can’t let Dion think she’s alone. Snagging her finger, I squeeze lightly, and the corner of her mouth twitches for a second.
I’ll get her out of this. I can do this one thing. Save one person, even though I’ll lose myself in the process. Taking a risk, I meet her gaze.
“When you get free, find Sin. And tell him I loved him.”
A single tear rolls down her cheek. She knows now. I don’t intend to survive this. I can’t. But she will. As will Sin.
Sin
Darkness blankets the area around an old, abandoned power house at Hunter’s Point Naval Shipyard. The lights from the city are as bright as any moon, but they fade into darkness around the multi-story cement structure.
“Well, that’s a rubbish spell if I’ve ever seen one,” Killian mutters. “No finesse. It’s like he’s not even trying.”
At my side, Mad stifles a snort. “For a witch who couldn’t cast a spell a year ago, you’re terribly judgmental now, love.”
“I could cast any spell I wanted,” Killian replies. “I just didn’t want to blow up the entire world in the process.”
“This is supposed to inspire confidence?” The two of them banter endlessly, the kind of back and forth that only comes from mutual love and respect. I want that. I ache for it. With Zoe. I hope to all that is holy I will get that chance.
“My witch can do anything.” Mad presses a kiss to his mate’s cheek and then straightens his jacket. “Including turn me into an Asmodeus demon. For at least a few hours.”
The Bureau came through. Sixteen demons identified, tracked, and monitored for hours until seven of them started heading for Hunter’s Point. It took every agent to bring down four of them. Two Asmodeus demons, known for their unbridled lust and insatiable sex drives, a half-Fae, half-incubus, and a direct descendent of the Lord of Greed himself, Mammon.
Killian draws symbol after symbol in the air, then starts chanting softly to himself. Magic swirls around us, and my skin prickles as the spell takes hold. When I look at our group, I cannot help but gape. Mad and Killian are nearly twins. Reddish skin, well-muscled bodies, mostly naked save for tight, black trousers that end mid-calf and highlight their wide feet.
“Ew,” Mad says, but even his voice has changed. Deep and rumbling, it matches his bulk.
Gabriel reaches up with long, claw-like fingers to touch the two sets of horns protruding from his forehead. “If we are not successful, I trust you will be able to wipe all memory of this moment from our minds, warlock.”
“If this all goes pear-shaped, we’ll be dead, so I doubt that’ll be an issue.” Killian shrugs his now massive shoulders, and I stare down at my hands. Still mostly human in appearance. Fae can take many forms, and the small wings protruding from my shoulder blades feel foreign, but my mouth has not changed shape, my vision is unaltered, and when I take a step towards the power station, I feel...almost myself.
“This is not what I imagined we’d be doing today, luv,” Killian says as he and my brother fall into step behind me.
“What? Saving the world?” Mad chuckles, but it sounds more like a roar than a laugh. “Better than what you had planned for us. Cleaning out the basement?”
“At least in the basement, we’d have been alone,” Killian says. “And naked.”
Mad sighs. “Bloody hell. Sin, this had better work.”
It will. It has to. Or I will not survive it.
We’re met at the door by the missing human, Gregory. “Your names?” His voice holds no inflection, and the dead, haunted look in his eyes is one I know well. There is nothing left of his mind. No independent thought. He broke long ago, and his consciousness belongs only to Thorn.
Mad and Killian go first, and Gregory holds out a small tablet. “Your fee is thirty thousand dollars, paid up front. Enter your transfer details now.”
We prepared for this, and Mad signs away a chunk of my fortune, as do I, followed by Gabriel, and finally, we are allowed to pass. Once inside, Mad and his warlock make their way to the front of the room, with Gabriel heading left. I weave my way through a small gathering of other demons—most only here to watch—until I am positioned to the right of a raised dais that remains suspiciously devoid of all activity.
“There is ancient magic at work here,” Killian says quietly over the comms devices we each have in our