I swallowed hard. “I’m not your witch,” I said.

Nick’s fingers on my elbow tightened. “Stay in that form,” Nick said, his voice firm. “And stop bothering Rachel. I have questions, and I want to know the cost before I ask them.”

“Your mistrust will kill you if your cheek doesn’t.” Algaliarept spun in a quick motion of furling coattails to return to the living room. From where I stood, I could see it open the glass-door cabinet to Nick’s books. Its white-gloved fingers stretched and reached, pulling one out. “Oh, I wondered where this one had gotten to,” it said, its back to us. “How splendid that you have it. We will read from this next time.”

Nick glanced at me. “That’s what we do, usually,” he whispered. “He deciphers the Latin for me, letting all sorts of things slip.”

“And you trust him?” I frowned, nervous. “Ask it.”

Algaliarept had replaced the tome and taken out another, its mood lightening as it cooed and fussed as if having found an old friend.

“Algaliarept,” Nick said, mouthing the word slowly, and the demon turned, the new book in its hand. “I’d like to know if you were the demon that attacked Trent Kalamack last spring.”

It didn’t look up from the open book cradled in his hands. I felt queasy as I realized it had lengthened its fingers to better support it. “That comes under our arrangement,” it said, its voice preoccupied. “Seeing as Rachel Mariana Morgan has already guessed the answer.” It looked up, its eyes over the smoked glasses orange and red. “Oh, yes, I tasted Trenton Aloysius Kalamack that night as well as you. I ought to have killed him directly, but the novelty of him was so fine, I tarried until he managed to circle me.”

“Is that why I survived?” I asked. “You made a mistake?”

“Is that a question coming from you?”

I licked my lips. “No.”

Algaliarept closed the book. “Your blood is common, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Tasty with subtle flavors I don’t understand, but common. I didn’t play with you; I tried to kill you. Had I known you could ring the tower bells, I might have handled things differently.” A smile came over it, and I felt its gaze spill over me like oil. “Maybe not. I should have known you would be as your father. He rang the bells, too. Once. Before he died. Do hope it’s not a premonition for you.”

My stomach clenched, and Nick grabbed my arm before I could touch his circle. “You said you didn’t know him,” I said, anger making my voice harsh.

It simpered at me. “Another question?”

Heart pounding, I shook my head, hoping it would tell me more.

It put a finger to its nose. “Then Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos better ask another question before I’m called away by someone who is willing to pay for my services.”