"What do you do back in A'Dair besides slay demons?"

"This is my purpose. I was born a slayer, trained, educated. It is what I do."

"Friends, family?"

"I have no family. She who raised me was killed by a tribe of Bok."

Mother killed, he thought. Trauma, role playing. "I'm sorry."

"She was a fine warrior. Clud, sire of Sorak, took her life, and I have taken his. So there is balance. I have learned that she who bore me was another. Rhee, the sorceress. Her blood is in me. I think I am here, able to be here, because of that blood." She sniffed the air. "This is coffee?"

"That's right."

"It has a good scent."

He poured two mugs, offered one. She sniffed again, sipped, then frowned. "Bitter, but good."

To his surprise, she downed the entire mug in one swallow, then swiped a hand over her mouth. "I like this coffee. Dress now, Harper Doyle."

"How do you know my name?"

"It was told to me. We will hunt the Bok together."

"Sure. We'll get to that in a little while."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't believe. You think I'm loose in the brain. You waste my time with too many questions when we should act."

"Part of what I do in my little world is ask questions. Nobody's calling you a liar here. Why shouldn't I believe you're a demon slayer from an alternate universe? I'm always getting clients from other dimensions."

She paced up and down the narrow room to work out the logic. He was mocking her, and this was not proper. Lesser warriors were not permitted to show a slayer disrespect.

Yet, she admired him for it even as she found his demeanor frustrating.

This was his world, Kadra reminded herself, one of wonders far beyond her ken. So her world would be beyond his. If she were in his place, she would not believe without proof.

"You must be shown. I cannot blame you for doubt. You would be weak and foolish if you didn't question, and the weak and foolish would be of no use to me."

"Darling, keep up that sweet talk and you'll turn my head."

She didn't have to understand the words to recognize the sarcasm dripping from them. A little impatient, a little intrigued, she held one hand up, and the other, with the globe in its palm, out.

"My blood is of the sorceress and the warrior. My blood is the blood of the slayer. I hold the power of the key."

She drew her mind down to the globe, drew the power of the globe into her mind.

Harper's kitchen wall dissolved as though it were a painting left out in the rain. Through it, he saw not the apartment next door but a thick, green jungle, a curving white ribbon, and a sky the color of pale blood under a fierce red sun.

"Holy shit," he managed before he was sucked into it.