I look around, trying to figure out if that’s a compliment or a criticism. “Thanks.” I usher him to our couch and offer him something to drink, which he politely declines. “I guess you’re not afraid to be in the same room as me anymore?”
He smiles. “Our last encounter was less than ideal. I hope we can both move past our mutual first impressions.”
I point at the box. “Is the gift for me?”
“From Fiona. She said she wanted to apologize for the way she left things with you after…”
“After I burned down her home and everything she owned?”
He smiles then tugs on the golden ribbon and lifts the lid. The four sides of the box collapse outward, revealing a small chocolate cake inside. Beside it is a single gold fork. The metal of the handle winds itself into a Celtic knot at the end.
“A cake?”
“It’s a dacquoise,” he corrects me.
“That sounds like Fiona.”
“Yes,” he admits, looking at the dessert. “When she found out what you had done and what you had gone through, she decided to make you something special. It has certain properties.” He looks at me, his eyes dancing across my face. I hope the hood keeps me well enough in the dark to hide the worst of my complexion. Probably not. “Certain healing properties.”
As I reach for the fork, Ammon interrupts. “Perhaps I might persuade you to retrieve the items you have on loan before you enjoy your cake?”
Of course, he’s here for his magical objects. I retrieve the two boxes containing the pendulum and the veil from my bedroom and hand them to Ammon. Then I dig into the cake. It’s only a couple of bites. Well, a couple of Darcy-sized bites.
He sits there, watching me chew. I raise my eyebrows. It’s pretty good.
“I’m sorry you didn’t learn the demon’s name,” he says, pointing at his own eyes as an indication that he can see that mine are the same yellow color as always.
“I think it’ll be okay.”
He appraises me. “You seem different. It’s still inside you, but… something has changed.”
Part of me is surprised he noticed. Then again, Ammon is a… whatever he is. I nod. “Ever since my last episode, I’ve had more control. Not just over my body but over its powers as well.”
Ammon looks intrigued. “How so?”
I reach into the gift box and remove one of the paper dessert doilies. Pinching it between two fingers, I raise it up for him to see. I concentrate on my right arm, trying to recall the sensation I felt at the cathedral.
My arteries start to glow. Once again, vibrant orange blood flows through my arm. My whole hand radiates with a burning heat. The paper doily flashes into a flame then disappears in a wisp of smoke.
When I relax, my hand dims, and the molten blood fades until it returns to normal. This is a trick I’ve been working on for the past week. I can summon just enough of Dudley’s strength but still keep him at bay. Some powers don’t require any effort. I’m stronger than I was before—stronger even than Paige. She doesn’t like that.
Ammon watches, seeming amused. “You have it under control. I guess we don’t have to worry about… what’s his name, Dudley?”
“I was watching the news,” I say, changing the subject, “and saw reports about Carmen Viramontes. You know, she was the witch who cursed the girl I was looking for. It wasn’t Melchora.”
“Yes,” he says, “I am aware.”
“The reports are that she’s dead.”
“Yes.” Again, he is stoic.
“Did you kill her?”
Ammon doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you really want to know?” His manner is too calm and casual. It’s a warning against asking questions to which I don’t actually want the answers.
“I want to know if you’re someone I can trust.”
“You, of all people, shouldn’t trust anyone.”
Yeah, that’s a warning. “I need to know who I’m dealing with. What I’m dealing with.”
“She’s not dead.”
I release a gasp. This was not the answer I was expecting—it’s worse. Carmen Viramontes is still loose. “She’s dangerous. A murderer! She could come back and—”
“You won’t want to worry about her. Carmen Viramontes is alive but not free. Obviously, we could not allow her to remain in police custody. That would be too dangerous. But neither could we pass sentence on someone who was merely practicing magic, dark though it may be.”
My eyes narrow. “Who’s ‘we’? The Mancery?”
He chuckles, the first unchecked response he’s offered so far. “Dear, no. Nothing as sectarian as that. Just a few of us like-minded individuals.”
“Fiona?”
He nods.
“Where is Carmen now?” I ask.
“She’s… contained.”
He carefully takes hold of his boxes and stands. This marks the end of this conversation. “I’m sorry these did not help you find the answers for which you were searching,” he says, gesturing to the boxes. “Perhaps there is a reason. Some grand plan.”
I can’t help but wonder if he’s already planning how to use this extended affliction to his benefit. He already has my blood. What’s next?
With his free hand, he pulls the hood off my head. I stiffen as he looks over my face as if he’s appraising me. He raises his hand to my cheek, and I close my eyes, anticipating his gentle touch. It never happens. When I close my eyes, I can see him pull away. Only then do I remember the last time we touched and how the brief contact burned my hand.
He smiles. “It has worked wonders. You’re back to your beautiful self.”
I blush.
“We should thank Fiona when next we see her.” Ammon opens the door to leave.
We are both surprised to find David pacing in front of my door, his fingers digging into his hair. He turns to us, just as surprised. “Oh, hey.”
Ammon says, “Good day, Darcy. I hope to see you soon.” He steps past David and nods to him. “Detective.” Then he strolls down the hall without looking back.
David watches Ammon walk away. “Who is
