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I froze in place imagining what could have happened if Jack and Rasmus had been free of their restraints when Conn showed up here. Despite their promises not to act against him, they’d already proven themselves to be consummate liars. “Did Jack recognize ya? Tell me the truth, Conn.”

A smirk lit his face before he spoke. “No, he seemed completely clueless about who I was. The ponytail guy eyed me hard, though. He knewsomethingwas not quite right, but neither of them screameddemon.”

“Ignore the ponytail guy. Rasmus sees a threat around every corner, so ya’re not special in that way. Ya look enough like me to be my twin, and if we were standing next to each other, even Ma would wonder if Da put a babe in someone behind her back.”

I didn’t mind that Conn chose me to emulate, but an angry Rasmus would have wanted him dead for it. I shrugged and then answered his original question. “They’ve got maybe another ten minutes until my binding on them wears thin. Packing took me longer than I thought because I took a shower. Since I wasn’t sure when I’d be getting the chance to take another one, I thought it was a good idea.”

“Bridget told me you were going to look for Liam. I told her not to worry because I would go along too.”

I sighed as we walked down the street. “I want ya with me, but ya might not want to tag along when ya hear my task. In exchange for my freedom, I promised to find a demon portal stuck in open mode. Finding Liam was a means to an end. I figured he might know about it and point me in the proper direction.”

“In my true form, I could probably help you find it myself. If that worked, we wouldn’t need Liam.”

“No,” I said, shuddering at the thought. “I don’t want ya running around with red skin and black horns curling backwards. Liam is no doubt in trouble that he can’t get out of, anyway. Plus, demon hunters are out in record numbers looking for the portal the same as they sent me to do. Twenty-seven of them have died looking already. Rasmus told me demons killed everyone on his team but him.”

“That sounds ominous... and unusually aggressive. Demons like doing things in secret and without drawing attention. Someone must have declared war. They hate being hunted.”

“That was my thought as well. And I’d bet none of the hunters bothered to ask why the demons came here. I haven’t heard that anyone except demon hunters were harmed.”

Conn pointed at the coin shop. We disappeared into it and exited forty minutes later. My half-finished breakfast had disappeared and my caffeine buzz was totally gone. I needed to refuel.

“Let’s find some coffee or tea. I need some propping up today.”

Conn smiled. “I know this place close to here. I’ll carry your bag.”

“So long as the road isn’t warded against me, I’m willing to walk anywhere.”

Laughing, Conn reached out and rubbed my back in support. “Aran, I think you have magickal PTSD from being in jail.”

My mouth twisted at the thought that Jack had damaged me in yet another way. “Is that why my loathing for Jack Derringer burns hotter than thousand suns inside my gut? Should I be getting some therapy for it?”

Conn grinned at me. “I like your poetic description. In a couple of days, we’ll revisit your need for therapy. It’s only a fear I have for now.”

“Got anything to tell me that might lessen my hatred for him a bit?” I asked because I was still a hopeful sort of person.

Conn laughed harder, which didn’t bode well for me getting neutral about Jack anytime soon.

“Let’s get coffee before we tell stories,” my familiar advised as he hefted my meager bag of belongings onto one wide shoulder.

“Maybe we should go to a bar instead of a coffee shop,” I grumbled.

“Bars aren’t open this early. It’s barely ten in the morning,” Conn said with a grin curving his lips.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s only the time here in Salem,Connlander of the Fir Bolg. Ya well know it’s evening time somewhere in the world.”

Conn laughed at my use of his name and title. He never seemed to mind that he was bound to me by it. “I heard your words,Aran of The Dagda. It’s hard for me to believe that you’d use my magick to transport us to where we could have a drink at ten in the morning, while you refuse to use it to find your elusive portal. That has to be magickal PTSD talking. Maybe we need to re-examine your priorities.”

I knew what he was getting at and why he found my teasing so funny. Before I went to prison, I was “disgustingly moral” as my mischievous familiar liked to point out. And it was true that I was very careful with both him and my magick when Jack was present.

“Get off my arse, Conn. I’m forty, not twenty. If I want a bloody drink for breakfast, I’ll have one.”

Conn stopped as I walked on. When I realized he’d halted, I looked back to see what was up now. Grinning, he pointed at the door. “Coffee and stories? Or are we going to walk the entirety of Salem until we find a bar that’s open?”

“Very funny,” I said, because it was funny. Well, sort of. I was definitely feeling off today.

Smirking at my capitulation, Conn opened the door and held it for me as I headed back to him.

ChapterEight