The reevers couldn’t contain the way they shrank away from the noise, like silver forks squealing in high-pitched, painful tones while they grated across ceramic plates. Nox did not wince. She’d experienced too much pain today. Her heart had undergone enough trauma. She’d learned something of herself: once she’d reached a threshold for horrors, she could transcend into a particular numbness. In moments like these, it was almost helpful.

“I was,” she answered honestly. “I saw a demon there, at a farm.”

Ash and Malik exchanged looks.

“You can understand us,” the demon said.

“I can.”

Malik asked carefully, “Can you see them? As dark fae?”

She shook her head, answering, “They are ag’imni. But I…I can hear them.”

The ag’imni took a few steps forward, the talons on its gray-black, animal feet flexing into the ground as it moved.

“I’m Zaccai,” it offered.

She chewed on the name, examining the sight carefully. Finally, she nodded. “My name is Nox. It’s been suggested that I’m part demon. Do you think that’s true?”

The hellish creation shook his head, saying, “You are no more demon than I.”

She smiled kindly at its statement, leaning into the pleasant numbness she’d found. Her heart was capable of no more pain. Her eyes could produce no more tears. Fear was a concept, a distant memory.

“That’s not quite the reassurance you think it is.”

Ash motioned for her to take the blanket Zaccai had provided for the camp, and she wrapped it around her shoulders, grateful. The forest may not have been the best place for the silky fabrics of a seductress. One more ag’imni—an identical demon who had been cautiously loitering in the shadows—came out from where it had been hiding. The monster called Zaccai introduced the other as Uriah, though Nox mused that she wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

Nox smiled and tore a silken strand from the tatters of her black dress. Approaching the demon, she wrapped the soft fabric around his wrist.

“Now I know you are Zaccai.” She offered the monster a sad, distant smile. He was terrible and dark and horrifying to behold. But as ugly as he appeared on the outside, it was nothing compared to how she felt on the inside. While he had the gnashing teeth of the ag’imni, she had the beauty and allure of a goddess. Her soul had been one of murder and deceit; her bed had been a graveyard. Any gargoyle that would offer help and warmth to a stranger was surely kinder and better than she could hope to be.