As the redcap ripped the stake from his ribs, she pulled the flamethrower from her belt. The demon’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she saw genuine fear.

Disturbingly human-like fear.

This caused an extra moment of hesitation on Rosalind’s part, and the redcap had the upper hand again.

As he leapt for her, she pressed the button on the flamethrower, but it was too late. The demon knocked her to the ground. Almost instantly, his sharp teeth pierced her neck. White-hot pain exploded through her throat.

At this moment, on the edge of death, she could think of only one thing: I am the worst demon Hunter in the world. Pain blazed through her body.

The knife. She had a knife in her belt. Come on, Rosalind. You got this.

Just as she pulled it out, a pair of strong hands clamped around the redcap’s head, twisting it sharply to the side with a sickening crack.

Her stomach flipped, and she shoved the demon off her. She stared, open-mouthed, as a black-clad Hunter sliced off the redcap’s head with a sword in one shockingly swift motion. With a morbid fascination, she stared as the stranger plunged his fingers into the demon’s chest. For one horrible moment, the air filled with the sound of crunching bone and tearing flesh. As the redcap’s headless body twitched on the ground, the Hunter ripped out his beating heart.

Her first thought was: Shit. I was supposed to kill the demon.

Her second was: How the hell could a human rip a heart out like that?

When she glanced up at the Hunter, her body froze.

Not a Hunter. Not even close.

Despite his beauty, the man before her was twice as horrifying as the demon he’d killed. He was human, but not like her. A tattooed crescent moon, dark and sharp as a dragon’s claw, marked his neck, and a raven perched on his shoulder. He held the demon’s heart in his hand, crimson blood dripping down his arm.

A cold and silvery nocturnal power crackled in the air around them, old as night itself. Before her stood a shadow mage, and the aura unfurling from his body was ancient and terrifying.

He stared at her, his eyes cold and pale as glaciers, and dark shadows whispered around him. A pit opened in the hollow of her stomach. He knows what I did, and he’s here for vengeance.

With a flick of his wrist, the mage tossed the demon’s heart to the ground. Rosalind gripped her bleeding throat with one hand, grasping for a vial of iron dust with the other. Fear tore her mind apart.

Even as she reached for the dust, the mage was already whispering in a demonic tongue. His spell transfixed her in place, freezing her muscles. She couldn’t move, and her mind screamed with pure panic.

As the mage spoke, his aura strengthened, permeating her bones.

Her blood roared in her ears, and she tried desperately to command her muscles to obey her. This is it. He’s going to compel me to bash my own brains out on the pavement. And the one stupid, useless thought pounding in her skull was: I haven’t even achieved my chalice pendant.