“How is your jaw?” Ivy asked, pulling my attention from Vivian’s giving Al the brush-off. His jaw? Why? What had happened?

Expression rueful, David felt his jaw, his eyes flicking to Ivy with more than a little respect. “Fine, thanks,” he grumbled, making Trent smile. “Cormel is still trying to figure out how you two escaped.”

Trent leaned forward over the table, eyes dancing. “Her magic carpet, of course.”

“I am not a rug,” Al said, and Trent jumped, unaware that the demon had been right behind him. Scowling, Al sat, pushing his chair so far back that he almost wasn’t at the table.

Vivian and Professor Anders slowly made their way over, Vivian making a beeline for the free chair at the other end of the table to force Anders to take the chair between Trent and Al. Al smiled lasciviously at the older, uptight woman, surprise coloring his expression when the woman did nothing but give him a dry look and settle squarely in the space.

“Ah, David,” I said to distract the demon. “Al brought up an interesting point; if Landon manages to destroy the undead souls, then it might negatively impact the undead, as their souls and consciousnesses might be forever divided. Is Cormel still buying into Landon’s lies, or is he just stringing Landon along hoping I’ll come bail him out when it doesn’t work?”

David took the cup of straight black coffee that Vivian pushed to him. “That would’ve been good to bring up. Why didn’t you?”

He was looking at Al, and from his distant inclusion at the end of the table, Al sipped his drink. “I’m not going to bandy about a questionable demon belief before six factions of Inderland society. And besides, I wasn’t involved in the theoretical ramifications of the curse in question. I don’t know how true it is.”

Professor Anders’s thin lips pressed into a line. “Demon?” she said in disbelief. “Why weren’t you introduced as such?”

Smiling wickedly, Al inclined his head. “So as not to panic the leprechaun, my dear.”

“Who was?” I asked, and then had to repeat the entire thing since no on was listening, captured by the emotions crossing through the tall woman. “Who was involved in the theoretical studies?”

Al pulled his gaze from Professor Anders. “Newt. Don’t ask her. She doesn’t remember.”

Professor Anders leaned distrustfully toward Al. “You don’t smell like a demon.”

“He’s a demon,” Vivian said. “Why do you think I’m sitting way over here?”

Lips parted, Professor Anders flushed, her gaze alternating between Al and me. “You’re her instructor,” she almost breathed. “The one who taught her the curse to make a human a familiar.”

Al grinned, taking her limp hand up and kissing the top of it. “I am. Would you like to know it?”