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The witch approached with timid steps. She crouched before me, and the hem of her long skirt puddled on the floor.

I wanted to lean into her, to tell her everything, then beg her to help. Someone had to. I couldn’t do this forever, and that was exactly how much time Nero had. He could outwait and outlast,into Indy’s next lifetime or the one after that. Well past the end of my resolve.

Now before me, the witch glanced at Nero. “I don’t suppose you’ve tried asking him nicely?”

The demon folded his arms. With the sun streaming in behind him, he remained like a shadow, a void cut out of the room. “I havedemanded,” he replied, “and he is compelled to obey.”

The witch said nothing further as she faced me once more. After another moment’s assessment, she extended her hand. It hovered in the air between us, wordlessly asking permission to come closer.

Despite the anxious shivers racing through my body, I tipped my head forward, giving her access to the muzzle’s buckles fastened against the base of my skull.

With a gentle tug and slide, the gag fell away, and I drew an unimpeded breath. I straightened, running my tongue over my chapped lips and then rolling them together.

The witch set the muzzle on the floor, then lowered herself to kneel along with me so her face was below mine. Her smile was so welcome, so wanted, that I felt myself weakening.

The past few weeks had worn me down, and I’d been tired before I got here. It was a low I tried not to let myself feel, a hole I was afraid I’d fall into and never climb out.

“What’s your name?”the witch asked.

I swallowed, trying to make my voice more than a croak as I answered, “Loren.”

“Hi, Loren,” she replied. “I’m Elise.”

Her expression softened, and I steeled myself against it. Set my jaw to keep from pleading for her to get me out of here, away from Nero, back to Brooklyn. Back to Indy.

From his post at the foot of the nearby bed, Nero let out an aggravated grumble. “This doesn’t look much like witchcraft. Need I remind you I brought you here for a purpose?”

“He’s talking, isn’t he?” Elise retorted.

Was that the game? Had I been so easily deceived?

My gaze flicked to the bedside table where a canvas tote bag sat. I’d never seen it before, so it must have belonged to the witch. It was flopped closed, but I imagined what might be inside. Magical implements meant to manipulate or strip confessions from me. Of course, Nero hadn’t brought someone here to be kind.

Elise reached toward me again. “Why are you keeping secrets, pup? Do you know what he’s asking? About the phoenix?”

I bared my teeth at her, and my hound’s growl crept up my throat.

The witch recoiled while Nero stomped forward and grabbed a handful of my hair. He yanked me up, using his grip to give me a rough, scalp-stinging shake.

“Mangy monster,” he spat, then dropped me on my bruised knees.

“It won’t help matters to make him hate you more.” Elise rose and smoothed down her skirt before moving toward the bag on the bedside table.

While she rifled through its contents, I stretched my shoulders and strained against the bonds that secured my wrists. The unknown drummed up panic in me. I didn’t know much about the limits of magic, only that I didn’t want to test them.

Nero had used brute force, hurled insults, and reminded me what would happen if I proved myself useless. There were cages in Hell, places I could be confined for eternity. Moira wouldn’t stop it. She’d practically endorsed it when she’d left me in thekennels herself. Even if shewasinclined to intervene, Nero was my master now, and he outranked her.

After a short search, Elise straightened away from her bag with a small jar in hand. The contents looked to be a kind of gray powder that shifted as she tilted the jar from side to side.

Her features pinched as she considered it, then looked over at Nero. “He talks, and I get a clean slate? No more deal?”

The mention of a deal gave me pause. Since my primary purpose in the afterlife was reaping bartered souls, I’d heard countless desperate pleas. For mercy, forgiveness, or stays of execution. I couldn’t grant those wishes but, if Nero held Elise’s contract, it was possible he could.

The archdemon shook his head. It was strange not to see his horns spiraling out from above his ears. “I get the phoenix, and you’re free,” he replied. “And I’ll have the phoenix after he talks.”

I swallowed hard, alternating between the two negotiating in front of me and the bottle of dust in Elise’s hand. I’d seen truth serums in movies, often an injection used to loosen captives’ stubborn tongues and draw out damning information. My heart raced through beats as I considered what would happen if Elise’s powder worked like that. One puff and I would be forced to confess everything about Indy and our lives together, where he was hiding, who he was with, and then…

“Then what happens to him?” Elise’s question stopped my train of thought on a dangerous precipice.