“Nick Sparagmos is my best student since Benjamin Franklin,” the demon said, its accent making it sound completely reasonable as it touched Ivy’s screen to make it go blue. It didn’t fool me, though. The thing couldn’t be swayed by pity, guilt, or remorse. If it had found a way past my circle, it would have killed us both for the audacity of calling it from the ever-after—whether it had been intentional or not.

“Though Attila could have gone far if he had been able to look past the military applications,” it continued, looking at its nails. “And it is hard to best Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci for outright cleverness.”

“Name dropper,” I muttered, and the demon inclined its head graciously. It was more obvious than words that if Nick had the demon at his beck and call for three years, he would agree to anything to keep it there. Which was exactly what the demon was counting on.

“Um, Rachel,” Nick said as he took my elbow. “Since he’s here, you might want to arrange for a summoning name from him so he doesn’t show up every time you close a circle and draw a pentagram. That’s how he got my name. I gave it to him for his summoning name.”

“I know your names, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” the demon said. “I want a secret.”

My stomach clenched. “Sure,” I said tiredly, scrambling for something. I had a few of those. My eyes fell on the photo of my dad and Trent’s father, and I silently held it up to the transparent sheet of ever-after.

“Where’s the secret in that?” the demon mocked. “Two men standing before a bus.” Then it blinked. I watched, fascinated, as the horizontal slits went wide until its eyes were almost black. It stood, reaching out for it. A muttered curse slipped past its lips as its fingers smacked into the barrier. I smelled burnt amber.

My pulse leapt at its sudden interest. Maybe it was enough to completely pay off my debt. “Interested?” I taunted. “Clear my debt, and I’ll tell you who they both are.”

The demon fell back, chuckling. “Oh, you think it’s that important?” it mocked. But its eyes tracked the photo as I set it on the counter behind me. Without warning, it shifted forms. The red blur of ever-after melted and flowed. I stared, appalled, as it took on my face. It even had freckles. It was like staring into a mirror, and my skin crawled as my image moved without my volition. Nick went ashen, his long face slack as he stared from me to it.

“I know who both men are,” the demon said in my voice. “The one is your father, the other is Trenton Aloysius Kalamack’s father. But the camp bus?” Its eyes fastened on me in a devious delight. “Rachel Mariana Morgan, you have indeed given me a secret.”