“You want to make it two?” I countered, not sure how long this might take.

Jenks flew from my shoulder, his rainbowlike aura trailing him. “How about five minutes?” he said tightly, and I pleaded with my eyes for him not to make a stink. It was daylight, and pixies couldn’t stay in the ever-after when the sun was up, same as demons couldn’t stay in reality.

“I’ll have a better chance of success if I go alone,” I said, then craned my neck to look through the low ceiling at the banners and dappled light patterns that the demons decorated their mall with. It was early yet, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic, just a few harried familiars and disgruntled demons who’d been pressed into service to clear a debt. I thought I could hear ’80s music being piped in, echoing against the flat places. It was weird standing so far underground and feeling as if you were outside, but the demons had had thousands of years to build their pretend.

Trent eyed me askance—making me wonder if he was checking out my aura for smut—then fixed his gaze firmly ahead to the shop sign visible through the wall, THE COFFEE VAULT. Someone had a sense of humor.

“We can turn the magnet on at fifteen-minute intervals,” Trent said; then we both turned at a scuff at the door.

“Sa’han,” Quen protested, out of breath but clearly having heard him. “The risk . . .”

Trent’s pleasant expression never changed. “We can turn the magnet on at fifteen-minute intervals,” he said again, and Quen nodded reluctantly. Satisfied, Trent turned to the humming ley line.

The sour whine to the ley lines throughout Cincinnati was getting worse. Seeming to hear it as well, Jenks hovered before the line, hands on his hips and glaring at an oblivious man behind the coffeehouse windows. There was no reason for the familiar to be using his second sight, and unless he did, we would be invisible.

I stepped forward, dipping a hand through the line and deciding it felt okay even if it sounded bad, the flow even and smooth. Perhaps Trent’s dad had had a deeper relationship with demonkind than Trent wanted to admit. Being able to step through a ley line and into the demon mall and coffee shop was a little too convenient—even if it was going to save both our asses.

Ready to go, I ran my hands down my linen blouse. It was going to stink to high heaven when I got back. “Quen, don’t let him follow me,” I said as I took a step forward into the line.

“Rachel, wait!”