“It’d have to be a distraction that didn’t scream ‘you’re surrounded by SWAT teams.’?”

“True.”

Adam went quiet.

“What’s up?” I said as we jogged around the far bend of our improvised track.

“I know you won’t appreciate the reminder, but … your spells aren’t up to it, Savannah. They aren’t reliable enough. Lucas and Paige could cover you, but …”

“If they have to cover me, they might as well take in someone more useful. Like you or Clay.”

“Hey, no, I never said—”

“But it’s true. You and Clay have unique talents. Right now, Paige and Lucas are the better spellcasters. I wouldn’t bring anything new to the table.”

He shook his head. “You said you wanted to let Aratron play this out, but I think we need to try summoning him. Get your powers back.”

We jogged past the base. Tactical officers stood in clusters, some checking me out, some glowering at us, as if we were showing them up by making use of our downtime.

I waited until we were in the cornfield again, then said, “Is it even possible to summon a eudemon?”

“I’ve seen rites in the old books.” He paused. “Rites that take a week to prepare, use ingredients I’ve never heard of and have never actually been proven to work.”

I glowered at him. “Helpful.”

“I don’t think we need that. If Aratron’s watching over you, he can’t be far. I say we try a basic summoning—”

“It won’t work,” called a voice behind us.

We stopped and turned to see one of the officers—a dark-haired man in his thirties—gingerly making his way through the corn.

“Eavesdropping?”

He smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, barely an expression of amusement at all, but I recognized it.

“Aratron,” I said. “Well, that was easy.”

“You know who I am then? Good. The cloak of mystery had its charms at first, but it was getting tiresome.” He waved for us to follow. “Come, children. We need to talk.”

As we headed deeper into the cornfield, I said, “I know you have some master plan for me, and I’ve gone along with it so far, but I need my spells back. We have to get into that compound. Gilles de Rais is going to—”

“—summon Lucifer using his daughter.” He peered over in the direction of the ruined farmhouse. “Jaime Vegas is here, is she not?”

“Yes, but—”

“We met once.”

“Yeah, she told us, but—”

“It was when she discovered those humans learning magic. A precursor to this whole debacle. Hope Adams was with her at the time. I’d expressed an interest in meeting Hope. That never came to pass.”

“I’m sure Jaime did her best. Now—”

“Oh, that wasn’t a complaint. There is no way for Jaime to contact me even if she’d been so inclined. I was merely making an observation. Musing on how things have come full circle it seems. From Hope Adams to Hope Adams. Interesting, don’t you think?”

No, I did not. I suspected that Hope—captive in that subterranean vipers’ nest, thinking her husband was dead, and that she and their daughter would shortly follow—wouldn’t find this delay all that interesting either. I decided I liked Aratron better when his visits were short and cryptic.

“If we can arrange a meeting with Hope later, we’ll do that for you,” Adam said. “As for getting in, we were thinking—”

“I heard what you were thinking,” Aratron said. “Discussing actually. I said it wouldn’t work.”

“You can’t give me back my spells?” I said.

“Of course I can. And I will. When you get inside that compound. But magic will not get you into it. The exterior is warded against them. Once inside, you can cast. But you cannot use spells to get inside.”

“Okay, so—”

The sound of someone crashing through the cornstalks cut me short. Troy strode into the field. No—not Troy. I didn’t even need to see those blazing green eyes to tell me that.

I shook my head. “You know, Asmondai, Benicio’s going to start getting a little pissed if you keep possessing his bodyguard like that.”

He ignored me, bearing down on Aratron. “You have interfered once too often, spirit. Did you think I wouldn’t learn of your meddling? Taking the girl’s powers so she cannot protect my son?”

“Um, I’m not exactly helpless,” Adam said.

“You have crossed a line that you should not have crossed,” Asmondai said to Aratron.

Aratron only lifted his brows. “Is that a threat, demon? Please, do tell me how you plan to carry it through. Your kind have no dominion over mine. In fact, if I recall correctly, it is the other way around. Not that we have invoked that power in millennia—you do get so resentful—but a reminder might be in order.”

“Don’t threaten me, spirit.”

“Then save the bluster. It suits Balaam better.” He turned to us. “There is another way into that pit. Gilles de Rais is waiting for someone. A necromancer whose assistance could make the difference between success and failure. Gordon Scott. Have you heard of him?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Class-A dirtbag who fancies himself a zombie master? The council has tangled with him a few times. He seems to think the antislavery laws don’t apply to dead people. So he’s mixed up in this? Why am I not surprised?”

If we’d had time to compile lists of supernaturals who might be involved, Scott would have been on it. Not only was he an opportunist, but it was rumored he’d been allied with the group that took my mother and me captive all those years ago. Using an underground compound was probably his idea, based on that experience.

“He’s been de Rais’s best hope of summoning Lucifer,” Aratron said. “He’s the one who set them on Walter Alston.”

“This spirit is misleading you,” Asmondai said. “Scott parted ways with de Rais two days ago.”

“Yes,” Aratron said. “Which is why de Rais waits. He has sent a message telling Scott that he now has Lucifer’s child, which is the route the necromancer himself suggested after their failure with Walter Alston. De Rais hopes Scott will return.”