I HAD ANOTHER INTERVIEW after the seance, then nothing. Jeremy would be here in a few hours. Robert hadn't found anything useful. Kristof hadn't returned. So I was stuck cooling my heels. I decided to call Paige, check what she knew about rituals involving children. This wasn't a call to make in a public place, so I headed outside.

As I sat down on the front porch, Will hailed me. I greeted the portly young man and he handed me an icy bottle of water.

"I saw you heading outside and thought you might need this. The sun's a killer today."

"That's so sweet. Thank you."

"Oh, and I also wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your segment the other day, with Tansy Lane. Incredible. The whole crew's still talking about it. I think you've made some believers, Ms. Vegas."

I laughed. "Jaime, please. And I hope they're still believers when all this is done because that definitely wasn't a typical summoning for me. I got lucky, which I can only hope is a good omen for the show."

My gaze strayed toward the cell phone in my hand-a subtle hint that there was something I'd come out here to do.

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I also wanted to commend you on how well you handled Angelique."

My mouth opened in protest, ready to say I hadn't "handled" her at all, but he continued before I could.

"I can't believe they brought her on the show after the things…" He coughed. "Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, as far as most of us are concerned, you're still at the top of your game, and we're looking forward to seeing you put her in her place."

I could tell by his expression that he was willing, even eager, to go on, but would it help me to know what she'd said? No. If I heard her insults or insinuations, I would indeed want to "put her in her place" and I couldn't afford to do that. Not on this shoot.

"I appreciate the support. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"Absolutely. And thank you for helping with Mr. Grady this morning. Becky really appreciates it. She was really afraid this was going to be difficult, knowing you're lining up a show of your own, and Grady's hoping to relocate here."

"Relocate-?"

I snapped my mouth shut. This one was tougher to ignore. A lot tougher. But I promised myself I'd investigate later, Right now, I had to concentrate on the ghosts.

As he headed into the house, I stepped off the porch and caught a flash from the shrubs, like the sun reflecting off a mirror-or a camera lens. A slower, more careful look around, listening for the rustle of a quick retreat. Silence.

It could have been nothing. Or it could have been a crew member sneaking around with a camera, hoping for a shot he could sell to the tabloids. Photos of C-list celebs aren't worth much, but if you can get ones that are embarrassing enough, you can make a few bucks. One last survey, then I headed toward the road, making sure I wasn't slouching or squinting unbecomingly, just in case.

AFTER CALLING Paige, I went to the kitchen to grab a sandwich. I hadn't been in the mood for a communal lunch, and it was almost two now. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grady stride in. His gait was fluid, almost gliding.

"Hello," I said without turning.

"I need to speak to you."

My fingers tightened around my coffee cup, but I kept my tone even. "Good. I need to talk to you too."

"A private word, then. In the garden, please."

Hmm… That sounded suspicious, but there was nothing in his bearing or his manner to suggest he had seduction on his mind. Quite the opposite. Cool and professional.

"I'm right behind you," I said.

I followed him through the house to the back doors.

He still walked with that odd gait-graceful and relaxed yet purposeful. Some affectation he was practicing for an upcoming segment?

When we reached the garden, I tried to catch up, but he only moved faster. Afraid Claudia was peering from a window? Seeing me "following" him into the garden wouldn't make her any happier.

Finally he stopped, his back still to me. Then, as he turned, he inclined his head in an oddly formal nod, coupled with a tiny smile.

"Jaime O'Casey. A pleasure."

A dart of panic raced through me. No one in the business knew my real name. But if Grady thought this gave him some leverage over me, he was wrong. Vegas was just a stage name; I wasn't hiding anything.

I looked at him. His gray-blue eyes now shone a blue brighter than the sky. Impossibly and unnaturally bright. I backpedaled. He grabbed my arm. His fingers were so hot I could feel them through my sleeve.

That dart of panic found its target and exploded. I yanked back. His grip didn't tighten, but didn't give either. Firm as an iron shackle. This wasn't Grady but someone-something-using his body, and I had a good idea what that something was.

"Kristof Nast sent me."

Damn Kristof! This was why he hadn't told me who he was calling: I'd never have agreed.

"I'm sorry," I said. "There's been a misunderstanding. I don't talk to-"

"Strangers? A wise choice, but I'm hoping this time you'll make an exception."

Amusement sparkled in those beautiful eyes. Entrancing eyes.

"I've come to help you, Jaime."

"I've had my share of help from your kind."

He tipped his head, his gaze searching mine. "Ah, I see. A youthful indiscretion. The price seemed fair, didn't it? That's the way it is.

A demon's price always seems fair when you're blinded by the boon. Then you always end up paying more than you expect. But that's long past. You've received your boon. You've paid the price. An unpleasant learning experience, but it certainly could have been worse."

"Whatever bargain you're offering-"

"My dear child, I do not barter like a common merchant. Do you know who I am?"

I shook my head. He released my arm.

"I am Aratron."

Seeing my blank look, he gave a rich, warm laugh. "Does no one educate their children in demonology these days? For centuries, I had only to speak my name and even your kind would prostrate themselves before me, promise me their gold, their wives, their firstborn child in return for but a speck of my knowledge. Today? Bewilderment dulled by apathy. Not nearly as gratifying."

"Sorry."

He laughed again. "Eve knew who I was. Properly respectful, even."

He walked to a bench and waved for me to sit beside him. When I resisted, his eyes sparkled. "I'm not going to gobble you up or incinerate you in a ball of white-hot flame. The last, while quite spectacular, doesn't promote good relations with mortals."

I perched at the far end of the bench.

"May I hope you at least know what a eudemon is?" he asked.

"Oh, yes." I said, a little too enthusiastically. "There are two kinds of demons. Cacodemons are the ones we can summon and make deals with. The chaos demons. The same kind that father half-demons like Eve. But eudemons…"

I drummed my fingers against my thigh, as if I was back in school again, proudly volunteering the answer only to get halfway through and realize that's all I had. "Can't say I know much about eudemons. Other than they aren't cacodemons. We can't usually summon them. They don't father children…"

"To most supernatural mortals, that's all that's important. It's almost impossible to summon us. We can't create you. We are, you might say, neutral. Indifferent even. To both your joys and your suffering. You do not interest us… except in the most academic way."

"And that's what you are. A eudemon."

"That's what Aratron is, a fact you can easily confirm with a call to Robert Vasic. And I claim to be Aratron. But whether I truly am is not so easily established. In fact, I daresay, it cannot be established all. You know, from my voice, from my touch, from my eyes, that I am no low-ranking demon. These things I cannot fake and even one unschooled in demonology knows the marks of a demon of power. But could I not be a cacodemon such as Baal or Balam or Lucifer? Were I one of them, would it not be wise to come in the guise of a eudemon like Aratron?"