A soft pop pulled my head up. A tumble of pebbles and rocks came from everywhere as the lesser demons scrambled into hiding. My breath slipped from me as, from around my hair, I saw a small figure in dark purple sitting cross-legged before me, a narrow staff as long as I was tall laying across its lap. A robe draped it. Not a bathrobe, but a classy mix of a kimono and something a desert sheik would wear, all billowy with the suppleness of linen. A round hat with straight sides and a flat top was perched on its head. Squinting in the fading light, I decided there was an inch or so of air between the gold trim and the ground. Now what?

“Who in hell are you?” I said, pulling myself forward another step, “and will you be taking me home instead of Al?”

“Who in hell are you?” it echoed, its voice a mix of rough lightness. “Yes. That fits.”

It wasn’t hitting me with that carved black stick, or putting a charm on me, or even making ugly faces, so I ignored it and dragged myself forward another foot. There was a crackle of paper, and wondering, I tucked David’s trifolded paper into my waistband. Yeah, he’d probably want this back.

“I’m Newt,” it said, seemingly disappointed I was ignoring it. There was a rich accent that I couldn’t place, an odd way of saying the vowels. “And no, I’m not taking you home. I already have a demon familiar. Algaliarept is right; you’re almost worthless right now.”

A demon for a familiar? Ooooh, that had to be good. Grunting, I pulled myself forward. My ribs hurt, and I pressed a hand into them. Panting, I looked up. A smooth face, not young, not old—sort of … nothing—met me. “Ceri is afraid of you,” I said.

“I know. She’s very perceptive. Is she well?”

Fear slid through me. “Leave her alone,” I said, jerking back as it pushed my hair out of my eyes. Its touch seemed to sink into me though I felt fingertips firm on my forehead. I stared at its black eyes as it peered at me, unruffled and curious.

“Your hair ought to be red,” it said, smelling of crushed dandelions. “And your eyes are green like my sisters’, not brown.”

“Sisters?” I wheezed, considering I might give it my soul if it would give me a pain amulet. God, I hurt all over, inside and out. I sat back on my heels out of its reach. Newt had an eerie grace, its outfit giving no hint to gender. There was a necklace of black gold about its neck—again, the design neither masculine nor feminine. My gaze dropped to its bare feet, hovering above the rubble. They were narrow and slim, somewhat ugly. Masculine? “Are you a boy or a girl?” I finally asked, not sure.

Newt’s brow furrowed. “It makes a difference?”

Muscles trembling, I pulled my hand to my mouth and sucked at a spot where the rock had pinched me. It did to me. “Don’t get me wrong, but why are you just sitting there?”