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“No dead bodies?” Max pressed.

The paramedic weighed his response. “A lot of people have died tonight. Even more are injured. If anyone was with him, I wasn’t made aware.” Kit in hand, he tried to pass.

Max stepped in his way. “Wait—please. I know you’re busy, but—did you see anyone else with one of these?” He gestured to the tattoo below the ear that was ringing again. It was suddenly hard to hear his own voice, his ear plugged as if with water.

The warlock’s silver-ringed eyes flicked to the horned mark of the Seven Devils. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“What about Shadowmasters?” Travis intervened. You’d have to be living under a rock to not know the Darkslaying symbols of your hometown, but Travis still described, “A skull on the cheekbone.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I haven’t seen any other Darkslayers tonight.”

Max stared blankly at the paramedic, not knowing what he was waiting for—a different outcome, maybe. Some reassurance that Darien and the others were okay. Alive.Safe.

The warlock’s face softened with compassion. “Feel free to ask around,” he said gently. “Maybe someone else has seen your friends.”

Max felt like he was outside of his body, but he managed to say, “Thank you.” He gazed at the ambulance, his vision fuzzing over.

The warlock nodded in farewell. “Take care.” He took his leave.

Max drew a deep breath, forcing himself to keep a level head. No bodies was a good thing.

Hopefully.

“Hey, Jack,” Max said.

“Hey.” The word was a gruff mumble. He looked dazed. His brow was cut, a ring of bruises around it. A layer of salve that smelled strongly of herbs shone on the wound. Thanks to his hellseher genetics, the bruises were already fading to green and yellow.

“How you feeling?”

“Like ass.” He grimaced. “My mouth tastes like it, too.” He reached for the mini plastic water bottle by his left knee, missing once. He twisted the cap off and swigged, water dribbling down his chin.

“Listen, Jack,” Max began, stepping closer. “I know you’ve got a concussion and all, but do you have any idea where Darien is? Tanner? Roman? No one’s heard from them. I’m starting to get worried.”

Jack frowned. “You heard the guy—I can’t remember shit.” He took another swig, swishing the water around in his mouth before swallowing.

Lace pressed, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Guys,” Ivy warned. “Take it easy.”

But Jack said, “Darien killed the Basilisk.” He squinted up at them, using the near-empty water bottle to shield his eyes against flashing lights.

Max felt a jolt of surprise. “I’m sorry—Darien didwhat?”

Travis whispered, “We might have to fact check that one.”

Jack merely stared into space, uncharacteristically serious. Whenever Jack didn’t smile, he looked like a complete stranger.

Ivy squeezed her husband’s shoulder in encouragement. “Let’s give him some time.” Her tone, although pleasant, said it all: case closed. “This has been one crazy night.” She turned to stare at the busy street, her face lined with stress. “Or day—kind of hard to tell.” She frowned at the chaos going on around them, the city still dark as if it were midnight.

“It’s almost noon,” Lace said. Well, that answered Max’s next question.

Ivy suddenly paled, her heart speeding up. “Shit.” She whipped back around. “Shit, shit,shit.”

“What?” Travis murmured.