Trent tilted his head at my silence. “What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I leaned heavily into the railing. Dropping my head into my cupped hands, I willed myself to not pass out. Glenn would call someone, and that would be that.

Trent pushed away from the railing. “No,” he said, and I pulled my head up. “I’ve seen that look on you twice before. What is it?”

I swallowed. “We were supposed to be the first victims of the witch hunter. He tried to kill both of us, giving up after we showed him we could best a demon and I made it clear I wasn’t going to work for you. Only the witches who agreed to work for you were killed, yes?”

“They all agreed to work for me,” he breathed, and I stifled a shudder at how the words seemed to flow over my spine. “I never thought to connect the two.”

You can’t accuse a demon of murder. Because there was no way to contain it if sentenced, the courts had long ago determined to treat demons as weapons, even if the comparison wasn’t quite right. Free choice was involved, but as long as the payment was commensurate with the task, a demon wouldn’t turn down murder. Someone, though, had summoned it. “Did the demon ever tell you who sent it to kill you?” I asked. Easiest twenty thousand I’d ever made. God help me.

Anger tinted in fear crossed Trent. “I was trying to stay alive, not have a conversation. You seem to have a working relationship with it, though. Why don’t you ask it?”

My breath come in a jerky sound of disbelief. “Me? I already owe it one favor. You can’t pay me enough to dig myself in deeper. I’ll tell you what, though. I’ll call it up for you, and you can ask it. I’m sure the two of you can come to some agreement about payment.”

His sun-tanned face went pale. “No.”

Satisfied, I looked over the small pond. “Don’t call me a coward unless it’s something you would do yourself. I’m reckless. Not stupid.” But then I hesitated. Nick would do it.

A faint smile, surprising and genuine, came over Trent. “You’re doing it again.”

“What,” I said flatly.

“You had another thought. You are such fun, Ms. Morgan. Watching you is like watching a five-year-old.”

Insulted, I looked out over the water. I wondered if Nick asking who had sent it to kill me would be considered a small question or a large one, necessitating further payment. Pushing myself away from the railing, I decided I’d walk over to the museum and find out.

“So?” Trent prompted.

I shook my head. “I’ll have your information after sundown,” I said, and he blinked.

“You’re going to call it?” His sudden, unguarded surprise caught at me, and I kept my face impassive, thinking that managing to startle him was an ego boost I badly needed. How quickly he hid it made the feeling twice as satisfying. “You just said—”