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I leaned in, bent over the salt barrier because I wanted to be in her face. I wanted to burn her. Slowly reduce her to cinders while she groveled and begged the way she’d made Loren do so many times.

“Tell me his place,” I hissed. “I fucking dare you.”

Moira leaned forward, too, and glared directly at me as she replied, “On his knees awaiting my command.”

“Bitch!” The curse exploded out of me, and I would have launched myself at her. Would have dove into that sigil circle and tackled her to the ground.

But Sully caught me by the wrist, her grip viselike and her expression taut. “Indy, maybe I should handle this,” she said. I didn’t miss the warning behind her words.

She could kick me out. I was already here on shaky terms. I was supposed to go to meetings, stay clean, and tidy up the gallery at night. Instead, I’d used meetings as an excuse to rendezvous with my dealer, sobriety was a distant dream, and the only part of the gallery I’d tidied was the wine closet. Sully would be within her rights to decide she could do this demon deal and everything else better without me.

I let my head drop in a nod and backed away from the sigil circle. The pillar candle was over half melted. Wax dripped onto the wooden tabletop like water breaking through a dam.

“How much is Loren worth to you?” Sully asked the demoness.

“Don’t say it like that,” I muttered.

“That’s what matters,” she retorted, then addressed Moira once more. “We want to trade. What would it take?”

Moira’s forehead creased. “Why?”

“Why what?” Sully asked.

“Why do you want my dog?” Moira replied.

The gravel in her voice at the last word galled me. It was condescending, demeaning, and untrue.

“He’s not a dog,” I snapped, rounding on her. “And he’s not yours. He’s my partner. My mate.Mine.” I was simmering again, prickly hot and rippling with tension from my toes to my teeth as they ground together. “And you can either make a deal with us and get something out of this, or I will follow you to Hell and bring him back here my damn self. Watch me.”

Bowed up like a much larger man, I wasn’t menacing, but I used to be. I could be. Somewhere, my power was buried. I just had to dig it out. When I did, I would give this demon bitch everybit of her due. Until then, all I had was a decent bluff. Decent enough judging by the way the smug look slowly left her face.

“Phoenix tears, you say?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “That’s what I say.”

Her gaze raked over me, and I wished for some sunglasses like the poker hotshots wore. Something to shield my eyes so she couldn’t see through my false bravado.

At last, she relaxed with her arms crossed and shoulders set. “One vial of tears in exchange for the hound?”

“Loren,” I corrected. Demons were devious, and I wouldn’t be tricked with vague phrasing. I didn’t want any hellhound. I wantedmine.

“I’ll consider it,” Moira said.

The candle wavered, and it drummed up panic in me.

I started what I meant to be a threat, but it came out as a frantic sputter, “Y-you’ll do more than that?—”

“No.” She cut me off. “I won’t. Because our time is up and, if you had a way into Hell, I imagine you would have employed rather than wasting time worrying about what torment was being visited upon… yourmate.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have claimed Loren so boldly. She thought he was hers, and now I was competition. To negotiate, we needed to work together, but I had established myself as a challenger.

As gratifying as it was to finally make her as aware of me as I had long been of her, it might have had the opposite of the desired effect.

“Twenty-four hours,” Sully blurted.

The pillar candle flickered, its wick almost drowned in wax, and Moira’s form wavered in tandem.

“We’ll summon you here then,” Sully continued, “and we’ll have the tears.”