I was about to order it behind me when a blast of blue-white light exploded in front of me, knocking me backwards against Cyrene. There was little noise, but an intense heat and light that blinded me for a few minutes.

‘‘Agamemnon’s balls!’’ I heard Cyrene exclaim from beneath me. I rolled off her and scrambled to my feet as my vision slowly returned.

‘‘Are you all right?’’ I asked.

‘‘Yes. Except I’m seeing stars.’’

‘‘It’s from the explosion. It’ll pass.’’

‘‘I think it’s more from your head hitting my chin,’’ she said, rubbing her jaw as she got to her knees. She looked up, gasping. ‘‘May! The demon!’’

I turned to look. I don’t know what sort of magic was in the trap that the mage had evidently laid just beyond the gate, but it left the demon’s form in flames.

‘‘Help it! It’ll die!’’

‘‘Demons can’t die, you know that,’’ I answered, snatching Cyrene’s lightweight jacket to smother the still-burning blue flames. Although there hadn’t been much noise, evidently the blast of light was enough to alert members of Kostich’s household to a possible intruder, as lights started appearing at the back of the house.

‘‘Help me move it back to the other side before they see us,’’ I hissed, hoisting the demon dog’s heavy front end in my arms. Cyrene stumbled over to us, half lifting, half dragging its back end.

I released the dog as soon as it cleared the doorway, quickly closing the gate and using Cy’s jacket to tie it shut. ‘‘It’s not much, but it might fool them into thinking the gate wasn’t used. Or at least stall them until we can get out of here. Come on, we’ll just have to chance the front fence.’’

‘‘Mayling!’’ Cyrene jerked me back to where the inert form of the demon lay. ‘‘We can’t just leave . . . what did you say its name was?’’

‘‘Jim, and yes, we can. It’s not going to die, Cyrene. It’s a demon.’’

‘‘But look at it!’’ she protested, pointing. ‘‘It’s hurt! Because of us! We can’t just abandon it when it’s unconscious!’’

Smoke curled up from various spots on the demon’s body. Blood was smeared across its face, its coat partially singed, the scent of burning hair hanging heavy in the air.

‘‘What if we destroyed its form?’’ Cyrene asked, kneeling beside it.

‘‘We can’t . . . ,’’ I started to say, but stopped. She was right. It was harmed doing something for us, and I couldn’t just walk away. ‘‘I don’t know what we can do, Cy. We can’t take it up to the house. The dragons—’’