“I’m just going to say hi,” I said, stifling a swat at him. And it hadn’t been a lousy kiss. It had been a pulse-pounding hell-of-a-kiss that had shocked me and left me breathless. I only had to figure out if the thrill had been an honest emotion stemming from Ivy or my shallowly reveling in the wicked thrill of being someone I really wasn’t. My eyes dropped. It matters. One will lead to hard questions about myself, the other will hurt Ivy. Leading her on just so I can find a thrill is really, really wrong, and I’m not going to do it.

Forcing a smile, I halted before the guy. His I.S. badge said TOM BAN-SEN, and he used to have long hair, according to his picture. “I’m Rachel—” I started, extending my hand.

“I know. Excuse me.”

It was terse, and, pushing past my extended hand, he went to stand over the FIB personnel and watch them take their data. Jenks snickered, and I stood there with my mouth hanging open. My eyes fell to my outfit. It wasn’t that unprofessional. “I just wanted to say hi,” I said, hurt.

“He doesn’t smell as witchy as you do,” Jenks said smugly. “But before your head swells up, if he works in the Arcane, he’s classically trained and would flatten you. Remember Lee?”

My breath came and went, and I felt a stab of worry about this Friday. I had devoted my life to earth magic, and while not any less strong than ley line, it was slower. Ley line was flashy and dramatic, with a quick invocation and wider application. Demon magic mixed them both into something very fast, very powerful, and everlasting. Only a handful of people knew I could invoke demon magic, but the smut on my soul was easy to see. Perhaps that, along with my growing reputation that I dealt in demons, had him on edge.

I couldn’t let the misunderstanding stand, so, ignoring Jenks’s muttered dire predictions of hell and snowflakes, I sidled up alongside Tom. “Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” I said against the murmuring backdrop of the FIB conversation. “Do you need a ride anywhere when this is done?”

“No.”

The denial was downright hostile, and the FIB guys crouched over the body looked up, eyes wide.

Tom turned and walked away. Pulse pounding, I took a step after him. “I don’t deal with demons!” I said loudly, not caring what the FIB thought.

The young man retrieved a long coat hanging over a tombstone, draping it over his arm. “And you got that demon to testify how? That mark on your wrist is from what?”

I took a breath, then let it out. What could I say?