Wanting to improve his mood, I went to get him a coffee. Al propped his cane in the corner and sat in Ivy’s chair by the door, knowing it was the throne of the room. Settling himself with a pompous air, he shook out his sleeves and took a deep breath to speak.

I spun when six pixies came burst in, shouting about something or other. Jenks rose up, but as soon as they saw Al, they flew out screaming. Jenks shrugged, and Al grinned to show me his flat, blocky teeth. “You do have an interesting life,” he said, fluffing the lace at his cuffs. “Now, about Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos. Stealing Rosewood babies? How sure are you that he’s not collaborating with Trent?”

Shocked, I almost sloshed his cup over. “Pretty sure. Trent seemed as angry as I was when we met at the crime scene.”

“You wore that to a crime scene? No wonder they don’t take you seriously.” Al rolled his eyes dramatically, and frowning, I extended his coffee to him. His eyebrows rose at the rainbow mug, and in a huff, I sat down beside my uneaten sandwich and pushed it away. He was eyeing the cold cuts still out, and I gestured for him to help himself. Coffee I’d get him, but if he wanted a sandwich, he was going to have to make it himself.

Pinkie extended, he sipped from his rainbow mug, his eyes closing in what had to be bliss. “Oh, this is marvelous! Rachel, you have made a capital cup.”

“Al, about Nick,” I said impatiently, and Al set his coffee aside, rubbing his hands in anticipation as he went to the center counter. “Trent wouldn’t help him. He doesn’t want to see more Rosewood babies turning into demons any more than I do.”

Standing behind the counter, Al shook water off the lettuce, looking odd in his silk and velvet. “Trent has been known to work with Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos before,” he said, using his full name to denote his familiar status. “The tricky elf freed Ku’Sox from the prison we put him in. He allowed Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos to escape from his lockdown.” Al put a gloved finger to his nose. “Sounds suspicious.”

I frowned, chin lifted as I refused to let his doubt poison me. “Trent didn’t let Nick go. He was abducted by a demon, probably one that Nick called for that very reason, and probably the same one Ku’Sox got him from.”

“You sound proud of the little man,” Al drawled, and my lips parted when, with a tug on my awareness and a cascading sheet of ever-after, the vision of a British nobleman vanished, replaced with a heart-stoppingly familiar vision of Nick.