“Well, if you come to the Devil, you’ll find out,” said Matthew. “I’ve got my carriage waiting; we can be there in a quarter hour. Do you think Risa would mind if I brought a plate of buttered toast with me?”

“I will not bow out of patrol,” Thomas was saying as James, Matthew, and Cordelia entered the room. Faint cheers had greeted Matthew and James as they crossed through the pub below, but the mood at the Devil seemed muted. News of murders and the like tended to travel swiftly through Downworld. “It’s a ridiculous suggestion and there’s nothing you could say to convince me!”

He broke off as he caught sight of Cordelia and the others. He had one hand upraised, his finger jabbing the air as he spoke, as if to punctuate his sentences. He was flushed, his light brown hair in disarray. Cordelia was surprised—kind, calm Thomas rarely got out of temper.

Though there had been that moment with Alastair at the wedding.

Lucie and Christopher sat side by side on a sofa in front of Thomas, like two small children being scolded by their parents. Both had their hands folded in their laps, though when she caught sight of Cordelia, Lucie couldn’t help but wave. “Thank the Angel, you’re all here! Isn’t it awful?”

Cordelia joined Lucie and Christopher on the old sofa. When she sank gratefully into the well-worn feather cushions, a puff of dust drifted into the air to join the comforting smells of old books and incense. Despite the circumstances, it was good to be back in these familiar rooms. Cordelia watched James take a seat in one of the sagging brocade armchairs and Matthew his usual spot in the corner. While they were settling in, Lucie touched Cordelia’s hand.

“We were just telling Thomas he oughtn’t patrol,” she said earnestly. “At least not alone. Not with what happened to Basil Pounceby.”

“And Amos Gladstone,” said Christopher. “Two deaths in such a short time, both killed on patrol—it seems reasonable they might be connected.”

“Or it might just be bad luck.” Thomas threw up his arms. “Patrol is always going to be dangerous. That’s just part of the job, like demons and Alastair Carstairs—” He broke off, turning bright red. “Ah, Cordelia, I—”

She smiled pleasantly. “Did you just remember that Alastair is my brother?”

“Yes. No,” Thomas said. He looked around at his friends beseechingly.

“Oh, no,” said James. “You have to get yourself out of this one, Tom.”