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in his eyes, Ione was surprised to see compassion and concern instead. “That I carry the blood of a demon in my veins?” The weight of every self-recriminatory thought she’d been having for weeks pressed down on her. Every fear she’d had of losing everything was coming true. And she deserved it. She was tainted. “If my sister Theia’s research is to be believed, I’m afraid the answer is yes.”

      She felt deflated and empty after holding the secret inside for so long. Spoken aloud, it seemed commonplace, something that couldn’t possibly mean the end of everything she’d known. But it was.

      Ione drew back her shoulders. “I’ll save you the time and bother, Mr. Gideon. I just need to collect a few things before I go. If you want to have someone accompany me to make sure I’m not stealing any Covent property, I’ll understand.”

      “Collect a few things?” Dev frowned. “Where are you going?”

      Ione wrinkled her nose at him. “I—home, Mr. Gideon. I’d rather go quietly without a public spectacle. My coven deserves better, even if I don’t.”

      Dev lifted an eyebrow. “Miss Carlisle, you seem to be operating under the misapprehension that I endorse the agenda of this deranged person or persons calling themselves Nemesis and defiling the sacred grounds of this temple. I have no intention of asking you to step down. Not for this.

      “Depending on the outcome of my investigation, once concluded, if my recommendations to the Covent administration include electing a new high priest or priestess, it will be because of your involvement with the necromancer. Not because of some antiquated notion of impure blood.”

      Where had the smug prick gone? Was he actually being nice?

      “I’m confused. What this ‘Nemesis’ nut says is true—my ancestor was found guilty of having demon blood, and when a member of my family was discovered to have married one of her descendants, the Carlisles were expelled from the Covent. Doesn’t the Covent frown on dark magic?”

      Dev’s eyes were piercing. “Do you practice dark magic?”

      “If you’re asking about necromancy, of course not. But my affinity for magic clearly isn’t born of goodness and light. It’s...demonic.” The word felt bitter on her tongue.

      “There’s a world of difference between demon ancestry and what modern religion defines as demonic. It so happens that demonology was my area of focus at university. What we call a ‘demon’ these days is more accurately a malevolent energy. Anyone can cultivate such negative energy. One doesn’t have to be ‘possessed’ by some ancient spirit. In fact, it’s rather racist to suggest that what’s in a person’s blood should make them inherently evil, don’t you think?”

      “I...hadn’t given it much thought.” She’d given it a lot of thought, actually. She’d thought of nothing else since Theia and Rhea had broken the news to her. But the way Dev was looking at her with those luminous eyes was making her feel as though she’d said something inappropriate and offensive.

      “Don’t get me wrong, Miss Carlisle. There may still be consequences for withholding this information from the Covent leadership. I am obligated to report it, after all. The Leadership Council may not all be quite as enlightened on the subject, and not disclosing this information when you learned of it may be viewed as a breach of faith.” He carefully rolled up the parchment and made a gesture toward the remains. “Look, why don’t I clean this up? And then you and I can talk at length—if you don’t mind sticking around for a bit. I can interview the rest of the coven members at another time.”

      This was exactly the opposite of the reaction she’d expected from him. A few minutes ago he’d all but accused her of making up the accusations of necromancy against Carter and practicing it herself. And now he was trying to reassure her that her demon blood didn’t make her evil?

      Dev glanced around. “Do you keep any rubbish bags on the premises? Preferably dark, heavy-duty? I’d rather not carry that about in something transparent and have the others seeing it.”

      Ione studied him and nodded with an intake of breath. “I think there are some gardening supplies in the basement.” Though she didn’t exactly relish going down there. It was where one of Carter’s victims had been stowed, and the smell had been impossible to get out completely no matter how much ventilation they’d given it. “I’ll have someone go downstairs and scare something up.”

      Her conscience needled her for being a coward, but Margot was waiting inside the atrium, eager to do something to help. Ione sent her down to get the bags before reassuring the others that someone had just pulled a rather nasty prank and it was being taken care of.

      On the bench farthest from the doors, Calvin sat, looking gray. Ione popped into the back office to get him a bottle of water and returned to slip onto the bench beside him.

      “Hey.” She handed him the water. “Mr. Gideon’s going to clean up and then the rest of you can go home. Are you okay to drive or do you want someone to give you a ride?”

      Calvin took the water gratefully and shook his head as he took a sip. “I can manage. I just...don’t want to see that again, you know?”

      “I know. I’m sorry you had to be the one to find it.”

      “Do you think it’s...was it the necromancer?”

      “Carter Hamilton?” Ione shook her head decisively. “He’s behind bars and he’s been stripped of his power. He can’t do anything to hurt us. This is just some disturbed individual who’s focused on me because of everything that’s happened. Just trying to rattle me.”

      Calvin huffed. “Well, it sure as hell rattled me.” He glanced up at her, brow wrinkled with concern beneath his receding hairline. “About that night—you needed our help—Rafe needed our help—and the coven let you both down.”

      Ione squeezed his forearm. “You couldn’t have known how far gone Hamilton was. None of us knew. It all turned out all right in the end, anyway, so please don’t give it another moment’s thought.”

      “But we’re not going to let you down again. I just wanted you to know that. We’re all standing with you.”

      Ione smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

      Dev returned from washing his hands and dismissed the others, promising to contact them for their interviews at a later time. With the temple empty except for the two of them, there was no more putting off a one-on-one discussion.

      But for the love of all that’s holy, do not think about your last one-on-one.

      * * *

      From the moment Ione Carlisle entered the temple, Dev had felt the ground wobbling beneath him, refusing to stabilize, as if some kind of psychic fracking operation had disrupted his equilibrium. There was something painfully familiar about her, like someone he’d met in a dream or another life, his mythical counterpart split off by a vengeful Zeus. Which was preposterous. At best, she had to be grossly incompetent as a high priestess and, at worst, she was in league with a necromancer and guilty of malfeasance. Never mind the fact that he didn’t believe in such nonsense as soul mates.

      Her eyes, a grayish green, like the color of lichen or pale jade, were the most uncannily familiar part of her. When they fixed on him, he felt as if he had something on the tip of his tongue he meant to say but couldn’t quite recall it. And worse, Kur seemed to stir inside him at the sight of her as if he knew her.

      “Have a seat, Miss Carlisle.” Dev sat behind the desk he realized was most likely her own, but it was important to maintain the symbolic position of authority. He couldn’t very well take her to task from the guest chair while she sat behind the large oak desk herself.

      She took the empty chair without any sign of resentment. “Ms.”

      “Sorry?”

      “Ms. Carlisle. You keep calling me ‘miss.’ That’s considered a bit sexist and archaic here.”

      “Oh.

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