I scanned the room and saw where the Camelot remark had come from. A round table with its attendant half circle of chairs took up the right side of the large, rectangular room. Between it and the two-way mirror to my left was a wide space that gave me the impression of a stage. At the far right was a coffee-stained counter with a sink, covered in anything anyone could possibly use to put together a presentation: tatty binder clips, scratched report covers, three-hole paper punches, and a massive paper cutter that looked like it could chop wood for a campfire.

Piscary and Ivy sat at the back near the counter, Skimmer’s thin grace standing submissively behind them in her strict black business suit. A flash of nervousness went through me, shortly followed by self-disgust. I was going to buy protection from the same man who had abused Ivy and given Kisten’s death to someone as a thank-you gift. But what choice did I have? Someone powerful had to hold the focus. It didn’t matter whether I liked him or not if he could keep me and Kisten alive and prevent a worldwide Inderland power struggle.

The two Weres sat near the middle of the table across from the door. Upon seeing me enter, Mrs. Sarong yanked Mr. Ray back into his seat before he could make an ass of himself. Trent was sitting beside the door, with Edden looming behind him. The elf wasn’t in cuffs. Across from them Quen stood with his arms over his chest, looking good in his tux/uniform.

My attention went to Al. He was a vision of upright elegance in his black tux, standing with his back to me before the two-way mirror. The demon was breathing heavily on the glass to mist it up, using a gloved finger to scribe ley line symbols I couldn’t understand. I didn’t want to imagine the fear of the men and women watching behind the glass.

Al turned, beaming over his round smoked glasses. “Rachel Mariana Morgan,” he drawled, his accent proving that despite looking like Lee, he was all Algaliarept. “Watching you cuff Trenton was extre-e-e-emely entertaining. What will you do for your next trick?”

Glowering beside Mrs. Sarong, Mr. Ray grumbled, “Pull a flaming bunny out of her ass, maybe?”

Quen stifled a smirk, and I came forward, boots clunking and dress furling. Jenks left me for the overhead lights in a soft hum. Only Quen and Al watched him go, the rest clueless as to how much of a threat he was up there. The gown made me feel stupid, but everyone was over-dressed. I tried to get Ivy’s attention as I stood at the table a few chairs down, with Trent between me and Al. She never looked up, her gaze fixed on the nothing and her face peacefully blank. Skimmer let her hatred show, and I ignored the sophisticated, pretty, blond vamp.