When the doors open, we’re at the end of a long hall. The walls are white, stained and scuffed. The air smells sterile, like a hospital, but with a tinge of blood lingering. It puts me on edge and makes me feel tainted. I glance at Thane, who doesn’t seem to notice, because his eyes are on the figure of a man with dark, stringy hair and a messy, curling beard. His shirt is tinged yellow, like he’d shut himself in a room of cigarette smoke for months.

Gross.

“We’re here to see Samael,” Thane says.

The man looks us up and down. There’s something strange about his eyes—there is no gleam or glassiness. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to let us pass, but then he says, “She has a client. You’ll have to wait.”

“We’ll wait.”

The man inclines his head and turns. We follow.

We are led to a set of chairs at the end of the hallway.

“Coffee’s around the corner,” he says, pointing with his thumb, then whirls around, making his way back down the hallway. It isn’t until he’s out of sight that Thane lets go of my hand and takes a seat. It was nice having him to hold on to, like a strange truce between us, one borne out of grief and solace.

“What’s up with that guy?” I ask, signaling down the hall.

“He practices death magic,” Thane says. “Consequence of using? It takes from you—your mind, your health, your youth. Whatever it wants.”

I swallow a thickness building in my throat and then sit down. There’s a small table beside me covered in magazines: Witches & Pagans, Spirituality & Health, and Psychology Today.

“Well, this is weird.”

“It’s a business,” Thane says. “We’re here on business. What did you expect?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe a yellow brick road and an emerald castle. You think Samael melts in the rain?”

“I’d advise you to test that theory if I didn’t think she’d also curse your ass.”

The door beside Thane opens, and a man stumbles out as if he’s been pushed. He’s balding and wears a gray windbreaker. He stands for a moment, blinking, before a woman follows him out.

“Sa’id!” Her voice is sharp—a command.

The man who let us in comes out of his room.

“Show the man out.”

“Wait! H-how do I know it will work?” The man spins on her.

The woman narrows her eyes, and then the man’s phone rings. “That call is very important,” she advises. “You had better answer it.”

Sa’id has the man by his arm. As they turn, he answers his phone and begins to sob. What did he ask of Samael?