section of tunnel was dry, suggesting a blockage somewhere along the line, and it stank.
Really stank.
Zylas’s magic faded from his arms and the darkness around us deepened—but not so much that I didn’t notice the metal rungs on the wall beside him. Shoving the phone in my wet pocket, I rushed toward the ladder and grabbed the bottom rung—so high above my head I could barely reach it.
Hands closing over my waist, Zylas lifted me. I scrambled onto the rungs and rushed upward. A grate waited at the top of the chute and a streetlamp’s orange glow leaked through it. I pushed on the metal, but it didn’t shift.
“I can’t …” I looked down. Zylas stood at the bottom, head tipped back as he watched me. “I can’t open it.”
“Weak drādah. Try harder.”
Bracing my forearm against the grate, I shoved with all my strength. The grate tilted up, then tipped over and hit the pavement with an ear-splitting clang.
I heaved myself out of the chute and collapsed beside it, panting with relief. An anonymous back alley surrounded me—towering buildings and concrete walls interrupted by blank metal doors and loading bays.
The infernus flared with light and heat. A streak of crimson power leaped from the chute, hit the silver pendant, and vanished inside it. My fingers closed around the warm disc, the center carved with the sigil of Zylas’s House.
“We did it,” I whispered, scarcely able to believe I was alive.
Chapter Thirteen
I stared glumly at the tall glass in front of me. In it, liquid the color and texture of mashed corn bubbled. I had no idea what was making it bubble like that. Cautiously, I touched the side of the glass. Wasn’t hot.
I didn’t want to know why it was bubbling.
Slumping in my chair, I tugged my blanket closer, the soft fabric wrapped around my shoulders and over my knees. My drenched clothes had gone straight into the garbage, and I wore a loose sweatshirt and black sweatpants, borrowed from Zora.
The Crow and Hammer pub was quiet—unsurprising for a weekday night. I was the only person sitting at a table, though half an hour ago, the rest of my “team” had been here too. All of them, even the bully Darren, had waited while a guild healer repaired the wound to my neck and performed the additional anti-vampire magic to stave off infection. With a final blood test, she’d confirmed I was safe. No contamination.
The team had cheered the good news. Maybe guilt, more than concern for my wellbeing, had fueled their celebration, but it had still been nice.
Footsteps pattered down the stairs from the guild’s upper level. Zora strode to my table, unclipping her baldric. She leaned her broadsword against the table and dropped into a chair.
“Drink your potion,” she ordered, nudging my glass closer to me.
“Sanjana didn’t say what it was,” I mumbled. A yellow bubble bulged from the lumpy surface, then popped with a tiny pff.
“It’s for the hypothermia. It’ll keep you from getting sick.” She gave a short laugh at my expression. “It looks worse than it tastes.”
Grimacing, I lifted the glass but couldn’t bring myself to drink it.
“Try closing your eyes.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a sip. Thick liquid hit my tongue and its rich flavor pinged across my taste buds.
“Popcorn?” I said disbelievingly, eyes opening.
“Told you it wasn’t that bad. Drink up!” She leaned back in her chair, her humor fading. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
I took a few uneager gulps of the liquid popcorn. “I need a proper vest like the rest of you have.”
“I thought you were wearing combat gear under your jacket.” Her face contorted with emotion before she rubbed her hands over her cheeks. “Robin, I’m so sorry. I should have confirmed you were prepared for the job. I just assumed … but I should have checked!”
Her final word came out harsh and fuming, but her anger was directed at herself, not me.
“Zora …” I cleared my throat, wondering if I was about to make a huge mistake. “It isn’t your fault. I don’t have any combat training, but I let you and the others think I did so I wouldn’t be left out.”
Brow furrowing, she studied me. “No combat training? How is that possible? Your demon …”
“I’m … gifted at controlling my demon,” I lied. “But me, on my own, I don’t have any training. I’ve been a contractor for less than a year”—correction: for six weeks—“and aside from defeating the escaped demon on Halloween, I haven’t