Settling myself, I closed my eyes so my little used second sight wouldn’t have to compete with my more mundane vision, and with a mental shove, I opened my mind’s eye. Immediately the wisps of my hair that had worked themselves free moved in the wind that always blew in the ever-after. The memory of the ship dissolved to nothing, and the broken landscape of the demon city took its place.

A soft sound of disgust slipped from me, and I reminded myself just why I never did this so close to the center of Cincinnati; the demon city was broken and ugly. The waning crescent moon was probably up now, and there was a definite red glow to the bottoms of the clouds, seeming to light the stark cascade of broken buildings and vegetation-stained rubble with a haze that covered everything and made me feel slimy somehow. It was said the demons lived below ground, and seeing what they had done to their city—built on the same ley lines as Cincinnati—I didn’t wonder why. I’d seen the ever-after once during the day. It wasn’t much better.

I wasn’t in the ever-after, just viewing it, but I still felt uncomfortable, especially when I realized the reason everything looked clearer than usual was because I was coated in Algaliarept’s black aura. Reminded of my slipped bargain, I opened my eyes, praying that Algaliarept wouldn’t find a way to use me through the lines as he had threatened.

The gambling boat was just the way I left it, the noises that had been keeping me mentally connected to reality taking on meaning again. I was using both my visions, and before my second sight could become overwhelmed and lost, I hurriedly looked around.

My gaze was immediately drawn to the metal disk in the ceiling, and my mouth twisted in distaste. It pulsated with a thick purple smear, coating everything. I would have bet that this was what I had felt when I crossed the threshold.

It was everyone’s aura that interested me most, though. I couldn’t see mine, even when I looked in the mirror. Nick had once told me it was yellow and gold—not that anyone could see it under Al’s now. Kisten’s was a healthy, warm, orangy red shot through with slices of yellow concentrating about his head, and a smile quirked my lips. He used his head to make decisions, not his heart; I wasn’t surprised. There was no black in it, though almost everyone else’s in the room was streaked with darkness, I realized as I scanned the floor.