“I don’t have time for paperwork,” he said bitterly, and then I heard him sigh as Ray finally stopped crying. I could hear her little-girl snuffles, and I figured he’d picked her up.

“Give me some time to talk to Dali then,” I said. “I need a chance to explain what’s going on to him, and then maybe he’ll help.”

“Why would a demon help me?” Trent said, and I looked up at the church, squinting to try to find Bis. There was another huge gargoyle up there, and I frowned.

“He’d be helping me, not you. And I’m not going to ask him to do it for free,” I said, then softened. “Give me a few hours. Can you bring Jenks home for me? And maybe my car? Say after midnight? I should be done by then and will have more information for you.”

“Midnight!” I heard Jenks shrill, then I frowned when Trent covered the phone. “Fine, midnight,” the pixy said sourly when I could hear again.

“Trent?” I said cautiously.

“I’ll see you at midnight,” Trent said, and then the phone went dead.

Startled but not surprised, I closed the phone and tucked it away. Arms wrapped around myself and my head down, I stomped up the back porch and wrestled the screen door open. This was going to take a lot of planning.

I should have called Ivy.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Nervous, I wiped my fingertips off on a towel and tossed it on the counter. Almost before it hit, I was reaching for it again, carefully folding it to drape over the oven handle, right in the middle. Exhaling, I turned to look over my kitchen, dim with only the light from the living room across the hall and the small bulb over the sink. Demons and shadows seemed to go together, but they craved the sun like an undead vampire.

Ceri’s teapot sat between two chairs at Ivy’s farm table. The antique porcelain was warm with Earl Grey tea, two of Ceri’s best teacups beside it. A candle on the stove made it smell like a pine forest. If I was lucky, it might even overpower the burnt amber stench. Maybe. I had an hour before Trent brought Jenks home. I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d promised Trent results, and it was time to call the demon.

I turned to Bis atop the fridge. “Well?” I asked him. “Look okay to you?”

The cat-size teenager brought his wingtips up to touch over his head, his version of a shrug. “I guess,” he said, his pebbly skin flashing the entire range from gray, to white, to black, and back to gray again. He was anxious. So was I.