I was going to be sick. But her fear turned to wonder, and her eyes tracked behind me. My skin prickled, and when her mouth opened in a little round O, I threw myself to the floor.

A small explosion shifted the air, and my ears rang. Pulling my gaze up from the damp carpet, I saw another puddle of green goo slowly sliding down the dark paneling, eating away at it. Damn, what had Al taught them?

I rolled, intuition telling me there was another one coming.

“You idiot!” I shouted as I leapt to my feet, cursing my habit of talking during fights and righteous sex. “You want a piece of me? You want a piece of this? I’ll shove it down your damn throat!”

In an inexcusable act of cowardice, Tom pushed the last acolyte at me. The man fell at my feet, begging for mercy. So I shot him with a sleepy-time potion. It was all the mercy I had right now.

Pissed, I spun to Tom. “You’re next, little man,” I snarled, taking aim. I squeezed the trigger, and a sheet of green-tinted ever-after rose up around him.

I leapt forward, pinwheeling to a stop when I realized I was too late. Tom had reset the circle I had been summoned into, putting himself in its center. One of the candles had been knocked over, and it rolled off the stage, trailing melted wax and a thin plume of smoke.

The insufferable man panted, confused, as he put his palms on his knees to catch his breath. “You broke your word,” he panted, brown eyes savagely bright. “You can’t do that. You’re mine.” He smiled. “Forever.”

Hands on my hips, I faced him. “If you summon demons, you lousy, stinking piece of crap, you’d better be sure the right one shows up before you let her out.”

His face lost all expression, and he turned to the stage. “You’re not Al.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” I mocked. “Give that man a prize!” Inside I was shaking, but it gave me an obscene amount of pleasure to watch Tom realize his life had just run full tilt into a pile of demon dung the size of Manhattan. “You have the right to remain silent,” I added. “Anything you say I’m going to put in my moss-wipe of a report, and you’ll fry faster.”

Tom went a beautiful shade of green.

“You have the right to an attorney, but unless you’re a hell of a lot richer than this basement looks, you’re one royally screwed witch.”

His mouth opened and closed, and his gaze darted behind me to the woman by the door. “Who are you? I called Algaliarept,” he whispered.