The demon spared me a glance. “He has your body. Control the body, control the soul.”

“That’s not fair!” I shouted, ignored.

Piscary came close to the circle. He put his hands upon his hips, taking an aggressive stance. “You will,” he intoned, “not attempt to kill or touch me in any fashion. And when I say, you will leave and return directly to the ever-after.”

“Agreed,” the jackal head said. A drop of saliva fell from a fang, hissing as it flowed down the ever-after between them.

Never dropping the demon’s gaze, Piscary rubbed his big toe over the circle to break it.

Algaliarept lunged out of the circle.

Gasping, I backpedaled. A powerful hand reached out and grasped my throat.

“Stop!” Piscary shouted.

My breath choked and I pried at the golden fingers. It had three rings with blue stones, all pinching my skin. I swung to kick it, and Algaliarept shifted me higher to avoid my strike. A wet sound escaped me.

“Drop her!” Piscary demanded. “You can’t have her until I get what I want!”

“I’ll get your information some other way,” the jackal said, the rumble of its words joining the rushing sound of my blood. My head felt as if it was going to explode.

“I called you to get information from her,” Piscary said. “If you kill her now, you violate your summoning. I want it now, not next week or next year.”

The fingers around my throat dissolved. I dropped to the carpet, gasping. Its sandals were made of leather and thick ribbons. Slowly I pulled my head up, feeling my throat.

“A reprieve only, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” the jackal head said, its tongue moving in fantastic patterns as it spoke. “You will be warming my bed tonight.”

I knelt before it, sucking in air as I tried not to figure out how I could be warming its bed if I was dead. “You know,” I wheezed, “I’m really getting tired of this.” Heart pounding, I got to my feet. It had agreed to a task. It was susceptible to being summoned again. “Algaliarept,” I said clearly. “I call you, you dog-faced, murdering son of a bitch.”

Piscary’s face went slack in surprise, and I swear Algaliarept winked at me. “Oh, let me be the one in leather?” the jackal head said. “Be afraid of him. I like being him.”

“Sure, whatever,” I said, knees shaking.

Black leather driving gloves slit into existence over the amber-skinned hands, and the jackal-headed Egyptian god’s stance melted from a ramrod stiffness into a confidant slouch. Kisten took shape, wearing head-to-toe leather and thick-heeled black boots. There was a jingle of chain and a whiff of gasoline. “This is good,” the demon said, showing a glint of fang as it slicked its blond hair back, its passing hand leaving it shower-wet and smelling of shampoo.

I thought it looked good, too. Unfortunately.