After our failure, the demons would be free to take everyone else.

And they would start with Piaras, Phaelan, and Vegard.

A roar came from beyond the Hellgate and an impossibly large head thrust its gaping maw against the membrane with such force that I could see every curved fang, each longer than my hand. It wanted out. And unless we closed that Hellgate, it was coming out. People I loved were going to die—or pray for death.

That was not going to happen.

I might fail; I’d probably die. But every living thing on this island was going to die if I didn’t get my ass moving and do something to stop it.

I ran to Vegard’s side. “Take Piaras and Phaelan and get through that mirror. Now!”

Vegard’s face was the calm of the soon-to-be martyred. “I’ll take them, but I’m coming back.”

I didn’t believe this. Nobility was a disease around here. “Why? So you can—”

“And leave you with him?” Phaelan jerked his head in Carnades’s direction. “You’re better off with the demons.”

“I’m staying,” Piaras insisted.

I clenched my teeth and I tried for calm; all I could muster up was barely controlled infuriation. Why wouldn’t anyone just do as I said?

“There’s nothing you can do here,” I told Phaelan and Piaras. I’d given up on Vegard. “I’m not sending you to safety; the citadel’s a war zone by now.” I blew out my breath. “Piaras, just please go to your brothers and do what you can. Go save some lives.” I felt myself smile, fierce and feral. “And Phaelan, go make Rudra Muralin pay for this—and make it hurt.”

Mychael barked orders and about a dozen Guardians ran out of the dark beyond the stage, armored for battle and armed for Hell. I thought I’d seen every weapon that could be forged from steel, but I was wrong. The Guardians’ weapons had sharp hooks and curved jagged blades—and the metal was green. If it was steel, it was no steel that I’d ever seen. Those blades had been made for a purpose, and from the black demon blood coating them, they and the grim-faced Guardians who wielded them had been doing their jobs.

A pair of them stopped in front of the only other remaining mirror. The tide of Volghuls had slowed, but not stopped. The Guardians had to wait less than two seconds for another horned demon to emerge. When it did, the Guardians impaled it as it was coming through, shattering the mirror. The men extracted their blades with a quick twist, and the upper half of the dead demon fell out of the mirror’s frame along with shards of shattered mirror. Severing the magic that linked the mirrors severed the demon coming through. And people thought mirrors were harmless.

Six of the Guardians charged through the citadel mirror in pursuit of the demon queen and Rudra Muralin—and hopefully to keep anyone from breaking the mirror from the other side and trapping us here. The remaining Guardians formed a protective circle around the mirror, steel in their hands since spells were worthless this close to the Hellgate.

In the dark beyond the stage, flashes of blue flame and demonic screams told me that the rest of Mychael’s men weren’t limited to steel. An intense volley of fireballs lit the entire Assembly as bright as day, and I saw what was out there.

Our situation just went from critical to unsurvivable.

Volghuls were everywhere. I had no idea how many there were, but there were too many, and they were too fast. While I was freeing Carnades and dodging green comets, those mirrors must have been belching Volghuls. Either that or some had survived whatever had happened out in the halls. The demons weren’t winning, but they weren’t dying, either. The Guardians were holding their own. Barely.

Volghuls weren’t our worst enemy; that distinction went to the elf standing entirely too close to the citadel mirror. Phaelan was right; I’d be better off with the demons.

Carnades Silvanus was a mirror mage, and he hated Tam and me and wanted to get rid of Mychael. I couldn’t read minds and in his case, I didn’t need to. I knew what the highborn SOB was thinking. Get through the mirror, destroy the one on the other side, and leave us all here to die or worse.

Take care of the Hellgate first, Raine; deal with the self-righteous jerk later.

Mychael took the stairs four at a time to Tam’s side, and I was right behind him.

Tam’s breathing was ragged, and his bottom lip was bleeding from where his fangs had bitten through in his effort. He tried for a weak smile. “This isn’t going as well as I planned.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.” I looked up and up some more. The Hellgate had grown taller, or maybe it was my terrified imagination. Taller, wider, longer—it didn’t matter. The damned thing was a Hellgate. Smaller wouldn’t make it any better, and bigger couldn’t make it worse than it already was.

“Mychael, how do we do this?” My voice sounded incredibly small.

He was calmly inspecting the Hellgate. The same things that gave me the shakes Mychael coolly analyzed for weakness and possible courses of action that would culminate in a brilliant plan. At least that was what I hoped he was doing. I was in so far over my head, I’d forgotten what the surface looked like.

“We banish it,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

“Those demons want to be here. We make it unbearable for them to stay.”

I had no idea how Mychael planned to roll up the demonic welcome mat, but Tam and I needed to know, and quick.

Mychael removed his steel gauntlets, baring his hands. “Tam, when I tell you, pull your hands out of the Hellgate.”

Tam was incredulous. “But I’m the only thing holding—”

“You’re feeding it, Tam. Your body’s blocking the opening, but your black magic is feeding that frenzy.”

More monstrously huge faces thrust themselves against the membrane, stretching it so thin I saw the outline of an eyeball the size of my head.

I blanched. “If Tam moves, everything in there’s coming out here.”

“It’s too strong now to be closed by the same magic that made it,” Mychael told me.

“Then how the hell are we supposed to close it?”

“White magic.” Tam sounded like he’d been handed a worse death sentence than he already had.

Mychael nodded once, tightly.

Call it what you would—light to their dark, good to their evil, white magic to their black. We needed nearly limitless amounts of it and we needed it now. Too damned bad we didn’t have it.

“Tam’s a dark mage,” I reminded Mychael. “I’m an evil rock’s bond servant. That makes you the only goody-two-shoes mage around here. You got enough juice for that thing?”

Mychael’s expression was grim and determined. “No, but the three of us do.”

There it was. The ultimate testing of a three-way umi’atsu bond. A type of bond that had never existed before, now had to do something that had never been done.

“Carnades can’t see this,” Tam told us.

Dammit. Carnades.

If we didn’t get the Hellgate closed in the next few minutes, we were dead. If we closed the Hellgate, we’d still be dead; it’d just take a little longer for Carnades to push through the paperwork.

What sounded like a muffled explosion echoed through the Assembly as one of the enormous doors was flung open. A phalanx of Guardians cleared the way for a slender figure followed by six men carrying what looked like a coffin. A flash of fireballs showed them to be Sora Niabi and six of Uncle Ryn’s crew. The elven pirates put down the coffin and ran like hell, slamming the massive door behind them. Sora stayed.

“Trap open!” she roared.

The Guardians battling the demons stopped battling, shielded themselves, and hit the floor. On the stage below, Vegard shielded Piaras and Phaelan. Mychael put one bare hand on the Hellgate, and wrapped the other around me, pulling me tight against his chest. He went back-to-back with Tam, and I felt his shields encase the three of us. The same eardrum-bursting pressure tightened the air and compressed my lungs like a vice. I felt Mychael’s chest expand and contract with rapid, shallow breaths. I tried to do the same.

The Volghuls closest to the trap were the lucky ones. They were instantly jerked inside. The screams of those farther away became shrieks as their bodies were stretched impossibly thin as the trap caught and pulled them across the chamber. When the last demon was inside, the lid closed with a resounding boom.

“Mychael, that’s my last trap,” Sora shouted.

So much for what had happened to the demon queen’s court.

“Understood.” Mychael lowered his shields and loosened his arm around me, but he didn’t let me go. “You can’t do any more here, Sora. Knights,” he called to the Guardians who’d been fighting the Volghuls. “Go protect the people.”

When Mychael touched the Hellgate and pulled me to him, the distortion lifted and I felt my magic. When he leaned against Tam to share his shields, our combined power was palatable and we weren’t even doing anything yet.

Carnades was staring at the three of us standing together. His arctic blue eyes widened for a split second in realization, then all expression vanished from his face. I didn’t need to see it on his face; I could literally feel the elf mage’s revulsion—and triumph.

He knew.

I was the enemy, Tam was evil incarnate, and Mychael was his last obstacle to ultimate power.

“Paladin Eiliesor, I order you to step away from that Hellgate.” Carnades’s voice was deathly quiet.

Mychael couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. I not only believed it, I was expecting it.

“Sir?” Mychael stood utterly still, a dangerous stillness. I felt the power he was barely holding in check.

Carnades’s power flared in response. “A goblin opened it; a goblin can stay here and close it.” The elf mage cast a disdainful glance at Tam. “If he is able. Protecting the Saghred and myself as your archmagus is your only duty. We will return to the citadel. Immediately.” He looked from Mychael to me. “Mistress Benares, consider yourself taken into custody. Paladin, bring our prisoner.”