“Hell has better infrastructure.” Azareth’s gaze dropped. “And you’re not wearing pants.”
Ramona’s face went hot. She grabbed a throw blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her waist. “Listen,Azareth?—”
“You’re not pronouncing that correctly.”
“I don’t care.” Ramona stood up, blanket-dignity and all. “You need to leave. Now. Back to Hell, back to wherever you came from.”
Azareth stared at her. “That’s not how this works.”
“I summoned you. I can unsummon you.”
“Can you?” Azareth’s eyebrow raised. “Because from where I’m standing, you have no idea what you’re doing.”
Ramona opened her mouth. Closed it. Damn, this demon was quite rude and quite observant. “I know plenty about magic.”
“You’re threatening me with a candle.”
“It’s a very heavy candle.”
“And you’re drunk.”
“That’s none of your business.” Ramona set the candle down on her nightstand. This was pointless. “Look. I don’t know what spell I screwed up, but you can’t stay here. If the ThornwoodCoven finds out I summoned a demon—” She stopped. Took a breath. “I got expelled once already. They’d love an excuse to finish the job. Strip my magic. Report me to the Council.”
“Sounds dramatic.”
“I’m being practical.” Ramona’s voice came out flat. “So you need to leave. Please.”
Azareth didn’t move. “I can’t.”
The words landed wrong. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“You bound me here.” Azareth’s voice was patient now. Too patient. “The spell you cast created a tether. I’m bound to you until the spell’s conditions are met.”
Ramona’s head was pounding. “A tether?”
“Yes, in a way. A magical bond.” Azareth paused, squinting at something past Ramona’s shoulder. “Is that the grimoire you used?”
Ramona glanced back at where the book had fallen. “Maybe. What conditions have to be met?”
Azareth crossed the room — Ramona didn’t bother brandishing the candle this time — and picked up the grimoire. She flipped through the pages, her expression growing darker with each turn.
“This is a real shitty grimoire,” Azareth said flatly.
Ramona had the strange urge to defensively cradle the grimoire in her arms. Instead, she set her jaw and clenched her hands.
“Most of these spells are written by amateurs.” Azareth held up a page. “Youreallydidn’t notice how bad these spells are? This protection ward is missing at least three key ingredients. This love spell would give someone hives. And this—” She turned to page forty-seven. “This summoning spell is supposed to call a minor spirit of fortune. Instead, it called me.”
“Why?”
“Someone altered it.” Azareth examined the page more closely. “See these symbols? In the margin?” She tilted the book toward Ramona. Strange markings caught the candlelight, drawn in different ink. “Someone added an amplification charm. Which means instead of a fortune spirit, you got me.”
“A demon.” Ramona gulped down her mortification for a moment. Wasn’t this precisely what she’d spent her career decoding? And then she’d gone completely smooth-brained about the mechanics the moment she had a glass of wine?
“A very busy demon who is now bound to a drunk disaster witch and is going to have to filesomuch paperwork.” Azareth pulled a small leather-bound book from her jacket pocket. She flipped through pages covered in tiny handwriting.
Ramona stared. “What’s that?”
“The manual.”
