The Demon's Covenant

Nick shivered in one tight, controlled burst, as if someone had hit him.

“My ring,” Gerald commanded.

Nick yanked it off his hand and threw the silver circle to the ground at Gerald’s feet. He did not look away from Alan.

“Yeah,” said Gerald, stooping to pick it up and sliding the bloodstained ring onto his finger. “I think we’ll go now.”

“Who said you could go?” asked Matthias. “Now you don’t even have a child of the Market. Let the traitor die.”

“It’s worth a sacrifice,” said a woman Mae remembered from the chimes stall. Alan looked at her, his face startled, and she turned her eyes away. “It’s one life,” she said. “We were all willing to risk ours.”

The square seemed to turn upside down as Nick snarled, tipped into a darker world. Everyone shivered as the wind rose. Mae saw her breath on the air like a dragon’s.

“You dare,” Nick said softly.

The Market people cleared a space around the demon now, unity dissolving, tables turning, only a few of them left standing with Nick. Alan, Mae, Jamie, Annabel. And Sin, trembling, with the child in her arms.

“Wait,” Sin said, sounding uncertain. They paid her no attention.

“Wait, you idiots!” Mae shouted. “Let’s give the magicians a chance to surrender.” She let her eyes move significantly to Jamie. “We’ve seen how useful they can be.”

There was sudden murmuring among the Market people. Mae did not think they sounded largely in favor of the idea, but at least they were talking. Seb uncurled from the ground, green eyes alight.

“You must be joking,” Gerald scoffed, but Mae saw that a couple of the other magicians looked thoughtful.

“I for one think it’s an excellent idea, Gerald,” said Celeste Drake, moving from the shadow of the church with the Aventurine Circle behind her. “Why don’t you surrender to me?”

The Market people flowed back toward Nick and Jamie, toward them all. They were united again, trapped between two magicians’ Circles.

Celeste paid them no heed at all. She sailed forward, serene as a china swan on a glass lake, until she was standing before Gerald with her hands held out to his.

“I told you that you would reconsider my offer.”

Gerald regarded her coolly. “And you told me you’d take everything I had.”

“True,” Celeste admitted. “But in light of other contributions you can make …” Her eyes slid to Alan. “I’ll make you the same offer I made before. Will you take it? Last chance.”

“I will,” said Gerald, and put his hands in hers.

“Circle of my circle,” Celeste said. “You are mine, and your marks are mine, and your magicians are mine. I will brand you with the sigil of the Aventurine Circle, and no loyalty will come before your loyalty to me.”

“I’m yours,” Gerald told her, his head bowed.

“And your enemies are mine,” said Celeste, her icy gray eyes sweeping the Goblin Market army. “And you will be leader of the Circle when I die. The bargain is struck. Do any of you dare stand against the Aventurine Circle?”

Everyone stood silent. There were just too many magicians, Mae thought. There was Helen the magician with her swords bright in her hands, Gerald with his marks: the union Mae hadn’t wanted and hadn’t planned on. Even with Nick and Jamie both, there were far too many to fight. Celeste wasn’t likely to start fighting until she had the Obsidian Circle safely branded as hers.

The battle was lost. Their best chance for survival was to stay quiet.

Celeste turned away, and Gerald started after her. For a moment Mae thought it was over.

Then Gerald stopped beside Jamie and said, “Come with me.”

Jamie stared at him.

“You know you have to now, don’t you?” Gerald asked. “Now you’ve had power. All you want is more. Come with me.”

Jamie kept staring, mouth a tender, hurt shape, still a little in love despite everything.

“Okay,” he said.

“What?” Mae shouted.

She surged forward, but Annabel got there first, her sword a blur of light and then a line of steel held between Jamie and Gerald.

“You’re not taking him,” said Annabel. “He’s mine.”

There was a ring of steel on steel.

Helen of the Aventurine Circle had lunged forward, and now her blade was kissing Annabel’s. They stood looking at each other. Annabel lifted her chin, defiant, and Helen’s lip curled.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “He belongs to us now.”

Mae thought Helen would turn away then, and she did.

First she lunged in and drove her sword to the hilt in Annabel’s chest. Annabel made a small sound, more incredulous than pained, her body crumpling on the blade. Helen slid her sword free and swung back into line with