Roland listened in disbelief as I told him about the auction. Claire sat on the couch behind us, rubbing her neck where the vampire had grabbed her, eyes very distant, and she was shivering. I didn’t blame her. It would probably bruise, but the memory alone would be enough for her to shrink in on herself for a good long while. She had done better than she believed, and seeing her strength had allowed me to become stronger, gaining a foothold on my own fears.

Roland had laughed out loud as I reached the part about my ruthless bidding tactics. He hadn’t been very pleased that Temple outbid me, but hadn’t seemed too surprised to hear that someone had, either. Almost as if to say it had been worth a shot. But the laughter ceased at hearing of the events following the bidding.

“Who has the relic now?” he asked, snapping me back into the moment. The item I had taken from the stage sat on his lap.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Either that fire creature or Temple. I didn’t stick around to find out.” I discreetly pointed a thumb at Claire where she wouldn’t notice, and Roland nodded. But I felt guilty doing it, as if encouraging him to believe I would have stayed otherwise. Because that wasn’t true. I had been terrified. Just as terrified as Claire.

“Even without her, you did right to run. I…” his eyes grew inward, thinking silent thoughts. “I didn’t anticipate an Agent of Hell or another wizard. Although I’m not surprised to hear it. I should have gone with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “And died. That would have been so helpful.”

He pinned me to my chair with a look, and although it was intimidating, he knew I was right. Still, I didn’t move from my chair.

Then the rest of his words hit me. “Wait, an Agent of Hell?” I asked in a low hiss, my scalp tingling with anxiety. “The smoke thing was a Demon?”

He nodded, face grim. “I shouldn’t have sent you into that. I thought—”

“That I wouldn’t fuck up so badly,” I finished for him.

He didn’t even blink at my curse. “No. Even I would have been ill prepared for such a night.”

I frowned, wondering if he was lying to make me feel better, but thinking back on the night, I reconsidered. Perhaps he was being truthful. It had been one hell of a turnout, so to speak.

“This man who thought he knew you. He was the first killed?”

I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. “He seemed to know the murderer. He was accusing him of something right before everything went to he—” I amended my words, “sideways.” Roland nodded, thinking as he scratched his chin, and then grimacing as he subconsciously tried to shift his leg under the blankets. He wasn’t a man to sit still for long periods.

Claire had checked on him before zoning out, seeming to need the familiar routine actions to keep her from collapsing under her fright. His wounds were worse, almost as if infected. But after a few long minutes of study on a microscope that she pulled out of her bag, Claire had mumbled that something seemed to be holding back — even fighting — the infection. She had finally shrugged, saying she had done all that she could and that he needed his rest or he might lose the leg. Then she had stumbled over to the couch, and hadn’t spoken since.

“A Demon,” I murmured, sipping a cup of tea in my hands. Roland grunted. “But how?” I continued, frustrated. “Shouldn’t Angels be taking care of stuff like that?”

Roland met my eyes, watching me for a few moments, as if debating how much to tell me. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted as someone knocked on the door.

Claire squeaked, tugging up a blanket around her knees, her hair spilling down around her shoulders at the sudden motion.

I gave Roland a slow nod and climbed to my feet. “Who is it?” I called out, loud enough for them to hear me. It was late, and I wasn’t expecting visitors.

“Nate Temple. But anyone who screws me out of a million dollars and then steals my book gets to call me Master,” he added with a mirthless chuckle.

“Go away,” I said, glancing back at Roland, who was studying me curiously.

“No,” he said, sounding amused at my response.

I was about to threaten to call the cops when Roland spoke up. “Let him enter. I may not be able to stand, but Master Temple isn’t one to dismiss lightly…”

I blinked at him in surprise. “You know him?”

Roland was a few seconds in responding, and Temple knocked on the door, harder. “I’ve heard stories…” was all Roland said, staring at the door as if expecting Jesus or the Devil to walk through.

I let out a frustrated sigh, not particularly eager about letting him in. Either he was going to yell at me for costing him money, or make fun of my attempt to hang out with grownups.

But everyone had to pay the piper eventually. And I had taken the book as leverage against him in case he did manage to get the spear. I pulled the door open to see him standing there, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a takeout bag in the other. I frowned at the items, and he smiled politely.

“Thought we might have a bit to talk about,” he said, striding past me into the room. “Thief.”

He stopped dead at seeing Roland, shoulders suddenly flexing beneath his now disheveled suit coat. “Another wizard,” he muttered under his breath. I couldn’t tell if he sounded angry, alarmed, or intrigued.

The gleam in his eyes made me think of all those emotions, if that was possible.

“As long as it’s good wine,” I said, snatching the bottle from his unsuspecting hands and striding into the kitchen. It was then that I realized I wore only a long tee, hanging below mid-thigh, but not suitable for entertaining guests. I was too used to being around Roland and Claire. I could strut around naked for all Roland would be aware of. He had long ago given up on domesticating me. Probably because he quickly learned that the more he pressed, the harder I pressed back. So, I could have danced around topless and his gaze never would have strayed lower than my chin. Claire, of course, was my childhood friend, and we had helped each other dress up for various events for decades. Like sisters.

Still, I was suddenly glad Nate had brought wine.

Because tonight promised to get interesting.