“Sure, make me responsible for Ray losing her father as well as her mother,” I said as I got my boots out of the closet and let them clunk to the floor. God, it still hurt. It would for a long time, and my motions to change my clothes grew rough. Quen didn’t move, and I thought of Al’s opinion that Trent would have a better chance of success than Quen. Getting to him might be a problem.

Quen took up the rings, his silence making me uneasy. “If we fail, do you think Trent can kill him?” he asked as he fingered them, and I kicked my jeans off, feeling vulnerable.

“No.” I held up my mom’s linen bell-bottoms to me. “It’s not so much that I doubt his abilities, but he is Ku’Sox’s familiar. He’s going to be as effective as spit. You can’t kill a demon. Ask Newt.” Or Ceri, or Pierce.

“I can hide your presence from the demons for a short time,” Quen said, his back to me. “Perhaps long enough for the ever-after to collapse.”

Teeth clenched, I balanced on one foot, then the other as I put my pants on. They were lined in silk, and they felt surprisingly nice. “I’m a demon,” I said softly. “If they want me, they summon me. I’m theirs.”

“The band of silver you cut off,” he started.

“No.” I zipped up my pants, swishing back and forth to watch the way they moved. “Thanks for coming out here on such short notice. Apparently I’ve bankrupted both Al and Newt. Ku’Sox has petitioned that Al be confined, which just leaves us unless you want to take the time to break him out of jail.”

Quen took a breath, and I made a noise when he threatened to turn around. “They can’t summon you if you wear charmed silver. You could put it on until the ever-after goes and the demons are gone,” he said, his neck stiff.

“And then what?” I said, bad tempered. Is he trying to talk me out of this or see how deep my resolve goes? Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I pulled it up and over my head. It was cold in just my chemise, and I tossed the tee to the floor. “It never occurred to you that I don’t want the demons to die out? Maybe I like them, huh? Besides, Ku’Sox is using my line to kill them,” I said as I shoved my arms into my top. “I’m partially responsible. You can stay here and watch Nick if you want. Someone needs to.”

There was a knock at the door, and I buttoned the vest around me. “Pizza will be here in ten,” Ivy said through the door, and then her steps retreated. Ten minutes—a lingering benefit of having been Piscary’s scion. That, and Ivy tipped very well.