She tried not to flinch. No, she didn’t know he was out of ammo. The way her eyes fixated on the end of the barrel said as much. “There is no book.”

“You know that’s not true as well as I do. As well as Eden does. Eden, why don’t you refresh her memory. She’s quite old. Perhaps she needs a good jogging.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, except that I knew I was watching him menace her with an empty shotgun. I took this to mean that he didn’t really intend to hurt her any, though the temptation to jog Eliza’s memory with the back of my hand was almost more than I could resist. But no. I restrained myself. “It’s filled with ritual magic,” I offered a verbal jogging instead. “There’s a driedout hand mounted inside the back cover. It used to belong to a guy named John Gray. Your brother was a big fan of his.”

“I don’t know where your stupid book is. I’m a God-fearing Christian, and I don’t have your crazy magic book.”

“God-fearing Christian—like hell.” Harry said it before I had a chance to. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a grunt of frustration. “I’ve spent eight years combing this place—every inch of it—and I’ve found enough to know that you’re no God-fearing Christian, but I’ve not yet found that book. And you have to have it. There’s nowhere else it could be except somewhere in your possession.”

“Eight years,” Eliza spat. “Yes, eight years that I’ve trusted you. And this is what I get for it? You would betray me over some stupid book! A stupid book that doesn’t even exist,” she added, sticking to her story.

“People are dying because of that stupid book!” he shouted back at her, bringing the gun within an inch of her nose. “People are dying and you know it! Don’t talk to me about betrayal—and for God’s sake, don’t talk to her about it.” He pointed at me and I waved, wiggling my fingers.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. And you don’t know half of what you think you know.” She hauled herself to her feet and stared defiantly up at him, ignoring the enormous shotgun. “Get out of my house,” she directed, lifting one gnarled finger and gesturing up at the stairs. “You too—” She bobbed her head at me. “Both of you, get out. I’m through with the both of you.”

But Harry was done following orders, and he was the one with the weapon. “No. I don’t think we will.”

“Actually,” I interjected as unobtrusively as I could, “I’d rather like to be on my way, if that’s okay with you. She says she’s finished with me, and that’s fine. I’d like to be finished with her as well.” I didn’t blow his cover by following my request with, “And besides, that’s not loaded anymore,” because, hey—he was frightening Eliza, and that was all right by me.