Page 45 of What Happens at Nightfall

“There’s only so much a parrot can do, okay! It was that or a cockroach, but I wasn’t sure what would happen if someone stepped on the cockroach. The sources aren’t clear,” Ingrid said sulkily. “It might have released his vital forces back into the universe.”

Adam shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

Ingrid leaned under the table to fish out her tote bag and the now very battered parasol.

Jess rose slowly. Her body ached as though she’d been on the elliptical for an hour; her legs felt rubbery and her brain sluggish. “So this Bel—”

“Don’t say his name!” Ingrid came up so abruptly that she banged her head on the edge of the table. “Owwwwww.”

“I thought he wanted us to say his name,” said Adam skeptically. “And say it louder.”

Ingrid turned on him, the parasol clamped under her arm. Jess hastily moved a half-full lemonade glass out of her orbit. “Of course he does! When you say it, you invoke him! Don’t invoke him!”

“If you don’t want to invoke him, what was all that over there?”

“I wasn’t invoking him; I was containing him.” Ingrid thought for a moment. “I was invoking him to contain him.”

“Are you done?” The waitress materialized, clearly suspecting them of a dine and dash. “Do you want me to bring you the check?”

Adam pointed at the pile of bills on the table. “We’re good.”

“Excuse me,” said Jess, as the waitress scooped up the cash. “Have you had much trouble with the sound system before?”

“Must be mice in the wiring,” she said shortly. “I’ve already explained to those guys over there that I wasn’t messing with their game.”

“Now do you believe me?” asked Ingrid as they made their way out of the diner.

“You could have messed with the sound system at the diner,” said Adam stubbornly. “A remote control . . .”

“Want to search me?” Ingrid spread out her arms.

Adam backed hastily away, flapping his hands. “Not really—unless, Jess?”

“You’re going to make me be that cop?” Jess bit her lip, reason wrestling with logic. “Adam, she didn’t know we were going to a diner. That was my idea.”

Adam stopped under the light of a streetlamp. The light created a halo behind him, casting his face into shadow. “Unless you’re in on it too.”

The lemonade was sour on Jess’s lips. She felt exhaustion descend over her. It was what had happened last year all over again, being accused of things and not being able to defend herself. Knowing she was innocent but still being made to feel guilty.

But this was Adam. Not the crooked CEO of Rent the Gallery. Rent the Gallery had knowingly framed her to try to cover up their own fraud. Adam genuinely believed she might have engaged in an insane and elaborate deception—for what, Jess wasn’t sure.

The only thing she could think to say was “You picked the diner.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. It took all Jess’s energy to keep herself standing; she felt like she could sag down onto the pavement and just sit there, like a toddler pushed beyond his strength.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said quietly. “That wasn’t fair.”

Jess’s eyes stung. “There’s no reason you should trust me. You’re right. I could be in cahoots with her.”

“Ugh, no,” said Ingrid. “I don’t do cahoots. I work alone. And tonight is a perfect illustration of why.”

“Why?” asked Adam, belatedly reminded of Ingrid’s existence.

Ingrid made an inarticulate sound of rage. “Did you not see what just happened there? I have been tracking him for two years. And you two screwed it up in one night!”

“We screwed up your casting the soul of a demon into a parrot,” said Adam experimentally.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Not his soul. His consciousness. Demons don’t have souls.”