Page 44 of Spirit Storm

I blink at the sting and twist to glare at him. "What the hell, dude?"

He's in his demon form and his bat wings flick once before they settle.

"Fantastic." Asher crosses his arms and scowls. "You skipped every single trap we had to get through, didn't even have to duck once, and you show up for the safe part, to smack Poppy and shout at her."

The freaky little demon hops off my shoulder and lands on the surface of a small altar table where Asher is standing. "Champions don't have to go to qualifiers, blondie. We get advanced straight to the finals."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure that's what it is."

S'Nark turns to me and holds up a claw. "I want the record to show I came, and that I said absolutely not."

All righty, then. "Noted. But why are you here? You're supposed to be with my sisters in Arcana. Did something happen?"

"There? No. Your sisters are sleeping and, if I must remind you, I'm bound to the Hallowind family. Not just them. Not just you."

"Okay, so?"

"So, when I'm flooded with demonic energy from one of my charges, I'm not just going to continue inciting neighborhood dogs to bark at all hours of the night, now, am I?"

"Ohmygoodness, is that what you do in your spare time?"

He waves that away. "You're off point. I'm here because everything about the energy in this tomb of death is wrong. Old and hollow and wrong in a way that makes every part of my demonic, bodacious bod want to be somewhere significantly further away. Like Thailand. I'd accept Thailand."

I arch my brows. "Thailand? Okay, that's far. Are you sure you're not just overreacting a little bit because this place ebbs Tharuzel, and he's the asshole who captured and tortured you?"

"You wound me, witch. I am a demon. I get off on being tortured."

I give him a little nod, but know different. When Asher rescued him from capture, the little dude was all but ruined. That he’s facing that trauma to come and warn me is costing him a lot.

"I love you too, you little creeper."

He throws up his hands. "You're beyond saving. Fine, if you insist on spending your time meddling in the business of demons far beyond your comprehension, at least put your damned shields up first."

And with that, he flashes out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, S'Nark has left the building."

Henrik and Freya are both staring.

"What the feck was that thing?" Freya asks.

I chuckle. "That was S'Nark, my familiar."

"A demon?"

I shrug. "Apparently he's been in the family for generations. He's not much for small talk, but if he feels compelled to say something, it's usually worth a listen."

And because I genuinely believe that, I raise my personal shields before I return to the wall to continue my investigation. Now that my shields are up, I feel what S'Nark was saying. While the circle of runes is no longer glowing like it was in my dream, it’s still giving off demonic energy.

Henrik moves to stand at my shoulder, and I let the runes guy do his thing. Wylder would've thought this was interesting, too. He may not be an archeologist who specializes in runes, but he's still my go-to rune guy.

"Does this mean anything to you?" I ask him.

"Some. Reading runes isn't like an A to B to C kind of language. Sometimes they're laid as an individual thought or intention, but like this… this is an overlap of spells being cast. It'll take time to figure out what The Nine did and how they did it."

Perfect. Time is exactly what we don't have.

I take a step closer, admiring how the runes were cut into the stone of the chamber: the depth, the precision, the intention.