Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex: Demonized #1)(32)

“But I need my soul,” I insisted thickly, barely coherent but certain of one thing: my soul, whatever it was or whether I even had one, wasn’t something I was giving away to anyone.

A harsh exhalation rushed through his teeth. He seemed to hang on something, his body rigid, his powerful hands bruising me with the tension in his grip. As the seconds slid past, my lungs heaved in shallow pants and my limbs tingled with growing cold.

“Fine,” he snarled furiously. “I accept.”

My pulse drummed in my ears. He accepted what?

He released my arm and hot blood flooded my skin. His slick fingers pressed something flat and round into my weak grasp, then his hand closed over mine, compressing the cold disc between our palms. Pulling me hard against his side, he raised our entwined hands.

“Now seal it.” His husky voice filled my head like the shadows that surrounded us. “Enpedēra vīsh nā.”

I was beyond thought or decision, but my mouth moved, my tongue forming the alien words without my instruction. “Enpedēra vīsh nā.”

As the last sound left my lips, new pain erupted—burning agony in my palm. The hard disc erupted with deep crimson light, shoving the shadows back. Zylas’s fingers, entwined through mine, gripped hard, preventing me from releasing the scorching metal. The fire tore down my arm and into my chest, ripping a scream from my throat.

“What was that?” a voice outside the circle demanded, sounding far away. “Did you see that light?”

“The demon is killing her and recharging its magic,” another voice spat. “Now we’ll have to wait for it to weaken again.”

The light died and the burning heat in my arm vanished. Zylas’s fingers uncurled and I snatched my hand away, tucking it to my chest as I shuddered.

“Now, payilas,” he crooned in my ear. “I need strength. How much heat can you spare?”

“Heat?” I slurred.

“Not much,” he mused as his cool fingers touched the base of my throat.

My skin tingled—then cold hit me like a wave of arctic ocean. The heat sucked out of my body and I convulsed in a desperate attempt to get away. He caught my flailing arms—and his hands were warmer than my chilled skin.

Crimson eyes glowed in the darkness.

Zylas stood up, hauling me with him. Everything spun and I didn’t know where the floor was. His hand brushed my hair, then something thumped against my chest with the jingle of a metal chain. Hunching under the low dome, he pulled my back against his torso, his arms around my middle to support my trembling legs. The metal plate that protected his heart dug into my spine.

“Stand, payilas,” he breathed in my ear. “All you must do is leave the circle. I will do the rest.”

I shook violently, hypothermic, anemic, disoriented. “Leave?”

“Yes.” His hands gripped my waist. “Are you ready?”

No. No, I wasn’t—

With an eddying swirl, the darkness in the dome melted away. Light blasted my eyes, half blinding me.

Held by Zylas, I faced the fallen podium, the floor splattered with my blood. Beyond it, Karlson, Hulk, and Vince had frozen at my sudden reappearance. Travis sat against a bookshelf beside the door, hunched over his drawn-up knees. His mouth hung open.

Zylas threw me out of the circle.

As I flew forward, streaks of red light leaped with me, shooting all around my body and coalescing at my chest. I hurtled across the silver line and slammed into the floor on the other side, sprawling face down.

I wanted to lie there and die, but not with the three monstrous men watching me. Trembling, I braced my hands against the floor. As I pushed myself up, the flat metal disc swung from the chain around my neck.

Behind me, the summoning circle was empty. My head buzzed with dull confusion. How could it be empty? Where was Zylas?

Crimson light burst from the pendant around my neck like spouting liquid. It hit the floor and pooled upward, as though filling an invisible mold—a human-shaped mold. Flaring brightly, the light dissipated to reveal a figure in its place.

Zylas stood in front of me, facing the three men.

Outside the circle. He was outside the circle.

He lifted his arms away from his body and curled his fingers. His short claws unsheathed, doubling in length until they’d extended well past his fingertips.

“Ahh,” he half sighed, half growled, his husky voice sliding through the silent room. “It feels good to move again.”

Terror pulsed through the library.

“It’s unbound!” Karlson roared. “Call your demons!”

Vince and Hulk yanked silver pendants from beneath their shirts. Crimson radiance bloomed across the metal.

Zylas’s tail lashed—then he leaped. Fast. A reddish blur. He soared over the podium, took a springing step, and landed beside Hulk. His hand flashed out, closed around the man’s pendant, and tore it away. The disc bounced across the floor.

Zylas spun behind Hulk. The man pitched forward, blood spraying from his back in a sparkling wave. Zylas whirled across the man’s other side, claws flashing again. As he fell, Hulk’s throat disappeared, replaced by gushing gore. The man collapsed.

Three seconds. It had taken Zylas three seconds to kill him.

“Run!” Vince bellowed.

Run, I thought vaguely. I should run too. My vision blurred in bright ripples. Pain jarred through me and I realized my arms had given out; I’d collapsed to the floor. This time, I didn’t try to rise. The temperature had plunged, the room so cold that frost sparkled across the floor, dancing in my fading sight. Men were shouting. Screams. Footsteps, thundering impacts with the floor.