He didn’t even try to catch me, and I landed in a pained crumple. My head hit the floor and I took a quick breath. Closing my eyes, I gathered myself, wedging my palms under me and sitting up. “Thanks a hell of a lot for the warning,” I said angrily, looking up and not finding him.

Confused, I stood to find Ceri sitting at the table with her head in her hands and her bare feet tucked under her. The fluorescent light was off, and a single white candle sent a soft glow into the gloom of a cloudy dawn. I stared at the window. The sun was up? I must have passed out. “Where is he?” I breathed, blanching when I saw it was almost eight.

She pulled her head up, shocking me with how weary she seemed. “You don’t remember?”

My stomach rumbled, and there was an uneasy lightness to it. “No. He’s gone?”

She turned to face me squarely. “He took back his aura. You took back yours. You broke the bond with him. You cried and called him a son of a bitch and told him to leave. He did—after he struck you so hard you lost consciousness.”

I felt my jaw, then the back of my head. It felt about the same: really, really bad. I was damp and cold, and I got up, clasping my arms around me. “Okay.” I felt my ribs, deciding nothing was broken. “Anything else I ought to know?”

“You drank an entire carafe of coffee in about twenty minutes.”

That might explain the shakes. It had to be that. Outsmarting demons was becoming old hat. I sat beside Ceri, exhaling in a long breath. Ivy would be home soon. “You like lasagna?”

A smile blossomed over her. “Oh, yes, please.”

Twenty-four

My sneakers were silent on the flat carpet of Trent’s back hallways. Both Quen and Jonathan were with me, leaving me trying to decide if they were escort or prison guard. We had already woven through the Sunday-silent public areas of his offices and conference rooms that Trent hid his illegal activities behind. Publicly, Trent controlled a good portion of the transportation that ran through Cincinnati, coming in from all directions and leaving the same: railways, roadways, and even a small municipal airport.

Privately, Trent ran a good deal more, using those same transportation systems to get his illegal genetic products out and expanding his Brimstone distribution. That Saladan was cutting into his business in his hometown probably cheesed the man off to no end. It was a finger in the air if anything was. And tonight ought to be an education as Trent either broke that finger off and jammed it into one of Saladan’s convenient orifices or took a hit. I didn’t like Trent, but I’d keep him alive if it was the latter.