Damn. Is it Nick? Stomach caving in, I put a fist to my middle. I knew he had the skill, and we had parted on very bad terms.

"Let me out," Minias whispered. "I'll hold myself to your definition of right and wrong."

I glanced across the demolished shop. One of the officers managed to disentangle himself when the clerk pointed at us, almost gibbering. Other people in uniform were filing in, and it was getting crowded. I'd never get a better verbal contract from Minias than that.

"Done," I said, rubbing my foot across the chalk line to break the circle.

"Hey!" an incoming suit shouted as my bubble went down. The spare young man whipped a thin wand from his belt and pointed it at us. "Everybody down!"

The clerk screamed and collapsed. From outside came the sound of panic. I jumped in front of Minias, hands up and spread wide. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I cried out. "I'm Rachel Morgan from Vampiric Charms, Independent Runner Service. I've got the situation under control. We're cool! We're all cool! Point the wand up!"

The tension eased, and in the new calm, my mouth dropped open when I recognized the I.S. officer. "You!" I accused, then started when Jenks catapulted himself from my shoulder.

"Jenks, no!" I shouted, and the room reacted. A unified protest rose, and ignoring the calls to halt, I lunged to get in front of the man with the wand before Jenks could pix him and somehow land me with an assault charge.

"You sorry-ass hunk of putrid fairy crap!" Jenks shouted, darting erratically as I tried to stay between them. "Nobody sucker punches me and gets away with it! Nobody!"

"Easy, Jenks," I soothed, all the while trying to watch both him and Minias. "He's not worth it. He's not worth it!"

My words penetrated and, with his wings clattering aggressively, Jenks accepted my shoulder when I fluffed my scarf and turned to the I.S. officer. I knew my face was as ugly as Jenks's. I hadn't expected to ever see Tom again—though who else would they send out on a call concerning demons but someone from the Arcane Division?

The witch was a mole in the I.S., working one of their most sensitive, highest-paying jobs while simultaneously laboring away as a peon in some fanatical black-arts cult. I knew because he had played messenger boy last year and asked me to join them. Right after he stunned Jenks into unconsciousness and left him to fry on my car's dashboard. What an ass.

"Hi, Tom," I said dryly. "How's the wand hanging?"

The I.S. officer backed up with his eyes on Jenks. His face reddened when someone laughed at him for being afraid of a four-inch pixy. The truth of it was, he should be. Something that small and winged could be lethal. And Tom knew it.

"Morgan," Tom said, nose wrinkled as he breathed in the burnt-amber-tainted air. "I am not surprised. Summoning demons in public?" His gaze traveled over the trashed store, and a mocking tsk-tsk came from him. "This is going to cost you."

My breath quickened when I remembered Minias, and I spun. True to his word, the demon was behaving himself, standing still as every incoming I.S. officer pointed their weapons, both conventional and magic, at him.

My mother made a puff of noise, her high heels clacking as she strode to him. "A demon? Are you insane?" she said as she tucked our purchases under an arm to take Minias's hand and pat it. I froze in shock. Minias looked even more surprised.

"Do you honestly think my daughter is so stupid she'd let a demon out of a circle?" she continued, her smile bright. "In the middle of Cincinnati? Three days before Halloween? It's a costume. This kind man helped my daughter repel the demons and got caught in the crossfire." She beamed up at him, and Minias delicately removed his hand from hers, curling his fingers into a tight fist. "Isn't that so, dear?"

Minias silently sidestepped away from my mother. I felt a tug on my awareness as something was drawn from the ever-after to this side of the lines, and Minias pulled a wallet from his back pocket.

"My papers…gentlemen," the demon said, giving me a smirk before he passed Tom what looked like one of those ID holders you see on cop shows.

The clerk slumped against the first officer, wailing. "There were two of them in robes and one in a green costume! I think that's the green one there. They trashed the store! They knew her name. That woman is a black witch and everyone knows it! It's been in the papers and the news. She's a menace! A freak and a menace!"

Jenks bristled, but it was my mother who said, "Get a grip, Pat. She didn't call them."

"But the store!" Patricia insisted, her fear turning to anger now that I.S. officers surrounded her. "Who's going to pay for this?"

"Look," I said, feeling Jenks shivering between me and the scarf. "My partner is cold sensitive. Can we wrap this up? I haven't broken the law as far as I can see."

Tom looked up from reading Minias's ID. He squinted from the picture to Minias, then handed it to someone far older standing behind him with a curt, "Pull it."

Unease trickled through me, but Minias didn't seem to be troubled. Jenks pinched my ear when Tom moved to stand before me, and I jerked out of my reverie.

"You shouldn't have turned us down, Morgan," the witch said, so close I could smell a witch's characteristic redwood smell rolling off of him. The more magic you practiced, the stronger you smelled, and Tom reeked. I thought of Minias and felt a moment of worry. He might look like a witch, but he would smell like a demon, and they'd seen me let him out. Crap. Think, Rachel. Don't react, think!

"Somehow," Tom said softly, threateningly, "I don't think your friend Minias is going to have a record. Any record at all. Sort of like a demon?"

My thoughts scrambled, and I felt more than saw Minias ease up behind me.

"I'm sure Mr. Bansen will find my papers are in order," he said, and I shivered when a chill ran through me, pulled into existence from the draft of Jenks's wings.

"Holy crap! Minias smells like a witch!" the pixy whispered.

I took a deep breath, my shoulders relaxing when I found Minias did indeed lack the characteristic burnt-amber scent that clung to all demons. I turned to him in surprise, and the demon shrugged, twisting his hand. It was still in a fist, and my lips parted when I realized he hadn't opened his fingers since my mother had taken his hand.

Eyes widening, I spun to my mother to find her beaming. She'd given him an amulet? My mother was crazy, but she was crazy like a fox.

"Can we go?" I said, knowing Tom was trying to get a good sniff of him as well.

Tom's eyes narrowed. Taking my elbow, he pulled me from Minias. "That is a demon."

"Prove it. And as you once told me, it's not against the law to summon demons."

His face went ugly. "Maybe not, but you're responsible for the damage they do."

A groan slipped from Jenks, and I felt my face go stiff.

"She destroyed my store!" the woman wailed. "Who's going to pay for this! Who?"

An I.S. officer approached with Minias's ID, and while Tom held up a finger for me to wait, he talked to him. My mother joined me, and the people outside complained as an officer started to make them move on. Tom was frowning when the man left, and bolstered by his show of bad temper, I smiled cattily. I was going to walk out of here. I knew it.

"Ms. Morgan," he said as he slid his wand away. "I have to let you go—"

"What about the store?" the woman wailed.

"Can it, Patricia!" my mother said, and Tom grimaced as if he'd eaten a spider.

"As long as you agree that demons were here because of you," he added, "and you agree to pay for damages," he finished, handing Minias his ID back.

"But it wasn't my fault." My gaze scanned the broken shelves and scattered amulets as I tried to add up the potential cost. "Why should I have to pay for it because someone sicced them on me? I didn't summon them!"