I never in a million years thought that I could have startled the lord, but he straightened in a way that let me know I’d definitely struck a nerve.

“Tell me what this demon said,” Rhyzkahl growled, eyes narrowed.

I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged. “Well, let’s see. First he told me that I was in need of a guardian and that he wanted to be considered for the position.”

Rhyzkahl’s expression darkened, lip curling into a snarl, but I didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Then, when I asked him what the fuck he was talking about,” I continued, “he told me that your arrangement with me was an ‘enviable one’ and that there might be some who would like to remove your advantage.” I glared at him, but he was no longer looking at me. His gaze was off into the distance, though his expression was still black. Normally I’d have been scared shitless to see him so angry, except that I had my own share of anger—a good measure of it directed at him. “You never mentioned that there might be any danger to me with all of this,” I pointed out. “So, what’s the deal? Is some other demonic lord going to try to kill me or something? Do I need to take Skalz up on his offer?”

“I will attend to the matter.” Something about his tone made me wonder if his anger was directed at Skalz. He stood and began to walk toward the diagram.

“Whoa, wait!” I untangled my legs and hopped off the table to get between him and the diagram. I planted a hand in the middle of his chest, ignoring his snarl. “Don’t keep me in the dark! I need to know what’s going on, and you haven’t answered my question!”

I had him there. He’d sworn to answer two questions, and so far he’d answered nothing.

I could feel the weight of his anger like a thick cloud. My stomach was a Gordian knot of tension, and common sense screamed at me to run and cower under the table, but somehow I forced myself to stand my ground, relying on the fact that he was honor-bound to answer me. Though I did drop my hand.

He folded his arms across his chest and stood, feet planted apart as he glared at me. “Very well. To answer your first question, there are some among the lords who envy the stature I hold by having a sworn summoner, and others who feel it is anathema that I allow myself to be summoned. In answer to your second, I have no way to scry the future or the intent of the other lords; however, since there is currently no other lord with direct access to this sphere, I rather doubt that any will be hunting you down in an attempt to do you harm.”

He unfolded his arms, then inclined his head to me in a gesture that was damn near mocking. “Two questions answered,” he said, but before I could speak he continued. “However, I will be benevolent and answer your third as well. Pay Skalz’s price if you so desire, but I doubt his service will come cheaply—and there are others far more suited to giving protection. I have stated this before: I would be willing to assign you a protector. Think on it carefully.”

And then he was gone.

I scowled at the empty space before me. Sure, he’d assign me a protector—someone who could also keep tabs on me. And how the hell would a demon be able to protect me at all times anyway? At least Skalz could blend into any shadow, but I still didn’t think he’d be able to conceal himself during the day.

Rhyzkahl had stated once before that he didn’t like the thought of me risking myself—which, considering my line of work, was tough luck on his part. I also didn’t like the “big tough man will protect fragile female” implied in the offer.

But was this different? I was starting to get better at parsing his answers to my questions—even though I wasn’t necessarily getting better at asking them. I had the feeling that—once again—I’d wasted both of my questions, which left me somewhat screwed since I’d also wanted to find out about the thing that had attacked Lida. But on reviewing his second answer, I was uncomfortably aware that he’d left out other possible ways that another demonic lord could come after me. My aunt had the portal in her library—a weak spot between the spheres that demons couldn’t go through, but lower-sentience creatures could be pushed through. It was heavily warded and protected now, but if there was one, surely there could be others in the world.

And, of course, there was the chance that some other summoner could bring a demon through that would then attempt to carry out some sort of action against me. There weren’t many summoners—perhaps only a hundred or so in the entire world, though I didn’t think that anyone knew for certain. But again, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

I took a deep breath, forcing calm. Those were remote possibilities. Right now I couldn’t see tying myself to Rhyzkahl any more than I needed to simply on the basis of Skalz’s remark.

If I’d learned anything at all in the past six months, it was that nothing a demon said could ever be taken at face value.

My alarm went off at six A.M., to my enormous annoyance. After slapping my clock to shut off the damn beeping, I glowered at it for several seconds as I tried to remember why the hell I had it set for so early, since I was on a ten-to-six shift this month.

Then I remembered. Jill, I thought, curling my lip. My nemesis.

I scowled and threw off the covers. Jill wasn’t actually my nemesis, merely my running partner. However, the two were awfully similar in my mind, especially at this hour of the morning.

Jill Faciane was one of the few people I could call friend, and also one of the extremely few people who knew I summoned demons—something she’d discovered by accident after she’d come into my aunt’s house and discovered a reyza in the hallway. Somehow I’d managed to convince her that the eight-foot-tall winged, horned monster in the house was friendly, which had led to me explaining how I could possibly know this.

It had been an interesting conversation, to say the least.

Shortly after I’d become sworn to Rhyzkahl, she and I had begun a Monday morning social hour—usually involving coffee and donuts. Then last month she got a wild hare up her ass and decided we needed to start running instead of being lazy slugs, pointing out that we had a PT test coming up. In theory I was heartily in favor of fitness as a requirement to be a police officer. In reality I hated running more than life itself, but at least it gave me time to indulge in all sorts of gossip with Jill. Not that I really had a choice. Jill had proven to be remarkably hard to budge on this, the stubborn bitch.

But first I intended to have my coffee. Nothing was going to happen until I had a caffeine infusion.

I loaded the coffeemaker with the appropriate quantities of grounds and water, then waited impatiently for enough to brew so that I could fill my mug. I glanced at the clock as I stirred in my usual insane amounts of sugar and creamer. I had barely enough time to check my email before I had to head out, which was convenient since I had an annoying tendency to forget to check it when I was at home. Not that I suffered from an overflowing inbox, but sometimes the penis-enlargement spam was worth a chuckle.

I sipped cautiously as I walked down the hall to the living room and my computer, humming in silly pleasure as the coffee worked its lovely stimulating magic on my nervous system. I set my mug on the desk, then went still.

Something’s different. The thought skittered through my head. Something was out of place . . .

The chair. It was pushed all the way in. I never did that. A chill ran down my spine even as I tried to talk myself out of being freaked. Okay, so it’s more than possible that I actually did push it in after I used it last time. Except that the keyboard tray was also pushed in. Again, I never do that. Pushing in the chair was like making the bed—they were both actions I considered to be totally pointless since I was merely going to undo it the next time I wanted to use the computer or sleep in the bed.