“Afterward,” he said with a nod.

* * *

There were more smoothies, some curses, and our often frustrated efforts to find weird ingredients in Chicago in the middle of the night. Anything we couldn’t find required Lulu to retool the spell again.

And because demons were inherently untrustworthy, we had to ensure we had the House back—with everyone safe—before we sealed Rosantine away. That was going to require negotiating.

“We need a lawyer.”

Lulu looked at me, surprise in her expression. “Why would we need a lawyer?”

“Because we need to get a supernatural to do something, and Sups are weird about contracts and agreements.” I’d already learned that lesson once this week. “We need a lawyer who can draw up a contract Rose can’t weasel her way out of. Maybe with a magical binding.” If vampires could use a magical summons on me, I figured we could use a magical contract on a demon.

“You have someone in mind?”

“Surprising no one, my dad has several lawyers,” I said. “I’ll give the firm a call.”

I did that, and let Lulu and the lawyer speak to each other about the necessary terms for a demonic contract. As you do.

I kept looking at the clock, as we were down to less than twenty-four hours. I knew I wasn’t fighting alone, and that helped. That I had a group of amazing people to rely on, and they were actively working the problem. I could breathe. I could rest. Which was good—because I knew I’d need all my strength tomorrow.

* * *

Connor and I took a bottle of wine upstairs. We only had twenty minutes before dawn broke, but I needed the momentary distraction.

I poured while he lit the fire in the master bedroom’s fireplace, then brought him a glass.

“You’ve made a decision,” I said, watching him.

He nodded thoughtfully. “I just sent a message to have relayed to Cade.”

“Damn,” I said with a grin. “Not even telling him directly. That sends a message, too. And the message is?”

“I do not accept his challenge. I’m not the Apex of the North American Central Pack, so it shouldn’t have been directed at me, anyway. And I certainly can’t accept it on my dad’s behalf.”

There was something more there. “But?”

“But,” he said, “tomorrow is another day entirely.”

And he refused to tell me anything else.

TWENTY-ONE

Get out of my house.”

Lulu, still in pajamas twenty minutes after dusk, sat at the dining room table with paper and pens and glared at me.

“So that’s a no on the waffles?” I asked.

“Get out of my house,” she said again.

“Technically,” Connor said, “it’s my house. In that I own it, and you’re all squatters.”

“For right now, it’s my house. We only have a few hours, and I’m ninety-eight percent done. I need quiet, and no magic, in order to finish the last bit. Could you all just scurry away to the office and maybe get everyone assembled?”