Her gaze sharpens. “Who exactly are you taking?”
Corin steps fully into the room. “Me.”
“No,” Sable says at once.
“Yes,” Corin replies.
She points at him. “You do not get to volunteer for demon hunting before breakfast.”
“I already hammered iron into a threshold before breakfast. The day’s tone is set.”
“This is not funny.”
“No,” he says, and the humor leaves him cleanly. “It isn’t. That is why I’m going.”
I look at him and assess his current state. His aura remains bright, volatile, and still organizing itself around infernal exposure. His strength is increasing faster than his understanding, but his instincts are improving under pressure. More importantly, he perceives infernal residue without flinching, and the parasite, if present, may respond less quickly to a mortal body than to mine.
“You may accompany me,” I say.
Sable turns on me. “Don’t you dare encourage him.”
“I am not encouraging. I am permitting limited tactical involvement.”
“That is worse.”
Corin points at me. “I accept the terrible phrasing and the job.”
Sable looks between us as if deciding which of us to strangle first. “If either of you comes back bleeding, smoking, cursed,possessed, or smug, I am going to lose my temper in a way that becomes everybody’s problem.”
Corin lifts the hammer. “I’m already smug.”
“Then come back less so.”
I step closer to Sable before leaving, not because it is necessary for the plan, but because the tether demands alignment after her spike of fear. Her pulse steadies when I near her, though she glares as if she resents her own physiology for cooperating.
“I will remain within range,” I say.
“You’d better.”
“I will return quickly.”
“You’d better do that too.”
I do not promise.
Instead, I turn toward the door and let flame take my form.
The world folds into heat, salt, ash, and residue. I manifest at the edge of the lane with Corin staggering half a step beside me, not transported by infernal means but pulled through the wake because he insisted on gripping my sleeve at the last instant.
He releases me and bends forward, one hand on his knee. “That was foul.”
“You touched me without instruction.”
“I thought you’d leave before I finished arguing.”
“I did.”
He straightens, swallowing hard. “Next time warn me before reality tries to turn me inside out.”
