“Stanley Saladin has purchased multiple trips from a demon,” he said, his voice carrying an indolent confidence. “Four trips through the lines is not worth my soul, and you know it.”

“Stanley Saladin bought line passages from someone trying to lull him into servitude,” Minias said. “It was an investment, and I’m not looking for a familiar. Even if I was, I’d buy one, not bother raising one up from scratch. And what makes you think your soul is worth anything?”

Trent said nothing, calmly indifferent until Minias asked, “What do you have that’s worth your soul, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack?”

A confident smile curved over Trent. I was shocked at his attitude—he was slipping into this demon-bargaining mode far too easily—but Ceri didn’t seem surprised. A businessman is a businessman.

“Good.” Trent patted his front for a nonexistent pen. “I’m glad we can talk. I’d like to finish this cleanly, without any marks to be settled at a future date.”

Minias’s eyes narrowed, and I blanched. “No,” he said firmly. “I want a mark. I like the idea of you owing me.”

Trent’s face went tight. “I can give you the secret of Morgan’s parentage—”

My breath hissed in. “You son of a bitch!” I shouted, leaping for him.

“Rachel!” Ceri cried, and I smacked into a front fall when she tripped me.

I scrambled up. My respect for her, not her small hand on my arm, held me back. “That’s mine!” I shouted. “You can’t buy a trip into the ever-after with my secrets!”

Minias glanced between us. “Add a minor demon mark, and you have your curses.”

“Make it settled at my discretion, not yours,” Trent haggled, and I jerked from Ceri’s grip.

“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, getting in his face. The man had the gall to make an innocent face at me, and losing it, I shoved him into Ceri’s outer circle.

He stumbled back, hitting it as if it were a wall. There was a shout of protest, and Quen’s toes were suddenly edging near the salt ring. He was ticked, and Ivy was behind him, her lips pressed into a thin line, ready to take Quen down if he somehow got through the sheet of ever-after.

“You sorry little pissant!” I shouted, standing over Trent in his little black jumpsuit with my borrowed duster edging his legs. “You pay for my trip with information about me? I could have done that myself! I only agreed to protect you because you were paying my way!”

“Rachel.” Ceri was trying to soothe me, but I’d have none of it. I reached to grab his lapels, and he rolled to his feet. It was fast, and I tried to hide my surprise.

“I’ll accept that deal,” Minias said, and I almost screamed.