I gave myself a minute to settle, breathing in and out and letting that action become the focus of my awareness. After a minute, I opened my eyes again and looked around. Maybe I’d see something. Maybe I’d hear something. Maybe Rosantine, narcissist that she was, would come back to the site of her triumph.

I was an investigator. So I’d investigate.

I stepped onto the grass, began walking a perimeter around the House. I checked the ground, glanced among the trees. Not looking for anything in particular. Just . . . looking. I found nothing unusual on the side of the House, nothing in the back. And I was rounding the back corner toward the House’s other side when I saw a glimmer of something on the ground.

I crouched down, swiped my fingers over the grass, and found them stained with something dark, gritty, and greasy.

I lifted my fingers, sniffed. The substance smelled of sulfur.

Was this a remnant of the not-fire that had seemingly consumed the House? Or the demon spell that had managed it? I hadn’t seen any near the warehouse, but then Rose hadn’t set anything on fire there, magical or otherwise.

I stood up again, shined a flashlight on the ground, hoping I’d find more traces of it in other places. I found a few more spots within a ten-foot square area, but nothing farther than that. The rain had probably washed most of it away.

I tried to take a few photos but knew it was too dark to do much good. But I still had the handkerchief Roger had given me—I’d planned to give it back to him tonight—so I swept it over one of the marks. I confirmed I’d picked up some of the grit, then folded it up and put it in my jacket pocket. Maybe Petra would have some ideas about what it was, or why.

I walked back around the House, found nothing else of interest. Until I reached the front sidewalk and found Connor standing there.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. I was worried. You weren’t at the loft, and Theo said you hadn’t come into the office yet. Lulu thought you’d be here. What are you doing?”

“Looking for information. I found some kind of greasy grit on the grass, so I got a sample for Petra. I should get to the office so she can test it.”

But Connor didn’t move. “What if she’d come back? You shouldn’t have come here alone. You can’t stand here all night, and you can’t will the House back into this world.”

“I’m capable of taking care of myself, as you’re well aware.”

“Not against a demon.”

I stepped up to him, my anger rising to replace the fear. “I held my own. Did you drive all the way out here to tell me I can’t take care of myself?”

“Of course not,” he said, the words tossed out.

I looked at him for a moment—really looked—and saw the emotions that mirrored mine riding on a wave of fatigue. And I thought of the pressure he was under, the weight he was carrying.