Al layered a slice of cheese between two pieces of toast and set it on a black plate that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Ahhh …,” he said as he quickly made three sandwiches, divvying them up between two plates. “If they give you a trial, what you are comes out, and where all witches have their beginnings. Or they leave you alone and pray you don’t cross them. Or they try to kill you without the press knowing. Double jeopardy?”

I nodded, eying the two sandwiches on that second plate. “It’s worth the risk. Either they let me go when I promise to be good …”

“Or they kill you.”

The cheese smelled all melty as Al slid the plate with one sandwich in front of me beside the nasty coffee. I looked at it. Al made me dinner? “That’s why it has to be spectacular,” I said. “I want Trent involved. He started it. He’s going to have to call them off. He doesn’t want me dead. He wants me to work for him.” I thought of that paper he wanted me to sign, wondering whether I’d do it now if given the chance.

Al sat at the far end of the long table, pulling his plate closer and picking his first sandwich up with a napkin that appeared from nowhere. “I’ve never agreed with this long leash you’re giving your familiar. See what he’s done? In a mere six months? Bring him in. I can whip him into shape in half that time. Give him back to you as a present. I’ll put a bow on him and everything.” Al quit waving his toasted sandwich and took a bite.

“Trent is not my familiar.” I leaned over the plate and picked up my sandwich with my bare fingers, wondering why Al didn’t want to touch his. “I don’t need one, okay? This entire mess is because of him thinking I might use him as a familiar.”

Elbow on his knee, Al leaned forward, chewing. “So I gathered.”

I watched him for a moment, then looked at the sandwich. It smelled wonderful. “Thank you,” I said, then took a bite. Oh God, it tasted wonderful.

Al seemed pleased when I followed my first bite with another. “Why do you want Nick?” he asked. “Not that I’m agreeing to help you … yet.”

I looked for a napkin, hesitating when one misted into existence under my fingers. “I know him,” I said, dabbing my lips. This was really weird. Dinner with Al? Kind of like tea in the Sahara. “He’s a thief, and a damn good one. Mmmm, this is tasty.” Flattery is always good.

The demon’s smile widened. “Trading him in for space would get a fine room for you.”

My chewing slowed. “‘Scuse me?”