Nick looked up from where he was kneeling, his long face devious. “I found the circle when I moved in,” he said. “Isn’t it a nice one? It’s lined in silver. I checked it out, and it’s almost the only spot in the apartment where there are no electric or gas lines. There’s another in the kitchen that you can see with a black light, but it’s bigger and I can’t make a circle that large that’s strong enough to hold him.”

I watched as he wedged the shelves off their brackets with a stiff, underhand thunk, stacking them against the wall in the hallway. Finished, he stepped into the closet and held out a hand for me to join him. I stared, surprised.

“Al said the demon was supposed to be in the circle, not the summoner,” I said.

His hand dropped. “It’s part of the trial membership thing. I’m not so much summoning him as asking for an audience. He can say no and not show up at all, though that hasn’t happened since you gave me the idea to put myself in the circle instead of him. He shows up just to laugh now.” Nick held out his hand again. “Come on. I want to make sure we both fit.”

I looked to the slice of living room I could see, not wanting to get in a closet with Nick. Well, not under these circumstances, anyway. “Let’s use the circle in the kitchen,” I suggested. “I don’t mind closing it.”

“You want to risk him thinking you called him?” Nick asked, eyebrows high.

“It’s an it, not a him,” I said, but at his exasperated expression, I took his hand and stepped into the closet. Immediately, Nick dropped my grip and ran his gaze over where our elbows went. The closet was good-sized and deep. Right now it was okay, but add a demon trying to get in, and it would be claustrophobic. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said.

“It’ll be fine.” Nick’s motions were quick and jerky as he stepped out of the closet and reached up to the last shelf, still in place above our heads. Taking down a rattling shoe box, he opened it to show a zippy bag of gray ash and about a dozen milky green tapers already burnt. My mouth opened as I recognized them as the candles he had lit one night when we were, ah, utilizing Ivy’s tub to its fullest potential. What were they doing in a box with ashes?

“Those are my candles,” I said, only now realizing where they had gone.