head, then pushed off the ground, clothes torn and smoking. The wounds in his black flesh shrank to nothing. In the time it took him to straighten, his injuries had healed.
He craned his head one way then the other, rolling his narrow shoulders as though working out a mild cramp. His ebony eyes found Nazhivēr.
The demon spread his wings and leaped skyward. As he took flight, he tore open the belt that held the grimoire closed. The loose pages containing my mother’s translations fluttered down.
In a flash, Vasilii leaped after the flighted demon. The fae grabbed Nazhivēr’s legs and shoved his talons through the demon’s knee.
Nazhivēr flung the grimoire away.
It flew end over end, arcing through the air—and Zylas caught it. Vasilii released the winged demon and dropped back to the ground. Wings pumping, Nazhivēr soared above the treetops and disappeared from sight, fleeing the indestructible fae—which left Zylas to battle Vasilii alone.
Zylas took one wide-eyed look at the grimoire he held, then tossed it high into the branches of the nearest tree. He’d barely completed the motion before Vasilii slammed into him.
Tearing free with a splatter of blood, Zylas skittered sideways with rapid steps. Vasilii paused, gazing up into the tree where the grimoire was caught on a branch, then pivoted to face Zylas. He opened his other hand, the one with which he’d been holding the book, and his fingers morphed into long, rigid claws. Now both hands were deadly weapons instead of just one.
Zylas took a slow, cautious step backward—and I realized he was afraid. He’d taught me not to step backward, and he’d only do it himself if he wasn’t thinking clearly.
The darkfae vanished—and reappeared in a blur, already striking. Zylas whirled away, but blood misted the air as those claws shredded his arm. He and Nazhivēr together couldn’t stop the fae. Alone, Zylas had no chance.
But he wasn’t alone. I was still here—but what could I do?
Vasilii slashed again, his long reach far greater than the demon’s. His claws tore across Zylas’s thigh. The demon staggered and caught the fae’s next strike on his armored left forearm. His glowing talons struck the fae’s right hip, tearing deep, but the wounds healed immediately.
Was Vasilii truly unkillable? Did he have a weakness? He must have a weakness! I tried to think. Vampires. Fae. I must know something. My brain was full of useless facts, stories, and ancient legends.
Vasilii sank his claws into Zylas’s upper arm. The demon ripped free with another splatter of blood, crimson magic shooting up his other arm.
Vampires. Vasilii wasn’t a true vampire, but maybe he had the same weaknesses. What had I read? Sunlight—stake through the heart—beheading—garlic? No, that was a stupid myth. What else?
Zylas fell, his cast interrupted. Rolling, he shot to his feet again, tail whipping out. Vasilii smiled.
Holy water? No. Silver? Maybe. Was there anything else? In the story of the famous vampire hunters who’d exterminated hundreds of vampires, how had they done it? A sorcerer and a—
Vasilii grabbed Zylas and pulled the demon into his chest like a passionate lover.
—and a heliomage.
Crushing Zylas against him, Vasilii opened his deformed jaw, fangs gleaming. Fear flashed across Zylas’s face. One touch of those fangs and he’d be paralyzed.
I flung myself out of the trees and sprinted toward the fae and demon.
“A shame,” Vasilii whispered, “to waste such a delicacy.”
He brought his mouth down, fangs reaching hungrily for Zylas’s shoulder.
I leaped into them, my arm thrust out as I screamed, “Indura.”
Vasilii’s teeth met my arm with bruising pain—but no piercing agony. His long fangs were caught on my shirt, the fabric patterned with Amalia’s careful hexes.
Yanking my arm free, I clutched Zylas and shouted, “Ori eruptum impello!”
A silvery dome exploded from the small artifact. It struck Vasilii and hurled him backward—but the spell hadn’t had time to fully recharge and the burst of force wasn’t as strong as before. It was still enough to send Vasilii crashing down on his back.
Holding me tight, Zylas sprang away, opening a wider gap. Vasilii rose with uncanny grace, unharmed. Nothing we did could damage him.
Except, maybe, fire.
We needed an inferno and we needed it right this moment—but how? There were no gas cans for me to ignite with an otherwise harmless flame cantrip.
Zylas, can you light him on fire?
As my mind turned inward, I felt the demon again—that dangerous, shadowy presence inside my head. I could feel his urgency, his fear. He didn’t know how to stop this creature. He could heat things up but