When I stepped out onto the street, Roarke was pulling up in his fancy sports car.

Caught.

I’d pushed my luck.

He got out and glared at me, looking back to his usual self. No limp, thankfully. And a clean set of clothes, which I guessed he’d gotten from his car. Once again, he looked like a million bucks.

“What are you doing in Darklane?” he demanded.

“I had to see a friend.”

“About what?”

“None of your business.”

“This isn’t a good part of town. And I don’t remember us agreeing that you could wander off.”

“I was coming right back.”

“Sure.” From the look on his face, he wouldn’t be letting me out of his sight anytime soon.

“Seriously, I’m not going to ditch you. I know you can find me.” I held up my wrist to show the tracking band he’d snapped on me.

“Exactly.” From the determined set of his brow and the expression in his dark eyes, he looked like he’d cross heaven and earth to find me.

“Come on, let’s go get a coffee and then find that demon.”

“Where exactly are we getting coffee?’

“Wherever you want.” I’d have liked to go to P & P, but I didn’t want to press my luck after sneaking out.

Anyway, we needed to get a move on with finding the Ubilaz demon. I was almost out of Connor’s potion, and once that was gone, I was going to turn into a demon real fast.

* * *

Though I should have been used to the Underpath by now, I wasn’t. Roarke had driven us there in no time, zipping through traffic in his futuristic super-car, and the journey to the The Hanged Man in Plymouth had taken even less time. But the moment we stepped out of the Underpath, I was woozy.

My head swam as I followed Roarke out of the bar and onto the street. Midday sun shined brightly on the cobblestones and Tudor buildings, while the scent of fried fish wafted from the fish and chip place next door. A moment after we reached the main road, Melly’s little green car zipped up to the curb.

“Hello!” she called through the open window.

“Hey, Melly.” My head had cleared enough that I felt human again, and I climbed into the cramped back seat of her car.

“Where to this time?” she asked.

“Somerset,” Roarke said. “Central part, right Del?”

I closed my eyes and cleared my mind, focusing on my dragon sense, careful to keep my signature repressed, then said, “Yeah. I’ll know more once we’re closer.”

“Somerset it is!” Melly stepped on the gas. Hard.

It took us a couple hours to reach Somerset, during which time the demon’s location changed slightly. Eventually, I pinpointed it to the city of Glastonbury.

“He’s definitely moving,” I said. “I can feel his location changing slightly.”

“Slowly?” Roarke asked.

“Yeah. I think he’s on foot. Or in traffic. We’re close, though.”

Melly had entered the bustling city streets of Glastonbury a few moments ago. We’d taken a few false turns, so by the time we entered the city, it was late. Whoever was still out on the sidewalks staggered as they headed from pub to pub. I directed Melly through the streets, following my sense of the demon.

Fortunately, Glastonbury was a supernatural city. Smaller than Plymouth, but still good-sized.

When we reached a stretch of parkland, I called out, “Stop! We’re here.”

Melly stomped on the brakes. After we screeched to a halt, she turned to look at me. “Here? It’s a park.”

I nodded and peered at the expanse of open grass and woodland, then climbed out of the car into the chill night air.

I turned to the car. “He’s in the park somewhere.”

“Good,” Roarke climbed out of the car and leaned down to peer at Melly. “Thanks, Melly. We’ll call you if we need a ride back.”

“Not a problem!” She waved, then zipped off.

“Let’s go.” I set off across the grass.

Roarke followed and we made our way quickly across the park and through a small patch of woods. When we popped out on the other side, a massive ruined cathedral appeared in the moonlight.

I grinned. “Bingo.”

“Makes sense considering they prefer ancient sites. But why this one? It’s not well protected like the cave.”

No, it wasn’t. The cathedral was a shell of a building and sat in the middle of the immaculately tended parkland. Its broken stone walls and massive arches soared up into the night sky, leaving a hollow shell in the middle.

“Weird,” I muttered as we moved forward. As we neared one of the doorless entrances, I caught sight of a small iron plaque.

Glastonbury Abbey, Est. 712

“That’s familiar.” I searched my brain for why, but came up empty. “You know anything about this place?”

Roarke shrugged. “No. I like the History Channel, but old churches aren’t really my thing.”

“Okay.” I peered inside at the expanse of grass that looked like black carpet stretched between the broken walls of the cathedral.

Roarke stepped over the threshold and I followed, my skin prickling as I stepped inside. The ruins ran on forever, tumbled down stone walls creating a hundred hiding places. The abbey had once been huge. It was deathly quiet, just the sound of distant revelers on the other side of the park. Kids partying, no doubt.

Magic thrummed, though, rich and strong. There were a lot of different signatures here—too many. Scents, tastes, even sounds. The demon had grown his army in the short time we’d been recovering.

But there was even residual magic in the cathedral. Something ancient. It vibrated along my skin, familiar.

“Del!” Roarke’s low voice was intense. “Move.”

I jerked, then hopped away, glancing back at where I’d been standing. Horror opened a chasm inside my chest.

Where I’d been standing, a shimmering blue glow was stretching across the ground. Just like back at the castle. As it grew, flat stone slabs appeared on the ground in place of the grass. Some were inscribed with names and dates.

The cathedral floor.

The glow extended up the broken-down cathedral walls. When it reached the top, it kept going. So did the walls, growing into their old form. Stained glass filled the hollowed-out windows, glinting in the moonlight.

My head buzzed as I tilted it back, watching as the glow raced overhead, leaving behind a ceiling supported by ornately carved stone arches.

Candles burst to life in their sconces on the wall, lighting the place with a golden glow. A partial wall appeared between us and the massive central part of the church. We were behind the altar now. Maybe. My understanding of cathedral architecture was a bit lacking.

“What the hell is going on?” Roarke asked. “The same enchantment as the one at Tintagel?”

Magic shivered along my skin. My mind raced. “Yeah.”

My magic roared inside me, like it was responding to the enchantment. It thrummed in my chest, vibrating like a massive engine ready to take off on a race to my destruction.

Was I doing this?

Roarke’s skeptical gaze met mine. My heart pounded. “Maybe that’s why the demon is here. He’s attracted to ancient places with this type of enchantment.”

It sounded slightly like bullshit. Maybe a lot like bullshit.

A shout sounded, distracting Roarke.

Thank magic.

Roarke whirled to locate the noise, and I did the same, drawing my sword from the sheath at my back. I nodded toward the pathways on either side of the obstruction in front of us.

We took the one to the right, creeping around. I looked up, satisfied to see that I was correct. We’d been behind the raised altar. Ahead of us, the cathedral stretched long and tall, a massive space dedicated to worship.

Two demons, both with burnished red skin like the other fire demons we’d seen, were standing in the main aisle, their heads craned toward the ceiling. Shocked, no doubt, by the sudden appearance of the abbey in its entirety.

A shout sounded from my left. “Oy! Come on, then!”

I glanced up at the altar. Two demons were shoving golden holy items into sacks. My dragon sense tugged toward the glittering gold, and my fingertips itched.

No. No matter how much my dragon soul coveted those golden treasures, they weren’t mine. And they sure as hell didn’t belong to those demons.

Beside me, Roarke’s magic swelled on the air—the scent of sandalwood and the taste of wine the most distinct. Swirling black mist surrounded him, and he shifted into his demon form. He took off into the air, his massive wings carrying him toward the demons in the aisle.

I leapt up the steps to the altar, charging the demons who were sweeping the holy relics into their bags. They were so distracted by the loot that they didn’t hear me coming.

“Resorting to petty thievery?” I swiped my sword at the neck of the tallest demon.

His head tumbled to the ground, and I whirled to see the other with his hand raised. Flame swirled around the big mitt and I grinned.

“Go on,” I taunted. “I bet I’m faster.”

He scowled and hurled it. I dodged, avoiding the firebomb by inches. It exploded into the stone wall behind me, as I’d hoped. I didn’t know if this cathedral was here to stay, but if it was, I didn’t want him firebombing anything flammable.

Before he could gather the magical energy to hurl another, I charged, leaping off a low bench and swinging my sword down on his shoulder. It cleaved him straight to the heart. Blood sprayed as I tried to leap out of the way, but it hit me in the neck.

Ew.

The demon tumbled like an oak, landing hard on the ground. I left him and his treasures on the ground. In a few minutes, his body would disappear, returning to the Underworld. I didn’t know what would happen to the golden artifacts, but I didn’t want to touch them. No reason to get my dragon soul even more excited.

I raced down the steps toward Roarke, who’d just broken the neck of the second demon. He stood between the pews, looking like a fallen angel, the cathedral soaring high above him.

Oh boy. Now I was getting poetic again about the Warden of the Underworld. That was no good.

I hurried to his side, jumping over the fallen body of one of the demons. His black gaze met mine, scary in its intensity. He was well into demon-lord mode now.

“Come on.” I pointed down the church, which was even longer than a football field. “The big one is that way.”

“He’s got more minions.” Roarke’s voice sounded dark and gravelly once again. He cracked his knuckles, looking ready to kill something.

I shivered. “Then we’ll get them, too.”

We hurried down the main aisle, our footsteps silent on the stone. Pews stretched out on either side of us, candles propped on the end of each. I hadn’t seen any ancient monks come back to life yet, thank goodness. Perhaps it was too late at night.

A whistling sound was my only warning before something grabbed me around the middle. The ground fell away beneath my feet. I shouted as it carried me into the air.

A winged demon! Its pale arms were wrapped around my waist as it dragged me up, higher and higher. My heart pounded. We were in the tallest part of the cathedral, the tower that was right in the middle.

On the other side, four winged demons dropped down from their perches in the rafters, headed straight for Roarke. They were pale where he was dark, their skin an eerie white pierced by red veins. Their wings were the same blood red as their eyes.

Roarke soared into the air, all grace and fury, headed straight for me.

I stilled my struggling. We were high enough that if the demon dropped me, I was dead.

What that actually meant, I didn’t know. But dying the first time had hurt, and I didn’t want a repeat. I also didn’t want to turn into a Phantom.

It killed me to await rescue, but I wasn’t an idiot.

Most of the time.

The demons charged Roarke as he flew, but they couldn’t get a hand on him. He was faster and stronger by a mile. All it took was for him to grab a single body part of theirs, and he’d heave them into the walls. They flew wings over ass, tumbling through the air until they crashed against the stone.

When Roarke was nearly to us, the demon who carried me hissed, then loosened his grip. I fell, my stomach leaping into my throat, but managed to grab his ankle.

He kicked, but I tightened my grip. I was still over forty feet in the air, which was well within splat-like-a-pancake distance. And no way was I going to let this bastard get away.

Roarke hurtled toward us, a vision of strength and fury as his massive wings ate up the distance. In one graceful move, he grabbed me by the waist and gripped the demon’s calf in his massive hand. I released the demon, and Roarke spun in a circle, gaining momentum as the demon swung around us like a whirligig. Right as my vision went blurry, Roarke let go of the demon too. It hurled into the wall, colliding with a stone archway before plummeting to the floor below.

Roarke stopped spinning and held me tightly against his side, his skin so hot it nearly burned me. We hovered in the air for a moment, so high it should’ve made me nauseous, but I’d never felt safer.

“Thanks,” I wheezed.

He nodded sharply, then lowered us to the ground.

I stumbled as he set me down, but he gripped my shoulder gently to steady me. My mind narrowed in on the feel of his hand.

“What the hell were those things?” I asked.

Winged demons were rare. Roarke was the first I’d ever seen.

“Hellspawn. Quite literally. They come from the deepest hell in the Underworld. Cat 3 demons that are rarely on Earth. They don’t make good mercenaries.”

“They did all right.”

He grinned. “They’re good fighters, but they don’t follow orders.”

“So they’re just attracted to the Ubilaz demon’s evil.”

“Most likely.” Roarke glanced around at the now-quiet church. “Where the hell is that thing, anyway?”

I turned toward the far end of the church, where the entrance would normally be. “That way. And possibly underground.”

“The crypts.”

“Yeah.”

We hurried down the nave. I kept my sword at the ready and my gaze darting. This place was crawling with demon magic, though the church was now silent. Candlelight flickered on the jewel-toned figures in the stained glass. I swore their eyes followed us as we passed.

When we reached the main entryway of the cathedral, I stopped.

“We’re above him,” I whispered.

“There.” Roarke pointed to a narrow doorway. The wooden door was open to reveal a winding set of stone stairs that led down.

“Of course the creepy demon hides out in the crypt.”

I followed Roarke to the stairs, my skin prickling from the magic that flowed up from below—the distinct garbage fire smell of the Ubilaz demon, along with the scent of mold and rot and the feeling of ice against my skin.

Roarke insisted on going first, so I followed. Our footsteps were silent on the stone stairs. The hair on the back of my neck stood up at the sound of something scraping against stone. When we reached the base of the stairs, I knocked on my head for good luck.

The crypt was dark and low ceilinged with many nooks and crannies. The symmetrical order of the cathedral above was not mirrored down here. This was a labyrinth of stone walls and tiny rooms. Stone sarcophagi were aligned neatly against the walls. Some were ornately carved, some plain. But it was the small ones that broke my heart.

I shook my head and focused on the hunt, searching the dark space around us.

A ghostly silver form rose up from the sarcophagus to my left. A regal looking woman with an ornate gown, she looked to be about forty. She inclined her head toward me, then pointed to the left, deeper into the crypt.

It was the same direction that my dragon sense pulled me.

She then held up both hands and showed me nine fingers.

Demons. She had to be talking about the number of demons.

I nodded my thanks.

The ghost’s mouth moved, like she was trying to speak. Hurry. She made a shooing motion. Her gaze was desperate.

I pointed. “That way.”

His quizzical gaze met mine, but I didn’t tell him how I knew. He hadn’t seen the ghost, and I wouldn’t confess to having seen it.

My heart thundered in my ears as we hurried toward them. Why did we need to hurry? What would I find? Some terrible ritual in the crypt of an ancient cathedral?

I shuddered and gripped my sword tight.

We turned a corner in the crypt, immediately coming upon a long, low-ceilinged room that was filled with demons. We pressed ourselves against the wall and peered in.

Nine demons.

Shit. The ghost had been right.

Worse, they were massive, at least a foot taller than Roarke while he was in his Were-demon form. Their magic smelled like dust and felt like paper cuts.

In the middle of the room, there was a pit. Dirt flew out of it, like someone was shoveling. Must be the Ubilaz demon.

I sheathed my sword at my back and reached into my pocket for three of Connor’s potion bombs. The glass vials were red, which meant they were deadly Portlothian acid bombs. I could take out three demons from a distance with these.

I looked at Roarke and mouthed, “Let’s move.”

His black gaze met mine and he nodded.

We raced into the room, each taking one side of the pit. I hurled the potion bombs in quick succession, taking out three demons in a row. They collapsed to the ground, shrieking. I drew my sword and headed straight for the demon who stood at the edge of the pit.

He looked even bigger up close. I leapt, swinging my sword for his neck. But he reached out with one massive arm and swatted me away. I crashed against the ground, skidding on stone until I could see into the pit. Inside, the Ubilaz demon shoved the top off of a massive stone coffin. Within lay a skeleton dressed in tattered robes. A gleaming golden pendent lay on her chest.

The Ubilaz demon reached for it and yanked it off. The skeleton’s head tumbled to the side.

That bastard!

I heaved myself to my feet and spun to face the demon who had hit me. He approached, his massive fists clenched and ready to strike. This time, I went low, hurling myself at the demon’s legs and swiping out with my blade. I landed a blow that made him stagger, so I capitalized on it, leaped up, and planted my feet in his chest. He stumbled backward. I leapt upon him and plunged my blade into his heart.

His mouth opened on a snarl as I yanked my sword free and jumped back. Just as he was about to fall, he swung his massive arm, knocking me in the chest and hurling me into the pit.

I crashed to the ground. I scrambled to my feet, but before I could raise my sword, the Ubilaz demon spotted me.

His muddy eyes flared with rage as he backhanded me.

Pain exploded in my cheek as I flew through the air and crashed against the side wall of the pit. Instinct alone kept my blade in my hand. My head spun as I lurched to my feet, briefly catching sight of the carving on the top of the stone coffin’s lid.

Gwenhwyfar.

I called upon my magic, desperate to shift into Phantom form. Roarke couldn’t see me here in the pit, and I’d need everything I—

The Ubilaz demon jumped on me before I could shift. His clawed fingertips slashed against my front. Pain fired through me, whiting out my vision. Another clawed blow pushed me off him. More pain flared in my side.

I had to shift or he’d kill me!

The demon’s heavy form crushed mine as he landed on top of me. His claws raked down my arms. Acid pain shot through me. I shrieked.

It didn’t matter if Roarke saw me. I couldn’t survive this in my human form. I struggled to throw the demon off as I tried to shift, but I was too weak.

My magic stayed dormant, crushed by the debilitating pain that roared through me. I was thoroughly human, and I was staying that way.

Because I’d waited too long.

Blood coated my hands, and I lost my grip on my sword. Through blurry vision, I could make out the demon’s enraged face.

He was going to kill me.

Help!

The demon raised a massive clawed hand, ready to swing the death blow that would break my neck. I thrashed, my motions now weak as my blood pooled around my broken body. Too weak.

His arm swiped down. Death coming.

A transparent blue cloud swooped into the pit. But instead of encompassing me as it had the last time, it swirled around the demon and lifted him up into the air.

Magic sparkled, familiar and warm. It smelled sweet, something I recognized. The blue light whirled around the demon, keeping him suspended. It whirled faster and faster, then began to coalesce. Taking shape.

Blackness crept in at the corners of my vision. I struggled to stay conscious as the blue cloud rose up, away from me. Through my blurry gaze, just before I passed out, I thought I saw the blue cloud form something recognizable.

But impossible.

A dragon.

Definitely a dragon.