“I’m Daziel.”
“What?” How did he get in here? I glanced at the mezuzah on my doorframe, which should have kept demons out. It appeared intact. Pressing my palm to my collarbone, I felt the firm disk of my amulet, still there. What had I done wrong? My gaze caught on my mirror, which I’d lugged from a thrift market to the tram and up the stairs. Mom had said I should redo a mirror’s protective castings every six months or keep it covered, and I hadn’t. “Did you come through the mirror? What about the wards?”
“Don’t worry about those,” the demon said, as though I’d been concerned he might get accidentally locked out. “As your betrothed, I have the right to your space.”
Mybetrothed.
Oh.
This was bad. My mother had told me that naming a demon risked drawing one’s attention. I’d thought I was being clever, but now I realized I’d been very, very stupid.
Taking a deep breath, I studied the demon before me. He looked my age and mostly human, save the fathomless black eyes. Faint lines formed a pattern of shimmery feathers along his neck, disappearing under his shirt collar. His nails were black and came to a point like talons. Gleaming black stones filled the gauges in his ears, and a giant ring with red stones encircled his right pointer finger. No necklace, unlike most Ena-Cinnaians, who wore amulets both for protection and to show our tribal allegiance—like the Naphtali amethyst around my own neck.
A wild demon, I suspected—as intelligent and savvy as a human but chaotic, prone to mischief and capricious behavior.
I tried to remember whatA Household Guide to Demonssaid about ridding one’s home of a wild demon, but I’d barely flipped throughthe book. I fell back on childhood spells, more superstition than magic, singing a protective song my grandmother had taught me for when I walked alone outside the village.
The demon blinked and didn’t move.
Okay. Fine.Sidling along the wall, I snatched from my bookcase a miniature shofar Dad had given me when I was twelve. When I blew it, the ram’s horn emitted a piercing sound, but the demon didn’t flee.
Instead, he frowned. “You’re very loud.”
The audacity. “You broke into my rooms.” I blew the shofar again, louder. When I tried a third time, no sound came out. I stared at the shofar, betrayed and bewildered, before transferring my gaze to the demon. “What did you do?”
“Do you want the technical explanation about how I stopped the molecules from vibrating?” I couldn’t tell if he was in earnest or teasing me—I thought it might be the latter, but he was too inhuman to read. “I find usually humans don’t.”
“What?” I had no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea what was happening. I had no idea I was so bad in a crisis. “What are youdoinghere? You can’t just make things not work. That’s—unsettling. And rude.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound apologetic; he sounded put out. The little salamander popped out of his shirt and curled up in a ball on his shoulder, resting its narrow head on its hindquarters. Its eyes were as black and glossy as the demon’s. “ButIthink it’s rude to cast spells to banish shedim with malicious intent when I have none.”
Demons weren’t always malicious, but they might accidentally ruin your life for the entertainment value. Especially wild demons, known for seeking larks and pleasure at any cost.
On the other hand, Ena-Cinnaian demons upheld the same laws of hospitality and good behavior as humans did. They considered themselves scrupulously polite. This demon had called me rude, so maybe I should backpedal. I softened my voice. “Do you mind sharing why you’re here? Is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m visiting.”
Right. Because that was normal, demons visiting the Scholars’ Quarter. “If you need a place to stay, you could try one of the local inns. The Drowned Pelican at the end of the street is supposed to be very nice.”
He turned his gaze to me. Unnervingly, when his onyx eyes moved, iridescent color crossed them like light striking black mother-of-pearl. “Why would I stay at an inn instead of here, with my betrothed?”
Unease curdled my stomach. I started shaking my head and didn’t stop. “That’s just a story I tell to get guys off my back.”
“You said ‘I’m already betrothed’ and ‘to the demon Daziel.’ ” He smiled, incisors sharp like a carnivore’s. “We are madly in love.”
A horrible thought burbled up. If this demon’s name really was Daziel, I might have accidentally summoned him. Which could be very bad.
Millennia ago, humans and demons warred. Demons consumed human vitality, and humans bound demons for their power. Demons were pure magic, while humans could only manipulate magic. Spellcasters used bound demons to power letterform magic instead of using neshem crystals as we did today. The demon wars led to the empty cities in the wilderness—and a treaty renewed every twenty years.
Summoning a demonprobablywasn’t illegal by itself, thoughwhat did I know—it could be against the treaty. It wasdefinitelyillegal to bind demons. “You’re not bound to me or anything, are you?”
The demon tilted his head; one of his dark curls fell across his forehead. “Isn’t a betrothal a type of bind?”
“I release you,” I said once hurriedly, then twice more to make sure. “I release you. I release you.” I opened the door to the hallway. “You’re free! I’msosorry.”
He stared at me. The tiny salamander stared at me. “I was joking. I meant—because it’s a vow? Vows bind you together?”
“Demons joke?” That was almost as startling as anything else. I glanced out the door. What if I lured him outside, like a pesky fly, then ran back inside and closed the door?
