“Still think I’m skeerylike?” Pierce muttered as he tucked his shirttails in and tried to look more presentable.

“Lee doesn’t owe you anything!” I said. “Off-limits.”

A trace of irritation crossed the demon’s face; then he smiled as if it didn’t bother him. “Rachel, my itchy witch,” Al said as he tugged the lace at his cuffs. “We’ve talked about this. You simply must stop collecting nasty little men. How many do you really need, love?”

My knees were sore, and they were shaking. “Brooke summoned me again!” I exclaimed, pointing, then shifted my arm when I remembered where the university was. “I told you she would. She had a rolling bed with straps. I want my name back now!”

Al made a puff of air, but he was coming at me, and I backed up.

“They drugged me,” I said, trying to smack his reaching arm away only to find myself picked up and plopped on the table, sitting on some of Ivy’s papers. “In my leg,” I continued as he smelled my breath and peered over his smoked glasses at me. “Shot me twice. I want my name, or I’m going to start charging you a fee every time I field something for you. And it’s going to be expensive. I’m Park Place. Bud-dy.”

His red, goat-slitted eyes squinted at me from over his smoked glasses. “You’re more like Oriental Avenue right now, dove. What are you on?”

I pushed him away, catching Lee’s awe that I was not only standing with a demon outside a circle, but that Al was treating me like an equal. Or maybe a favorite pet, I amended as Al caught me when I started to tilt. “I want …”—I panted as he held my shoulder with his white-gloved hand and kept me upright—“… my name. Right now. This is crap! I mean it!”

Al glanced at the two people behind him, safe in a circle, then at Pierce. I wrinkled my nose at the burnt amber flowing off him, and he let me go. With a yelp, I slid from the table to land in a crumpled pile at his feet. “Ow,” I muttered, seeing his cute little buckled boots. No one wears buckles anymore, and I decided to get him some real boots next winter solstice. Some sexy guy boots. Yeah. Fumbling, I reached to find the top of the table, and I pulled myself up.

His goat-slitted eyes narrowed and he turned to Pierce. “You’re supposed to watch her.”

“I am!” Pierce said, his own anger showing. “In all my born days, I’ve not seen a woman more prone to trouble, and your almighty refusal to settle your hash is making things plumb impossible. Give Rachel her name or I’ll tell Newt I can’t do this.”

“Yeah,” I said as I wove on my feet, trying to focus.