yanked me off my feet. I smacked into his chest. Ripping my glove off, I raked my fingernails across his face.
He shouted and released me. I dove away, slipped, and crashed down. Gasping, I rolled sideways.
His foot landed on my stomach, pinning me to the concrete. He towered over me, shallow scratches on his cheek leaking blood.
“Fierce,” he crooned, grinning in a way that made my whole body turn to ice. “Exactly how it should be. You’ll be the closest yet. Almost the real thing.”
He extended his hand toward me, moonlight gleaming on the metal bands encircling his entire arm. He opened his mouth.
“Ori defendatur!”
The feminine voice rang out, and a blast like a sparkling pink beachball hit the sorcerer in the chest, hurling him away.
Zora shot out from between stacks of steel and slid to a stop beside me, her sword angled toward the enemy. “Robin, are you okay?”
“I’m—I’m fine,” I panted, shoving to my feet. “Are you—”
“Who is he?”
Standing again, the sorcerer brushed the grit off his shirt.
“I think he—” I began.
“Robin!” Amalia’s voice burbled through the speaker, distorted and almost unintelligible. “What—you need—Zylas!”
I didn’t know what she was saying, but I could hear her panic as she yelled my demon’s name. Terror shot through me.
Daimon, hesychaze!
At my silent command, the infernus buzzed. Red power streaked across the lot, faster than a demon could run, and hit the pendant. It vibrated, then the light burst back out. Zylas took form again—and his fist struck the sorcerer in the gut so hard the man lifted off the ground.
He slammed down, mouth gaping and eyes rolling back in his head.
Zylas staggered and caught himself. Blood ran down his right arm and dripped off his chin. Wounds lashed his body from Nazhivēr’s claws, and he couldn’t straighten all the way.
“Zylas,” I whispered in horror.
“He is coming.”
With a sweep of his wings, Nazhivēr appeared on top of a stack of pipes. White teeth flashing, the demon extended both hands. Glowing hexagons materialized out of nothing, two feet wide, ringing his arms and overlapping each other.
“Kasht,” Zylas spat, thrusting his palm toward the ground. A circle filled with spiky runes formed beneath him, spreading outward until we were both standing among the glowing lines.
The temperature dropped, the faint light of the full moon dimming as the two demons drew in all the power from nearby sources. The heat rushed from my body, my breath puffing white.
Three seconds to build out their spells. Two. One.
A blast of spiraling magic erupted from Nazhivēr’s palms. It screamed across the distance. Crimson flashed as Zylas’s barrier coalesced in front of us.
The attack hit the barrier and exploded.
Zylas’s spell shattered and concussive force threw me backward. He caught me in midair and we slammed down together, his arms shielding my head and shoulders. His blood splattered my face.
Nazhivēr jumped off his perch and strode toward us, his tail snapping side to side. Zylas pushed off me, moving too slow, dark blood running from the corner of his mouth. He staggered to his feet, listing sideways.
Nazhivēr grinned. He could sense it: dh’ērrenith. We were defeated. Zylas wouldn’t last much longer.
“Ori sol videatur!” Zora shouted.
Light as bright as the sun flashed. Agony speared my eyes, and I shrieked at the sudden pain. Zylas yelped—and so did Nazhivēr.
All I could see were bright spots. I was blinded—but were the demons? They had infrared vision, but would it work while their normal vision was excruciatingly white?
Scuffing footsteps, and Zora’s voice rang out in another incantation. A smear of green blazed among the spots crowding my vision. She was fighting Nazhivēr? Alone?
I reached out blindly and my searching hand hit Zylas’s leg. I grabbed his wrist and hauled myself up, clinging to his arm.
Zylas, we can fight too! We can use my cantrips!
His hand closed around mine, blood-slick fingers digging in. His shadowed face appeared among the spots as my vision recovered.
Zora shouted another incantation. Her sword struck metal with a ringing clang.
Like we defeated Vasilii. We can do it.
I pulled his arm up, pointing our hands toward the sounds of battle. My vision cleared a little more, and with a final blink, my sight returned.
So did Nazhivēr’s.
He swept his powerful arm out. Zora was already swinging her sword, the long blade giving her more reach than Zylas’s claws, and the point cut across the demon’s shoulder as he struck. The impact from his armored forearm knocked her ten feet and she landed on her back, halfway between us and Nazhivēr.
Crimson streaked up