“Nah…,” I said, not believing anyone could hold a grudge for that. Besides, they were elves. They wouldn’t use a demon to kill me. They hated demons more than they hated me. Right?

Jenks’s wings blurred and the table was cleared of the crumbs he had made. Eyebrows raised at my doubt, he started layering herring bits on his tiny crackers, each the size of a peppercorn. “How about Lee?” he said. “Minias said he didn’t trust him.”

I set the arches of my feet on the edge of the coffee table. “Which is why I do.” I had gotten the man away from Al. One would think that would be worth something, especially when Lee had taken over Cincy’s gambling when Piscary died. “Maybe I should talk to him.”

Ivy frowned at me over her magazine. “I think it’s the I.S. They’d love to see you dead.”

My pencil scratched against the yellow tablet. “Inderland Security,” I said, feeling a ping of fear drop through me as I added them to the list. Crap, if it was the I.S., I had a big problem.

Jenks’s wings hummed as he exchanged a look with Ivy. “There’s Nick.”

I unclenched my jaw almost as fast as it tightened up.

“You know it’s him,” the pixy said, hands on his hips as Ivy peered at me over the magazine, her pupils slowly dilating. “Why didn’t you tell Minias right there? You had him, Rachel. Minias would have taken care of it. And you didn’t say a thing!”

Lips pressed tight, I calculated the odds of me hitting him with the pencil if I threw it at him. “I don’t know it’s Nick, and even if it was, I wouldn’t give him to the demons. I’d take care of it myself,” I said bitterly. Think with your head, Rachel, not your heart. “But maybe I’ll give the cookie a call.”

Ivy made a small noise and went back to her magazine. “Nick’s not that smart. He’d be demon fodder by now.”

He was that smart, but I wasn’t going to start a witch hunt. Or stupid-human hunt, rather. My blood pressure, though, had gone back down at her low opinion of him, and I reluctantly added his name to the list. “It’s not Nick,” I said. “It’s not his style. Demon summoning leaves traces, either in collecting the materials to do it, the damage done while he’s there, or the increase in educated young witches dying of unnatural causes. I’m going to check with the FIB and see if they’ve found anything odd the last few days.”

Ivy leaned forward, knees crossed as she took a cracker. “Don’t forget the tabloids,” she offered.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, adding that to the list. A “Demons Took My Baby” story could very well be true.