“Why are you here?” Mica said, but he wasn’t moving. “You think the elves mean anything?” he added, goat-slitted eyes flicking to Trent. “They have no Sa’han. It’s the only reason you’ve been allowed your game of pretend. You’re doing us a big favor.”

Guilt was a quick stab, and I refused to look at Trent, knowing my feelings would give me away. “I’m not here for the elves, I’m here for the FIB,” I said flippantly. “Before you get yourself into more trouble, you need to know there are laws on the books now concerning demons, demon magic, and demon activity.”

They laughed, but there were more than twenty of them in here now, all but the original eight or so standing at the windows, listening. “We don’t recognize any law but our own,” Mica said, turning his back on me.

“It’s your choice. You sure it’s a good one?”

It wasn’t me who made him turn back around, it was the questioning faces at the window. At the corner booth, Dali squinted at me in warning. Warning me to be careful? To be quiet?

“I’m serious,” I said lightly, moving to keep their eyes on me. “You’ve been stuck in that stinky hole of forced existence for too long, and the world has changed. Al might be able to adapt, but most of you need help. I can do that.”

“You think we need help?”

It had been Dali, and my pace bobbled at the flash of fear that lit through me and died. Damn it, they noticed.

“I don’t think you see what’s going on here,” the round, powerful demon said.

I could actually hear the soft hush of sliding fabric as everyone turned from him to me. Swallowing, I lifted my chin. “I see demons having coffee in a coffee shop. What do you see?”

Dali hesitated, looking at the deeper meaning past my simple statement. I’d gotten to know them pretty well in the last year or so, and I knew that this was what they wanted. They wanted acceptance. They wanted to be part of something alive again, something where their voices and actions meant more than a stale circle of parties and distractions. But their pride, I knew, would get in the way. They were all-friggin’ powerful. Blah, blah, blah. What did it really mean when all was said and done? Nothing. Nothing they did meant anything.