“If he can’t be convinced to cooperate, I will have to kill him,” Evelyn reminded her. “You staying here might be sufficient reason to convince him. He cares for you as much as any daimon is able.”

And to that, Aya didn’t have anything remotely polite to say. Belias had loved her; she knew that. She had also seen his eyes when she stabbed him, when he realized she was responsible for his imprisonment, when she revealed that she was a witch. She’d sacrifice a lot to keep him safe, but she wasn’t sure she was able to give up her world and her dreams—or become tied to the one daimon who had loved her and whom she had betrayed.

“It’s witches’ capability for affection I question,” Aya needled. “Maybe I should ask my daimon father if he is capable of caring for me. . . .”

She was at the door before Evelyn said, “He’s not. Maybe your Belias is different, but the daimon whose spawn you are is not capable of anything affectionate. Sometimes you’re more like him than I thought possible.”

Aya didn’t pause as she replied, “Perhaps that’s what comes of abandoning me in The City.”

She opened the door with a whispered word, proving by her action that even here in her mother’s space she could bend the world to her will. It was a quiet statement, but it was a statement all the same. Being a daimon-witch hybrid made her an aberration in both worlds, but she wasn’t a weak aberration. Reminding the head of the Witches’ Council of that detail wasn’t a bad idea.

CHAPTER 19

AS IT SHOULD, THE office door closed behind Aya with no effort from Evelyn. This was her domain, and bending things to her will was as easy as breathing. Her daughter’s ability to open that door, however, was a remarkable bit of magic. Doing even slight magic in another witch’s domain was difficult; doing it in the head of the Council’s office was both difficult and confrontational.

Good girl.

Evelyn smiled briefly. Aya’s ferocity was one of the only traits she shared with her father. The other useful one, of course, was her form-shifting skill. The spell that had enabled Evelyn to adjust her growing child’s genetic structure during those formative months nineteen years ago had all but killed them both, but here they were—both alive and succeeding. The victory had been worth the failed attempts. Delivering the child had been the final act in Evelyn’s path to leadership. No one else had succeeded at the spell. One other pregnancy had come near term, but the child had been born so frail that it had died before it walked. The only victory was Aya.

Evelyn came to stand at the edge of the circle. The daimon stared out predatorily even though it couldn’t see her. Its behavior did little to recommend its continued existence. On the other hand, it could be a useful tool if it survived. Having more allies among ruling-caste daimons would be advantageous to the Witches’ Council.

“Aya seems to want you to live,” she said.

The daimon lifted its head to stare at Evelyn. “And this matters why?”

“Because my daughter rarely asks for anything for herself,” Evelyn admitted with a small shrug. “She’s never asked for a pet before. You she wants to keep.”

“Your daughter?” The daimon flinched, but if she hadn’t erected the circle that held it, she wouldn’t have noticed. Its expression betrayed nothing of the insult that it felt. It said nothing more about her revelation. Its gaze followed her, but that was expected of most any caged animal. “I am not a pet.”

“A familiar, then.” Evelyn waved her hand dismissively. “There are other uses for your sort. Spells where your blood would be an asset. I could collect a number of useful ingredients from you. These days, since our unfortunate removal from The City, it requires a bit of delicacy to get those things, but here you are, all ready to harvest.”

“So those are my choices? You butcher me, or I’m Aya’s pet?” It sneered.

“Yes.” Evelyn hadn’t survived this long without having to dirty her hands. She was more at ease with murder than with affection, but in this case, she was hoping not to murder the daimon. The unfortunate truth was that her child was fond of it. The complications that would result from the daimon’s death were ones she would rather avoid. “If you would prefer death to being her familiar, I will kill you. Unlike Aya, I have no affection for daimons.”

“I’m not sure she had any affection for—”

Evelyn inhaled sharply, removing most of the air from its cage in the process. She watched the daimon try not to put its hand to its throat, studied the daimon as it struggled against the sudden loss of breath, and then she released it just as abruptly as she’d begun to suffocate it. “She is fond of you. We both know that.”

This time, the daimon didn’t reply, but Evelyn wasn’t sure if that was because it was trying to catch its breath or if it had learned not to argue with her. Daimons required a heavy hand. Most of them expired before they were any real use to her. This one needed to be kept alive though. The sad fact was that her daughter was a lot like her, ruthless and focused—which meant that crossing Aya would be problematic. Gifting her with a powerful familiar would be better than killing the daimon, but the process of doing so required the daimon’s assent.

Evelyn lowered the circle. At this point, doing so was a formality. If it tried to run, she’d stop it. It had eaten next to nothing, so it was too weak to attack her. Willpower alone wouldn’t provide it the strength to overcome her. She fisted her hand in the air, and it gagged as her gesture caused it to feel like her hand was squeezing its throat.

The daimon thudded to the floor, glaring at her all the while.

“I have other uses we could come up with, Belias. There are witches who would be indebted to me if I gave you to them.”

As its eyes fluttered, she relaxed her hand. It wouldn’t be able to hear her if it was unconscious. Then she’d need to repeat herself when it regained consciousness.

She waited. Once it appeared focused again, she continued, “Some of my colleagues are studying daimon physiology. I’m sure there are others who need sacrifices for this or that project.” She sighed as the daimon tried to stand. This time, she held her hand up with her palm facing out in a halting gesture.

It stopped.

“I would prefer not to involve them.” Evelyn pressed forward in the air with her upraised hand until the daimon was flat on its back. She walked over and stared down at it. “They don’t need to know about Aya’s weakness for your sort. It’s unseemly. My solution really is the tidiest resolution here.”

Even as the daimon was immobilized on the floor, it glared up at her. It was a very spirited display, all things considered—useless, of course, but still, the gesture was worth acknowledging. For Aya to do the sort of spells she’d need to, she had to have a familiar to store magic, and this one was actually a great specimen. It was fit and young, strong and resilient. It would make a good vessel. She told it as much, adding, “You are obviously otherwise skilled too, or she wouldn’t have looked at you so tenderly. This is a far gentler fate than that of any other daimon who has been summoned here.”

Finally, the daimon asked in an impressively steady voice, “What terms?”

CHAPTER 20

AFTER A FEW SURPRISINGLY restful hours, Kaleb woke to the sound of Zevi welcoming Aya, but the witch said nothing more than, “You can go. I did what needed done.”

The witch looked worn-out, as if whatever task she’d completed had left her as weakened as a fight would, but Kaleb wasn’t in the habit of asking questions that might lead to emotional admissions, and fortunately, Aya wasn’t the sort to reveal anything. Only Zevi’s well-being would invite inquiries, but Zevi seemed to spill every secret without prompting, so that particular awkwardness was unnecessary between them.