“My, aren’t we touchy.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself. “You’re right, I am.” I busied myself with getting the second pizza out of the microwave and putting it on his plate. “Sorry.”

He lifted the pizza and blew on it to cool it. “Did you summon again Saturday night?”

I blinked at the non sequitur. “Yeah.”

“That’s cool.” An oddly strained silence fell for another minute or so while he ate. At least he was looking better. I expected him to ask me more about my summoning, but if he wasn’t going to ask, I wasn’t going to offer.

Finally he leaned back in the chair and pushed his empty plate away. “Okay, much better,” he said, giving me a more normal smile. “So, what did you summon that wears boots?”

I stared at him, then twisted to look at the floor by the back door. Great. A damn near perfect boot print. Shit. Teach me to mop my floors more often. “I … uh, I summoned Rhyzkahl.”

He frowned at me. Or, rather, he gave me a facial expression that was about ten times as frowny as a frown. “How the fuck? Why the fuck?”

I forced a laugh, trying not to look guilty, which was how I felt for some reason. “I know, I know. But he wanted me to summon him, and I was given his oath that I would not be harmed.”

He lowered his head and looked at me, gaze penetrating. “What did he want?”

“He, uh … wants me to be ‘his’ summoner.”

His expression didn’t change. “And how does that work?”

I briefly explained what I knew, especially pointing out the bit about how he would still be constrained by the summoning protocols. “I don’t think he’s been to this sphere for centuries, except for the botched summonings and the time I called him, and he didn’t exactly get to see the sights then,” I said.

Ryan snorted. “I’m trying to picture him walking through a mall.”

I laughed. “That would turn some heads.”

“He’d probably get scooped up by a model talent scout.”

“Right! I can see him on the cover of GQ.”

“Yeah, pulling the head off someone like a fly.”

The comment, delivered so evenly, shocked me to silence.

“Don’t forget what he is, Kara,” Ryan said in a low voice, gaze steady on me and all trace of humor gone.

Annoyance surged through me. “I know what he is, Ryan,” I replied, more calmly than I expected. “I’m the summoner, remember?” I couldn’t believe that he was trying to warn me about demons. I’d been summoning for ten years, and he’d never even seen a demon before a couple of months ago.

“I remember. And that’s why I worry about you.” He stood, chair scraping on the tile floor. “Yes, he saved your life, and I’m deeply grateful for that. But you were the one who told me that the demons never do anything for the sake of being nice. I just don’t want to see you putting yourself in a position of being bound to him.”

I could feel myself scowling, even though I wanted to show myself as calm and cool. “Look, I’m being careful. I’m considering everything.”

The troubled expression on his face etched a bit deeper. “Just … shit, don’t let him get too … close to you, all right?”

It was getting harder to keep my expression neutral. “Too close to me how?” I wasn’t so sure I was as successful in keeping my voice even.

He scowled. “Fucking shit, Kara. Do I have to spell it out? I’m worried that you’re going to fall for that gorgeous face and body and forget what he is, and that you’ll succumb to him and end up in his thrall and forget—” He bit off whatever it was he was about to say and looked away, an expression of pain flashing across his features so quickly that I wasn’t even sure that’s what it was. He took a shuddering breath. “And forget … who you are,” he finished.

I worked moisture back into my mouth. “I find that a bit insulting,” I said carefully, measuring each word as it came out. “I know who I am.”

He growled something under his breath and jammed his hands down into his pockets. “Shit, you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do,” I said. “You think that I’ll fall into his arms and then forget that he’s a demon and rush to do his bidding and lose all self-control. End up in his thrall, right?”

His eyes flashed with anger and something else I couldn’t interpret. “No. Yes. Shit. Kara, come on. I’m sorry, but the thought of you and that creature together …” He gave his head a shake, as if to rid it of an unpleasant image. “It makes me want to throw up.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Holy shit! Are you jealous?”

He shot me a look of such pure menace that I took a step back. In the next heartbeat it was gone, replaced by an expression of frustration, making me doubt what I’d seen. “I’m not jealous,” he spat. “Don’t be stupid.”

I stared at him for about ten seconds. Then I turned away and busied myself pointlessly with cleaning up the counter. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to be stupid. Wouldn’t want you to hang out with someone who might lose every ounce of brain they have if they look at a gorgeous guy.” And why can’t you be jealous? I added silently, throat tight. Just a little?

“Ah, fuck, Kara.” He sighed. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

I industriously wiped the counter down. I didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want him to see that I was blinking furiously to keep the damn tears back. When had I become so fucking weak?

After several seconds of silence, I heard him sigh again. “I need to take care of some stuff. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, rinsing the sponge out in the sink, twisting it harder than necessary to wring it out. “Are you feeling better?”

There was a brief pause, then, “Yeah. I’m fine. I’m good to drive.”

“Okay,” I said. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

He was silent again for several seconds. “Yeah, okay,” he said finally. “See you later.”

I didn’t look back until I heard the front door close. Then I stopped blinking and allowed the tears to come.

After Ryan left, I allowed myself a half hour of sniveling, then washed my face, changed clothes, and buried myself in work—my tried and true way to avoid thinking about things that upset me. Or, rather, I tried to bury myself in work. Unfortunately there really wasn’t much work that needed doing. I was already caught up on my paperwork, and I didn’t feel like driving over to my aunt’s house to get started on the arcane research I needed to do.

I finally went down to the basement and set up the next stage of the ritual to call Tessa’s essence back. This stage required more than an hour of channeling potency into the diagram, which ended up having the welcome benefit of tiring me out. I needed only two glasses of wine to fall asleep.

Yet, even exhausted, I still had chaotic and unsettling dreams of Ryan and Rhyzkahl. I couldn’t remember much beyond a few snatches of scenes—images of the two facing each other in arcane conflict, surrounded by demons.

I woke late, mood not improved when my coffeemaker refused to turn on. I tried a variety of methods to make the damn thing work—including yelling, crying, and cursing—but it still stubbornly refused to produce coffee.

I finally gave up and headed to the coffee shop and its overpriced product. Without coffee, the day had a good chance of sucking, and I really didn’t need any more suck in my life at the moment.

I fumbled in the glove box of the Taurus for sunglasses, jamming them onto my face with one hand while trying to adjust the sun visor with the other. The mid-morning sun speared relentlessly through the windshield at the absolute perfect height to evade the sun-blocking powers of the visor. I had the air conditioner cranked all the way up, but the air it produced was only slightly below tepid and I could feel sweat trickling down my back. I’d briefly experimented with driving with the windows down, but even at ten in the morning the outside air was hot enough to make that pointless. At least the minimal air-conditioning wouldn’t turn my hair into a tangled mess the way open windows would. And since the day’s agenda involved driving down to Mandeville to interview Elena Sharp, I figured it would be best if I avoided arriving with bride-of-Frankenstein hair.