head from the body.”

My lip curled. “Ugh. Gross.”

The Ghoul in front of me popped out another Ghoul, and I groaned. “Oh, come on.”