“You said what you want; well, I want Bis and Lucy!” I demanded again as Nick fidgeted behind Ku’Sox. Trent held Lucy tighter, standing up with her as if he would never let her go. He’d do anything for her. Anything. Kisten had looked at me that way once, and it had killed him. Ceri’s death was both Trent’s awakening and his downfall. He loved, he knew loss, and he would fight to keep what was dear to him, the rest be damned.

Ku’Sox told Nick to stop fidgeting with a sharp look. “Both? No. Trent is a nasty little elf. With Lucy gone, he will become most intractable. See? He’s sullen already. And Bis? Well, that’s obviously no. With him, your chances of preventing the end of the ever-after slip into the double digits.”

Bis seemed to deflate in relief. I didn’t like the way Nick noticed, and I cringed when Ku’Sox half turned to look at the gargoyle. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, flying worm. You’re talking to everyone’s gargoyles and learning the lines because I see fit. When the demons die, their gargoyles go with them, and I will want someone familiar with the old lines so I can reinstate them.”

Reinstate the lines? The words hit the pit of my being with a cold certainty. He was intending nothing less than complete destruction. This wasn’t just to get the demons to kill me then return to business as usual. Ku’Sox was aiming at genocide.

“Then I guess we ought to just duke it out now,” I said as I reached out with my thoughts and tapped the line. It filled me, screaming a discord that melded with my thoughts and flashed through me like grief. God, please give me another way out.

“I would consider giving you Lucy, though,” Ku’Sox said, glancing at Trent’s pinkie ring, and I froze, not believing I’d heard him right. Trent looked up, hope so deep in his eyes it hurt.

Nick stiffened in his corner. “L-Lucy?” I said, a part of my mind realizing that the scum bucket was afraid of me. He was afraid! My air came in with a rush, and I dropped the line, pulling myself straight and seeing Ku’Sox’s fear in the way he held his head, squinted at the light. Lucy for his freedom? Two days ago I would have spit in his face, but now . . .

My gaze shot to Trent, his grip on his child almost frantic.