I said nothing, and Al stepped back, his lantern making a hazy gold glow around us. “He has a plan, eh?” he mocked.

Bless it back to the Turn. “Yeah,” I said, yanking a strand of hair out of my mouth where the wind had put it. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. Can we get out of here? It stinks, and my knees hurt.”

Shaking his head, Al tsk-tsked, making my face burn. I suddenly felt small beside him, and I shrugged out of his arm, trying to go companionably over my shoulder. “This is why we don’t live on the surface,” he said as he tried to cover up my rebuke by tugging his frock coat straight. “I’ve never seen it this bad, though. Usually the buildings don’t fall like this.” He sniffed and adjusted his smoked glasses. “Shall we go?”

Shivering, I hobbled up to him, feeling his warmth. I was starting to get depressed. I was never going to see the sun again. “Thank you for picking me up,” I said, and Al beamed.

“It’s what I live for, Rachel. I have a treat for you.”

“What?” I said, cringing at the idea of another one of his parties.

“Dalliance,” he said, dissolving me into a memory and pulling me into a line. I’m taking you to Dalliance.

Twenty-four

The transition was smoother this time as we crossed merely the ever-after, not realities, and my feet barely stumbled as the stink and grit of the surface echoed once and died, replaced by a heavy bass thump and the sound of clinking glasses. Laughter mocked me, and I looked up, numb as we misted into existence. Damn it, Trent. Trust me. He had said trust me. Did he have any idea of what he was asking?

“Right on the tick,” Al said jovially, his arm in mine as he checked his pocket watch. “Clean yourself up, Rachel. Dalliance is a respectable establishment.”

I didn’t know whether to cry or scream. I’d put my trust in a scheming elven drug lord. Al was right. How stupid could I be? I’d lost. I’d lost Jenks, Ivy, my church…everything, cursed to remain on this side of the lines unless summoned. If that didn’t make me a demon, what would?

A bar was to my left, full of demons in trendy clothes reaching over one another to get their drinks. The music was so loud that shouting replaced talking. In front of me was a much more refined restaurant, sedate but borrowing from the energy at the bar. The theme seemed to be Art Deco, with a lot of thick glass etched with circles and triangles. Gray-and-white-patterned carpet mixed with tile, again using the circles and triangles theme. It was modern, expensive, and looked mildly excessive. The smell of food made my stomach growl, which ticked me off. How could I be hungry?

A host wearing a tux was talking to the three people ahead of us, his goat-slitted eyes telling me that they used demons as workers here, not familiars. Trendy and expensive, indeed. The music thumped, and laughter broke out from the wide-spaced tables where waitstaff eased through like boats in the fog. The restaurant was only half full, and the host led the demon trio ahead of us to a table, their clothes and manners making them look like CEOs out for a night of schmoozing on the company’s account. Men. Everyone here was male. Behind the host’s mahogany desk, DALLIANCE floated in mist, sparkling like Jenks’s dust.