“I shouldn’t, but I will,” she said. “Mostly because if I don’t, I’m sure you’ll try anyway and get yourself killed while I’m not there to watch. Do you have a pen?”

“Yes,” I lied, and gestured to Elliot, making scribbling motions in the air. He handed Quentin a notebook and pen, and Quentin brought it to me, quickly. I nodded to him, saying into the phone, “Go ahead.”

“Ask me the question first.”

“Luidaeg, I—”

“You know the rules. Ask me, and I’ll tell.”

“How do I summon the night-haunts?”

“Good girl. Now, here’s what you’ll need . . .” And she started rattling off ingredients and ritual gestures the way most people assemble shopping lists. Fortunately, I take good shorthand. Quentin watched, grimacing as I wrote out more and more elaborate instructions. I ignored him, continuing to write until she finally stopped, snapping, “You got that?”

“I think so. First, you . . .”

She cut me off, saying, “Good. Remember, don’t get cocky, and be sincere. It’s the intention they’ll be listening to, not the shape; if you don’t believe in what you’re saying, the night- haunts have the right to demand you go with them as a sacrifice.” She paused. “I should set up a deal like that. Bother me and I get to eat you.”

“Luidaeg?”

“Yes?”

“Will this work?”

“Follow my instructions and it will. Do you understand what you’re summoning?”

“I think so.”

“Good. You do this alone. They won’t answer if they feel the calling isn’t unified.”

I glanced at Quentin and Elliot, wincing. They weren’t going to like this. “All right. I understand.” I’d have to explain while we prepared.

“Understand this, too—that was your last question. My debt to you is paid. I don’t owe you anymore.” The line went dead.

I set the receiver back in the cradle, saying, “I know, Luidaeg. I know.” She’d owed me one true answer to any question I cared to ask. She didn’t owe me anymore. If I survived ALH, I might be coming home to my own execution.

Is there a law that says life can’t be simple?

“Toby? What’s wrong? What did she say?” Quentin sounded like he was on the verge of panic. It’s not every day you watch someone call the monster under your bed for help.

“She said . . .” That she’s going to kill me. I took a deep breath, suppressing the thought, and started again with, “She said I could do it. I can call the night-haunts.”

“You’re going to do what?” Elliot asked, eyes wide.

I turned to look at him. “Weren’t you listening? I’m going to summon the night- haunts so they can tell me why they haven’t been coming for the bodies.”