“Hey,” the other said, coming to life. “You’re supposed to be in jail.” Al grinned at him, his white-gloved grip tightening on the wooden handle, which was intricately carved in the shape of a naked, writhing woman. Nice. “And your momma wanted you to have a brain,” he said, yanking the door open and slamming it into the guy’s face.”

“This can’t happen. Minias said it couldn’t happen. I’m not a demon. It shouldn’t work for me! I’m not a demon!” “Apparently,” Al said, slamming into the bars in time with his words, “you’re so damn close, it doesn’t matter!”

“You are your father's daughter,' he said, the skin around his eyes tightening. 'Trent is his father's son. Apart, you are annoying. Together...you have the potential to be a problem.”

“We all watched Al open the door. Turning, he waved to us, then passed the threshold. The door shut behind him. I waited for something to happen. Nothing did. “This isn’t good,” Quen said. I choked back my burst of laughter, knowing it would come out sounding hysterical.”

“I was standing in a line, balanced between reality and the ever-after. I could go either way. I wasn’t his yet. “One day a week,” I said, knees wobbling. “I give you Newt’s mark, you give me my name,” Al said, then wiggled his fingers as if he needed me to take them to finish the deal. I reached for it, and at the last moment, Al’s glove melted away, and I found myself gripping his hand.”

“Al was looking at me in disbelief. “Not your lover?”“No.”“But he is Rachel candy,” Al said, his confusion too honest to be faked.”

“He's going to hurt you," Al said, looking at Pierce. "I can take care of you, teach you to survive. Be there for you, even if you do hate me."I shivered. "I don't want him," I said, and Al turned away, seeming smaller somehow.”