“You’re mean!” Simone pouted.

“Oh puh-leeze,” Alec shot back. “Bet Báthory patented that ‘Oh, now you hurt my feelings’ schtick. We used to hang out in her sitting room at Čachtice drinking virgins and laughing about how well it worked whenever György Thurzó dropped by to ask if she was sure she didn’t know why all those peasants kept disappearing.”

Her face shifted like she was walking offstage at the Old Vic and was already thinking about going out for drinks. “You’re not that dumb,” she said.

Alec rolled his eyes. She meant it as a compliment, but demons aren’t very good at sincerity. Which, he thought, was ironic when you considered how much time they spent faking it.

“You said you knew where we could feast,” she said. “I assume you didn’t mean this cabbie.”

Alec had doubts. Did he want to share his discovery? He needed help, but her?

Yeah. Tonight was going to be as good as it got.

“I know this Greek restaurant,” he said.

“Pff! Food!” she cried.

“Oh, I think you’ll love the owner.”