I woke to pain and darkness.

“Have you still not found it?” I heard a voice bark.

“It must have run off,” a second said.

I bit down on the groan that threatened to erupt—barely—as pain blossomed at the back of my head. The events of the last few minutes—or was it hours?—were coming back to me. I’d been struck on the head by something.

I’m captured, I realized with sinking dread.

But at least I’m not dead. Knowing that didn’t make me feel any better, though. There were few fates worse than being in Devil hands. What they were reputed to do to their prisoners was… disturbing.

Repressing a shudder, I pushed back my incipient terror. Don’t go there, Elana. It’ll do you no good. I turned my mind to other matters. Where was I? Still in the black sewers? And did enough time remain to save Soren? I didn’t know, but someone else might.

“Adalinda, what’s going on?”

There was no response.

Has something happened to her? I wondered, fear bubbling in me again. “Adalinda?”

More silence.

“She’s awake,” a third voice said.

I sensed a figure kneel before me. “Are you sure?” the first speaker asked. “She looks no different from before.”

“I am,” the third replied. “I overheard her mindvoice.”

I didn’t open my eyes, but renewed alarm shot through me. Who was the third man? A mage?

Callused fingers gripped my chin. “Open your eyes, girl,” the kneeling figure demanded.

I kept my eyes shut.

Whatever I did, I couldn’t let the thugs see my fear. I let my awareness rove of myself, taking stock while I tried to regain my composure.

I was lying on a cold hard surface, and my disguise had been uncovered. The cloak had been ripped free, and my hair was loose. My hands were unbound, though. Could I escape? But for that, I would need my companion’s help.

The heaviness that I’d come to associate with Adalinda was present in my chest. I knew she was still with me, which made her silence more puzzling. Perhaps, it’s the mage that’s responsible.

My captor’s hand tightened painfully around my chin. “Last warning,” he growled.

Once more, I ignored the command. If I keep quiet, maybe he’ll—

“Elana, do as he asks!”

My eyes shot open. I’d recognized the fourth speaker. It was Alon. So they got him too. My gaze darted in his direction. The young axeman was bound hand and foot and held in a cell formed of steel rods.

I lay in the adjacent cell. The door to my unit was open, and three Devils were inside with me. But focused on my friend, I spared them no attention.

Alon’s face was puffy, and his right eye was swollen. Blood dripped down from the cuts to his face, and some of his fingers had been twisted at unnatural angles.

He had been beaten. Repeatedly.

But despite his tortured state, the youth paid his wounds no mind and stared at me beseechingly. I read the silent plea in his eyes.

He wanted me to talk, to tell the Devils everything.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, tasting ash. Alon was a broken man. The gang had squeezed the fight out of him and forced him to talk. I didn’t blame him. My friend would have held out as long as he could.

Oh, Alon. What have I done? We’d failed. I’d failed. And now, not only would Soren die, but Alon too. I’m sorry, brother. I tried, but—

“Look at me, girl!”

The order was harsh, guttural, and filled with the promise of pain. Opening my eyes, I stared obediently at my interrogator with dull, lifeless eyes.

It was Cantos himself. The Butcher of the slums.

My despair was too all-encompassing, though, to feel the terror I rightfully should. My eyes slid despondently past the Devil leader. Behind him were two of his lieutenants.

One was a burly giant, disfigured and scarred, the results of many dozen street scuffles, I suspected. The other was a slim, dapper, well-dressed man. Nothing about him shouted Devil. In fact, he looked the furthest thing from a common thug, and I would never have taken him for one… except for the imp tattoo peeking out from underneath his open collar.

He had to be the mage. Is he a player? There were few natural mages in the Forever Kingdom which made it more than likely.

But what was a player doing in a street gang?

The question pierced my despondency, and despite myself, my thoughts began churning, working away at the mystery. The Devils don’t have that kind of power, at least not the last I heard.

“Where is it?” Cantos demanded, recapturing my attention.

“Where is what?” I muttered thickly, my tongue still swollen from the blow to the head.

“Your familiar,” the mage said.

My gaze jerked back to him.

He smiled unpleasantly. “We know you have one. Plenty of witnesses have seen it already. Now tell us, where is it hiding?”

I stared at him mutely, wondering if I should tell him the truth. What does it matter anymore? Alon and I were caught, and Soren was going to die. Why welcome the torture that would surely follow if I refused to answer their questions?

An open palm cracked across the side of my face.

Caught off-guard by the blow, my head whipped back. Stars danced in my eyes, and my head was filled with a hollow ringing. Through the sudden haze clouding my mind, I heard Alon shouting and the Devils’ threats to quiet him.

I touched a hand to my head to steady it and blinked my eyes to free them of tears. When my vision cleared, it was to the sight of Cantos’ ugly sneer.

His grin widened, reading defeat in my wooden expression.

But his slap had the opposite effect entirely to what he intended. I was not cowed. Far from it.

I was livid.

Despair fled, and fear turned tail too. In their place, rage boiled as I remembered all the reasons for my being here and just why I hated the gangs, the slums, and the goddess. I will not give up. I will not lie down and let these scum win.

Cantos tightened the fingers of his left hand around the sides of my mouth and shoved back my head. “Well?” he barked, his breath washing over me. “Are you going to answer? Or do I need to hit you again?”

“I don’t know,” I said, keeping my face impassive and letting no hint of my true feelings show. “She isn’t responding to my calls.”

The ganglord stared at me stonily as he raised his right hand again in renewed threat.

“Summon her, then,” the mage ordered.

I tried to wrench free of Cantos, but his grip was unyielding. Almost, I cast light’s fury but stopped myself. Using my magic would only invite a lethal reaction from the Devils and was a sure path to certain death. Play for time, Elana.

I sagged back listlessly—the motion only half-faked. “I don’t know how to do that,” I lied, my eyes fixed on the Butcher’s still-rising arm.

Cantos’ face transformed into a rage and his right hand clenched into a fist. I tensed, waiting for the blow to land.

“Believe her!” Alon wheezed before the ganglord could strike. “Like I told you already: Elana isn’t much of a player. That creature—what did you call it? a familiar—it comes and goes as it pleases.”

The Devils said nothing, but markedly, Cantos’ arm had stopped moving.

“Look at her!” Alon pleaded. “She’s just a girl. What does she know of the Game?” The Devils swung in my direction, and while their gazes were turned away, the youth threw me an apologetic look.

I nodded minutely, unexpectedly heartened.

The Devils may have forced Alon to speak, but they had not wholly broken his resolve. He’d managed to hold some information back.

Cantos’ gaze slid to the mage in silent question.

The lieutenant shrugged. “They could be telling the truth. I sense no Marks on her.” He snorted. “She’s so new to the Game she doesn’t even merit the title of noob.”

My gaze flickered back to the mage at this unexpected confirmation. So, he is a player. Squinting my eyes, I tried to identify his own Marks.

You are yet unMarked and cannot see the spirit signatures of other Marked.

I didn’t let my consternation show at the Adjudicator’s words. I knew players had the ability to identify one another by their Marks, but it seemed the mage was right. I was yet too new to do so.

“Too convenient,” Cantos grunted. “They’re lying.” He glanced at his second henchman. “Durn, she’s yours. I think this will require a more expert touch.”

The scarred giant cracked his knuckles. “My pleasure, boss.”

Shoving me back, the ganglord rose to his feet. Durn took a menacing step forward, and I shrank back, my fear less feigned than I liked.

The Devil leader laughed at my expression, and Durn leered.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Alon rasped from the adjacent cell.

The thugs paid him no heed.

I kept my own gaze locked on the approaching giant and involuntarily slipped mana into my hands. In my mind, I knew it would be foolish to resist, but my body couldn’t contemplate doing nothing, not in the face of what I suspected was about to happen.

“Careful,” the mage said. “She is drawing—”

He broke off at the sound of approaching steps and glanced over his shoulder. Cantos and Durn did so as well.

Under the cover of their distraction, I scampered all the way back to the rear of the cell and pulled myself to my feet. Looking for some means to escape my predicament, I scanned my surroundings hurriedly.

The cells holding me and Alon were only two of many in a large open space. The other ones were empty, but the rest of the room was not. Crates and boxes were stacked along the opposite wall.

Some overflowed with trinkets and expensive-looking items. Others were stamped with seals that I recognized as belonging to the big merchant trading houses. We are in an underground warehouse, I realized.

Could it be the very same storeroom that the dead thug had told me about? Cantos’ own stores? I thought so, hope quickening.

A fourth Devil appeared, interrupting my musings. He threw Cantos a lazy salute. “Eric is back with news,” he said laconically.

The Devil leader stiffened. “And?”

The thug’s eyes darted to Alon, then back to Cantos. “It’s true.”

The Butcher’s brows drew down in an angry scowl. “Really? Why in blazes am I only finding out about this now?”

The messenger shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The thug’s response did nothing for his leader’s anger. Cantos spat to the side. “Where is Eric?” he growled.

“Waiting in your office,” the thug replied.

“Then there’s no time to lose. Let’s go,” the ganglord said and marched out of the cell.

“What about them?” the mage asked.

Cantos paused on the threshold of the open door, then jerked his thumb at the messenger. “Sten, guard these two,” he ordered. “Don’t let them talk, and whatever you do, don’t let the girl touch you. Got it?”

“Got it, boss,” Sten affirmed.

Cantos beckoned Durn and the mage with his eyes. “You two, with me.” He strode away. “Let’s go see what Eric has to say for himself,” he muttered. “And the goddess help him if he can’t explain this mess.”

The three Devils marched out of the storeroom, and Sten yanked the door of my cell closed, pocketing the key. His gaze darted from me to Alon. “You two better behave,” he warned. Not saying anything further, the thug leaned against the opposite wall and closed his eyes.

✵ ✵ ✵

I waited five long minutes.

For that entire length of time, I watched Alon. His eyes were squeezed shut, blood and spittle dotted his face, and he gasped for breath. He was barely holding on. If I was going to do something, it would have to be soon.

Finally, when I was sure it was safe to act, I turned my focus inwards. “Adalinda?” I asked cautiously.

“I’m here,” my companion replied, her voice brushing lightly against my mind.

Unexpected relief sang through me. I had feared she had been killed or, worse yet, had deserted me.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I had no choice but to ignore you,” the celestial continued. “The other player was listening in.”

Deliberately, I tried to quieten my own speech. “The mage, you mean?”

“Yes, although I suspect he is more telepath than mage.”

“I see,” I paused. “How long was I out for?”

“I can’t be certain, but not more than a few hours,” she replied.

“There’s still time, then,” I muttered and glanced at Cantos’ guard. Sten’s head was bowed, and he was snoring gently, but I couldn’t tell if it was an act. “I say we get out of here before that player returns.”

“I agree.”

I studied Sten again. I had a clear line of sight to the thug, and the bars of my cell were wide enough to fling a dagger through. But I had already checked and knew my weapons were gone. If we were going to escape, it would be through Adalinda’s doing. “Do you think he is really sleeping?”

“I’m sorry, Elana. I can’t tell any better than you can.”

I bit my lip. Acting would be risky and would reveal the only advantage I had—my hidden companion—but time was running out, and there would be no better opportunity than this.

“Alright, this is what we do…”