Silence. The clock in the entry hall ticked very loudly.

I didn’t back down. “Right now six demons are torturing an eleven-year-old girl. The same way they tortured me. The same way they tortured Shiro.”

Michael flinched.

“Look me in the eye,” I told him, “and tell me you think that we should let that child suffer when we have the means to save her.”

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Michael shook his head.

Sanya subsided, sinking back to lean against a cabinet again, his expression pensive and solemn.

“Nicodemus will never accept that trade,” Michael said quietly.

Luccio smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “Of course he will. Why sacrifice a useful retainer when he can show up for the exchange, double-cross us, steal the coins, and keep the Archive?”

“Bingo,” I said. “And we’ll be ready for him. Captain, do you know how to contact him through the channels outlined in the Accords?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Harry,” Michael said gently, “we’re taking a terrible risk.”

He and Luccio exchanged a glance pregnant with silence, swayed by deep undercurrents.

“At this point,” Luccio said, “the only riskier thing we can do is…” She shrugged and spread her hands. “Nothing.”

Michael grimaced and crossed himself. “God be with us.”

“Amen,” Sanya said, winking over Michael’s shoulder at me.

“Call Nicodemus,” I said. “Tell him I want to make a deal.”