"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you of being weak in the mental department." I snuggled back into him, stroking his chest. "I think our answer is going to have to be something illegal."

"Breaking into the Trust offices and searching for information?"

I nodded and kissed the little dip at the base of his throat. Above my head, he sighed, tightening his arms around me. "I fear that is the only solution I can see, as well."

"We should do it tonight. It's less likely that anyone will be around in the offices. They'll be too busy trying to raise spirits elsewhere."

Christian said nothing.

"Then again, they might expect us to do just that, although I don't think they know what it is I'm seeking. It's possible that if they really do know who and what you are, they will connect you to Sebastian, but we can't be certain of that."

His chest moved slowly beneath my hand, one breath to every five of mine. "Hmmm. You know, with your new tolerance of sunlight, it might be better if we waited until just before dawn. Then Guarda and Eduardo and Phillippa would likely to be heading off to their beds, never thinking that you would be able to get out and about then."

His body lay tense beneath my cheek. I wondered briefly if he was worried about the sunlight. "Of course, there's always the direct approach. I could hire myself a couple of really big bodyguards, and just march into the office during the day. Maybe I'd luck out and Guarda and the gang would be out to lunch or something."

Not only had his fingers stopped stroking me, he didn't veto the last, asinine plan that even I recognized was pure folly. Brute strength was nothing to the power of the triumvirate, and if Guarda had any brains at all, she'd be sure to keep Eduardo and Phillippa close by just on the off chance I came calling.

"Christian?"

"Peste," he swore, gently rolling me off him and getting to his feet, grabbing a pair of black jeans and pulling them on. Tension was visible in every line of his body.

"What's wrong?" I sat up and pulled the sheets up over my chest. "Christian?"

He started for the door to the hallway. "Don't you feel it?"

I stilled and opened myself up to the house. "No, I just feel the gruesome fivesome. They're all in your study. What is it? The triumvirate?"

He spat out a word as he slipped through the open door, leaving me frozen with fear.

Demon.

Chapter Fourteen

"Oh, crap," I breathed, for a moment too terrified at the thought of a demon to do anything. Then I realized that was the man I loved out there about to battle a soldier of some demon lord, and it was my job to be at his side, helping him where I could. Summoners might not be any great shakes at fighting minions of the dark, but we do have a few tricks up our sleeves. I hurried into my jeans and pulled on a sweater, taking time to step into some shoes before dashing out into the hallway and racing down the stairs.

Demons go to ground whenever possible; they draw their strength from the earth, and get weaker the farther they are from it. Therefore, demons will almost always engage you in battle in a basement. I stumbled down the stairs to the ground floor, my leg screaming its protest at the combination of my earlier exercise in the tub and being jolted down two flights of stairs.

"Allie? What is the matter?" Esme appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Demon," I called over my shoulder as I ran for the door to the basement stairs. "Stay in the study and keep the others there."

I tried desperately to remember the little I'd learned of demon lore. What did come back to me had me spinning around on the stairs and gritting my teeth as I forced my poor leg into leaping back up the stairs to Christian's study. I ran straight through Esme, and then Antonio as he drifted through the door, throwing apologies and orders over my shoulder as I scrabbled through my bag. "Sorry about that, Antonio. Esme, bring Alis back in here. You'll be safe here. Where the heck is my… Oh there it is."

"Mi amor, what is the problem? That one, 'e 'as frightened you? 'E will answer to my sword this time, that I will swear upon my life."

"You're dead, and the problem isn't Christian; it's a demon. For heaven's sake, stay here where you're safe." I gathered up my chalk, the bottle of holy water, and my notebook, and spun around, dodging Alis as I hurried back down the stairs. My leg was screaming, but not as much as my mind. Christian had been alone with the demon for two or three minutes; what was he doing? Did he have experience with demons? Did he know they didn't like water, that if you captured one in a circle, it could be made to tell the truth about who summoned it? Did he know how to draw a circle strong enough to hold a demon? And worst of all, just what type was the demon—one of the weak minions, or a strong emissary of a demon lord?

The smell hit me as I raced down the basement stairs. Demons have a very strong odor, something that has been compared to that of a moldering grave. Never having stuck my nose in a moldering grave, I couldn't say, but I did know the smell raised all the hairs on the back of my neck and made my internal warning system go into overdrive trying to convince me to turn around and get myself out of there.

What I saw as I threw open the door to the wine cellar stopped me dead in my tracks. Christian leaned against the wall nearest the door, his arms crossed over his bare chest, his eyes solid black. Standing at the end of one of the six-foot-tall wine racks was a handsome man in a three-piece suit.

A very handsome man.

An exceptionally handsome man. One with dark blond hair slicked back from a broad brow, dark, sardonic eyes, and a pencil-thin mustache.

It was a demon… in Eurotrash form.

Are you okay? I asked Christian. He didn't answer me, didn't even glance over to me, but he held out his hand in warning to keep me from stepping between him and the demon. I could feel the power he was exerting to keep the demon in one place, but I didn't see any signs of containment wards. I had no idea how he was controlling the demon, but decided how wasn't important.

"This is your woman," the demon said, its voice making a couple of cracks appear in the cement wall.

I knew Christian wasn't happy having me there with him in the room with what appeared to be one of the greater demons. Only the upper soldiers in a demon lord's service could cause the wall to crack with just a few words.

"She is not Joined with you. Will you give her to me?"

A hand-size patch of plaster fell off the far wall.

I wet my fingers with holy water and moved next to Christian to trace a ward over his heart, being careful to avoid blocking his gaze.

"She is nothing but flesh and bones, Dark One. You could be powerful, more powerful than you can imagine. I know what you seek. If you give her to me, I can give you more power than the lord who created you."

Two of the ceiling lights went out.

I repeated the warding process on my own chest, then squatted down to draw a circle on the tile floor using the holy water, wondering what the demon was talking about. Christian had told me his father had been the one made a Dark One, not him.

"That will do you no good," the demon told me, its words punctuated by the sound of a bottle of wine exploding. I looked up, quickly tracing a capture symbol with my still-wet fingers, an archaic spell a wizard had taught me in case I ever ran up against a succubus or any of the other minor creatures who were sometimes attracted to haunted sites. It didn't last long, but if you were quick, you could use it to keep the creature held to one place for a few vital seconds.

"It's going to take more than just holy water to hold one of its power," I told Christian. He dragged a fingernail across his wrist, stepping forward to allow the blood seeping from the scratch to drop into the circle. I held out my hand to him.