Riley’s shoulders went rigid. “D’svnknuu d’arr,” he snapped. “Y’gnthme’l dgn jgvn’skuth Fgnthul.” He grabbed my hand protectively. My stomach did a little loop-de-loop as his firm, strong fingers curled through mine.

The man straightened in his seat and appraised me with eyes like black holes. For a moment, his bearing seemed transformed into something regal and powerful, yet cruel. But I blinked, and the illusion was gone as he moved the pipe to the other side of his mouth and a faint puff of purple smoke curled up from the cup. It smelled a bit like lavender. Maybe that was the smell Riley had mentioned. He must have a nose like a bloodhound to have caught it from all the way across the shop.

“No kidding.” The man’s voice turned flat. “Looks just like the last one. Where do you dig these women up?”

The loop-de-loop in my stomach flipped into a nose dive and I jerked, ripping my hand from Riley’s. He looked at me, startled. I quickly straightened my sweater, afraid to look him in the eye. “The last one?” I mumbled, my heart thudding in my ears.

“It was long ago,” Riley said stiffly. “And a grave error.”

Whose error? I wanted to ask, but my throat was clamped shut. Of course there would have been someone else. How could any woman not fall head over heels for that perfect face, that unkempt hair, that hint of an accent? The mirror showed it well enough. Next to him, I was frumpy, when there were so many more beautiful women in the world-–

The man behind the counter cackled and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing a bronze-plated cane with a dragon’s head carved into the top. He shuffled out from behind the counter with a soft-shoe rhythm—his swagger reminded me of the Cab Calloway videos Bree had once forced me to watch. A faded pair of moose slippers poked out from the bottoms of his jeans.

He took out his pipe and spread his arms in a bow. “Well, excuse me, madam. You’ll have to forgive my nephew his past transgressions as well as his rudeness, because he should have introduced us by now. I am Nyarlathotep, but you can call me Neil.”

Warmth crept back into my cheeks, along with a little smile at the gesture. “No trouble,” I murmured, holding out my hand. Instead of shaking it though, he took my wrist and pressed it to his lips like a knight from legend, a crooked grin curling across his face as he caught my eye.

“Neil!” Riley nearly shouted, and he stepped between us, forcing Neil to drop my hand. “Her name is Andromeda.” His voice lowered, but remained charged with tension. “And we have urgent matters to discuss.”

“I’m not loaning you anymore money.”

“It’s about the coming Alignment,” Riley said through gritted teeth. “And… the prophecy.”