Page 97 of Demon Touched

Syrus clicks his fingers so a flame appears between them, then he holds the flame to the runes until they catch alight.

The rift opens slowly—shakily—refusing to solidify into a clear tear in the air. Instead, it remains a shimmering mirage, the edges of which swell and narrow erratically. I always knew the aether between Aradis and Infernum is hard to pass through—it’s why the wingers hold all their battles in Strata— but I could never picture what “impassable” actually looked like until now.

“Um…” I begin, wondering how to say to Syrus that this doesn’t look stable or safe.

Sure enough, before I can say another word, the rift snaps shut, sealing itself off.

Syrus bares his teeth in frustration. “Maybe I made a mistake with the runes,” he says.

“Or maybe even Viz would be struggling right now,” I guess.

“Either way,” Syrus says, glancing skyward, “we don’t have time to figure it out. Look.”

I follow his gaze up to where a tight arrow-shaped formation of armored ephilium are flying high above us. They haven’t spotted us yet, but my pulse quickens anyway.

“It’s a patrol,” Syrus says. “And I’d bet my right horn they’re looking for us, along with any of Garion’s friends who might have escaped.”

We share a look, both refusing to say the obvious. If we can’t open a rift to Infernum…

Syrus breaks first. “Leah⁠—”

“We’ll find somewhere proper to hide. We can discuss our options once we’re safe,” I say.

His brow furrows, skeptical. “Should we try to get out of the city? They’ll assume we’ve gone to Strata right away, so they might not consider watching the bridges.”

I shake my head. When I put my hands in my pockets, I feel the brush of a piece of paper folded away inside it. It gives me an idea.

“The Illidores got us into this mess,” I say with more confidence than I really feel. “They can help get us the fuck out of it.”

Chapter 27

Leah

We decide that, all things considered, Syrus and Viz looking human would be better than sneaking around Luminis as demons. Like my grandmother all those years ago, there are a few Stratans scattered around Aradis, working for the ephilium, so a glimpse of them down a side street shouldn’t raise any alarms.

“We prepared for this,” Syrus says, fishing a vial out from a chain around his neck. He doesn’t need to explain that it’s holding water from the Morphos. “Or at least, for something to go wrong.”

He takes a swig from the vial, and I watch his horns melt away and his scars fade, until only the slight ring of red around his eyes hints at his true form.

Viz’s transformation is much stranger to watch. Syrus still looks mostly human even with his demonic features, but Viz’s whole color changes, his bone-white skin gaining new warmth and his skull-like face fleshing out. It’s surreal. When we’re done, I blink down at a very ordinary man that I wouldn’t look twice at in the street.

“Wings?” I ask, nodding at Syrus’s back as I roll my sleeves down to obscure the Cyrax painted on my arms.

“Those I can vanish,” he says, then his eyes brighten. “You could probably do the same with yours.”

I blink. On another day, I might have time to be surprised by this, but right now, I just nod. “Show me.”

“You need to tilt your wings down,” he says, lightly pressing the top of one of them, which sends an unexpected shudder through me. No one’s touched them like that, and it feels very intimate.

Syrus continues, ignoring my reaction. “At the same time, you need to picture tucking them away in your mind’s eye.”

“Tucking them away where?” I ask.

Syrus pauses, obviously thinking how to best describe it. This would be so much easier if he could just slip inside my mind as usual and show me. It’s crossed my mind that maybe this isn’t one of the specific abilities I’ve inherited from Syrus, but we won’t know until I try, and it feels strange, having to figure this out alone for a change. Syrus is here, but it’s not the same as feeling his magic channeled through me, his presence guiding me from inside my own head.

“Picture it as like slipping them between two planes of light. You’re not disappearing them completely, just hiding them away in a pocket.”

It takes a few frustrating minutes to get it, but Syrus’s instructions are good. After a couple of tries, I glance over my shoulders to see only thin air and a slightly odd set of shadows that you’d only notice if you squinted hard. I wave a hand at the patch of air, and it passes through unobstructed. It’s strange, how I can feel the weight of my wings but not the bulk of them. Mostly, I’m just relieved that us breaking the bond didn’t strip me of everything Syrus has given me.