Joy and Roxy woke me up three hours later. I was disoriented at finding them in Christian's room, even more so when I realized the person lying in bed, tucked in under the covers, was Sebastian, not Christian.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Allie, but Noelle said not to let you sleep any later than noon."

"You met Noelle?" I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked down at Sebastian. His face didn't look nearly as wan and gaunt as it had earlier.

Roxy waved toward a metal apparatus standing next to him. "Noelle arranged this. It's an IV; isn't that clever of her? She even got the blood from one of the blood banks."

"We met her when we stopped by to see how you were after last night. She's taking a shower."

"Oh." I rubbed my eyes, the feel of the dream's blood tears still heavy upon my cheeks.

"You look a bit muzzy yet. Come on; we'll get you into the shower, then let you have some of the soup Mrs. Turner made. What a very odd woman she is," Joy prattled as she bustled me out of bed, out of my clothes, and into the shower even before I gathered together the thought to protest.

A half hour later I was washed, dressed, and fed. Fifteen minutes later Roxy and Joy stood at the door of Christian's house and waved us off as Noelle and I climbed into a cab. Ten seconds after that I realized I was squishing one of the bobbles and spent the rest of the cab ride frantically resuscitating a flattened yarn bobble.

An hour and seven minutes after waking up, I stood with Noelle outside the Trust's house and prepared to raise my first—and hopefully only—demon.

Three minutes after that I looked at my demon and burst into laughter.

"What?" the demon asked, turning its head 360 degrees to examine itself. "What's so funny? Why is the Summoner laughing and crying at the same time? I don't see what's so funny. I'm a demon; where's my respect? Where's the fear and cowering before me?"

"Erm…" Noelle examined it from the tips of its shiny patent leather shoes to the top of its big pink bow. "Demon, what is your name?"

"Oh, right, like I look like I fell off the stupid truck?" it asked, its pudgy little hands on its flat hips. "You can't ask me that, Guardian. Go read the rule book. Sheesh. Amateurs."

I wiped my eyes and hiccupped a couple of times, blowing my nose on the tissue I stuffed away in my bobble-free pocket. "Okay, I think I'm better." I looked at the demon and felt my lips twitch. I couldn't help it; the sight of it was too much for my fragile nerves. "What is your name?"

"Tirana."

"Who do you serve?"

"Oriens. Now would one of you mind telling me why neither of you is averting your eyes from my dreadful presence, so monstrous that my very being is unbearable to humankind?"

Noelle snickered, quickly converting it into a cough.

"Well, possibly," I said, feeling my lips twitch again. "But maybe first you would tell us why you chose to manifest yourself in the form of Shirley Temple as last seen on the 'Good Ship Lollipop'?"

The demon twirled around, its big pink sash fluttering as it smoothed down its dress and frilly little petticoat. "My grotesque form isn't making you sick with fright?"

We both shook our heads, Noelle with a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. "Shirley Temple at her pinnacle was frightening," I finally told it, "but not in the sense I think you mean."

The demon's little golden curls bobbed as it stamped its foot. "It's that Morilen! He told me that this form would strike terror in the hearts of humans! Well, he'd just better hide behind the legion of Paymon, because when I get back to hell—"

It's never pretty when a demon swears, but it's positively ludicrous when the demon in question is an exact duplicate of America's little sweetheart.

"Have you heard of Tirana?" I asked Noelle while the little demon was stamping around cursing its companion.

"No, but Oriens is the weakest of all the demon lords. I would say,"—she paused a moment to watch the demon jump up and down on a late-blooming flower—"that you have raised one of the lesser demons. In fact, I'm fairly certain it's the bottom of the barrel, demonically speaking."

My shoulders sagged for a minute. I couldn't even raise a proper demon; I had to get the runt of the litter. How could I possibly save Christian with a demon that wore lacy ankle socks and a big pink sash? It just wasn't possible.

"I think it says a lot about the purity of your spirit that the worst type of demon you can raise is… well… Tirana."

I took a little comfort in that fact until the cold, watchful gaze from the house had me straightening my shoulders, the knowledge that somewhere within the house the man I loved was being held strengthening my resolve.

"Right. I can do this. Tirana, stop trying to squash the flower; you'll get your nice shoes dirty. We have work to do. I command thee to my will."

"Command, schommand," it groused, obediently following me.

Noelle touched my arm gently as I started up the walk to the front door. She pulled an amulet off over her head and slipped the chain over mine, then traced a symbol on my forehead.

"For luck," she said with a half smile.

I fingered the amulet. It was warm and gave me a sense of serenity that was greatly lacking in my present state. "Thanks."

"You remember what I told you?"

I hoped so. I was busy almost the whole of the cab ride trying to desquish one of the ghosts' bobbles, but I felt pretty confident that I had remembered her instructions.

"I wish I could go in with you."

I gave her a little smile that I hoped looked more sincere than it felt. "I know, and I appreciate all the help you've given me. You'll wait here?"

She nodded.

I turned and faced the house again. I could feel Asmodeus inside, gathering his power. My hand closed around the bobbles as I cleared my mind and gathered my own power. The amulet seemed to hold the power, magnifying it slightly. I raised my chin, held up my hand, and commanded the door to open, then marched into the dark, gaping maw of the house armed with a borrowed amulet, a demon that looked like it should be dancing with Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, five helpful ghosts and one petulant one, and a heck of a lot of determination.

The doors to the library had been thrown open. Guarda, Phillippa, and Eduardo stood in the middle of the room in a triangle, not yet a triumvirate, but capable of forming one with just a touch of Eduardo's fingers to the women's necks. Asmodeus stood to the left of them, Christian to their right.

I smiled at them all. "I hope it's no bother, but I've changed my mind. I'd like Christian back, please."

The front door slammed shut behind me.

"How very curious," Asmodeus drawled as he stepped forward. "I had not thought you would return, but when we saw you arrive I realized just how clever you had been."

"She lied; I told you she lied," Eduardo said with a snarl.

"She did not lie; she told the truth… the truth as it was at that moment. Yes, it was very clever indeed. I almost regret that such a keen mind and undaunted spirit should be lost to give me new life, but alas, that is the way of things."

I had been watching Christian while Asmodeus circled around me, but suddenly the amulet glowed red-hot, making me jump. One of my feet stepped outside of the circle Asmodeus had been about to close around me.

"Tricky," I told him, trying to calm my racing heart.

If he had been a second faster, I might even now be trapped within the power of his circle. "But not tricky enough."

He smiled and I lost a few years of my life keeping my eyes on his. "It was worth a try."

I looked from him to Christian. He stood silent and still, his face pale, his eyes dulled with pain and suffering. I thought of the dream warning and knew I couldn't look to him for help until I freed him from his bonds.