Pierce looked at me, and I remembered his hand, painful against my mouth, forcing me to be quiet as inches overhead Trent’s horses and dogs searched the woods for my blood. He loved me. I was sure of it. But he had tried to kill Al with black magic—and as the memory of him leaning over Al with power leaking from his fingers replayed itself in my mind, I began to question my judgment of him.

My face became cold as I abruptly realized that for all Pierce’s claims of compassion, for his clever mind and quick loyalty, for all his justifications of black magic as acceptable if the cause was good, Pierce truly was a black witch. He had tried to kill with magic. It didn’t matter if the charm was white, black, or polka dotted with silver sparkles. The coven of moral and ethical standards had been right about him. They were right.

And if they were right about him, maybe they were right about me.

“I don’t care if she dies,” he said, and I looked away, remembering: And I will cry when I go, because I could love you forever.

Son of a bitch. I’d done it again.

Al smacked Pierce’s face a little too hard. “Then let’s just say you keep her alive, or I will give you to Ku’Sox like a free toaster for opening an account in the bank of degradation.”

Pierce shoved Al’s arm off him with an indignant look. “You’ll be dead first.”

Al shook his head. “I thought you might say that. You will excuse me and itchy witch for a moment.”

Pierce opened his mouth to say something, and Al punched him. Hard.

I blinked, shocked, as Pierce dropped and the demon swore and wrung his hand. “Damn, I forgot how much that hurt!” he said, then reached down and hauled the unconscious would-be demon killer up by his vest front. It was silk and linen. Enough to put even Trent’s wardrobe to shame. I stood there feeling like I should protest at the brutality, but I didn’t know what to think anymore. Pierce was black. Was I?

“Rachel,” Al said as he held Pierce like a drowned kitten. “I’m hanging by a thread, both my life and my reputation. Take Pierce and keep him away from me. Ku’Sox is not crazy. He is smart, clever, and has had two thousand years for his hatred of everyone on this side of the ley lines to fester into his chaotic nightmares. He knows everything I do, everything that Newt has forgotten. He can’t be reasoned with or pacified. We’re in trouble, and I can’t have a familiar who is ready to take advantage of a moment’s lapse. Pierce knows more than you, and you’ll need him. Turn your feminine charms on and seduce him if you need to in order to have him save your scrawny witch ass.”

God help me, I thought. No wonder the coven wanted to kill me. Pierce was a black witch, and I had been defending him.