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W atching for traffic, I slowed as I approached Meyersdale, but I didn’t stop. Little burgs like this dotted the GAP, many of them just wide spots in the road flanked by quaint B&Bs, bike shops for supplies or repairs, and cozy cafes catering to tourists. The path transitioned from gravel to asphalt in town, but locals in cars and trucks didn’t harass me or other trekkers. Cash in tourist pockets paid their livelihoods or perhaps the paychecks of a sister or cousin. As many times as I’d biked and hiked the GAP, I’d never had a moment’s trouble from locals and expected none riding through now.

My only niggling hesitation was the possibility of being recognized.

One would think thirty miles outside of the wasp’s nest of danger surrounding Cumberland would be enough to buy us some safety, but was it?

Only a fool would trust that our enemies hadn’t sent mages from the central locus we’d escaped. My father’s kin wouldn’t be familiar with western Maryland and Pennsylvania, but the mercenaries the Maces had hired would have suffered no such deficiencies. Whoever had killed Teddy had also turned this part of the Appalachians into a hunting ground for trafficking magical beings and their parts. They would have staged sentries along every track and trail spilling from Cumberland.

I wasn’t safe. Jae wasn’t.

Since the spies our enemies had planted would look for two traveling together, we’d planned to split up at Meyersdale. I’d bike through town while Jae took a wide path around it.

The more visible half of our pair, I hid in plain sight and hoped to brazen out the next perilous minutes. I kept my hair short, cropped close to my head, so the bike helmet covered most of it and I’d dragged sunglasses on to hide my eyes as I’d approached civilization. I’d also slipped on the bangle that had tamped down my magical signature when I’d sprinted through Cumberland to reach testing, the glint of gold at my wrist tucked under the hem of the long-sleeved shirt selected for the journey. Even my clothes were a subterfuge. I wasn’t sure where or how Andrew Dyer had gotten a shirt from Hood College, which was closer to the coast than to our mountains, but that’s what he’d given me to wear that morning.

I looked like a tourist from farther east and the power smothering bangle would give no magical nearby any cause to believe otherwise.

Still, I didn’t linger in town and my chest didn’t loosen from the breath I held until I pushed through the outskirts.

No one, including the Dyers, knew where I intended to camp overnight. Too risky. Most hiking and biking the passage would’ve stopped in Meyersdale, which boasted hotels and campgrounds in abundance.

I continued biking up the trail. The taut bunch of my muscles relaxed only when I sensed my demon rejoining me—somewhere in the clustered trees to my right. Though my tired body ached, I pedaled to the Keystone Viaduct several miles ahead, where I paused on the iron bridge spanning Flaugherty Creek and train tracks below. Not taking a few minutes to admire the dull red of the iron, trains chugging down the tracks, and the stunning view of the mountains would’ve looked incredibly sus. Might as well enjoy a break. I couldn’t have picked a prettier spot.

Looking over the narrow flatland of the valley, I wondered how my demon would cross the creek. Would vehicular traffic and trains present a problem for him? Not insurmountable. Jae had portaled from a realm in a constant state of war. If nothing else, I had confidence my demon could handle himself in tricky circumstances.

The daemonica realm lacked technology and the gizmos we humans took for granted, though. His world was more rugged, elemental. Basic. Worry nettled me, eating away my assurance that Jae grasped how to navigate our more modern world, though he’d been doing that for days.

I reached out to him. All right?

Issa was his instant reply, but I sensed his flagging energy, the fatigue of the hard pace we’d set sinking into him as fiercely as my exhaustion crept over me.

Not far now.

I lifted my feet to the bike pedals and kicked off. Back to moving up the trail. Another train trestle donated to the GAP after shipping and transportation lines had shifted, the Salisbury Viaduct waited a few miles ahead. Before reaching it, an ambitious farmer had cleared a patch of his land for trekkers to set up tents. Because the amenities were sparse, most chose other campgrounds. The possibility we might have the campground to ourselves this late in the season more than made up for the lack of shower facilities and a single lonely porta-pot that served as a restroom for the entire campground, though.

I’d camped at Whispering Pines only once before, three years ago, when planning the route from Pittsburgh to Cumberland had still been new to me. I’d hiked the GAP at the height of the season, in early summer before heat and humidity scared off more experienced hikers and bikers. Other campgrounds closer to the trail, supported by shops to resupply and flush with extras like showers and bathrooms, had been full, so I’d ended up at this campground and never counted it as a loss.

I didn’t today, either.

Veering off the trail, I pedaled onto a single-lane side road. The left turn I only vaguely recalled onto a dirt road to the Whispering Pines wasn’t far, less than a hundred yards. Deep ruts rainfall had dug into the compacted earth slowed me, which was frustrating after long hours of smooth paths maintained by the GAP trust. The tree and brush-cover soon thinned to spill into the tiny clearing that made up the site.

My demon already sprawled in the dirt among sparse tufts of grass in the northernmost corner. My bike bucked over bumps and grooves left by campers long past—thank God, I’d been right. No overflow of tourists had ventured this far in early October. That’d change once leaf peepers hit the trails, but not yet. We had the campsite to ourselves. So I couldn’t fault my demon for collapsing to the ground, especially when I glided my bike to a stop and realized Jae was truly done in. His chest rose and fell in hard pants, his body slick with the sweat of his long, long run.

Forty miles from Cumberland. The distance would’ve killed a human. Granted, demons weren’t human, a fact Jae’s unpredictable behaviors and abilities reminded me of every single day, but everyone had their limits, including demons. Our flight from danger had maxed Jae’s. That my demon didn’t growl or snipe at me as I climbed off my bike spoke volumes. He lolled, boneless, gasping for air. If another demon rocketed into the campsite to fight us or a battle mage turned the corner to the Whispering Pines, Jae might have pushed to his feet. He would’ve tried. But if the trembling, gluey exhaustion of my own muscles was any gauge, the forty-mile run had depleted even my demon’s enormous physical reserves.

After propping the bike on its kickstand, I ignored my fatigue to see to Jae first. I reached for my water bottle, snapping it free of the carrier affixed to the bike frame. I’d refilled the bottle from a water fountain at a rest area along the trail, but I’d emptied it since, the weight now light as I carried the polyethylene bottle the Dyers had loaned me to an old-fashioned water pump which was the only genuine amenity the campground boasted. Grunting, I heaved my weight against the corroding handle of the pump to push it down and repeated that a few times before cold, clear water gushed from the spigot and onto a stingy concrete pad below. I shoved the mouth of the bottle under the stream. Once cool water poured over the lip, I carried it to Jae and my heart swelled in relief when the demon propped himself on his elbows to take the bottle, tipping it back to gulp the contents.

I left him to rehydrate and returned to my bike. Popping free several snaps, I loosened a saddlebag from the frame and once I’d threaded the straps through the bike, I reached inside for bundles of homemade jerky the Dyers had given me for the trip. Dried venison in hand, I stumbled to Jae. He stuffed his mouth with the protein while I refilled the bottle. The heavy pants wracking his body seemed to lessen as he chewed. I held up a palm when he shifted, as though to rise. “Rest. I’ll set up our shelter.”

“I should—”

“You should get enough of your energy back to hunt,” I said, my weariness egging my tone to be more waspish than I intended, but fuck, I was spent, too. “You don’t know how the pieces of the tent go together. I do.”

He glared at me, but he settled back to the ground, either too drained to argue or perhaps recognizing that pitching a tent was not in his skills set. I felt his eyes on me, steady, assessing, as I lurched to the bike to loosen the knots tying the two-man lightweight tent we’d borrowed from the Dyers. Surprising since that family was so poor, the tent was premium, top-notch gear. I owned the single-person version of this exact shelter so I knew it hadn’t come cheap, but like many outdoor fanatics, the Dyers must have prioritized what to invest their limited funds purchasing. They hadn’t chosen wrong. This tent was fantastic.

Already familiar with the general set-up, I snapped the poles together and sunk pegs into the hard pack. Jae watched me, his eyes glimmering with a scant hint of demonic red, while I unrolled the body of the tent and clipped canvas to the poles. This shelter cost so much because setting it up was legit that simple. I knew the design well, so I didn’t puzzle over sinking still another peg to stretch out a sheltered corner to protect our supplies from the elements, impressed when Jae lifted to shrug free the backpack at his front without my prompting. I pushed the pack under the canvas, time aplenty to unpack anything we’d need later. For now, I unrolled the rain fly and untangled the guidelines. The weather app I’d checked before leaving Cumberland hadn’t called for rain, but the chance for scattered showers overnight wasn’t zero. With chilly fall weather inching toward us, I wouldn’t risk Jae by not slinging the rain fly over where we slept.

While I didn’t relish the idea of sleeping on the ground, inflating the air mattresses for a demon with claws didn’t strike me as wise, so I left those in the bag. A few minutes later, I was done.

When I glanced at my demon, he’d pushed to a sitting position, the bottle dangling with only a little water remaining visible through the transparent plastic. He looked better. His eyes wouldn’t light up radiant scarlet until he’d hunted fresh game, but his skin shone dark red, rather than the ashy hue I’d begun to realize signaled dehydration. His chest rose and fell with less laborious effort.

Retrieving Jae’s water bottle from the backpack pocket I’d seen him stow it in earlier, I returned to the pump to fill it. Only then did I dump to the ground next to my demon to rest, too. “The next leg won’t be as harsh. A little over twenty miles, half what we did today, but leaving the worst danger as far behind us as fast as we could was vital.”

Jae washed down more venison jerky with water. Grunting vague thanks, he accepted the topped off bottle I passed to him. “Dragons are dangerous.”

I picked at a blade of grass shooting up from the dirt. “You have them in the daemonica realm, too?”

“Our natural resources aren’t as abundant.” His glance swept the surrounding forest. “First Blood territory is rocky, mountainous.”

My heart kicked a happy beat that my demon was sharing with me about his life before portaling again. “Not as high in elevation as Aerie Tribe,” I said, my voice lifting at the end to make my response a leading question.

Jae’s mouth curved to a grin, the glint in his red eyes telling me he recognized my interest and was pleased with it. With me. “Aerie demons are better flyers. I can fly, but not the distances they can.” He bent a knee to prop his leg, waving to the claws at his feet. “My tribe adapted to become agile climbers.” He scraped a deep gouge in the compacted earth. “First Blood has larger and sharper claws. They are also prime weapons in hand-to-hand combat.”

The twittering chorus of finches in the surrounding woods soothed me as I pondered what he’d said. “Aerie demons cater their attacks to most effectively use their natural affinity for flight.”

“Other than the shade of your skin, humans are alike. You have not evolved to best fit your environment and make you stronger warriors.”

I frowned at the criticism. “Yeah, I know. Weak.”

“No.” He blew out a prolonged exhale. “Smart.”

Surprised, I winged up an eyebrow. “You’ve complained about how much we suck compared to your glorious demon self since day one.”

He scowled at me. “Demons are older than humans. Much older. The tribes settled in our respective territories before humans learned to make fire.”

Irritation sparked inside me. “Like I said.”

He huffed a frustrated breath. “We settled. We built fortresses, learned to live off our lands, and adapted to suit what our territory required of us to thrive.” His mouth thinned. “We do not travel as humans do. Just to wage war.” He gestured at the surrounding trees. “I have heard tales of such things, but never laid eyes upon them. Expected to never see them, though demons who survive battle are long-lived.”

Confusion swamped me. “I don’t get it.”

“Human bodies do not adapt because you move.” Jae glared at me. “You are free to move. Other tribes, packs of wild hellhounds, and occasional dragons training their young wedge demons into our territories.” He sniffed in irritation. “Not near First Blood lands, but I cannot know how many dragons populate daemonica because I have not roamed far. Only to the borderlands to fight. I saw dragonkind in the skies there once. Just once.”

I gawped at him, my shock overwhelming me. “I know more about dragons than you. That’s what you’re saying.”

“Their magic is fierce. Strange.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not like yours and mine. Against you, this dragon may breathe fire, but not against me, because fire strengthens me. The dragon I saw employed her magic as a weapon against us and it was…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “Devastating.”

Because I couldn’t fathom my demon admitting any weakness, I focused on the link binding us. My eyes popped wide. “You’re scared of it. The dragon.”

Jae glowered, the irritation I’d sensed alongside his trepidation exploding. “Why aren’t you?”

Helpless to do otherwise, I tossed my head back and roared with laughter. “Are you freaking kidding me? I’m binding with a demon. My grandparents are trying to kill me. The thugs who chopped my dad’s dead body into pieces are on my tail and, just for giggles, neither of my best friends are who or what I thought they were. I don’t trust anyone, and I’m scared of everything.” I wiped the wetness from my eyes. “Why not the dragon?”

Jae snorted his contempt. “You trust me.”

“I’m trying.” I bit my lip. “You’re the one who hasn’t completed the binding, have given me no promise. You don’t trust me.”

“I’m trying,” he said, echoing my words back to me.

The hell of it was my demon truly had taken pains to confide in me. He trusted me a little. Demons were cagy, clever. Sly. They didn’t share…but Jae had. He’d tried. I needed to stop hoarding my secrets, too. “Griffith acted as a conduit between me and Clara to negotiate contact with the dragon, but she could only promise the dragon wouldn’t attack us for entering his territory, that the dragon would treat us as guests until and unless we proved otherwise. We need a lot more cooperation than that. So yes. I’m concerned.”

“But not scared.”

I shook my head and squared my shoulders. “His mate vanished when my dad died.”

My demon’s eyes narrowed, but since he didn’t seem to make the connection, I spoke again. “Teddy was investigating traffickers when he was murdered.”

Jae’s eyes widened.

“No being is more vengeful than a dragon. Or as vicious. They mate for life, so no being is more devoted to their partners than dragons, either.” I arched an eyebrow. “This one went into seclusion to grieve and guard his newly hatched dragonets from whatever menace had eliminated his mate. Ten years have passed. His young aren’t as vulnerable now.”

Jae’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. “You believe the dragon will not harm us because he is bent on revenge.”

I stabbed a thumb over my shoulder at the backpack. “I found a brief note. Dad went to Pittsburgh days before he died. No explanation, which wasn’t usual for him. If he’d been on a buying trip, he would’ve jotted down phone numbers of suppliers, which plants and seeds he intended to source from them.” I beamed. “This note didn’t have that info. He only scribbled ‘O/R’ beside it.” When he blinked at me, I elaborated. “The dragons names are Oberlin and Ricia—Obie and Ri. The female, Ri, disappeared when Teddy did.”

A low chuckle rolled out of Jae, stirring the tiny hairs at my nape, but the evil glimmer in his stare reassured me that my demon grasped the implications. “We share an enemy,” he said.

“Obie won’t harm his best hope of identifying his mate’s killers, so no. I’m not afraid.” I nodded. “We are his allies.”