Brooke’s jaw clenched. “Can I interest you in the specials tonight?” she asked, the hatred in her voice coming in clear over the thumping of the music.

My head was shaking in disbelief. “Brooke, I’m so sorry. I tried. I really did.”

“Can I start you off with a drink?” she asked tersely. “The Brimstone Bomber comes highly recommended.”

Al gestured flamboyantly and leaned back. “Two of those, yes. And whatever the chef suggests. Something sweet for the lady, and something earthy for me.”

“As you will it,” she said, and turned to leave, her pace slow and giving the surrounding demons a wide space. I saw why when one reached to grab her ass, laughing when she scooted to avoid him.

I felt sick. Why hadn’t she listened to me? I’d told her not to summon Al. Hand to my middle, I looked away. “She’s too expensive for me to buy back, isn’t she?”

Al nodded, watching her walk away. “Very much so. Dali has wanted to bring familiars onto his waitstaff since he started dabbling in the entertainment field, but he hadn’t found any able to handle the shifts. As I understand it, she’s been good for business. Who wouldn’t want to have their ass kissed by a coven member? Relax. Enjoy yourself.”

That was the third time he’d told me to relax, and I was getting tired of it, but I froze when he took my hand, his usual white glove gone as he lifted my fingers to kiss them. Uncomfortable, I pulled away, ignoring his snort of amusement as I looked over the arriving people. The tables were starting to fill. Because of me?

My feet hurt, and I wanted to take off my shoes. Demons were looking at me, and I didn’t like it. “Al, how old do gargoyles need to be before they bond with a, uh, witch?” I asked him, thinking of the little guy.

Al was making the “phone me” gesture to someone. “Several centuries. Why?” he asked, seeming uninterested. “Once bound, they live as long as we do.”

I played with my silverware, feeling guilty. Several centuries. Bis couldn’t be that old. He acted like a teenager, and I remembered him saying he was only fifty.

With a soft sound of linen, Al turned to me, his strong features bunched up in question. “I said why, Rachel. Is Bix getting clingy?”

Like falling asleep in my kitchen? “No,” I lied. “And it’s not Bix, it’s Bis.”

Al rubbed his hands together in delight. “I thought as much. They don’t bond well until they can remain awake during the day. Bis is too young yet.”

My expression went flat. Oh my God. It was happening—whether I wanted it to or not. Bis was going to tie himself to me, and then we would both be stuck here. No. I wouldn’t allow it. “Hey, there’s Newt,” I said to change the subject, and as if my speaking her name caught her attention, her gracefully long neck turned our way.