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“The sort that keeps things… orderly.” His mouth curved, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “You pay to sit. You pay to play. You win, we take our cut. You lose…” He shrugged. “You work for us until you pay off the debt.”

Well, at least he was transparent. However, I wasn’t here to play games. I was here to sell a relic.

I reached into my pocket to produce my last coin, but something stilled my hand. Behind me, the air stirred where my mother’s ghost hovered, and the relics tucked inside my bodice began vibrating harder. The power prickled as it seeped into my veins. It wasn’t like the rush of magick that came from performing a charging ritual. It was stronger, almost like I could soak in their demonic influence through our unavoidable proximity.

Which, I told myself, wasn’t the same as making a deal.

As the magick continued to seep into me, I felt like I could do anything, accomplish any goal, control anyone.

I leaned forward and gave the doorman the same smile my mother had given me. “If I promise to be a very, very good girl and not disturb the gameplay, can I forgo payment? I’m only here to meet a friend. Perhaps you know him. He has a crutch.”

His muddy eyes went glassy before a dull red light flashed in them. “O’course,” he said. “You must be here for Hartley.”

“Yes, Hartley,” I confirmed.

He nodded eagerly, then held the door open for me. It was so easy, I almost felt bad for him. “Thank you for your kindness. I shan’t forget it.”

As I entered the noisy gambling den, an invisible film stretched over my skin, as if I’d just walked through a spider web. It was a spell of some kind. But I wasn’t sure what. Probably something that revealed those who came to cheat. When I was through the other side, I realized Mama’s ghost was no longer with me.

Which was probably for the best.

I glanced around the darkened room, searching for the sailor, but was distracted by the amount of demonic power present. If I hadn’t known anything about dark magick or how it played on your wants, I wouldn’t have suspected a thing, but I could feel it in the peeling walls and coursing around the wooden tables.

I grinned. My scrying had been successful. This was the right place.

But underneath all the dark magick, there was a cloying scent of rotting fruit. I wrinkled my nose. This part of town was truly foul.

Thankfully, I spotted the sailor, whom the doorman named Hartley, seated at one of the tables with his crutch propped against his chair. He was still wearing the same ratty sailor's coat, and the graying stubble on his chin hadn’t been shaved.

When he caught me watching him from across the crowded gambling den, he smiled and winked like what we shared was something worth remembering.

It wasn’t, but it had served its purpose. Now, he would serve another.

Picking my way between the chairs, I came up behind Hartley and draped my arms loosely over his shoulders, as if I’d done it a dozen times before. Then I leaned in just enough for my voice to brush his ear. “You’re hard to find.”

He tilted his head. “Am I? I wasn’t trying to be. But I’m glad you came looking just the same.”

I was good at two things besides magick. One was offering my opinion where it wasn’t welcome. The other was being a damn good flirt.

“Last night,” I whispered, “you told me there was a market for demonic relics.”

“Ah,” he said. “So this is a business meeting, is it? And here I thought you wanted to break another headboard.”

As if he broke the first one. I nearly rolled my eyes, but managed to resist the urge.

“Help me sell a relic,” I said, “and we’ll see where the night takes us.”

His brows rose. “Then by all means, let’s get down to business.” He shifted back in his chair and nudged his knee outward, creating space for me to sit on his good leg.

He must’ve done this a hundred times with a hundred girls. But I wasn’t one to be toyed with. Like my raven, I had a loud voice and a viciously sharp bite. One wrong move and I’d have my wand jammed so far down his throat, he’d be defecating flames.

However, I was willing to swallow my pride. If he wanted me to sit, then I’d sit. Instead of balancing on the edge of his knee, I hiked up my skirts and straddled his lap, keeping one arm looped around his shoulders.

I was the one in control, after all.

His brows rose right into his hairline. “This is going to make it difficult to play cards.”

“Good,” I said. “I like being the center of attention.”