Al’s mouth dropped open, but Newt thought about it, her expression thoughtful and her fingers finally leaving her knife. “Very true,” she said as she eased back into the cushions.

With a soft click of his teeth, Al’s mouth shut. His eyes were cross, and he seemed peeved that I’d found a way to satisfy her without compromising myself at all. Hunching into his drink, he muttered, “Dali is headed this way. Newt, I swear, if you get me kicked out of here tonight, I’ll never sell you another familiar as long as I live.”

“Boohoo,” Newt said, a wiry arm rising delicately to the demon approaching behind her, an invitation to take it, I suppose.

Sure enough, the robe-bedecked, extravagant civil servant gone tent restaurateur elegantly touched his lips to her fingers before gesturing for more fruit and cheese. “Is everything to your liking?” Dali said, only the slightest hesitation hinting at his annoyance with Newt being here. Inside me, a feeling of warning coiled tighter. There were too many eyes on our table.

“As always, Dali,” Al answered, and the demon frowned at him.

“I was asking Newt.”

Newt beamed, fully aware that she wasn’t welcome and relishing the fact that they had to put up with her. “I can truly say I don’t remember a more perfect evening, Dali. As Algaliarept says, it’s as wonderful as always.”

A brief flash of teeth, and Dali turned to me, his veneer of pleasantry becoming transparent. “And you, Rachel? Enjoying Mesopotamia?”

“U-uh,” I stammered, not liking being put on the spot. Crap, the demons watching us were pointing now. “I can honestly say I’ve never had an evening quite like this.” Dali was hunched a little too close, his mood a little too aggressive, even for a demon. If everyone in the place hadn’t been watching us before, they were now. Why is he over here?

Al seemed to be thinking the same thing as he set his cup down and pointedly looked at Dali. Newt, too, cocked her head, clearly waiting. “It’s not me, of course, but others,” Dali said, a thread of his eagerness to cause trouble coloring his voice. “Some of the clientele feel that a member of your party is not a demon and therefore should wait outside.”

“Rachel not a demon!” Al shouted dramatically, and I twitched. “Who dares?”

“I do!” exclaimed a strong voice, and my head turned to the tattered awning that now marked the entryway to the restaurant.

Shit, it was Ku’Sox.

Twenty-five

Frightened, I stood amid a smattering of exclamations. Some were against me, but most were protesting Ku’Sox’s presence. Clearly he wasn’t much liked, but there was far less anger than I’d expect from a demon they had imprisoned in the next reality over, even if the demons at the informal bar fire were enthusiastically exchanging bets. The drums had stopped, and loud conversation had taken its place. I was scared, but Newt was smiling deviously as she stood my bench upright from where it had been, pushed over when I’d found my feet.