Jupe sat in back of us with his head stuck between the front seats, talking nonstop the entire trip to Morella. “Hey,” he said as we made the final turn onto my street, “do you think that’s what our ancestors looked like before they were stuffed into human bodies?”

“Invoked into human bodies,” I corrected. “Not stuffed.”

“We’re not descended from Parebas. We’re Kerub. They aren’t green,” Lon added.

Jupe blew out a hard breath. “That’s a relief. I was imagining myself with scales and red eyes. That’s kinda cool in a way, but kinda gross too. He looked like an alien. How old do you think he was?”

“I don’t know.” Lon gave me a sidelong glance in the dark car before pulling into my driveway. I’d been sort of numb during the drive, but now that I was home, my stress level was rising again. From the inquisitive look on Lon’s face, I guess he must have sensed the change in me with his empathic ability.

He instructed Jupe to stay inside the SUV while he walked me to my side door. I was glad to have a few seconds alone with him. “What about Jupe?” I asked.

“He’ll be fine,” he answered.

“No, I mean … don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s pretty chatty. Will he go back to school after the weekend and tell all his friends that he watched his dad shoot an Æthyric demon who was chasing a magician from Morella?”

His lips curled up into a muted smile. “He’s a loudmouth, that’s for sure. But he’s good at keeping quiet about things that count. You’re not the only one living a lie, you know. Earthbounds hide their abilities and identities around humans every day.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him,” he assured me. We stopped at the bottom of my steps. “Are you planning on summoning the albino demons I found for you tonight?”

I licked dry lips. “I had been, but I’m feeling pretty drained from that binding.”

“Maybe you should wait and try them tomorrow. If this Riley Cooper person was able to bargain with that Pareba to track you down, you might be in more danger than you thought. Maybe you should take the time to ward yourself first. If you’re dead, who’s going to help your parents?”

He was right, of course.

“And if you don’t mind,” he added, “I’d like to watch you summon them. I’ve never seen it done before.”

“Sure. But only if you tell me what you have seen and done as far as magic goes.”

He nodded once. “Deal. Get some rest. I’ll continue looking through goetias tomorrow and let you know what else I find.”

“Thanks, Lon.”

He sniffled and glanced back at the SUV. “Better get him home and into bed. Talk to you tomorrow.”

I watched him retreat down my driveway and get in the car. Jupe’s lanky form slipped through the seats as he took my place up front while Lon drove away. As the red taillights disappeared, a final reminder of the Pareba demon’s red eyes, I felt an unwelcome hollowness settle in my chest.

Though I wasn’t comfortable accepting help from other people, I wasn’t too proud to listen to good advice, and Lon was right about protecting myself. But that was easier said than done, since I didn’t even know what or who the enemy was. The Pareba demon had given me a name: Riley Cooper. That was a good place to start.

An hour of internet searches gave me squat on any Riley Cooper with occult affiliations. But a lot of magicians used alternate names; Bob Smith the VP might not want his corporate colleagues to know about his occult leanings on the weekends, so he’ll be known as Frater Wolverine in his order. Some occult organizations even issued new names to members who achieved higher grades. And in the E∴E∴, only the highest-ranking officers had access to members’ actual surnames.

After assessing my options, I figured if Riley Cooper had used magick to track me down, then I would do the same in return. And now that I had her name, I decided that a servitor was the easiest way to find her.

Servitors are Heka boomerangs: roving balls of focused magical energy that I can shoot out into the world. They’re able to perform simple but mindless tasks, like remote viewing and spying, information gathering.

Creating servitors is an advanced skill that most magicians never master. My parents thought they were too risky and hard to control, so they discouraged me from learning about them; despite this, after I was on my own, I taught myself the basics through trail and error.

First, I needed a physical vessel to anchor the Heka. I stockpiled a supply of crudely sculpted clay dolls for this purpose; only a few inches tall, they looked like miniature versions of the First Emperor of Qin’s Terracotta Army. Whenever I needed to send out a servitor, I’d draw an appropriate sigil related to its task on the body of one of the dolls. Then it was just a matter of conducting a simple life-giving spell. The servitor itself didn’t look like much, just a loosely humanoid shape made of light. Once charged, it would emerge from the clay doll like a tiny fairy and be on its merry way to do my bidding.

To ensure that the servitor returned to me, I had to keep the clay doll safe. After creating and sending out a servitor to locate Riley Cooper, I stashed the doll in my pocket and put it out of my mind; it might take a day or so for it to return from its mission.

After I faked my death with my parents, I was terrified that Luxe or another order would use servitors to track me down, but it never happened. The caliph thought it might be whatever my parents had bred into me during my conception—that my energy was hard to track. Or maybe it was all the magick I did to keep myself hidden. There were dozens of minor wards that would protect someone from being found by another magician’s servitors, and if Riley Cooper was able to control that Pareba, I should expect resistance. But I had to at least try; maybe I’d get lucky.