Demalion had a hard road ahead of him, she thought. A life not his own, and his own rolled up and erased by the ISI.
In the meantime, Sylvie had Zoe to watch over—out for, the little dark voice suggested—and a bunch of cases piling up. She’d tried the easy case; maybe she’d see what Alex had in the hard pile. It couldn’t be worse. And tomorrow, she’d meet with Suarez, explain Odalys as best she could, then take him to see the wall of flowers that had once been a coven of would-be satanists. Show him that there was more to the
Magicus Mundi than despair and death. There could be justice. There could be hope.