“Go to hell,” I said softly. This was a crappy birthday, forty thousand notwithstanding.

“Not until I kill you, and though I will, it’s not going to happen today. I like your yellow sun.” Tugging up the sleeve to his jacket, he glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you inside. I do so want to meet your darling little-woman-to-be, Trenton. Congratulations. It is an honor to stand up with you.” His smile widened to show perfect, simply dazzling teeth. “Fitting,” he drawled.

I felt a chill as I remembered Ceri. Oh, man…I had to call her. Al was loose.

Steps jaunty, Al headed up the stairs to the door, oohing and aahing at the architecture and detail work. His body language looked wrong on Lee’s body, and with the strength of the ley line running through me, I felt like I was going to throw up.

“Quen,” Trent said, clearly alarmed. “He can’t go in there, can he?”

I pulled out my phone, then put it away, since Keasley didn’t have a phone and Ivy wasn’t home to relay a message to them. “He can,” I said, remembering how Newt had controlled me while I was on holy ground. “Besides, only the stage and altar are sanctified, remember?” The basilica hadn’t been fully sanctified since the Turn to allow Cincy’s more important denizens to partake of life’s little ceremonies. The altars were still blessed, just not the entryway and the pews.

We all watched Al open the door. Turning, he waved to us, then passed the threshold. The door shut behind him. I waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

“This isn’t good,” Quen said.

I choked back my burst of laughter, knowing it would come out sounding hysterical. “We…ah, had better get in there before he does something to Ellasbeth,” I said, wondering if we might all go out for a beer first. Or a six-pack. In the Bahamas.

Trent rocked into motion an instant before Quen, and with Jenks on my shoulder again, I fell into step beside him. Trent dropped his head for an instant, then pulled it up to me. “You aren’t a demon practitioner?” he asked as we took the first steps up.

I put a hand to my stomach, wondering if this day could get any worse. “No, but they seem to practice me.”

TWENTY-THREE

The twenty-four-piece band Ellasbeth had hired was taking a break, leaving the muted intensity of a single classical guitar as a pleasant background to the self-congratulatory conversation at the far end of the table. Having long since lost my upright posture, I had an elbow on the pristine linen tablecloth, my fingers rolling the stem of my wineglass back and forth, wondering if I could bill Trent for the forty thousand even if Al didn’t do anything.