"He'll come around," Rhiot murmured, following my gaze. "Give him time."
I took another sip of champagne to hide the twist of my mouth. "We don't have time. Zandia's moving too fast. Between the Hesolga and the demons?—"
"Are currently getting their asses handed to them by a very pissed-off half-demon with a magic knife," Rhiot finished. "For tonight, Parker, just... be here. With us. The world can wait until morning."
As if on cue, Seph called from across the room, "Stop hogging the champagne and come tell us what actually happened! All we got was Grayson's dramatic telepathic play-by-play!"
"Which was completely inadequate," Grayson added, raising his cup in a mock toast. "All 'she's doing something with the dagger' and 'the room's getting brighter.' Zero actual details."
I pushed off from the wall, Rhiot rising with me. "What do you want to know? How I magically cleansed a demon without burning out my brain? How I felt the witch magic and demon power actually working together instead of tearing me apart?" I shrugged, dropping down beside Grayson, close enough that our knees touched. "It was... different. Not like anything I've done before."
"Try," Seph urged, leaning forward. "We want to understand."
So I did. I told them about the emptiness after the first power drain. About finding the grimoire waiting for me. About setting the intention and then, hardest of all, letting go of control, letting my demon blood find its own path to that fixed point. The two forms of power were polar opposites. I described the way the dagger had cooled in my hand, how the two halves of my power had spiraled together instead of fighting.
"By the end," I said, "it wasn't witch or demon anymore. It was just... mine."
Grayson's hand found mine, squeezing gently. Pride and worry and something deeper flowed through the bond between us.
"It was fucking impressive is what it was," Rhiot declared, raising his cup. "To Parker, who kicked demon ass and looked good doing it!"
Plastic cups were lifted around the circle. Even Kearan raised his in acknowledgment, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
And then, impossibly, Ryker's chin dipped. A single nod. Brief. Stiff. The biggest gesture he'd made since the rejection. Our eyes met across the room, just for a second, before he looked away. But that second stretched between us, heavy with all the things we couldn't say.
My throat closed. I ducked my head, focusing intently on my champagne to hide the sudden burn behind my eyes.
"That's enough shop talk," Seph announced, breaking the moment. "I vote we switch to embarrassing stories. Parker, has Grayson told you about the time he tried to use his telekinesis to impress a girl and ended up dumping an entire vat of punch on the Division director?"
Grayson groaned. "That was one time. And I was sixteen."
"And wearing your first suit," Rhiot added, grin widening. "Which was two sizes too big because your mom was convinced you'd 'grow into it.'"
"I think we've established I'm the only one with any dignity in this group," Kearan said dryly.
That set everyone off, memories and teasing flying back and forth with increasing volume and decreasing coherence as the champagne bottle emptied and a second one appeared. Mephistral, who'd been suspiciously well-behaved on his perch by the window, finally couldn't resist joining in.
"The time the grumpy wolf boy tried to shift in the shower and got stuck halfway!" the imp cackled, doing an impression of someone's face mid-transformation. "Face all smooshed and howling about his dignity while the hot water ran cold!"
I had no idea who he was talking about, but it didn't really matter.
Even Trux laughed at that, the sound rusty but genuine. He'd been quieter than usual tonight, watching the celebration from the edges, but he'd relaxed by fractions as the evening progressed. Now he sat with his back against the wall, one arm slung casually around Rhiot's shoulders, a half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
For approximately forty-five minutes, everything was fine.
Then it wasn't.
One second, Trux was laughing at something Seph said, his body loose, his eyes their normal amber. The next, he'd shoved Rhiot into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster, his eyes fully shifted to gold, an animal sound tearing from his throat.
"Hesolga," Grayson said, voice tight with recognition. "He's breaking."
I lunged forward without thinking, reaching for Trux. "Trux, it's Parker. You're safe. We're all?—"
His hand shot out, catching my wrist with crushing force. For one horrible moment, I stared into his eyes and saw absolutely nothing of the man I knew. Just animal panic and rage, trapped and lashing out.
"Trux," I tried again, keeping my voice steady despite the fear clawing up my throat. "It's me. It's Parker. You're having an episode. You need to breathe."
He didn't recognize me. Didn't recognize any of us. His gaze darted wildly around the room, seeing threats everywhere, in every face. Another growl ripped from his throat, lower and more desperate than the first.
