I sucked in my breath and jerked my head up, shocked. “Damn,” I whispered, curling my shaking fingers under into a fist. The lingering energy swirled, hurting until it was reabsorbed. “I hate it when he leaves that fast. He’s coming over.” Fingers aching, I slid the mirror onto the table and stood, rubbing my hands together to try to rid myself of the lingering prickles of magic. “Scrying mirrors are like party lines. This is a good thing.” I think. “You staying?”

Jenks casually cleaned his sword on a torn corner of napkin and nodded.

I smiled, carefully setting my scrying mirror beside my cooling coffee. “Thanks. He’s easier to deal with when he thinks people trust him.”

“Trust?” The pixy held the blade up to the light and squinted at its shine. “I trust him all right. Trust him to get away with whatever he can.”

As if on cue, there was the barest tug on my awareness as Al gently misted into existence without even the hint of a shift in the air. Appearing in the threshold, he sniffed, his eyes going to the steaming pot of coffee. The demon was taller than me, his overdone buckled boots giving him an advantage. He was wearing his usual crushed green velvet frock coat with the lace at his throat and cuffs, having gone on to add a matching top hat, a scarf to protect against the night’s mist, a cane he didn’t need, and his usual round blue-tinted glasses. They did little to hide his red goat-slitted eyes, and I knew he didn’t need them to see with. Al was all about show, and he liked the image of a bygone British nobleman.

“Rache-e-el,” he drawled, eyeing me over his glasses as he loosened his scarf and came in, boots grinding leftover circle-salt into the linoleum. “Sweats at your trial, gowns in your kitchen. You simply must learn how to dress yourself properly. Or did you go all out for me?” His expression souring, he gave Jenks a disparaging glance.

Jenks wrinkled his nose in disgust at the rank smell of burnt amber now permeating the air. “Sweet ever-loving Tink,” he said, rising up and holding his nose dramatically. “Haven’t you learned how to take a shower yet? You smell like a burning tire.”

“Stop it,” I said, knowing Al couldn’t help it. The ever-after stank like burnt amber, and it rubbed off on you. I still noticed it, but it didn’t seem to have the same impact anymore, which bothered me for some reason.

“I didn’t get dressed up for you,” I said, hoping the pixies stayed out. “I haven’t had time to change from my, ah, date is all.”

Al pulled his bared-teeth smile from Jenks, mellowing as he turned to me. “Is that so?”