“I don’t think it’s good anymore,” I said, but then my bobbing foot stilled when the phone machine clicked on and an automated voice told me to leave a message. It was generic but familiar. The number was good. I finally got a beep, and I filled the silence with my attitude.

“Hello-o-o-o, Nic-k,” I said, hitting the K hard. “You might want to consider getting a new number if you’re going to be doing bad-guy stuff.” Jenks flew backward off my shoulder, giving me a thumbs-up with both hands. “I saw you tonight—running away as usual. If I catch you, you will be in the I.S. lockup with a zip strip bolted to your forehead. That’s a promise from me to you, you hear me, crap for brains? These are babies, not a piece of antiquated piece of history no one cares about. You are stealing someone’s child, and I’m going to—”

The phone clicked. “Rachel.”

The flat sound of my name cracked through me, and my eyes darted to Jenks, now standing on my plate. It was Nick all right, his tone dry and accusing. The image of his narrow face, scruffy stubble, and casual, unkempt clothes flashed through my mind, and my gut tightened. What had I ever seen in him? But behind his rough exterior was a wickedly clever mind, one that was going to get him in a hole in the ground.

“Oh,” I said lightly. “So you have a pair after all, huh?”

“You left me with no recourse but to sell my soul,” Nick said.

“Oh please.” I stood, pacing to the other side of the kitchen with Jenks hovering by my ear. “You sold your soul all on your own. I never made you summon a demon. I asked you once, but you were summoning him already, so I’m not taking the blame for that. Besides, you don’t belong to Al. Who owns you, Nickie? Is it Newt? You almost deserve her.”

“There you go again,” he said, his bitter laugh clear through the phone. “Jumping to the wrong conclusion. Listen to me this time. You left me with no recourse but to sell my soul. Thank you.” My lips parted. “I never would have met Ku’Sox any other way.”