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But Micah shook his head, and extended a hand.

Before Bryce could so much as blink, white flame erupted around the demon and its head. Within a second, it was nothing more than ash.

Hunt started. “We needed to examine it for evidence—”

“No press,” Micah said, then turned toward a cluster of angel commanders.

The medwitch began removing her leeches and bandaging Hunt. Each of the silk strips was imbued with her power, willing the skin and muscle to knit back together and staving off infection. They’d dissolve once the wounds had healed, as if they’d never existed.

The pile of ashes still lay there, mockingly soft considering the true terror the kristallos had wrought. Had this demon been the one to kill Danika, or merely one of thousands waiting on the other side of the Northern Rift?

Was the Horn here, in this park? Had she somehow, unwittingly, come near it? Or maybe whoever was looking for it—Sabine?—simply sent the kristallos as another message. They were nowhere near Moonwood, but Sabine’s patrols took her all over the city.

The sting of the gun still bit into Bryce’s palms, its kickback zinging along her bones.

The medwitch removed her bloody gloves. A crackle of lightning at Hunt’s knuckles showed his returning power. “Thanks,” he said to the witch, who waved him off. Within a few seconds, she’d packed the poison-swollen leeches in their jars and swept behind the magi-screens.

Hunt’s stare met Bryce’s. The ashes and busy officials and warriors around them faded away into white noise.

Naomi approached, braid swaying behind her. “Why’d it target you?”

“Everyone wants to take a bite out of me,” Hunt deflected.

Naomi gave them both a look that told Bryce she didn’t buy it for one second, but moved off to talk to a Fae female in the Aux.

Hunt tried to ease to his feet, and Bryce stepped in to offer a hand up. He shook his head, grimacing as he braced a hand on his knee and rose. “I guess we hit a nerve with Sabine,” he said. “She must have figured out we’re onto her. This was either a warning like the club bombing or a failed attempt to take care of a problem like she did with the acolyte and guard.”

She didn’t answer. A wind drifted by, stirring the ashes.

“Bryce.” Hunt stepped closer, his dark eyes clear despite his injury.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” she whispered at last. “You—we killed it so quickly.”

Hunt didn’t reply, giving her the space to think through it, to say it.

She said, “Danika was strong. Connor was strong. Either one of them could have taken on that demon and walked away. But the entire Pack of Devils was there that night. Even if its venom nullified some of their powers, the entire pack could have …” Her throat tightened.

“Even Mic—” Hunt caught himself, glancing toward the Archangel still talking to commanders off to the side. “He didn’t walk away from it.”

“But I did. Twice now.”

“Maybe it’s got some Fae weakness.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It just … it’s not adding up.”

“We’ll lay it all out tomorrow.” Hunt nodded toward Micah. “I think tonight just proved it’s time to tell him our suspicions about Sabine.”

She was going to be sick. But she nodded back.

They waited until most of Micah’s commanders had peeled off on their various assignments before approaching, Hunt wincing with each step.

Hunt grunted, “We need to talk to you.”

Micah only crossed his arms. And then Hunt, briskly and efficiently, told him. About the Horn, about Sabine, about their suspicions. About the Horn possibly being repaired—though they still didn’t know why she’d want or need to open a portal to another world.

Micah’s eyes went from annoyed to enraged to outright glacial.

When Hunt was done, the Governor looked between them. “You need more evidence.”