“I did not trick him,” the demon said. “I taught him everything I knew.”

“In exchange for what?” I asked.

Onna tucked all three chins close to her necks and stared down at the captain with a look of defiance. “That he would be my husband.”

O-o-ohh. Now the whole pact-sealed-with-consummation made more sense.

Kar Yee, the pragmatist, asked the most pertinent, nonsexual question we all were thinking: “He can’t live underwater—how was he supposed to be your husband?”

“Our agreement was that he would visit me once a fortnight,” the first head explained.

“He only upheld the bargain for one year,” the second added.

“He promised me a lifetime,” said the third.

“I was young and reckless,” the captain argued.

“You were thirty and eight years,” Onna said in unison.

He tried again. “I was doing a lot of coke. I wasn’t in my right mind. I didn’t think she really meant forever, you know? Then I got set up by that damned hedonist erotic cruise company and went to jail for six months . . .” He turned to Lon with a thoroughly misguided help-a-brother-out look. “Nothing lasts forever. Everyone deserves a second chance. I mean, obviously that kid isn’t hers,” he said, nodding back at me. “Everyone makes mistakes, right?”

Lon gave the captain a look black enough to wilt flowers. “My kid is not a mistake.”

“There is no mistake,” the three demon heads said. “You understood the bargain, Richard. I did not force you to make this agreement. You entered into it willingly.” The heads swiveled toward me. “And you cannot keep me here forever. This trap will eventually break, and when it does, I will take my revenge on everyone here unless you free me willingly and give me my Richard.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Don’t threaten me. I didn’t wiggle out of a bargain with you. And if we wait for a few hours, when night falls I can solve everyone’s problems and send you back to the Æthyr.”

The captain stood taller. “You can do that? Send her back?”

“She did not summele"on me,” the demon said. “Therefore she cannot send me back.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know me: I rack up a few extra skills when the moon’s out, so that little rule doesn’t apply. I’ve sent others back. I reckon I can send you, too.”

At that Onna turned from haughty to pleading, sounding almost like a teenage girl. “No! I do not want to go back! This is my home now, and I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“You killed those two women!” the captain said.

“They were whores, not women. And I was protecting what was rightfully mine.”

“Diz-amn,” Jupe whispered.

The captain scooted down the wall, sidestepping the binding. “You have to send her back or she’ll kill me. Probably kill you all, too. That’s why I had the ward built. Once she’s got your scent, she’ll never let you go. First it was just my room, for some privacy. Then I had to do the whole ship.”

“Or I could just let her have you,” I said.

The captain’s mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t.”

He was right about that. I glanced at Jupe. That would be a fine lesson to teach the kid.

No, I wasn’t going to feed the captain to the demon, though it was awfully tempting. I mean, on one hand, he was an asshole and had put us all in danger by not being upfront about his boat being a magnet for pissed-off three-headed zombie mermaids he’d screwed over. Then again, Jupe was the one who turned the captain into a temporary coma patient—which was the reason his weather trick stopped working and lightning took out the ward . . . so it was pretty much the kid’s fault this all happened.

And if I’d learned one thing from my short time with Lon, it was that it’s never the kid’s fault. Sure, he’d get grounded later when—if—we made it home. But whatever brand of crazy trouble Jupe managed to kick up, Lon always took the blame. “My kid, my problem” he always said.

Even if I wasn’t the birth mother, I supposed Lon’s problem was my problem now, too.

But did the Rusalka deserve to be sent back to the Æthyr? After all, she was the wronged party in this whole creepy scenario.

“I may not continue to exist if you send me back,” she said, as if sensing my sympathy.

Super. Now I was supposed to worry about a dead demon not being able to live her carefree zombie life? “Look,” I said, feeling more like a divorce counselor than a mage. “Why do you even want this guy? Look at him. He’s fat and balding and old—”

“I’m only fifty,” he argued.

I shot him an annoyed look. Trying to help you, Mr. Hotlegs.

“The point is, he’s no prize. He’s probably going to drop dead of a drug-induced heart attack before the next decade’s over.”

“His body pleases me,” the demon said.

“I’m going to be sick,” Co b only Kar Yee mumbled.

“Now I understand why people need a safe word,” Jupe added. “Because if I had one, I’d sure as hell be saying it right now.”

Lon groaned. This was not something any of us wanted to picture.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, then tried to reason with the demon again. “All I’m saying is that he’s not your soul mate. You deserve better than this. You deserve a husband that cares about you. Someone who wants to, uh, visit you every fortnight or so.”