“But you can fight most fae, can’t you?”
“I used up or lost almost all my fae magic. What I have left isn’t very powerful.” He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a square of purple. “Except this, but it isn’t particularly useful.”
The Carapace of Valdurna. It’d saved Ezra’s life a month ago, almost killing him in the process. Couldn’t say I was pleased to see it.
Zak’s fingers curled around the fabric, his scars pulling taut. “Lallakai will return once she decides I’ve had enough time to stew about how helpless I am without her.”
“Shit, Zak. That’s … not a healthy relationship, you know?”
He let out a surprised laugh. “Healthy? It’s survival. I knew Lallakai was a darkfae from day one, and I took my chances with her anyway.”
“She’s actually a darkfae?”
“More or less. There are worse fae.” He tucked the Carapace back in his pocket and slid another of Robin’s drawings closer. “You’ve been busy over the last few weeks.”
“Doing my best to save Ezra, yeah.” I pointed at the papers. “So? Can you do it?”
“My area of expertise is alchemy, and the sorcery I’ve learned is nothing like this. Parts of it are written in … in demonic, I think? And even if I can construct the array, I’m not sure it’ll work. Summoners have their own demon contracts. Is that because the arrays require demon blood, or is there some other connection?” He rubbed his short beard. “In other words, your guess is as good as mine.”
Well, my slightly decreased anxiety levels were through the roof again. Yay. “So what, then?”
“I’ll try it, and if it fails … we’ll figure out what to do next.” He flipped the cult grimoire open to a page written entirely in Latin. “Do you have a plan for what to do with the demon, assuming the ritual works?”
I leaned a hip on the table. “Not really, but Eterran is reasonable for a demon.”
Zak’s eyebrows rose. “If he seems reasonable, it’s because he’s in a vulnerable position. Once that’s no longer the case, you can’t know what he’ll be like.”
“Robin said he’ll be stuck in the circle, so we can figure that out when it’s time.”
“Mm,” he agreed vaguely. “Before I forget …”
My forehead crinkled as he reached for his coat, lying on the corner of the table. He fished around inside its many inner pockets, then withdrew a silver orb the size of a small melon.
I gasped. “Hoshi!”
Before he could even offer the fae to me, I’d snatched her from his hand. I cradled her against my chest, stroking her warm, ridged shape. “Where did you find her? When did you find her? Is she okay? Is she hurt? Hoshi? Hoshi, can you hear me? Is she—”
“She’s dormant,” he said, cutting through my babble with a frown. “One of my vargs found her near that museum where you were first attacked. I’d planned a whole lecture for you on abandoning her, but it doesn’t look like you need it.”
I hugged her tightly. “She disappeared. I can’t see into the fae world so I couldn’t find her. When will she wake up?”
“I’m not sure. I think this is how sylphs heal from injuries. She needs time to recuperate her strength. Just keep her safe until then.”
“That might be difficult when I can’t even keep myself safe. Good thing you’re going to make this ritual work, right?”
He grunted in a way that didn’t suggest confidence.
Cradling orb-Hoshi in the crook of my arm, I patted his shoulder. “You can do it. You’re the best alchemist on the west coast, remember?”
He snorted. “You didn’t actually believe that, did you?”
I had, but then I’d met a few more west-coast alchemists—like Kelvin Compton, the transmutation genius, and his possibly even more brilliant apprentice, who’d mutated werewolves into furry super soldiers.
“I’m a powerful druid, a good alchemist, and a mediocre sorcerer,” Zak added. “I have no idea what kind of demon summoner I’ll be.”
I looked down at the grimoire. “We’re about to find out, aren’t we?”
Chapter Sixteen
Eight hours of preparation.
That’s how long Zak spent studying the cult tome, Robin’s diagrams, and a small leather book I recognized as his personal grimoire. He drew out a quarter-scale version of the three-circle array, getting a lesson from Eterran on how the demonic runes were supposed to work in the process. Once he had the array down, Zak practiced the incantations, his low voice echoing through the small warehouse while Ezra and I went over every inch of the concrete floor, filling and sanding all cracks and imperfections.
Twenty hours to draw the full-sized array.
Zak painted every precise line, curve, and angle of the three-circle array. Ezra and I did what we could to help—adjusting the metal rulers and angle tools as he directed us, passing him the alchemic marker he was using to draw it, holding up his cheat sheet of incantations whenever he needed to read one—which was every ten minutes.
Seventy-two hours for the array to charge.
Before it could be used, the collection of arcane lines and runes had to passively absorb the earthly energies all around us. Zak caught up on the sleep he’d missed, then split his time between practicing the intensive incantations required for the actual summoning and checking that none of the guilds searching for Ezra were getting too close to our hideout.
Sitting on a cot with my back against the wall, I wrapped my arms around my legs. Beside me, cocooned in a nest I’d made with my jacket, Hoshi was still an orb, cool to the touch and unresponsive to my voice.
I stared at the silver lines drawn across the floor. So much time and effort. So much risk and suffering. So much riding on this ritual.
We didn’t even know if it would work.
If it failed, we’d have to find a rogue Demonica expert to figure out why. That meant more time spent hiding here. More time that
