In one of the corners, a gold-plated letter M hung above a dark alcove. Hugo’s bodyguard stood just next to the entrance. As Ursula approached, the bodyguard gave her a wink. Good. Hugo’s definitely expecting me.

She pushed open the door and slipped inside. There was a short, curly-haired man by the sinks with a white towel in his hand. A silver tray of cologne, Club Lalique matchbooks, and breath mints were arranged on the counter behind him. “Miss, this is the men’s—” he started to say, but he fell silent when he glimpsed the one-hundred-dollar bill in Ursula’s outstretched hand.

“Can you give us a few minutes?” she whispered.

He nodded silently, pointing to the end of a row of black stall doors.

Ursula’s heels clacked over the tiles. Steel urinals lined the left wall under tall windows that granted a view of Manhattan. Any man taking a piss in Club Lalique could imagine that he was urinating on all the poor sods below. Ugh. If the revolution came, I’d be on the wrong side of the palace walls.

As she took a deep breath, she tapped the last door. “Hugo?” Seductive. Sound seductive. “It’s Ursula,” she breathed.

He cracked the door open, and she slipped inside, gripping her purse in anticipation. A window filled one entire wall, with only a thin black curtain covering the lower half for discretion. She could only hope no one was spending their evening scanning the Lalique bathrooms with a pair of binoculars.

Hugo pressed himself flat against the window, loosening his shirt collar. “Who are you?”

Ursula tried tossing her hair, but with the awkward jerk of her head it probably came off more like an involuntary twitch. “I’m Ursula. Zee’s friend.”

A cold sweat beaded on his forehead. “But I don’t know who Zee is, or why my date seemed to know her. When I asked my bodyguard, he couldn’t remember where he knew her from either.”

Zee had definitely used some sort of spell on them. Time to dispense with the pleasantries. “You’ve just turned eighteen. I’m here about your pact with Emerazel.”

He wiped a hand across his mouth, staring into her eyes. Emerazel’s fire now blazed behind his indigo irises. “No one came on my birthday. I thought I’d gotten away with it.”

She exhaled. So he knew the drill and this wasn’t too much of a shock. “Sorry, no. You didn’t get away. And now it’s time to sign the papers.” She stepped closer, pulling the pen from her bag and popping off the cap.

“And after I sign… I’m just a little fuzzy on what I’m agreeing to.”

“When you die, Emerazel will take your soul to burn in the inferno for eternity.” Bollocks. I might need to work on my pitch a little.