“I can’t believe you can just get these anywhere,” he says.

“You don’t have pasties in Nebraska?”

“No. We have so much less pie, in general. It isn’t fair. I guess we have runzas…”

“What’s a runza?”

“This”—he smiles again, pointing the pasty at me—“but with cabbage.” He takes another bite, then looks out the window. I’ve never seen Shepard like this before; I think he might be pensive.

“Are you afraid?” I ask.

His face jerks back to me. “Afraid? No. What would I be afraid of?”

“Well, we are going to meet some shady dark creatures in their lair…”

“Why do you assume every magickal being is dark?”

“Asks the man who thought he should befriend a demon.”

Shepard sighs.

“Is that it?” I ask. “Are you afraid to see the demon again?”

“No,” he says. “Should I be?” He looks thoughtful. “Maybe I should be … but it’s not like I can get more cursed…” He shakes his head. “Anyway, no, I’m not afraid. We aren’t even summoning it today.” He looks at me and suddenly seems very afraid indeed. “You weren’t planning on summoning it today, were you?”

“Morgana, no,” I say. “I’m not cold-calling a demon. Let’s figure out the details of the curse first. Hopefully Kipper’s mother can read your arms—and hopefully they say something useful. What if, after all this, the tattoos are just decorative?”

I keep saying “hopefully,” but I’m not feeling especially hopeful about this trip. Kipper didn’t give us any reason to be optimistic last night. Once she got over the shock of seeing Shepard’s arms, she basically told him what he already knew: that he’s up the River Styx without a paddle.

But she clearly liked him. (Everyone likes him.) She invited him, a perfect and obviously cursed stranger, to come to her family home in Croydon this morning, so her mum can take a look. Apparently forging and translation is a family business, and Kipper’s mother is more fluent in Demonic languages than she is.

I think Kipper just wanted to see Shepard again.

(Merlin, am I jealous? Because some rando and her mother might help Shepard when my own mother wouldn’t? Or is it because Kipper has cool purple hair and a beautiful delphinium tattoo on her wrist that she probably drew herself…) (I could have purple hair. It’s a simple enough spell.)

I hope Shepard isn’t planning on adding Kipper’s family to his collection of interesting magickal friends. Not with me involved. I don’t need new friends. Like, ever. But especially not amongst strange magickal creatures who live in Croydon. I don’t want to end this day with more problems than we started with.

“When we get there…” Shepard says carefully.