“The demon that murderer is using is lethal.” He’d seen the crime scene photos. The thought that Bryce had been saved by mere minutes, by sheer drunken stupidity, still twisted him up. Ruhn continued before she could answer. “The Autumn King told you to lie low until the Summit—this is the fucking opposite, Bryce.”

“Well, it’s now part of my job. Jesiba signed off on it. I can’t very well refuse, can I?”

No. No one could say no to that sorceress.

He slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “She ever tell you anything about Luna’s Horn?”

Bryce’s brows lifted at the shift in subject, but considering Jesiba Roga’s field of work, she’d be the one to ask.

“She had me look for it two years ago,” Bryce said warily. “But it was a dead end. Why?”

“Never mind.” He eyed the small gold amulet around his sister’s neck. At least Jesiba gave her that much protection. Expensive protection, too—and powerful. Archesian amulets didn’t come cheap, not when there were only a few in the world. He nodded to it. “Don’t take that off.”

Bryce rolled her eyes. “Does everyone in this city think I’m dumb?”

“I mean it. Beyond the shit you do for work, if you’re looking for someone strong enough to summon a demon like that, don’t take that necklace off.” At least he could remind her to be smart.

She just opened the door. “If you hear anything about the Viper Queen, call me.”

Ruhn stiffened, his heart thundering. “Do not provoke her.”

“Bye, Ruhn.”

He was desperate enough that he said, “I’ll go with you to—”

“Bye.” Then she was down the stairs, waving in that annoying-as-fuck way at Declan and Flynn, before swaggering out the front door.

His friends threw inquisitive looks to where Ruhn stood on the second-floor landing. Declan’s whiskey was still raised to his lips.

Ruhn counted to ten, if only to keep from snapping the nearest object in half, and then vaulted over the railing, landing so hard that the scuffed oak planks shuddered.

He felt, more than saw, his friends fall into place behind him, hands within easy reach of their hidden weapons, drinks discarded as they read the fury on his face. Ruhn stormed through the front door and out into the brisk night.

Just in time to see Bryce strut across the street. To Hunt fucking Athalar.

“What the actual Hel,” Declan breathed, halting beside Ruhn on the porch.

The Umbra Mortis looked pissed, his arms crossed and wings flaring slightly, but Bryce just breezed past him without so much as a glance. Causing Athalar to slowly turn, arms slackening at his sides, as if such a thing had never happened in his long, miserable life.

And wasn’t that enough to put Ruhn in a killing sort of mood.