Oozing old world charm, it pulled the top of the frosting off. The blue plastic disappeared in a smear of ever-after, and the demon dipped the gold spoon that had taken its place into the container. “This isn’t holy ground,” it said as it stood in my kitchen in a gentleman’s frock and ate frosting. “The kitchen was added after the sanctuary was blessed. You could have the entire grounds sanctified, but then you’d connect your bedroom to the ley line in the graveyard. Ooooh, and wouldn’t that be delightful.”

A sick feeling twisted my stomach at what that might mean. Eyebrows raised, it looked at me over its smoked glasses, its red eyes showing a shocking amount of sudden ire. “You had better have something worth hearing, or I’m going to be royally buggered.”

I straightened in understanding. It thought I had summoned it with an offer of information to pay off my IOU. My pulse jackhammered back into full throttle as the container of frosting vanished from the demon’s hand and it came close to the circle.

“Don’t!” I blurted as it tapped the sheet of ever-after between us. The demon’s face lost its amusement and, expression deadly serious, it ran its attention over the seam with the floor. I gripped Nick’s arm as it mumbled about tearing summoners limb from limb, interrupted teas, and how inconsiderate it was to pull someone from their dinner or Wednesday night telly. Adrenaline shook me as the demon dissolved to a red mist and sank through the floorboards.

I clutched at Nick, my knees threatening to give way. “He’s checking for pipes,” I said. “There are no pipes. I looked.” Fear made my shoulders hurt as I waited for the demon to rise through the floor at my feet and kill me. “I looked!” I asserted, trying to convince myself.

I knew the circle bisected rocks and roots, and the top of it went into the attic, but as long as there wasn’t an open path like a phone or gas line, the circle was secure. Even a laptop could break a circle if it was connected to the net and an e-mail came in.

“Oh good. He’s back,” Nick breathed as the demon reappeared outside the circle, and I stifled a laugh, knowing it would sound hysterical. What kind of a life did I have when seeing a demon was a good thing?

The demon stood before us, taking a tin of what probably wasn’t snuff out of a tiny vest pocket and sniffing a pinch of black powder into both nostrils. “You cast a well-built circle,” it said between cultured sneezes. “As good as your father’s.”

My eyes widened and I stepped to the circle’s edge. “What do you know of my dad?”

“Reputation, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” it simpered. “Strictly reputation. He was not in my realm of expertise when he was alive. Now that he’s dead, I’m interested. I specialize in secrets. As does Nick Sparagmos, it seems.” It put the tin away and pulled Ivy’s chair out from before her computer. “Now,” it said idly as it shook the mouse and brought up the Internet, “as amusing as this is, can we get on with it? Your circle is tight. I won’t be killing you now.” Its red eyes went sly. “Later, perhaps.”