“Those demons wanted something and they were convinced the professor had it,” I told him.

I didn’t know what “it” was, but recent near-death experiences had taught me that when bad guys wanted something, things would generally go to the lower hells in a handbasket if they got their hands-or in this case, claws-on it. And considering that the bad guys were demons, that trip to the lower hells could be literal.

“The professor said he didn’t have it,” I said, seeing the scene replay itself in my head, complete with the professor getting his throat ripped out. “And I believed him. I didn’t know this Professor Berel, but from what I saw, he didn’t strike me as the type to give his life to protect something.”

“He wasn’t.”

“But he must have known what it was; otherwise, he couldn’t have said that he didn’t have it. Unfortunately he’s dead, and the demon that killed him is stuffed in a bottle.”

“Some of his colleagues aren’t,” Mychael reminded me.

I jerked my head in the direction of the cells. “You’re going to question the blue ones out there?”

“I am. If they don’t know anything, I’ll have to let the Volghul out of the bottle.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It might be necessary. And since I’ve interrogated demons before, and I am the paladin of this island, it’s my duty to do it. But if I did have to interrogate the Volghul, I couldn’t do it here. Sedge has top-notch shields and wards on his cells, but they’re nowhere near strong enough for a Volghul. I’d have to take him to the demonology department for that.”

“Let’s hope the blue ones are talkative.”

All naked, blue demons looked the same to me. Perhaps that opinion offended delicate demonic sensibilities, but somehow I doubted this bunch had anything delicate. An hour or so closed up in a warded cell had given their collective aroma ample time to seep out. Believe me, there was nothing delicate about that. Wards and shields would hold in or keep out most anything-unfortunately a stomach-turning, gag-inducing stench wasn’t one of them.

Vegard saw my grimace. “Brimstone.”

“What?” I tried unsuccessfully to talk and breathe through my mouth at the same time. Must have been a gift I didn’t have.

“The smell,” he clarified.

“So that’s what Hell smells like.”

“I assume so; never been there myself.”

“Not many have,” came a woman’s voice from behind us.

“Afternoon, Sir Vegard.”

The big Guardian turned and smiled. “Professor Niabi, good to see you.”

“Considering how today’s gone so far, it’s good to be seen.”

The woman was human, about my height, with nut brown skin, and black hair pulled back into a serviceable braid.

“So Hell’s not a top-ten vacation spot?” I quipped.

Her teeth flashed in a good-humored grin. “The beaches suck.” She put out her hand. “Sora Niabi, professor of demonology.”

I hesitated only a moment before taking it. Her hand was warm and callused. Sora Niabi had done more work than just turning pages. I might have to adjust my opinion about academic types.

“I’m Raine Benares, seeker and…” I looked up at Vegard.

“What else are people calling me now?”

The big Guardian chuckled and shook his head. “A lot of things, ma’am. Some you’ve heard, most you haven’t, but I’m sure you could guess.”

“No titles necessary,” Sora Niabi said with a grin. “I know who you are.”

She knew, and she wasn’t afraid of me. She also didn’t want my power or want me locked up. I could sense it, and my instincts about people had never been wrong. Well, at least not yet.

“After this morning, Professor Niabi’s also the new department chair,” Vegard informed me.

Sora Niabi blew her breath out in disgust. “Looks that way. Though if Laurian Berel hadn’t been such an idiot, I wouldn’t be.” Her robes were a riot of bright colors. They were also slashed up the side, exposing practical trousers underneath, and good, sturdy boots.

She noticed me noticing. “When you study demons for a living, Miss Benares, it’s healthy to be able to haul ass when you have to.”

That did it; I liked her.

“Call me Raine.”

“Only if you’ll drop the ‘professor’ and call me Sora.”

“Done.”

Mychael joined us. “Professor Niabi, thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Not a problem, Paladin Eiliesor. The coroner needed me to officially identify Professor Berel, so I had to be here anyway.”

“He was a talented mage.”

“Laurian was a better fool, and you know it as well as I do. You should have been a diplomat, Paladin. You actually managed to say that with a straight face. I was hardly surprised to hear he’d gotten himself killed; I’ve been expecting that news for years. In our line of work, talent can get you into trouble, but arrogance will get you killed and eaten-and not always in that order.”

I nodded toward the warded cell. “Those four and their buddies were after something and they thought Professor Berel had it. He said he didn’t. Any idea what it was?”

“Not a clue. Laurian kept a lot of bizarre artifacts around.

We all do. Certain objects have power against demons. Everybody in the department has their own collection and their own favorites. It’s safer to have your own when you need it. Chances are if you need it, you don’t have the time to go borrowing.”

Mychael lowered his voice. “He was killed by a Volghul.”

Sora’s only reaction was a raised eyebrow. “Nothing he had would have saved him from that. Apparently when the demons didn’t get what they wanted from Laurian, they went to his town house. The place has been demolished from the inside out, like somebody got really frustrated.”

“Frustrated demonic searchers?” I asked.

“The brimstone smell gave it away.” Sora squinted through the thickly warded cell. “Is that a wine bottle?”

“The Volghul is in there,” Mychael told her.

Sora whistled. “In a wine bottle? Damn. Who stuffed it in there?”

I half raised my hand. “That would be me.”

“You?”

“Me. With a little help.”

“That’s some help.”

I tried not to wince. “Yes, it was.”

“Good work.”

“Thanks.”

Mychael nodded toward the demons’ cell. “Do you have everything we need to question those?”

Sora gave the knapsack slung over one shoulder a shake. I heard something metal clank heavily inside. “Never leave home without it.”

“And traps for transporting them out of here?”

“Got my two best grad students checking out a pair from the lab. They’ll be here any time now.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

The demon’s enraged screams had subsided to low growls.

Sora Niabi had wrangled it out of that cell and into a binding circle in an interrogation room. There was a ring of silver about three feet wide permanently embedded in the stone floor. Sora had added a thick silver chain on top of that. Both inside and outside the circle, she’d carefully placed objects I couldn’t identify, and judging from how the demon had reacted when Sora forced him inside, he knew perfectly well what they were, and he didn’t want to be anywhere near them. The professor knew her business. Good. Any interrogation room I’d ever seen was just a table, two chairs, no windows, and a barred iron door, with the obligatory big, burly, and heavily armed guard standing right outside.

Of course they did things differently on Mid.

There were still big and burly types outside the door, but that was where the similarities ended. Sure, these boys could stop an escapee with a fist or steel; they could also spit a spell that’d tack a miscreant to the nearest wall like a bug. The door and all four walls were kept warded. Nothing was leaving that room unless it was let go. Mychael and Sora had no intention of releasing that demon. Her grad students were stationed on either side of the door-on the inside. I didn’t know if Sora had asked them to stand by the door in case they needed to make a quick getaway, or if they were there to make sure the demon didn’t do the same. They honestly didn’t look old enough to fight acne, let alone a demon, but I guess when it came to battling demonic forces, brawn didn’t matter. Brains did-that and nerves of steel. From what I’d seen so far, Sora Niabi had both in spades. Before they’d gone in and locked the door behind them, those two kids had looked like they were still in training.