I chewed my lower lip as I scanned the article. It was a well-sanitized version of what had happened—no doubt thanks to the efforts of Ryan and Knight—with a few eyewitness accounts of audience members who, luckily, were skeptical enough to say that it was “some dude dressed up like a demon or something.”

I began to set the paper down, then paused at another sight of the name Moran in a different article near the bottom of the page. LOCAL BUSINESSMAN BEN MORAN DONATES TO WOMEN’S SHELTER. I was usually completely clueless when it came to who The People were, but even I knew that Ben Moran was a major player in the local social and business scene. “Is Ben Moran related to Lida?” I asked.

“Her uncle,” Carl said without lifting his eyes from his book. “He was her guardian too, after her dad died several years ago. They live on the other side of the lake.”

“The rich side,” Tessa added with a quirk of a smile. “Ben Moran is on the board of Lake Pearl Bank and owns Moran Debris Removal.”

“Well, I’ll get to see for myself,” I said. “I’m going over there this afternoon to talk to Lida and see if I can find out anything more about what happened last night.”

Tessa tapped the counter. “Which brings us back to my question: Was it a demon?”

“No,” I said. “I’m not sure what it was, but I’m damn near positive that it wasn’t anything from the demon sphere.” I set the paper down, satisfied that there was no mention of me, and nothing that remotely implied that anything supernatural had occurred. Not that I expected the newspaper to say anything of that sort. “It had a strange resonance though,” I continued, not concerned about Carl overhearing any of this. He was already clued in about the demon summoning, and he was also the last person I was worried about blabbing indiscreetly. “I’m pretty sure I’d know it again if I felt it. I had a zhurn with me, and it said that the thing was some sort of construct. Maybe a golem or something of that ilk.”

Carl abruptly straightened and closed his book. “Time for me to leave,” he said with a ghost of a smile. He stood and moved to Tessa, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek before heading out. A few seconds later I heard the front door open and close.

I resisted the urge to comment on how strange he was. I didn’t exactly have much room to talk. I returned my attention to Tessa. “Um, anyway, I don’t really know too much about constructs or golems, so I’m probably going to be spending some time in your library doing research.”

Her mouth drew down into a frown. “I’m not sure I want to allow you back in there after you ransacked it so terribly!”

I met her eyes with my own steely gaze born of too many weeks of uncertainty, stress, and feelings of betrayal. “If you’d been honest with me, there would have been no need to rearrange anything in that library.”

I was shocked to see pain and sadness flicker across her face before she looked away. “I thought it was the right thing to do at the time,” she said, voice suddenly quiet and hoarse. The capitulation and show of submission hit me like a blow. Tessa had always been the dominant one in our relationship—perfectly reasonable and logical since, not only had she been entrusted with raising me after my parents had died, but she’d also been my mentor in the art of summoning.

It wasn’t the only change in her that left me somewhat unnerved. Somehow she’d known of my agreement to become Rhyzkahl’s summoner, and in the weeks after she’d woken from the coma I kept expecting her to lay into me about it—to give me a full verbal flaying. Or to at least want to know more about the circumstances that had led to the agreement, or the terms of my oath. But neither argument nor conversation had ever materialized, and the couple of times that I’d tried to speak about it, she’d hurriedly changed the subject, as if the thought of even mentioning a demonic lord was anathema.

I shifted uncomfortably on the stool, suddenly insanely glad that Carl had left before he’d been forced to witness this. Or had he somehow known this was coming, and excused himself accordingly? Anything was possible. Especially with him. “Look, if you don’t want me to use the library, I’ll understand.”

Tessa sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “No, go ahead and use it. I’m sorry I said that. Besides, you need it more than I do right now.”

Something about her tone made me frown. “Aunt Tessa, have you summoned since . . . you came back?”

She gave a soft snort. “There’ve only been two full moons since I was released from the hospital. Give me a little time to adjust, all right?”

I schooled my expression into an understanding smile. I had yet to tell her about my discovery that potency could be stored—and without resorting to the kind of torture and murder that the Symbol Man had used. Summoners utilized the natural potency that flowed in the world to create the portal between the spheres through which the demons were summoned from their world to ours. Potency was also required to power the wards and bindings that protected the summoner from being torn to pieces—either by the forces of the portal, or by the summoned demon. Power was easiest to draw and control during the full moon, which was why summonings were almost always performed on—or very close to—the full moon. On rare occasions a summoner could perform a ritual when there was no moon, but only when calling a very low-level demon, for whom very little power would be required for the bindings and protections. During the waxing and the waning of the moon, the danger lay in the erratic inconsistency of available potency. A hiccup in the flow of power during the forming of a portal could mean an ugly and bloody death.

However, in an effort to “woo” me to become his summoner, Rhyzkahl had provided me with instructions for a ritual to help draw my aunt’s essence back to her body. And I’d discovered that a portion of the diagram used in the process could be used as a means to store small quantities of power, and—more important— release it in a smooth and steady flow. I still wasn’t sure if Rhyzkahl had intended for me to discover this means of storing potency, but he certainly had yet to voice any objections to my use of it.

But I had absolutely no idea why I was holding back from telling my aunt about this. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t seem like herself. Was that it? The storage diagram was a huge discovery, and the more I learned about it, the more I realized that it had the potential to be dangerous as well. What could be done with a massive supply of stored potency?

I could summon other demonic lords. And bind them, with enough preparation. Not that I ever would. One demonic lord was enough for me, and such summonings were insanely dangerous. But what if another summoner—one with scruples similar to the Symbol Man—had this knowledge? What could someone like that do with a demonic lord at his command? I’d faced that possibility once already—even chosen to die rather than let it happen.

A chill swept through me. What if that’s why I might be in danger? Not only did Rhyzkahl have the advantage of having a summoner bound to him, but he had one who wasn’t limited to summoning during the full moon. There might be some who would seek to remove his advantage, or worse, there might be some who would seek to protect themselves by removing one who had knowledge that could make it easier to enslave them. All the more reason for me to keep it to myself. The last thing I wanted to do was put Tessa in any sort of danger again.

I jerked as Tessa put a hand on mine. “You look ill, sweets. What is it?”

I forced a smile. “Sorry. Lost in thought for a second. I think I’m still tired from last night.”

She gave my hand a pat. “I’ll make you some of that boring oversweetened tea that you tolerate, okay?”

I laughed. “That would be slightly delightful.”

I expected her to turn and go to the sink, but her hand stayed on mine. Her gaze had gone distant, and I even glanced behind me to see if she was looking at something out the window.

“Aunt Tessa? Is something wrong?”

The barest hint of a frown furrowed her brow. “Do you ever wonder why Szerain was willing?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She dropped her eyes to mine. “Szerain. The lord that my mother and Peter Cerise and the others were trying to summon . . .”

Even with her clarification it still took me a few seconds to figure out what she was referring to. “Right. When Rhyzkahl came through instead,” I said, keeping my face immobile. Nearly thirty years ago Peter Cerise had gathered five other summoners together in a bold, ambitious, and shockingly dangerous attempt to summon the demonic lord Szerain. Cerise’s wife was dying of breast cancer, and Szerain was—supposedly—amenable to being summoned for such a need. This was most assuredly not the case for any other demonic lord.

Perhaps the summoning would have proceeded without incident if Szerain had actually been the one to come through the portal, but Peter Cerise and the other summoners were unaware that the then-teenage Tessa was hiding in that basement that night. And though she’d yet to realize her potential as a summoner, her presence altered the forming of the portal. A different—and unwilling—demonic lord was pulled through instead: Rhyzkahl, one of the most powerful of the demonic lords.

The result was a slaughter. Rhyzkahl killed all the summoners except for one who later went on to plan another summoning of Rhyzkahl out of vengeance—becoming the serial killer known as the Symbol Man— and who had tortured and murdered his victims in order to gather the power needed to make such a powerful summoning successful.

“Yes,” Tessa said, expression strangely calm. “That’s the one. Do you ever wonder why Szerain was willing to be summoned?”

The serene look on her face was beginning to seriously unnerve me, especially considering the topic of our conversation. Her mother—my grandmother—had been one of the summoners Rhyzkahl had slain. “I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it.”

“You should,” she said, voice soft. “The demonic lords never do anything without motive.” Then she patted my hand and looked back at me with a perfectly normal Tessa-smile. “Let me get that tea for you now.”