His accent vanished as he imitated my voice. “I cannot hunt if you are making noise.”
I pressed two fingers to my temple and massaged gently, hoping to stave off the headache building behind my eyes. “I’m coming with you.”
“You cannot hunt.”
“I’ll be quiet and follow you.”
“No.”
I glared at him. “What will you do? Tie me up so I can’t follow?”
His eyes squinched as though he were considering whether he could pull that off. Chuffing irritably, he stalked away. No chance the impatient, contrary demon would wait while I told Amalia where we were headed.
With a frantic glance at the garage, I rushed after him, ignoring the little voice in my head warning me that, really, there was no way this wasn’t a bad idea.
Chapter Five
Zylas circled the house’s ruins, then paused to inhale. His steps flowing with a slow, eerie grace, he prowled toward the trees at the property’s far end. Shadows closed over us, and even from a few paces away, he blended into the dimness. He circled a towering spruce with boughs drooping under the weight of their dark green needles.
“Payilas,” he growled softly, “you are too loud.”
“I’m not saying anything,” I hissed.
“You walk with too much noise.”
I looked down at my winter boots. I’d been stepping carefully, and the ground was so wet from the nonstop December rain that the leaf litter had turned to mush. Mush was quiet.
He slid forward again, somehow moving among the trees without even a whisper, and I tiptoed after him, aware of every tiny squelch my boots produced.
The property ended in an eight-foot privacy fence. Zylas grabbed the top edge and pulled himself up enough to peek over it. The way must’ve been clear, because he dropped back down, only to spring upward. He landed on top of the fence in a crouch, perfectly balanced with his tail sweeping side to side.
“The scent is stronger,” he murmured—then hopped off the fence and landed silently on the other side.
“Zylas!” I hissed, rushing forward. “Zylas, get back here!”
His head reappeared above the fence, one arm hooked over the top. “Be quiet, payilas.”
“Help me over.”
“No. Stay there.”
I glowered up at him. “If you don’t help me over the fence, I’ll start yelling.”
He bared his teeth, pointed canines gleaming. I held my ground, waiting.
“Mailēshta,” he grumbled.
He swung over the fence and landed beside me. Snatching me by the waist, he threw me over his armored left shoulder, sprang off the ground, and performed a smooth one-handed vault over the eight-foot barrier. He dropped neatly to the ground, pulled me off his shoulder, and dumped me at his feet—silently.
Without a word, he was in motion again. I scrambled after him, wheezing from the recent compression of my diaphragm. The neighbor’s property was heavily treed compared to Uncle Jack’s and I winced with each muffled crunch underfoot. We got all of ten feet before Zylas stopped again.
“I’m trying to—” I began in a defensive whisper.
He turned, swept an arm around me, and clamped his other hand over my mouth. I stiffened, my nose full of his hickory-and-leather scent.
“I hear movement,” he hissed almost soundlessly. “I smell blood, but not from this direction.”
His arm tightened around my middle, lifting my feet off the ground, and he slid into a winter-bare thicket. He sank into a crouch, pulling me with him, and squeezed my jaw in warning before releasing me.
I knelt, his heat at my back, and strained my ears. I picked up the same faint squelching noise I’d made while walking through the soggy leaf litter. Thirty feet ahead, a shadow moved among the trees—a man picking his way through the bushes. Crouched behind me, Zylas shifted onto the balls of his feet, his chin almost on my shoulder as he watched the figure.
He sprang up.
I gasped as he whirled in the opposite direction of the man in the trees. Twisting around, I glimpsed Zylas’s unsheathing claws and the flash of steel through the foliage.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Zylas froze, and so did the petite woman with her massive broadsword aimed at the demon’s chest. For a long moment, no one moved, then the woman relaxed her stance and set the point of her sword on the ground.
“Zora?” I ventured, unsure whether to believe my eyes. What on earth was she doing here?
“Robin.” She grinned apologetically. “Not what I was expecting out here! So this is your demon?”
She scanned him curiously. He shifted into a neutral stance, staring blankly like an obedient slave to my will. I gulped for air,