Valec grins. “I am scum, but there are worse, believe me. For example, I don’t do murder contracts, while my competitors do. I find it difficult to assess the value of murdering a third party, especially when I don’t know who the third party is.” He frowns. “How do you begin to calculate that bargain? The math’s impossible.”

Alice laughs nervously. “Not at all terrifying. Not at all.” She exchanges glances with me. “So, I’m gathering there are very unsavory brokers. What does that make you, Valec?”

Valec tugs on his vest. “Oh, I facilitate barters of musical genius, frozen youth, untold-of wealth, artistic brilliance. You name the skill, ability, or magical power, and humans want it. The right kind of demon can offer any one of those things, in exchange for fair payment. I draw up the contracts between the two parties, see to it that all are consenting and agreed on the terms, and help execute.”

“For a fee, I’m assuming,” I say.

“I ensure that everyone keeps their end of the deal,” Valec says. “Speaking of—Lucille?”

“Yes, please,” I say, back to business and ready to leave as soon as we can.

“Follow me.” Valec walks to the elevator, whistling as he goes.

When we emerge in the lower level, the entire floor has transformed. Chairs and tables swept to one side, the floor open, and only a few faces tucked in dark corners of booths. A hot sensation of anxiety rides up my spine, making my skull tingle. When we’d arrived, I’d thought most of the people here were humans, but then there was the warlock who had become something… else. Now, I see an older blond woman smoking a silver pipe filled with swirling yellow aether. Each time she inhales, her eyes glow gold. Each time she exhales, they turn back to brown. She watches as Valec leads us to a hallway that loops around the main stage.

The five of us walk down the hall and Valec knocks on the door at the end.

A woman’s voice calls out. “I’m not to be disturbed when I’m with clients.”

“I’ll make it up to the client. We’ve got a situation,” Valec calls back.

The door swings open, and a Black woman with gray hair in braids wearing a long green dress exits. “I don’t like being disturbed, Valechaz.”

“Hi, niece.” Valec smiles warmly. She scowls, then surveys the rest of us, pausing briefly on my face. “Everyone, the Grand Dame, Lucille.”

“Niece?” I echo, looking between the two of them.

Lucille huffs. “He’s my great-uncle seven times over.”

I blink, head spinning.

“How old are you?” I ask Valec.

He gives a heavy sigh. “Two hundred and five.”

We all gawk at him. Alice’s eyes look like they might leave her skull in shock.