If he’d thought to deflect her suspicion, he hadn’t. He’d solidified it instead.

She’d wondered if the Church played a role in Elena’s abduction when she found the connection between it and the branded man who’d sold Ghost to Elena and taken her from Sinners. And now Aisling had another link, this one between the Church and a man whose store was visited by humans without supernatural abilities. Men like Anthony Tiernan, the dark priest Zurael killed. Men like the son of Nicholas’s wealthy client, the pretend sorcerer Irial killed.

Aisling escaped Javier’s grip when Raisa returned to take away their empty plates and offer dessert. “None for me,” she said through frozen lips, fumbling as she pulled the folded money from her pocket and counted out what she thought she owed.

It was an effort for Aisling to control her desire to escape Javier’s presence and hurry home. She scanned the area past the wrought-iron boundary of the tearoom for Aziel, for Zurael-and found neither.

Javier followed Aisling’s lead and paid for his lunch, too. Raisa lingered as if hoping for an invitation to sit or read the tea leaves. When one didn’t come, she walked away slowly.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you with my confession, Aisling,” Javier said, “but apparently I have and I’m sorry for that.” A small smile curved his lips. “I shared a little known fact, my connection to the Church, with you, because I hoped to put you at ease, to show you we share a certain dangerous predicament in that we share an undesirable connection with the Church, one we have to handle with great care given their financial and political resources.”

Aisling forced calm into her limbs. She forced herself to meet his gaze. His nearly black irises made her think of the soul-stealing entities that could be found in the spiritlands. And in a moment of clarity she realized this was the true trap, the one she’d expected to be waiting for her when she went searching for Nicholas.

“I don’t trust the Church,” she admitted, willing to draw Javier out, to delay the moment when she had to leave the tearoom, because now the walk home seemed far more treacherous.

“You’re smart not to trust them,” Javier said, relaxing, seeming to accept that he’d managed to reduce her fear. “They have their own agendas, one of which is to find Ghost, I think. I can’t imagine they’re thrilled with the prospect of having its use spread through the wealthy classes. No telling what voices those in power might start hearing, and what Church whispers might no longer be heard because of them.”

Aisling nodded, encouraging him to continue. She believed Annalise Wainwright’s vision was true and the Church had sent the vampire’s shaman to his death trying to find Ghost. She suspected Henri had lost his life for the same reason.

Javier’s reasoning was in keeping with what she knew of those whose lives had moved beyond the daily struggle for survival-but she would find it equally believable that he was behind the creation of Ghost.

He leaned forward and said, “I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. It’s a hazard that comes with owning the shop. Not all the guardsmen serve only the city or the Church. Some of them are in the pocket of wealthy and powerful families who’ve recently lost loved ones in magic ceremonies gone wrong. They’re looking for someone to blame and I make a wonderful target.

“I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I find you attractive, Aisling. I think we could be very good together.” Javier reached out to stroke her cheek, but even for answers she couldn’t bear his caress.

She jerked back. His eyes flashed, narrowed, then slowly filled with speculation. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Does the demon who accompanied you to my shop serve you so willingly, kill for you so willingly, because you’ve enslaved him with sex, perhaps even love, Aisling? It’s a dangerous game to play with a demon. I wonder if you’re equally ensnared.”

Aisling did her best to hide the alarm she felt. She refused to acknowledge his reference to Zurael.

Javier smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Gaining access to your special gifts interests me far more than access to your body. I’m content to share nothing more than a working relationship with you.”

His absolute confidence unnerved her. Every instinct shouted that she was in the presence of the man who’d orchestrated the dark ceremonies-the man Zurael hunted.

Aisling doubted Javier would admit his guilt, but she pushed anyway. “I won’t work with you. Those who practice black magic and attempt to gain power by human sacrifice are damned to dark, horror-filled places in the spiritlands.”

Javier’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you saying you fear for your soul? I rather imagine there’s a place in hell for you already, at the side of your demon lover.”

He opened his jacket. From a deep inside pocket he retrieved the figurine that had been behind the counter of his shop. His thumb stroked the red crystal set in its forehead. “My assistant mistakenly thought this reacted to your presence. I didn’t disabuse her of the notion. It’s an old artifact, predating much of civilization.

“Before The Last War it spent centuries in the hands of various private collectors, all of whom gained possession of it through illegal means. I believe it was originally relegated to a storage room in a museum after being found by archaeologists, though it disappeared shortly thereafter and was sold on the black market.

“If there are a handful of these statuettes still in existence, I’d be shocked. I’d be equally shocked if even a handful of people would recognize it and understand its true purpose.

“You’ve no doubt guessed, but I’ll tell you anyway. Humans-gifted and non-gifted alike-have always called upon otherworldly beings. Angels, gods, demons, devils-name them what you will, through ritual sacrifice, ceremony or rite, prayer and incantation, we’ve tried to enlist their aid, compel their aid.”

Javier’s eyes glittered. His thumb again stroked the darkened gem in the figurine’s forehead. “This particular statuette was used by priests. It served to warn them whenever malevolent spirits were present, beings the Church would label demons. Imagine my surprise when despite the wards protecting my shop against such entities, it flared when you entered the shop accompanied by one of them walking around in daylight in human form.”

He placed the figurine on the table between them. “Do you know what happens to those found guilty of consorting with demons? They’re branded, and regardless of gender they become fair game, though women suffer far more than men do. After all, if someone is willing to lie with a demon, then how can they protest sex with a human, willing or not?”

His smile became predatory. “I think you understand now why I’m so confident we will be working together. The Church won’t protect you. You’re every bit as disposable to them as Henri was. In fact, you’re something of a liability to them. Here’s another little known fact. As I mentioned when we sat down for lunch, I spent a great deal of my childhood in the tender care of the Church, much of it with Father Ursu, who saw the dark nature of my soul-read my aura and the strength of my inherent gifts-then tried to scrub it clean.”

Aisling’s stomach knotted. She remembered Father Ursu closing his eyes in the hallway of the farmhouse as if he looked elsewhere to ensure she was the one he should take to Oakland. She thought about his interest in Aziel and wondered if he’d seen a demon’s aura.

If her suspicions were right about the Church being behind Elena’s abduction, and if the vampires were right about the Church being afraid to openly go after whoever was responsible for Ghost-had they used her, knowing, hoping, she’d summon a demon if she found Elena in time to keep her from being sacrificed? Was it a test to see if she could be used to do something they couldn’t? And if she succeeded, would she be branded, put to death for consorting with demons, for carrying a demon taint?