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couldn’t get breath to tell the damn boy to stop and run. At least Lindsay was buying him some time to
heal. When the guul straightened, it shed the last of its disguise. At full height, it was taller than Dane, a black, skeletal body covered in taut, glossy skin. It cast about with its heavy head, turning to grin at
Lindsay with teeth like knives. “I will have you in a moment.”
Lindsay stumbled backward and sank to the ground. The guul was draining him dry and Dane would
be next. Dane didn’t have much choice here if he wanted them both to live. He needed Yzumrud.
Laughing, the guul turned back to Dane. “Now. The main course.” It reached for Dane with talons
longer than daggers. Once, Dane would have had a set to match. Now, he couldn’t put his bones back
together fast enough to get to his feet.
“Eat this.” Dane raised his hand and muttered the words to finish a spell in the old faerie tongue. He
hadn’t used magic like this in years, but the words rolled out perfectly. Fire burst from his palm, a hot white knot of flame that took the guul full in the face. Dane turned his head aside to avoid getting bone and
carapace splinters in his eyes as the guul’s skull exploded.
It always felt like cheating.
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Dane forced himself up, leaning on the wall for support. Any thrill from the kill was lost in the
bitterness of knowing Ezqel had been right, Dane had needed Yzumrud. He brought his hand up to stare at
the damn thing.
“Bastard,” he grumbled, at the ring as much as at Ezqel. Yzumrud caught the faded moonlight and
glittered like laughter.
The dim glint of light on the ring sparked an equally dim memory in Dane, from so long ago he might
have been Lindsay’s age. Breathing hard, he stared at his hand and the ring as though they belonged to
someone else.
The memory of truths twisted by demon magic and the smell of honey over death bubbled to the
surface of his mind. Guuls had more power than magic-eating and their illusion played tricks on more than
the eyes. Dane had known that once, and Ezqel had known he knew it; they had learned it the same way,
each in their own time.
Before Dane knew what he was doing, he’d clenched his fist and twisted, driving Yzumrud and his
hand through the wall behind him. A snarl of rage was locked behind his clenched teeth. Ezqel had known
he would forget. There was so much he’d forgotten. When he pulled his hand back, the ring glittered still,
untouched.
If Dane had remembered, he never would have let Lindsay storm off. If he’d remembered, his need to
protect Lindsay would have kept Lindsay too close for the boy to be bait for the guul. They might never
have gotten the heart they needed, not like this, and Dane wouldn’t have apologized for it, either. They
would have found another way.
“I’m sorry.” Lindsay’s voice was small and shaky, barely loud enough to be heard over the roaring in
Dane’s ears. It didn’t need to be loud to bring Dane up short. Of course Lindsay would think it was his
fault.
“Not angry at you,” Dane ground out. Another surge of anger, this time at himself, rose as soon as the
first was ebbing. “Just…” His vision was tinted red, everything was wrapped in a bloody halo. There was
no discussing it now. He turned and pointed an ichor-stained finger at Lindsay. “Not you. Understand?”
Lindsay’s body tensed in a reflexive cringe, but he nodded and tried to sit up.
Dane turned back to the smoldering, headless corpse. “Good thing we didn’t need that part,” he
muttered. “You okay?” He flexed the hand he’d used for the spell. Sparks of heat and power were still
ru
“’m good.” Lindsay hadn’t managed to stand yet and he sounded unsteady, but he was awake and
aware. That was enough for Dane.
“Good. Stay that way.” Dane spat out the taste of guul that lingered on the air and shook his head. “I
hate using party tricks.” He hated owing Ezqel. He hated failing.
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From his boot, he pulled the long silver dagger. In the dim alleyway, it glowed with an eerie light that
pulsed in the runes along the blade. He kicked the twitching corpse onto its back and, straddling it, split it from neck to notch. The resulting stench was unbearable. “Why don’t they ever make one that smells good inside?”
“I could do without ever smelling honey again.”
“Come closer, it’ll clear your head.” Dane plunged one hand into the open cavity to find the heart. He
got his fingers around it, careful not to nick it with his claws. He wrenched it out as Ezqel had instructed, but stringy tissue still bound the thing to its body. A slash of the magical blade freed it completely. Dane held it up for Lindsay to see. It was more than twice the size of a human heart, longer and thi
blacker than the night sky. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Except for the part where I made an ass out of myself.” Lindsay pushed himself to his feet and made
his way over to Dane. He was unsteady but calm, and Dane was proud of him. He didn’t even make a face
at the demon stench. “Are you all right?”
“Thing eats magic, and don’t tell anyone, but I’m not exactly at my best.” Dane wiped the knife clean
on his thigh and sheathed it again. His back hurt every time he breathed and his leg felt like it was going to buckle if he put too much weight on it. He could feel every bone fracture and blood clot. “But I’ll live.”
That was all he was going to confess to, even to Lindsay. He pulled the black velvet null bag from his
pocket and slid the heart into it, and tucked it into the inside pocket of his vest. “Are you well enough to walk?” He checked Lindsay over, frowning.
Lindsay nodded, and Dane could tell he was lying from the way he wobbled from that little motion.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“That’s fine. Get out of the alley. I have to get rid of this thing.”
Dane was still blindingly angry, and it surprised him all over again. He so rarely got angry at things
other than Ezqel and Cyrus these days, and the worst of it never lasted, always subsiding back to the
embers of resentment and old losses. But he was furious that Lindsay had nearly gotten killed again, mostly with himself for failing to do his job. He should have known, even if Ezqel hadn’t reminded him about the
guul tricks, not to let Lindsay out of his reach, much less out of his sight. Rage was making his head throb.
Lindsay headed back out of the alley the way he’d come. He waited near the corner, staring at his feet,
hair hanging in his face. Dane wanted to yell at him to keep his head up, but refrained. This wasn’t exactly a teachable moment.
Dane took a few paces back and raised the same hand he’d raised against the demon before. Yzumrud
glinted at him again in what little light there was, laughing at him for needing it once more. He spoke under his breath and the corpse imploded in a shower of green sparks and a cloud of yellow gases.
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The fire was green and white, flaring so hot that the smell of melting asphalt undercut the vile smoke.
When the corpse finally fell in on itself in a fresh fountain of sparks, Dane turned away. It hurt to move, but he was good at keeping his expression neutral.
“Let’s go. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Lindsay nodded. “I can walk.” Dane could smell his blood and fear and pain, but he wasn’t about to