Al looked up, his wavering gaze landing immediately on Pierce. “You. Go,” he said, pointing, and before Pierce could do more than widen his eyes, he vanished.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, and Al pushed himself up. He looked beaten, and his clothes were dusty, showing blood and rips, though the skin under them was unmarked.

“He’s alive,” the demon muttered, dropping a chunk of what had once been his chair on the flames. “I simply shoved him in a box for when I decide what to do with him. He tried to kill me. Please tell me you aren’t still clinging to the idea that he lo-o-o-o-oves you?” he mocked. “That witch is a demon killer. You’re simply lower on his list than I am. Grow up and accept it.”

I didn’t want to believe it, and I searched the floor, hoping I hadn’t cracked my scrying mirror. Pierce had said he loved me, and I truly believed he hadn’t been lying. But the memory of him standing over Al, hurt and unconscious, with a black curse flickering over his aura, ready to kill him…Could I afford that kind of blind trust?

Depressed, I picked my way through the devastation to get my scrying mirror, breathing shallowly to avoid the dust. Feeling awkward, I sat beside Al, the slight curve of the bench between us. “You don’t look good,” I said, my thoughts on Vivian. Trent would tell them what had happened. Jenks would be angry that he hadn’t been there. Ivy would be ticked because Trent hadn’t done anything, and Vivian would have another chapter in her “Let’s Shun Rachel” book. Even better, I was going to stink like burnt amber when I got back. If I got back.

“I don’t look good?” Al wiggled his fingers at his own scrying mirror, just out of reach, and I leaned over to get it, feeling a dizzying amount of other selves trying to get through to him as I handed it over. He wasn’t wearing his usual gloves, and it made him look vulnerable.

Exhaling heavily, Al put his thick-fingered, shaking hand on the mirror and it fogged up. “You say I don’t look good, but you’re the one in trouble.”

My gaze went from his foggy mirror to my crystalline one. “But I stopped him!”

“Not that,” Al said, and he let his mirror slide to the bench. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, leaving a smear of black ash. “I’ve temporally blocked the collective because I can’t answer that many calls at once, but pretty soon, I’m going to be entertaining. Lots and lots of irate, angry demons in my tiny little living room. It will be embarrassing. My reputation will be utterly ruined. I don’t have enough chairs,” he finished lightly, turning his lip in and chewing on it.

“You mean Trent?” I said, standing up and distancing myself with the excuse of gathering bits of broken furniture. “I told you already, I didn’t teach him anything.” But a sliver of worry had started to wiggle in me. Trent had summoned a demon. I hadn’t taught him that, but they wouldn’t believe me.