I felt my focus blur as I realized that’s what my mom had done, and though it had been hard and left me knowing more than a thirteen-year-old should, I was better able to handle the bigger dangers my thrill-seeking tendencies got me into.

“I’m sorry,” I said as Takata pulled himself backward to lean against the wall. “Will you watch my mom while I take care of this?”

He nodded, his dreadlocks swinging. “You bet.”

I glanced past the high window in the door to guess at the time, but at least now I could spell at home. “Get her to my church a few hours before sunset,” I said. “If I’m not there, Marshal will be if I can get ahold of him. He’s a target now, and you, probably. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put your life in danger.” No wonder he hadn’t told me I was his daughter. It wasn’t anything that would help extend his life.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

I hesitated, my stocking feet silent on the carpet as I fidgeted. “Can I take your car? The I.S. is probably looking for Trent’s.” A smile curved his thin lips up, and still sitting on the floor, he dug in his pocket and pulled out his keys to hold them up to me. They were foreign and heavy, keys to who knew what.

“I never thought I’d ever hear you asking for my keys,” he said. “It’s Ripley’s—don’t go running any red lights.”

I fidgeted some more, then pulled my hand off the doorknob and crouched to see him face-to-face. “Thanks,” I said, meaning for everything. “Don’t take this like I’m forgiving you or anything,” I added, then gave him a tentative hug. His shoulders were bony, and he smelled like metal. He was too startled to do anything back, so I stood and walked out, shutting the door carefully behind me.

Twenty-four

A bright glow from the noon sun filled the kitchen, and I sat with one elbow on the table, my forehead cupped in my hand. The other hand, the one with the demon mark, was firmly on the cool glass of the scrying mirror. From the open kitchen window came the sounds of pixies at play. I was exhausted, having missed out on almost an entire night of sleep. And Minias, the demon from judicial hell, was not being helpful.

“What do you mean, you won’t do the curse?” I said aloud so Ivy, sitting on the counter by the sink, could hear at least one end of the conversation. “It was your idea!”

A ribbon of irritation-colored thought slipped through my mind, followed by the eerie sensation of words not mine in my head. Al cut a deal two days ago. He agreed to stand trial, so he’s out on bail.