The pixy turned in midair, hands on his hips. “I could do a little dusting,” he said, and my lips curved up in a smile. Jonathan wouldn’t know what hit him.

“You do that,” I said, then drew back as Trent pushed the door open. Oliver was behind him, all bluster and huff. The two men gave Jenks a cautious look as the pixy laughed, darting out over their heads singing “London Bridge Is Falling Down.”

Watching me, Trent shut the door with the tip of his shoe, and the silence of a sort-of-soundproof room soaked into me. “Please, sit down,” I said to the two men, gesturing with my chopsticks. “I’m glad you agreed to see me. Do you want anything? Coffee? Subgum?”

Sitting on the green, thinly padded metal chair, Trent clasped his hands and rested them on his crossed knees. His face lacked all emotion, waiting. “No thank you.” His eyes shifted from the paperwork to the statue, and I smiled. Thanks, Nick, even if you are a bastard. God! I couldn’t believe he went behind my back to work a deal with Trent. On second thought, I could. And what was it with Trent not telling me he thought I might be able to do that elf trick of shifting realities using ley lines?

Oliver stood, his arms crossed. “You are a black witch,” he started, his words harsh.

Going back to my subgum, I said mildly, “And the coven of moral and ethical standards is corrupt, having a demon-summoning black-arts practitioner among their number. You sure you don’t want a coffee?”

“We do not!” the man exclaimed.

“Wrong!” Taking a breath, I jammed the sticks in the takeout box, thinking they looked too aggressive pointing at him like that. “Brooke tried to make a deal with me to put one of my demon children in her cradle and me off the lobotomy table intact and in her private army.”

Oliver’s round face looked horrified.

Trent unclasped his hands and tugged his sleeves. “Can we skip this part? I have an appointment in half an hour with the press.”

His hand fumbling for the back of a chair, Oliver sat. I didn’t think he’d known that. Good. Maybe he would listen to me. “Sure,” I said slowly, answering Trent’s question. “We can come back to it if we need to. Let me tell you what I want.” I’m going to make a deal with two men who tried to kill me. Was I stupid or really smart? Sidereal didn’t have a problem with it.

Oliver scoffed. “You’re in jail. You’re in no position to be asking anything.”