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Byleth could feel him tottering on the edge of a lie, but in the end he shook his head.“No. It said so on their bus.”

“Oh. Well, when I unleash Hell, old people will be among the first to go—because they don’t run as fast,” she explained when he made a strangled, wordless protest. “I mean, even demons with no actual legs can move faster than some old fart using a walker.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.” He checked to make sure no one had overheard before squaring his shoulders under the black leather trench coat and meeting her…

…staring past her left ear. “I don’t like it.”

“Because of the God thing?”

“Yeah. Because of the God thing.” His stance softened as he slid her food across the table. “It isn’t funny.”

She grinned at him over a mouthful of fries.“I wasn’t joking.”

“Byleth.”

“Leslie. You know what I don’t get,” she continued. “You drive a really cool car, you’ve got that high-priced sort of Goth meets ’N Sync look going, you’re neither boxers or briefs so what is it with you and God? It’s like, so geeky. You don’t really believe you have a personal relationship with the big kahuna, do you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

She put down her burger and took a closer look. He really did. It was…unexpected. And disconcerting. Pushing her hair back off her face, she glared at him from under lowered brows. “In my experience, a so-called personal relationship with God mostly involves criticism of lifestyle choices.”

“Lifestyle choices?”

Her eyes went onyx.“I’m a demon.”

Leslie/Deter’s gaze skittered off hers, wandered the room for a moment, then slowly returned. His hands were trembling, but he swallowed and looked deep into the unrelieved black. “You don’t have to be,” he said.

And he believed that, too.

Byleth shoved her chair back hard enough to scrape the hard rubber legs across the tile floor with a noise that mixed fingernails on blackboards with the scream of a jammed fan belt. Half the people in the room winced, the rest put a hand to their better ear and shouted,“What?”

“Come on.” She snatched her diet cola up off the table. “This isn’t getting us any closer to Kingston.”

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]

Claire began to get fidgety as the main street of Marmora disappeared behind them.

“Are you all right?” Dean asked, reaching out to capture her hand.

“I don’t know. Something’s nagging.”

He eased off on the gas.“Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh, sure,” Austin muttered, stepping indignantly across her lap, “but when the cat has to pee, there’s no sympathy.”

“It’s not my bladder, Austin, it’s the Summons.”

“I knew that.”

“Of course you did.” Pulling free from Dean’s grip, she stroked her fingers along the brilliant white expanse of stomach fur, the familiar motion and answering purr smoothing out her agitation.

“Claire?”

“Right, the Summons. We need to turn south. Now.”

Dean looked past her to the snow-covered fields and copses of naked trees passing on the south side of the highway.“Now?”

“Not exactly now. But as soon as you can.” Claire drew the Ontario Map Book out of the glove compartment, found highway seven, followed it to Marmora and beyond. “There.” Her fingernail tapped an intersection of two red lines. “Turn off on number 62 to Belleville.”

“That where we’re headed?”

“No, we have to go farther east, but that’s where we’ll pick up the 401.”

“What’s east of Belleville?”

Claire ran her finger along the double line.“There’s Napanee,” she told them, continuing to check the route, “but I don’t think that’s the…”

“Place?” Austin prodded rolling up onto his feet. Head to one side, he looked from Keeper to map and then followed a thin line of gray up to where it spread out against and disappeared against the gray upholstery on the inside of the roof. “What’s that smoking under your finger?”

“Kingston.” She closed the book with a snap.

“Kingston?” Dean repeated.

Claire met his eyes and nodded.

Austin sat down again.“At the risk of sounding clich?d, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

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“You know what I love about trains? When they stop between stations for stupid reasons, you can’t get off.”

Curled up in the depths of the open backpack, Samuel yawned.“Why would you love that about trains?”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I knew that.”

“Sure you did.” Diana glared out the window at the cars moving by on the highway, one empty, snow-covered field away—her left foot tapping against the floor, right fingers splayed out on the window. “I could have walked over there and got another ride by now, but, oh, no, that’d be against the rules. If I’d been Summoned to Kingston, I could fix whatever the stupid problem is, but only attempting to prevent a gross injustice isn’t reason enough. This isso lame.”

“It’s important you follow the rules.”

She snorted.“That’s something I never thought I’d hear a cat say.”

“I meant you specifically.”