Sel clenches his jaw so hard I think his teeth might break. Then he thrusts his left arm out. If the man notices the void cuff, he opts not to say anything. Instead, he puts the mark on Sel’s hand too. “It’ll fade in twelve hours.”

“It better.” He rotates his hand in the light, scowling at the mark.

The man’s voice rumbles, bored, as if reciting a script. “With entry you agree to release the owners, staff, and other guests—be they human or nonhuman—of the Crossroads Lounge from any and all liability, including, but not limited to, liability arising from negligence, fault, agreements, or disagreements between entities that may occur as a result of your presence on the premises. You also agree not to instigate, continue, or intercede in any magical conflicts that are not explicitly permitted by the Crossroads Lounge owner or staff.” Louis takes a breath. “Do you understand, agree, and swear to this verbal release and these behavior requirements?”

Surprisingly, Sel answers first. “Fine.”

The man looks to the rest of us, and we mumble our agreements. It’s hard not to follow up with questions. William’s and Sel’s brows are both furrowed, as I’m sure mine are. A sworn agreement is no light thing to the Legendborn.

“Any magic to declare?” From Louis.

“No.” William’s answer is fast and firm, like he’d prepared for it in advance.

The man grunts, and I pray he’s not some sort of supernatural creature with demon-sharp hearing, because my heart leaps in my chest. I don’t feel his eyes on me, so not a demon or part demon.

“You may enter.” The bouncer gives us one last look and bends to open the door behind him. Then, with a sudden popping sound, Louis disappears.

Immediately, the sound of clinking glasses and classic rock stream out into the evening air, loud enough to make Sel slap his hands over his sensitive ears.

“Is he… that fast?” Alice wonders.

“No.” Sel scowls. “That speed isn’t his. I don’t like this.”

“Ugh, we know,” Alice whines.

“Play nice, children.” William holds up a hand. “Adaptability is the name of the game if we’re to start coloring outside of the lines.”

Alice chuckles nervously. “Lines. Get it?” She turns back to us, eyes bright with amusement. “Get it?”

“I get it.” William winks.

“Everyone gets it,” Sel says with a deep sigh of resignation.

Alice steps closer to me so that we walk almost shoulder to shoulder, her pinky finger twining with mine. I nod to the group with confidence I don’t have. “Let’s find Lucille and leave.”

I tug Alice forward, bracing against the explosion of sensory input. The deep thump of heavy bass, the swirl of smoke, the ward dancing across my face and neck, and the smell of rich, thick aether pull me forward into the unknown.

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