He looked up from the hat in his hands. “I didn’t change for you,” he said, his proper British accent only a hint, and I nodded, more nervous yet. The tight pin-striped suit gave him almost a forties look. He’d trimmed his physique as well with a narrower waist and shoulders not as thick. It made him appear younger, less mature, more hoodlum, but not quite a thug—the hairstyle shifted it to professional? Professional what, though? I wondered as my eyes slid from the hat he placed on the table to his shiny shoes. The demon did like his shiny shoes, stylish hats, and glasses that he really didn’t need.

“It’s a different look for you,” I said, and he sniffed.

“Not everything I do revolves around you,” he said quickly, as if I might think he was softening to me. “I have my reasons.”

“It looks great, but I thought you looked good before,” I said, and he hesitated as if never having considered that. Remembering where I was, I glanced back at the open door and inched closer. “What are you doing here?” And how long have you been here? Did you look in the window? Did you see me happy with Trent and his children beside me?

Al’s gaze was on the door when I turned back around, and my eyes narrowed in mistrust. “I want to ask you a few questions,” he said. “Is now a good time?”

It wasn’t, but I went back and shut the door. “You put Ellasbeth to sleep, didn’t you.”

He smiled, and I knew it was the same old Al despite his new look. “Was it you who destroyed the back end of your church?”

“No.” What is his game? I wondered, arms over my middle again.

“Was it ... Trenton Aloysius Kalamack?”

“No,” I said again, coming closer until only feet separated us.

“Tell me about it in your own words.”

Tell me about it in your own words? I stood before him, head cocked. “Why?” The scent of burnt amber was almost nonexistent, and I wondered how he could lose it so fast when it always took me a week of showers.

“I want to know.” Nose wrinkling, Al flicked something away from me. “Disgusting creatures,” he muttered, and I backed up, thinking he was talking about the mystics.

“I can’t hear them,” I rushed to say. “And I didn’t call them to me.” I shut my mouth, thinking that to tell him they’d showed up when Cormel had threatened Trent was a bad idea.

Al’s jaw tightened, and I felt a pang at his disgust. “Ah, it was one of the vampire camarillas,” I said to distract him. “Cormel made a deal with the elf dewar that if they got rid of Trent and me, the elves would bring their souls back from the ever-after.”

“So it was Cormel’s men?” he said.