Nora's POV
My hands tremble as I lean forward in the chair. "I swear on everything sacred, I'm not working with the Devil."
Beck pushes herself away from the mahogany desk and strides toward the ornate fireplace. Her fingers dance over the cold logs, sparking flames to life with casual magic. She frowns at the modest blaze, irritated, and waves her hand again. The fire roars higher, casting dancing shadows across her angular face.
"Please," she scoffs. "There's only one explanation for finding brimstone residue on your clothes. We both know exactly what that means."
My eyes dart to the imposing grandfather clock standing sentinel in the corner. Each tick echoes like a countdown. Gideon is running out of time before permanent damage sets in from the possession.
"Fine," I snap, desperation bleeding into my voice. "There was a third-hierarchy demon. I fought it off, but I have no idea how I managed it."
