“Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos,” the dog drawled, sitting on its haunches and giving us a savage doggy smile. “Already, little wizard? I was just here.”

Gregory? I thought as Nick shot an unrepentant grimace at me. Nick’s middle name was Gregory? And what had Nick gotten in return for telling it that?

“Or did you call me to impress Rachel Mariana Morgan?” it finished, a long red tongue lolling out as it turned its doggy smile to me.

“I’ve a few questions,” Nick said, his voice bolder than his body language.

Nick’s breath caught as the dog rose and padded into the hallway, its shoulders almost brushing the walls. I stared, horrified, as it licked the floor beside the circle, testing it. The film of ever-after reality hissed as it sent its tongue over the unseen barrier. Smoke smelling like burnt amber rose, and I watched as if through a pane of glass as Algaliarept’s tongue began to char and burn. Nick stiffened, and I thought I heard a whispered oath or prayer. Making an annoyed growl, the demon’s outline went hazy.

My heart hammered as the dog lengthened and rose into its usual vision of a British gentleman. “Rachel Mariana Morgan,” it said, hitting every accent with an elegant precession. “I must congratulate you, love, on finding that corpse. It was the sharpest bit of ley line magic I’ve seen in twelve years.” It leaned close, and I smelled lavender. “You made quite a stir, you know,” it whispered. “I was invited to all the parties. My witch’s spell went to the city’s square to chime the bells. Everyone got a taste, though not as much as I did.” Eyes closing, the demon shuddered, its outlines wavering as its concentration lapsed.

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.”