Al grunted, a ripple on his cup giving away his surprise. Clearly he’d forgotten about that. ’Course, he could summon me back. He’d had my name for almost six months.

Bis eyed me with big, sorrowful red eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said for the umpteenth time, and after nodding to Al, he vanished with a soft whisper of collapsing air.

A sigh slipped from Al, and he pinched the bridge of his nose again. I figured it was an act to lull me into a relaxed state, but he’d pinned me to my chair not five minutes ago and I wasn’t buying it.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he said as I sipped my coffee only to spit it back out. My God, it was awful. The taste of burnt amber made it rancid.

“I’m like a freaking rabbit’s foot on fire,” I said dryly, setting the cup down.

He looked at the cup, then me. “Very few demons can survive getting out of a line when they’ve not been taught.”

“Really?” My stomach rumbled, but I wasn’t going to drink the “coffee.” “Who else can do it?” Please don’t say Newt …

His eyes almost appeared normal in the dim light as he stared at nothing, his white shirt with lace at the cuffs and collar making him look like a tired British lord at the end of the day. “Just the handful of demons still in existence.”

Oh? Pierce had said demons had flung themselves back to reality after stranding the elves, accidentally scribing the ley lines and stabilizing the ever-after. Which meant that Al had been there. Survived it. And the gargoyles who then taught them how to do it without hurting themselves were either killed or enslaved. Nice.

“I’m not a demon,” I said. “And I’m not going to use Bis like a familiar either. It’s wrong!”

Cup perched in his fingers, untasted, he said, “Rachel, if you would be patient and listen to me, you wouldn’t have to make the same mistakes we all did.”

Crap, he was starting to sound like my dad. Another man who, the more I knew, the more I didn’t know. Leaning back, I crossed my knees. “Which line did you make?”

Al’s eyes squinted. For a moment he just stared; then he set his cup down and rose in a rustle of fabric. Fine. Don’t tell me. “Treble doesn’t like you,” I prodded. “You trust her?” What I really wanted to know was if that black monstrosity was really him.

“Absolutely.” Al unwrapped a cloth-covered basket and brought out half a loaf of bread.