It was warm. He had thought that the glass would be cool to the touch, but it was warm. And not just on his fingertips—the warmth seemed to seep into his bones, traveling up his arm, through his shoulder, branching into his clavicle and ribs until Yehuda Leib was filled with an impossible radiant warmth.

His eyes began to fill with tears.

It was as if there had been within him a chill so long-standing and insidious that he had never taken notice of it before.

It was very beautiful, this light.

And yet it was waning.

Yehuda Leib gave a little sniff, which echoed loudly in the silence of the throne room.

The light was waning. But he had it now. And he would find a way to bring it back to its full brightness.

Softly, swiftly, he slipped the small bottle into the pocket of his coat.

But something was wrong.

The throne room was silent.

Too silent.

What had happened to the snoring?

Turning, he found the little round-headed demon wide awake, his beady eyes fixed on Yehuda Leib.

He was smirking.

Yehuda Leib did not understand.

Slowly, the smirk grew into a smile, and then into a grin.

His teeth were very, very sharp.

Loud and shrill, the demon shrieked, “Steward!”

The round, pacing demon jumped in surprise.

For a long moment, there was a tense silence in the throne room, and then the door opened wide.

A tall demon in velvet breeches stepped inside. “My lord?” he said.

“What,” said the little round-headed demon with glee, “is the penalty for burglary in our realms?”

The steward bowed his head slightly and spoke as if reciting: “The burglar abdicates ownership of everything he carries, including but not limited to his possessions, his clothing, his body, his past, and the sum of his eternal potential, my lord.”

“Splendid.”

Everyone in the room was staring at Yehuda Leib, who was barely able to keep up.

“But,” said Yehuda Leib. “But—”

“Now, now,” said the little demon. “You cannot ask me to tolerate thievery within my own throne room.”

And suddenly, Yehuda Leib realized to whom he was speaking.

“Take him,” said Lord Mammon.

Chapter Six: The Swarming

It happened without Bluma noticing: one moment, she was walking well behind Lilith, caught up in a loose constellation of cats, and the next, she was alone at the lady’s side.

“Bluma,” said Lilith softly, without looking.

Immediately Bluma was disarmed. Had she given her name?

“Have you ever been to a wedding?”

Bluma stuttered senselessly, though the answer ought to have been a simple no.

“I think,” said Lilith, “that you will find it very interesting. It is quite powerful sorcery.”

“S-sorcery?” said Bluma.

“Oh yes,” said Lilith. “Two cannot become one and both remain without a little bit of magic. Of course, these days, it is rare for the operation to succeed—one or the other inevitably perishes somewhere along the way—but if executed properly…”