“Raine, it’s important. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

I took a breath and slowly let it out. “Okay, I was in the street, lobbing fireballs at the purple one, the Volghul. Suddenly it was like the Saghred got a whiff of that thing and decided to say hello.”

“It wanted you to use it against the Volghul?”

“I wish. I couldn’t make another fireball if my life depended on it, and it did. I figured the Saghred was gathering up its energy for the usual-the white-hot, raging command to kill. That’s not what I got. The rock was burning, all right; it was downright warm and welcoming-for the demon. That’s when the Volghul bowed to me and said he was ‘honored by my presence. ’ ” My voice felt the need to get louder, and I let it. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shot a glance at the still-closed conference room door and lowered my voice to an outraged whisper. “I thought the Saghred was a goblin rock.”

“The goblins were simply the most recent to possess it.”

Wonderful. “So what you’re saying is that the demons could have had their collective claws on it at some point.”

Mychael nodded. “The recorded history of the Saghred only dates back about a thousand years.”

Crap. “And those were goblin records.” I was all too familiar with them; I’d read them myself in my ongoing effort to rid myself of the rock. “Let me guess: demons aren’t big on keeping journals.”

“It’s highly unlikely.” Mychael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his armored knees. His hands hung loosely. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and the backs of his hands were scored with deep scratches. Demon claws.

I grimaced. “Mychael, shouldn’t you get those taken care of instead of talking to me?”