pushed between them, her pale blond hair damp as though she’d just showered. “We were wagering on whether you’d show. You haven’t turned up for anything else.”
Had I missed guild events while I’d been sick? No one had contacted me about anything.
Fighting not to hyperventilate, I dragged my gaze upward. “I didn’t mean to miss anything, but I was—”
“I didn’t hear a word of that,” she interrupted loudly. “Speak up.”
My face burned and I couldn’t stop my hunch. Gripping the hem of my black sweater, I tried to respond but my mind had gone blank. I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.
“You’re a mysterious one,” the rangy guy said. “We haven’t heard a thing about you. How did you get into Demonica?”
I peered up through my bangs, squeezing my sweater tighter as I tried to determine if he was genuinely curious or about to humiliate me.
“Well?” the big guy demanded, stepping closer. “What’s your training background? How long have you been contracting?”
Those questions were definitely not friendly.
“You killed the unbound demon, didn’t you?” The blond woman sniffed dismissively. “How did you manage it?”
By letting my illegally contracted demon do all the work. But I couldn’t say that. They were waiting expectantly so I muttered, “The unbound demon was already injured.”
My response did not impress them.
The big guy sneered. “Why are you a contractor, anyway? What use does a little girl like you have for a demon?”
I flinched, wondering if I should make an excuse to leave. But where would I go? Attendance was mandatory.
“Who ordered the Moscow Mules?” The female voice rang out over the chatter. “Come get ’em before I throw them at you!”
Jolting, I peeked toward the bar, my view blocked by mingling guild members. Was that the bartender shouting? Was she allowed to threaten people like that?
The large man stepped closer, towering more than a foot over me. The handful of mythics looking our way wore neutral expressions, and no one was jumping to my defense. I could hear it in the undertone of conversations around me, in their aggressive questions: Outsider. I was an intruder in their guild.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I pressed my lips together before their trembling betrayed me.
“Hey, new girl!”
I started a second time. Was that voice calling to me? My gaze slid past unfamiliar faces and found one I actually knew. Sort of. Not really.
“Over here,” the red-haired bartender ordered imperiously.
I blinked in confusion—but I wasn’t about to argue. Ducking around the large man, I hurried past another group and stopped uncertainly at the bar. The woman pointed at the stool across from her, so I climbed onto the seat and braced my toes on the footrest.
She assessed me with sharp hazel eyes, her nose and cheeks dusted with freckles. Her wild curls were damp and shiny—why did half the mythics look like they’d just left a swimming pool?—and hung past her shoulders. Six weeks ago, I’d seen this woman during a demon attack. After Zylas had killed Tahēsh, she’d jumped into a car with three men and fled the scene.
As far as I was concerned, she was the suspicious one, but she was peering at me as though she could peel back my skin with the force of her gaze. Her eyes narrowed to amber-green slits.
Then, to my shock, she offered her hand. “I’m Tori.”
She was the first person to introduce herself.
I took her hand and gingerly shook it. “Robin.”
“Want something to drink?”
An actual polite question? “Um—”
“Hey!” The big, aggressive man shouldered a small guy with round sunglasses out of his way. His glower said all too clearly that I wasn’t getting out of our “conversation” that easily. “Where’s your infernus? Are you even a contractor or just a wannabe pretending—”
“Darren, shut your hole before you contaminate my bar with your stupidity.”
My jaw fell open, and my gaze swung to Tori.
The big guy whirled on her. “I’m just asking what everyone else is think—”
“No one asked you, dipshit.”
My eyes popped wider.
Tori glared at Darren, then leaned toward me. “Don’t let him push you around.”
Push me around? My gaze darted to him, then to the cold blond woman, the smirking guy, and the others who hadn’t made a single move to defend their new member. Again, I was struck by their understated toughness, the rough edge hidden under unassuming exteriors. I’d thought this guild was far softer than the Grand Grimoire, but maybe I was wrong.
Zylas, are you paying attention? I silently asked as I cautiously