Isabelle gave a short, bitter laugh. “We’re guarding Stefan?” Then she yelled, “The Duskoff are the reason Boyle is here!”

“We have an agreement.” Thomas’s words whipped like a lash and made her wince. “He stays alive until Boyle is dead.”

A roar from down the corridor behind her cut off Isabelle’s reply. It sent a shiver up her spine and reminded her of all those horror stories Angela used to tell her when they were kids. The monster in the basement was real and coming straight at her.

Thomas took a couple of steps toward her, terror for her safety clear on his face. Another roar erupted behind her, closer this time. Thomas reached for her, but she pulled away from him. Boyle couldn’t kill her. Not yet. She was the safest of all of them at the moment.

At the same time, Boyle appeared around the corner, radiating threat. Isabelle stared for a full moment, the stench of demon magick heavy in her nose. That answered whether or not he had magickical capabilities in Gribben.

She felt naked without her magick, stripped to the bone. Even though their power wasn’t effective on Boyle, not having access to it at all in this place made her feel like tinfoil, easily crumpled.

Blood coursed from the demon’s side, where someone had taken a sword to him. He looked at Thomas, but his gaze fixed on Isabelle, his massive chest heaving and his eyes red. “Stand aside. I have come for the warlock.”

“You can’t have him, Boyle,” Isabelle said, her hand going to her sleeve, where her knife was secreted. She couldn’t believe those words had just come out of her mouth.

He cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand. I’m killing him for you. You tried to kill Stefan, ergo you want the warlock dead. This is a gift.”

Shock shot through her and her mind sputtered to a halt before revving into thought overdrive. A gift? He was trying to kill Stefan as a gift? For her?

“Where’s Jack?” Thomas demanded from his position beside and a little in front of her. “Where are the others?”

“I came for Stefan. Not the aeamon who chased me.”

“Where are they?”

Boyle didn’t answer; he only raised a blast of demon magick and centered it at Thomas.

Isabelle screamed as power rocketed through the air. Thomas flew backward into the wall behind him and hit with a sick sounding thump. Dread pulled an icy knot in her stomach as he crumpled to the floor.

Boyle raised his power again and Isabelle whirled, screaming Adam’s name. Surely Boyle meant to hit him next. But it was too late. Demon magick arced through the air, saturating her nostrils with the scent of old other-Earth. Adam went down, sprawled in an unnatural position on the concrete floor, while Isabelle watched.