Hunting Fiends for the Ill-Equipped (The Guild Codex Demonized #3) - Annette Marie Page 0,27

will keep your secret, Robin, and in return, you and Zylas will protect our combat teams from Claude, his demon, and any additional threats he might introduce tomorrow night.”

I nodded.

“And I’ll be going with you.”

My gaze jerked to Zora.

She folded her arms. “Illegal contractor or not, you can’t go out there unprotected. You need a champion.”

“You … you’re going to …”

She glanced at Zylas, her expression a mix of wariness, determination, and a hint of curiosity. “If nothing else, it should be interesting.”

Chapter Nine

“Stealth is crucial for this mission.” Crouched in the shrubbery beside me, Zora kept her voice low. “At this very minute, we have five teams moving in on different locations. They have to simultaneously disable Varvara’s golems, ambush her rogue soldiers, and capture the sorceress. If any one part fails, the whole mission and all our guildmates will be in severe danger.”

I nodded earnestly, my gloved hands tucked in my leather jacket’s pockets for warmth.

“So why,” she asked, her voice roughening, “did you just let your demon run off by itself?”

“Himself,” I corrected. “He’s not an ‘it.’”

“Why did you let him go off alone? He could be doing anything. If he’s seen—if he attacks anyone—”

“He won’t do anything like that. He’s scouting around for any traces of Claude and his demon. No one will see him. He’s very sneaky.”

Pressing her lips together, she adjusted her sword baldric. We’d hidden ourselves in a strip of trees and bushes bordering a road, but aside from that, this area was solid concrete—an industrial complex that edged the harbor where massive quantities of cargo were moved between huge freighters, long trains, and endless trucks. It was called a stevedoring operation, and I’d had to look up the term. It had evolved from the Portuguese estivador, the original name for dockworkers who loaded cargo on ships.

“How can you just trust that demon to wander around alone?” Zora demanded. “You didn’t even give him a command before he went.”

“He already knows the plan,” I said with a shrug.

A quiet snort sounded from my other side. Amalia, sitting with her back against a tree, rolled her eyes at Zora.

“You’re used to brainless contracted demons,” she told the sorceress. “Zylas is an asshole, but he’s a goddamn smart one. Don’t make the mistake of thinking he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.”

Zora rubbed her hands over her face and into her short blond hair. Huffing, she sat back on her heels and checked her watch. “We still have a few minutes. Why don’t you give me the whole story?”

“You want to know now?” I asked cautiously. I reached up to adjust my glasses only to remember I was wearing contacts. “I offered to tell you a bunch of times …”

She looked away, her face in shadow. “I’ve made mistakes before about who to trust. I was afraid if I heard your story …” She huffed again. “You seem like a good kid, and I didn’t want to fall for someone’s innocent act again.”

“Oh,” I said, my defensiveness softening.

“Darius trusts you, and I trust him.” She was quiet for a long moment. “I’d like to know, if you’re still willing to tell me.”

I settled down beside Amalia. “I guess it all started with Claude.”

Zora listened attentively as I gave a highly abbreviated version of my accidental contract with Zylas, how I’d come to join the Crow and Hammer, and Claude’s role in my parents’ murder and the vampire outbreak last month. The only thing I left out was the true nature—and value—of my family’s grimoire.

When I finished, Zora pursed her lips in a silent, wowed whistle. “Demon-blood-enhanced vampires. That explains a lot.” She drummed her fingers on her knee. “What would he want from Varvara in exchange for the enhanced golems?”

“He wants all the demon names for himself, but Varvara can’t help him with that.”

“Claude Mercier is an alias, right? Have you uncovered anything about his true identity?”

“Um, well, we searched his house and apartment. That’s … about it. All I found was a printout of Ezra Rowe’s mythic profile.”

“Ezra? What does he have to do with Claude?”

My stomach gave an unhappy twitch.

Naim Ashraf, the ex-summoner, hadn’t provided any useful information about the Vh’alyir Amulet, but he and Tori had inadvertently given me a different clue: demon mages.

After my first bizarre encounter with Tori and her mage friends on Halloween, Amalia and I had debated over a dozen possible explanations for why they smelled of demon magic, but we’d never considered a demon mage as an