“Is this it?” Lyre whispered.

Clio crouched on one side of him, and on his other side, Ash had just pulled his black wrap over his lower face. It was an ominous gesture.

The dark alley where they lingered looked like every other reeking back street in downtown Brinford, but visible above the surrounding two- and three-story buildings were the glowing windows of a skyscraper. The Ra embassy.

Ash nodded in the opposite direction. “They’re holed up in a warehouse another two blocks that way, but pairs have come this way multiple times.”

“Probably a nymph and a chimera,” Clio murmured. “They make a dangerous partnership. We’ll have to be careful the nymphs don’t see our auras.”

“I wonder what they’re planning with the embassy,” Lyre murmured, squinting toward the scattered lights shining from the embassy windows. “Bastian has to realize that attacking it would be suicide.”

“I’ve been wondering about that too.” Clio chewed on a fingernail. “He can’t be planning to use the KLOC on them, can he?”

Lyre shifted his weight, legs aching from crouching for so long. As usual, Ash didn’t seem bothered by the physical demand. “Bastian knows the shadow weave is a chain reaction. If he unleashes it on the embassy, there’s no way he and his men could get far enough away to avoid getting caught in it too.”

“How far are we talking?” Ash asked.

“Depends on how many daemons are in the embassy and how much stored magic they have.” Lyre glanced around. “I would guess that, if triggered in the embassy, the shadow weave would cover at least the entire downtown core. If the prince is stupid enough to use it …”

“Bastian isn’t stupid.” Clio brushed her hair out of her eyes. A faint line marked her cheek, the cut mostly healed after a lot of painstaking effort on his part. “He won’t put himself at risk like that.”

Lyre silently agreed. Generally speaking, he was a firm believer in strategic cowardice, but Bastian wasn’t merely averse to personal danger. He was also happy to manipulate others into risking their lives in his place.

With that in mind, Lyre wasn’t feeling all too great about the nymph and chimera soldiers they would soon have to deal with. The daemons were loyal to their prince, not bad people. Probably. Maybe they were all pieces of walking garbage like Eryx was. He could hope, right?

Ash canted his head as though listening to something. “A pair is on the move, heading this way. We can get in position.”

The draconian was up and heading farther down the alley before Lyre or Clio could respond.

She glanced around with a frown. “I thought we were in position.”

“Apparently not.” Lyre waved at her to follow as he hastened after Ash. “What I really want to know is how he can hear them at this distance.”

He trotted a few yards to catch up, the draconian’s long stride carrying him swiftly away. Ash moved with purpose, and it was obvious he’d already scouted this area and knew exactly where he wanted to go. Wheeling around the corner of a two-story brick building, he took three running steps and leaped, grabbing the bottom of a rusting fire escape.

Lyre swallowed back a groan as Ash easily pulled himself up, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing impressively. The draconian didn’t wait—or even glance back—as he climbed the rickety metal structure that looked like it might break free from the wall at any moment.

“Um,” Clio whispered.

Lyre rolled his shoulders. First the desert-trekking jinn Sabir, now Ash. All these assholes making him look out of shape.

Puffing out a breath, he stepped closer to the fire escape, turned, and cupped his hands together. Clio looked at the fire escape six feet above his head and let out her own heavy sigh. Backing up a few steps, she ran at him.

Her foot landed in his hands and he launched her upward. She caught the metal rail and hopped over it, landing neatly. Ash was out-muscling him, and Clio—aside from her epic clumsy moments—was impressively agile. Damn it.

As she climbed, he rubbed his hands together, then took a running leap at the fire escape. He caught the bottom bar and hauled himself up with a muffled grunt. Ash had already reached the roof, and Lyre and Clio swiftly joined him.

The draconian crouched near the rooftop edge, peering into the alley below. Lyre squinted through the darkness. At well past midnight, the downtown core was almost devoid of light.

“I see them,” Clio whispered. “A nymph and a chimera.”

“How far?” Lyre asked.

“Twenty-five yards,” Ash answered before she could. “Get down so the nymph doesn’t see your auras.”

Lyre lay down on the rooftop and Clio flattened herself too, giving Lyre another “what the hell” look. Without asper, how could Ash see their targets when Lyre couldn’t make out a damn thing?

In the silence, the soft sounds of cautious footsteps grew audible. Lyre peeked over the edge and, after a moment of squinting, picked them out of the darkness. The short, slim nymph moved with quick steps, his blond hair gleaming. His chimera partner had a steadier pace, his head swiveling as he checked the shadows all around them.

Ash didn’t budge, watching as the pair passed beneath their position on the rooftop. Lyre bit the inside of his cheek, unable to ask what Ash was waiting for. Any noise would be a risk.

The draconian rose to his feet and put one foot on the ledge, but he didn’t make his move. Down the alley, something clattered. The sound echoed off the buildings and the two soldiers froze.

Ash’s fingers curled. Dark magic swirled in his hand as he prepped a binding spell, then with a flick of his wrist, he flung it downward. It struck the nymph in the back and the daemon fell.

Ash sprang off the rooftop. Not bothering with his wings, he hit the ground in a roll and came out of it with a sword in each hand. Lyre lurched up, eyes wide, as the draconian caught the hapless chimera in the middle of dropping glamour.

It was over in a heartbeat. A swift, clean execution.

As Ash pulled his sword out of the fallen daemon, Clio gasped in alarm. Lyre jerked his attention to the nymph soldier. He’d freed himself from the binding spell and was scrambling to his feet.

“Shit,” Lyre growled, grabbing the rooftop’s edge. “Wait here.”

He jumped. Two stories was not a fun drop. Doable for a daemon, but not fun. He hit the pavement hard and rolled. In the time it took him to launch back to his feet, the nymph had bolted in the opposite direction—and he was fast. Ash turned, flicking the blood off his sword, and watched his quarry flee without making the slightest effort to give chase.

“What are you—” Lyre began angrily.

Skidding footsteps. Almost invisible in a patch of heavy shadows farther down the alley, the nymph had stopped. He backed up, hands outstretched as though warding off evil. As the nymph retreated, something else appeared in the darkness.

Something solid. Something big.

A black dragon stalked out of the shadows, its teeth bared and golden eyes glowing. The size of a horse with enormous wings blotting out the alley’s exit, it advanced on the nymph with prowling steps, its curved talons clicking on the pavement.

Lyre didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.

Ash sheathed his swords and headed for the distracted nymph. Grabbing the daemon by the neck, Ash hauled him backward.

The huge black dragon, only a few paces away, growled softly. Dark fire erupted over its body, engulfing its form so suddenly that Lyre jumped. The flames leaped upward, then died away as fast as they had appeared. With a final poof, they were gone.

And in the black dragon’s place, the little dragonet Zwi stood.

Chattering cheerfully, she jumped onto Ash’s back and climbed up to his shoulder. The draconian dragged the unresisting nymph back toward Lyre, and he blinked stupidly when he saw Ash had cast a sleep spell on the daemon.

“Um.” Lyre cleared his throat. “Your dragonet can … shapeshift?”

“Clearly.”

“You didn’t bring her into our fight.”

Ash gave him a cold stare. “This nymph isn’t a master weaver.”

Lyre looked again at the little dragonet. What defense did a dragon, even a big one with lots of sharp, pointy teeth, have against a master weaver’s magic?

He glanced up. Two stories above, Clio’s pale face peered over the rooftop’s edge.

“Why don’t you stay there?” he called in a low voice. “Keep watch while we question this guy.”

“All right.”

He suppressed a smile at her reluctant agreement. He and Ash, with the unconscious nymph in tow, retreated into a narrow gap between buildings. Ash dumped the daemon against the wall.

“Your turn,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Lyre agreed. “Feel free to stand back.”

Ash stiffened but didn’t move away. Crouching, Lyre took hold of the nymph’s jaw. Letting his aphrodesia loose was always so easy, like relaxing tense muscles. As power flowed from him, he dropped his glamour and Ash belatedly stepped back.

With a touch of magic, Lyre broke the sleep spell. The nymph’s blue eyes opened, hazed and out of focus.

“What’s your name?” Layered harmonics vibrated through Lyre’s voice, and he kept his hand on the daemon’s chin, their eyes locked.

“Ajax,” the nymph whispered dreamily. “Who are you? You’re beautiful.”

Lyre’s eyebrows rose. Well, this was unexpected. How convenient that Ajax happened to be more susceptible to his aphrodesia than most males.

“Let’s talk about you,” he suggested. “What brings you to Brinford?”

“Oh …” Ajax’s vague expression saddened. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything.” He leaned closer, smiling his irresistible incubus smile. “Why are you here, Ajax?”

The nymph’s eyes glazed over even more. “The prince asked me to come. A top-secret mission offered only to his best and most loyal soldiers.” He puffed his chest with pride. “We’re going to save Irida.”

“What’s Prince Bastian planning to do here?”

“The Ra embassy. We’re going to wipe it out. That’ll get the attention of those arrogant griffins, don’t you think?”

“It’ll definitely get their attention,” Lyre agreed darkly. He pulled his sultry smile back into place. “Your courage is admirable, Ajax, but the embassy is well guarded. How will you attack it?”

“The prince has made all the arrangements. He’ll brief us on our attack strategy soon.”

Lyre grimaced. Smart of Bastian not to share too much with his underlings, but problematic for interrogators.

Ajax reached up with fumbling fingers and stroked Lyre’s cheek. “I’ve never seen a daemon like you before.”

Lyre allowed the touch, more interested in keeping Ajax cooperative. The poor guy was drowning in aphrodesia, but nymphs were so passive he wasn’t even resisting. Most daemons would be attacking Lyre in blind lust at this point.

“You can’t be the only trusted warrior the prince recruited,” Lyre observed. “How many others have the honor of joining Bastian on this mission?”

“There are twenty of us.”

“How many nymphs?”

“Only five.”

Interesting that Bastian was relying more on chimera strength than nymph asper. Lyre hummed thoughtfully, wondering just how cooperative Ajax might be. With a less susceptible victim, he could ask only simple questions, but the nymph was surprisingly lucid while still completely under his sway.

“Ajax, I have to say, attacking the embassy seems like a big risk for little reward. Surely there are better ways to get Ra’s attention?”

“The embassy is just the beginning,” the nymph replied, squinting blearily at Lyre. “The prince called it a test. Plus, there’s a prize we’ve been waiting for—the thing that will really get the Ra’s attention.”

“What’s that?”

Ajax leaned forward, pressing against Lyre’s hand curled around his jaw. “A member of the Ra royal family just arrived at the embassy.”

Lyre’s breath caught, and he dared to look away from Ajax to Ash, standing a healthy ten paces away. The draconian tilted his head in a “finish this” gesture.

“You seem tired, Ajax,” Lyre purred. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

“I can’t. I need to get back.” He blinked slowly and a faint spark of focus came into his eyes. “I was almost finished my last patrol and I can’t be late …”

“Your last patrol?” Lyre prompted, adding more power to his voice. “What are you late for?”

“Bastian was waiting for the Ra royal to arrive.” He twitched as though trying to throw off a drowsy lassitude. “We’re ready to move out as soon as … who are you?”

Lyre pulled the nymph’s face closer to his. “Ajax, go to sleep.”

Power thrummed through the command, and the nymph slumped down the wall, his eyes sliding closed and face going slack. Pulling his glamour into place, Lyre pushed to his feet.

“They’re making their move tonight,” he growled, turning to Ash. “We don’t have much time.”

Ash jerked his chin toward the nymph. “Aren’t you going to finish him?”

“No.” He reached for the daemon to add a sleep spell. “We’ll be done before—”

Shoving Lyre aside, Ash planted his boot on the sleeping nymph’s chest, grabbed the daemon by the hair, and wrenched his head sideways. Bone crunched as the daemon’s neck broke.

“Holy fuck!” Lyre lurched backward in shock. “What the hell was that?”

Ash swept past him toward the alley. “He needed to die.”

“He was unconscious,” Lyre snarled, storming after the draconian. “Bastian tricked him into doing this. He wasn’t—”

“Why he’s an enemy doesn’t matter.” Ash pivoted, forcing Lyre to jerk to a stop. His dark eyes were as hard as his steel blade. “Leaving loose ends like that is how you end up dead.”

Lyre bared his teeth furiously.

“You wanted my help, incubus. Regretting it?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Lyre forced his anger and guilt aside. He’d known what he was getting into when he teamed up with Ash—and he wouldn’t regret it, because without the draconian, he and Clio would still be aimlessly searching for Bastian. But he would keep in mind that Ash’s blanket policy was, “When in doubt, kill.”

Once Clio had jumped down from the rooftop—without commenting on the nymph’s death, though she must have witnessed it—they hastened through the maze of alleys with Ash leading the way. His dragonet was conspicuously absent, and Lyre wondered where the creature was. With the ability to turn into a huge winged monster at will, Zwi warranted a lot more attention than he’d been paying her.

Ash, stalking ahead of them with impatience bleeding into his movements, slowed to a cautious prowl as they came to a junction of streets. On the other side, a blank four-story façade, broken by a single metal door with a buzzing light bulb above it, blocked their way forward.

Ash hesitated, then walked boldly into the open. Swearing under his breath, Lyre followed, Clio hurrying on his heels.

“Shouldn’t we be a little more careful?” he hissed at the draconian.

“Coast is clear.” He glanced at Clio. “Unless you can detect something I can’t.”

She shook her head. “I don’t see any magic or auras.”

“That’s because”—he put a hand on the metal door—“the place is empty.”

He shoved the door open, revealing a cavernous interior filled with industrial storage racks that bore a few dozen dusty pallets. They walked inside, their light steps echoing.

“Isn’t this their base?” Lyre asked, the emptiness magnifying his hushed words.

“It was. They were here only a few hours ago.” Ash assessed the shadows, scarcely touched by the light leaking through the open door. “They might have moved closer to the embassy.”

“This is already pretty damn close.”

“Ajax said they were attacking the embassy tonight.” Clio shifted her weight from foot to foot. “What if they’ve already begun?”

Ash canted his head as though signaling someone. His dragonet swept out of the darkness and glided out the threshold, vanishing into the alley.

“Zwi will check,” he said. “But I set detection spells on all the plausible routes from here to the embassy, and none have been triggered.”

“Maybe the nymphs spotted your spells,” Clio suggested doubtfully. “Your magic is very difficult to see in the dark, though.”

“Well,” Lyre said with a sigh, “let’s check this place out, see what we can learn.”

They split up, scouting through the warehouse’s huge main space and several floors of offices and storage rooms. They found signs of recent occupation but the place was abandoned and it didn’t look like anyone planned to return.

“Damn,” Lyre muttered as they reconvened in a top-floor office with a window that overlooked the warehouse interior. “Should we head toward the embassy?”

“Zwi has scouted all around it. There’s no sign of them.”

Lyre narrowed his eyes at Ash, but it was Clio who asked the obvious question. “How do you know that?”

Ash gazed stonily back at them, unwilling to divulge all his secrets.

Shaking his head, Lyre held his light spell a little higher, illuminating the ancient desks covered in an inch of dust. “Now what? Ajax said Bastian was planning to make his move tonight, yet he and all his men have vanished.”

“Maybe he reconsidered his plan,” Ash rumbled. “Assassinating a Ra will get a stronger reaction than he thinks. Or, more likely, he panicked when the nymph and chimera pair didn’t report on time.”

“Shit,” Lyre muttered.

“What do we do now?” Clio asked nervously. “Should we scout farther out from the Ra embassy?”

“For now, we should …” Ash trailed off, his expression tightening as he turned his head—listening. Lyre focused on the sounds within the warehouse, then realized he could hear a low pitched roar from outside. What the hell was that? An airplane? Not exactly common these days.

Without a word, Ash pivoted on one heel and sprinted out of the room.

Lyre exchanged an alarmed glance with Clio, then raced after him. The draconian hit the staircase and shot upward. Slamming through the door at the top, he ran onto the warehouse rooftop, the gravel crunching under his feet.

The pulsating roar quadrupled the instant Lyre got outside. The Ra embassy was a few blocks away and, lit from beneath by the tower lights, two stocky black helicopters hovered above its roof.

“Helicopters?” Clio gasped.

“Helicopters,” Lyre growled. Damn that nymph prince. How much had it cost him to hire two of the rarest machines in the modern world? And not just any helicopters, but thick-bodied military beasts that could probably hold ten men each.

“How strong is your strongest arrow?” Ash demanded.

Lyre’s explosive blood arrow could take out both helicopters, along with the top floor of the tower—if he could make the shot across the distance. He’d never shot a helicopter before and he had no idea how the wind from the blades might disrupt an arrow’s flight.

As one helicopter descended, almost low enough to land on the embassy, Lyre released his glamour and reached over his shoulder.

“They just dropped something onto the roof!” No sooner were the words out of Clio’s mouth than both helicopters shot into the dark sky.

“They dropped the KLOC on the building?” Lyre yelped, disbelief freezing him.

“They’ve already triggered it!” Clio grabbed his arm. “It was a big glowing bundle of magic. He must have wrapped the clock in a bunch of lodestones to make sure it would—”

Lyre whirled around, his eyes scouring the streets. Where exactly were they? “We have to get to water! Where’s the river?”

Ash grabbed Lyre’s and Clio’s arms and ran for the edge of the warehouse rooftop. Lyre’s heart crammed into his throat. Two stories he could safely jump, but not four. Ash either didn’t know that or didn’t care as he pulled them straight for the ledge and leaped.

Lyre caught a glimpse of the street far below—and the black river on the other side. Of course. Bastian had deliberately chosen a staging area close to water.

They plummeted ten feet before shimmers rippled over Ash and his wings snapped wide. Terror slammed into Lyre so hard he almost lost control of his stomach.

Ash didn’t try to fly. Instead, he locked his wings as they half fell, half glided toward the river. Panic pounded through Lyre and he counted in his head, but he didn’t know if Bastian had dropped the KLOC immediately after winding it.

The shadow weave was going to activate, wrapped in magic and released on top of a daemon embassy. He didn’t know how bad it would be, but whatever happened was his fault—because he had created it, he had let it fall into Bastian’s hands, and he had failed to get it back in time.

As they fell, he felt it coming—the drop in pressure, the approaching shock wave of expanding power racing away from the Ra embassy.

Ash snapped his wings tight to his back and they plunged into the icy water.