I took a deep, trembling breath and stared at the water pouring out of the tap, swirling down the drain, willing it to carry my anger away with it. When I thought I had myself under control, I glanced up into the mirror—

—into a sea of flames.

Double uh-oh.

That meant my temper had weakened the Inviolate Wall enough for my father to reach out to me from the infernal plane. Belphegor’s face swam in the fiery sea, black eyes boring into mine, sharp, curving horns jutting from his temples.

Daughter. His voice echoed inside my skull, deep and amused and, weirdly, almost affectionate. You have but to ask.

“No.” I gripped the edges of the sink, shaking my head. “No! Go away!”

The bathroom door opened. “Are you okay, honey?” a woman’s concerned voice asked. Her hand patted me soothingly on the back. “Had a little too much to drink?”

With an effort, I let go of the sink and straightened. It was one of the frumpy ladies in the appliquéd sweatshirts. Hers was green with sunflowers on it, and she had kind eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said gratefully, stealing a peek at the mirror. It was just a mirror again, showing me nothing but my reflection. “Thank you. I just—”

My sentence trailed off into nothing, because I wasn’t sure what to say. I just . . . what? Needed a minute to collect myself because my boyfriend’s secret twin sister had threatened me with obeah? Because I had accidentally invoked the specter of my father, the minor demon and occasional incubus Belphegor?

Fortunately, it didn’t seem to matter to the nice lady in the sunflower sweatshirt. “As long as you’re okay.”

I turned off the tap. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” She gave me another pat and a warm, weary smile. “We’ve all got to take care of one another, honey.”

Her kindness gave me the strength I needed to wrestle the last fraying tendrils of my temper under control and venture back out into the bar to face the prospect of making polite conversation with my boyfriend and his twin sister, who I wished had stayed a secret but who was apparently my new nemesis.

Stormy weather, indeed.

Fourteen

Somehow I got through the evening.

The music helped. Ironically, it also helped that Emmeline was so adept at being two-faced, falling back on the easy, self-deprecating charm that had lured me into complacency in the first place.

Sinclair wasn’t fooled, at least not by me. He knew I was on edge. When I first returned to the table, he gave me an inquiring furrowed-brow look. I replied with a barely perceptible headshake that meant I didn’t want to talk about it now.

So we didn’t.