“Move back,” Hypaxia said, breathing heavily, broom discarded beside her. “Let me see him.”
“He needs a medwitch!”
“I am a medwitch,” Hypaxia said, and knelt.
Wings filled the skies, sirens blaring from the streets. Then Isaiah was there, hands on Bryce’s shoulders. “Are you all right? Is that Holstrom? Where’s Athalar?” The rapid-fire questions pelted her.
“I’m here,” Hunt said from the darkness, landing with enough force that the ground shook. Lightning skittered over the concrete. He assessed Bryce, then Ithan, the wolf’s body glowing under Hypaxia’s hands. Then he registered the two demons and went pale. “Those …” He scanned Bryce again.
“You know what they are?” Isaiah asked.
Hunt rushed to Bryce and tucked her into him. She leaned into his warmth, his strength. He said quietly, “Deathstalkers. Personal pets of the Prince of the Pit. They were seen in Nena four days ago. They somehow crossed the border.”
Bryce’s stomach hollowed out.
Isaiah held up a hand to keep the other advancing angels and Aux at bay. “You think these two came here all the way from Nena? And why attack Bryce?”
Bryce wrapped her arms around Hunt’s waist, not caring that she was clinging. If she let go, her knees might very well give out. Hunt lied smoothly, “Isn’t it obvious? Hel’s got a score to settle with her after this spring. They sent their best assassins to kill her.”
Isaiah seemed to buy that theory, because he said to Bryce, “How did you even bring them down?”
“Ithan had a gun. I got a lucky shot on the first. Queen Hypaxia took care of the second.”
It was mostly true.
“There,” Hypaxia announced, stepping back from Ithan’s healed, limp body. “He’ll wake when he’s ready.” She gathered her broom and, with a touch—or some of her witch-power—it shrank back into the golden brooch of Cthona. She pinned it onto her gray jacket as she pivoted to Isaiah. “Can your soldiers transport him to the witches’ embassy? I’d like to tend to him personally until he’s conscious.”
Bryce couldn’t argue with that. But … there was no one to call for Ithan. No family, no friends, no pack. No one except—
She dialed Ruhn.
Deathstalkers. He should have sent out a warning the moment he’d IDed the tail of one in that photo from Nena. Should have had every soldier in this city on alert.
But Bryce … by some miracle, she didn’t have a scratch on her.
It wasn’t possible. Hunt knew how fast the deathstalkers were. Even Fae couldn’t outrun them. They’d been bred that way by Apollion himself.
Hunt waited to speak until he and Bryce stood in the golden hall of the witches’ embassy. Ithan had already been handed over from the two angels who’d flown him here to Ruhn and Declan, who’d gently carried the wolf into a small room to recover. “So, let’s hear the real story.”
Bryce turned to him, eyes bright with fear—and excitement. “I did it. Teleported.” She explained what Hypaxia had done—what she had done.
“That was one Hel of a risk.” He wasn’t sure whether to kiss her or shake her for it.
“My options were limited,” Bryce said, crossing her arms. Through the open doorway, Ruhn and Dec set Ithan on the cot, Hypaxia instructing them to position his body in a certain way. “Where the Hel was the dragon?”
“Fucking coward told Holstrom she’d climb up to the rooftops to provide a second set of eyes, and then bailed,” Flynn said, face dark as he stepped into the hall.
“Do you blame her?” Bryce said.
“Yeah.” Flynn glowered. “We did her a favor, and she fucked us over. She could have torched those demons.” Before Bryce could counter, the lord stalked away with a disgusted shake of his head.
Bryce waited until the hall was empty again before asking Hunt, “You think these were the appetizers the Prince of the Pit threatened to send to test us?”
“Yes. They answer only to him.”
“But they were about to kill me. He didn’t seem to want us dead. And it seems reckless to do it just to test me.” She gestured between them. “His epic opponents, remember?”
Ruhn stepped into the hall and murmured, “Unless you weren’t the one they were supposed to kill.” He jerked his chin toward Hypaxia, lowering his voice. He assessed the quiet halls of the embassy—no witches in sight—before saying, “Maybe her coven summoned them, somehow.”