Javier stood abruptly, jerking Aisling from her private horror. He captured her face between his hands before she could evade him. “I need to be on my way now, but I’ll be in touch soon. Give what I’ve said some thought, Aisling. I’m sure you’ll see the benefits of us joining forces. Imagine what could be gained if even a handful of the wealthy and powerful lost their souls to Ghost-or permanently for that matter-while their bodies housed entities you and I could command.”

His hands dropped away from her face. He picked up the figurine. “Just a friendly warning, if you truly care for your demon lover, don’t send him after me. I’m well protected.”

Javier turned and left the patio area. When he stepped beyond the wrought-iron fence marking the tearoom boundaries, he glanced down at the figurine as if checking it for the presence of a demon, then hurried away.

Aisling shuddered. Icy fear coursed through her, propelled by the fast beat of her heart.

“Did you have a nice visit?” Raisa asked, startling her.

“Yes,” Aisling said, and somehow she managed to sound calm underneath the birdlike-scrutiny of Raisa’s dark eyes.

Aisling stood. “The lunch was wonderful, as was the tea. Thank you.”

Raisa nodded but didn’t reach for the dishes on the tables. The silence hung between them, demanding to be filled with confidences, but Aisling wasn’t tempted. She said good-bye and left.

Nervousness trailed her as she hurried toward home. Despite having seen the guardsmen earlier, Aisling worried about what might be waiting for her in the alleyways more than she worried about being out in the open.

Her thoughts raced. Lunch with Javier played itself over and over again in her mind.

There was no sign of Aziel. She couldn’t help but think he’d somehow sensed the figurine in Javier’s possession. He’d known the crystal would flare in his presence and confirm her suspicions about his demon origins.

Worry for Zurael knotted Aisling’s stomach. She couldn’t hide from him what she’d learned. And when she told him, he would hunt Javier.

She turned the corner and stopped at the sight of a car parked in front of her house. It was black, its windows tinted. From a distance she couldn’t determine if it belonged to the Church or if it was the one Elena had arrived in.

Indecision held her motionless. The lack of safe places to go kept her from simply turning and running.

The driver’s door opened. A man emerged from the car as though he stepped out of the pages of one of Geneva’s history books. He wore a brown suit with a matching derby hat-just as Marcus had in the spiritlands when she’d gone looking for Tamara’s lover.

Aisling knew in a heartbeat he’d come to collect the ghostland debt. And strangely enough, the thought of it calmed her.

The man took his hat off and nodded respectfully when she reached him. “I’m Marcus, sent to fetch you, miss.”

He caught her surprise and smiled as he placed the hat back on his head. “The Master calls us all Marcus, after a favored servant when he was a boy. Says it’s easier all the way around. Any other name and we’ve outlived our usefulness to him and know it.”

Marcus patted his vest pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “You’ll want to see this before getting into the car with a stranger.”

Aisling took the paper from him and opened it. She found what she’d expected, a single sigil, the same one the Marcus she’d encountered in the ghostlands had shown her inside his bowler hat.

“Do we need to leave now?” she asked. There was no sign of Aziel, and Zurael wasn’t back from his search of The Barrens.

Marcus tugged on a gold watch fob. An old timepiece dropped to his hand. He looked down at it. “We’ve got a few minutes-just-before we have to be on our way. Don’t worry about meals. Cook will serve you. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to drive you home until after sunrise tomorrow.”

Aisling glanced at her front door, remembered her promise to send Aziel in before going in herself. “I’ll need clothes. And to leave a note. Would you mind going inside with me?”

Marcus pocketed the watch. All affability left his face. “There’s been trouble?”

“Yes.”

“Then I must insist on going in first to make sure it’s safe. The Master would be displeased if something happened to you. Not that I would countenance it either, miss.”

He reached under the car seat. Aisling half-expected him to pull out a Prohibition-era tommy gun. Instead he retrieved a wooden truncheon.

Marcus slipped the rope loop at one end over his wrist, then tapped the palm of his hand with the billy club before nodding, apparently finding the weapon satisfactory. He followed her to the front door and waited while she unlocked the doors, but then insisted she remain on the stoop while he went inside.

A few minutes later he emerged and held the door open for her. A tug to the watch fob brought the timepiece out of his pocket again. “I’m afraid we’re going to be cutting it close if we don’t leave quickly.”

Aisling hurried to her bedroom to gather a change of clothes and something to sleep in. Marcus cleared his throat. “The Master won’t expect you to be dressed on par with a coming-out party. He understands you’ve only recently arrived in Oakland. But you might want to pack your best for the appointment tonight.”

“Thank you, Marcus.”

“My pleasure, miss.”

Aisling packed her clothes, then went to the kitchen to search the drawers for the tablet of paper she thought she’d seen there. It was underneath frayed dish towels and yellowed from age.

A pencil was there, too, its tip broken. She used a knife to sharpen it.

There was so much to tell Zuarel, none of which she wanted to leave in writing. She hesitated, pencil point on the paper, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Marcus shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to say. You’re leaving a note for someone you care about?”

“Yes.”

“Then assure them your physical safety is guaranteed. As my counterpart said when he struck this deal with you, tonight’s work involves a shaman’s task not meant to be difficult or dangerous. You understand we can’t offer assurance when it comes to the use of your gift. But to the best of our ability we’ll see no harm comes to you.”

Aisling nodded her understanding and acceptance. She had to settle for telling Zurael she was paying a debt incurred and would see him in the morning.

Only when they got to the Bay Bridge and San Francisco loomed ahead of them did her nervousness return like a gust of icy wind. Suddenly references to the Master took on chilly meaning, as did the clothing Marcus wore-clothes centuries upon centuries out of style.

He slowed to a stop at the guard booth.

“Authorization!” the guard barked.

“Certainly.”

Marcus pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the guard, but not before Aisling saw the green of printed money held firmly to the back of the paper.

The guard slid the bills into his sleeve as he held the paper underneath a scanner. When the scanner beeped, he returned the paper to Marcus.

“Everything is in order. By law I must remind you that under the terms of the compact between Oakland and San Francisco, the bridge closes from dusk until dawn.”

As soon as they pulled away from the booth, Aisling said, “Marcus, do you serve a vampire?”