He nodded. “It is possible there are aeamon who have inherited the Atrika genetic traits. They can be like children, always grasping and wanting. They care nothing for the suffering of others and are slaves to their own selfish whims.”

Inherited the Atrika genetic traits. Her mind reeled from that bit of information.

“What breed of demon are you?” she asked.

“Ytrayi. Leader class. We have strong magick to call and overdeveloped aggression, like the Atrika. Unlike the Atrika, we have the restraint and control to manage it. We have…honor.”

This was all very interesting, but Isabelle had a far more pressing matter at the forefront of her mind. “So you understand that Thomas and I are not these people, right? We don’t want to ever deal with an Atrika again. We’re sorry we were pulled through the doorway, and, really, we just want to go home.”

“This cannot be allowed.” He turned once more, placidly hooking his hands at the small of his back and staring out the window.

Darn, and she thought they’d been making friends.

While his back was turned, Isabelle worked the rest of the knots around her ankles. Just as she was about to ease from the couch and pick up a long piece of jagged scarlet-colored crystal from a nearby table—a bit of artwork, she assumed—and bash him over his head, he turned to face her. “I should kill you now, but we may have need of you.”

“Wait a minute!” Her mouth went dry. “We don’t want to conspire against you or harm you in any way.” Like they could. “My friend and I just want to go home. Please.”

Talking to the piece of artwork she’d fantasized about whacking him over the head with would have had more impact. He strode past her and out the door. The lock turned on the other side, seeming to echo through the room.

Isabelle sagged against the couch in defeat, fighting a swell of nausea from being in a locked room. She drew a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Now was no time for a panic attack. She pictured Thomas here in the room with her and her anxiety eased. Isabelle opened her eyes, steadier now.

But where was Thomas really? Had they left him to bleed out somewhere in this building? Had they decapitated him like they had Boyle? Nausea threatened once more.

She took slow, deep breaths in through her nose and out her mouth. The demon had said they might need her. Logic said the same would be true for Thomas. Likely they hadn’t killed him…yet.