“You promised you’d stay in the kitchen,” I say. “No, you asked me to stay in the kitchen. Shepard, do you trust me?” I look down at her. She redid her ponytail and cleaned her glasses to prepare for the ritual, and put on, I swear to you, a gray cape. Her brown eyes are set deep and pinched fierce, and her lips are still puffy from kissing me. She’s got her purple gem in her fist. “I do,” I say. She stands on tiptoe to kiss me again. “Summon the demon,” she says, “and then stay out of my way.”
