BOOK 7: LEONIE HENDRICKS: DEMON P.I.

"He loves me." Pluck.

The asper demon flinched and thrashed against his binding, as I ripped another one of his tiny wings off his knobby shoulder. It was less like wishing on a four-leaf clover and more like plucking a cantankerous, still-living chicken.

The bits of him that weren't chained to the wall with solid iron cuffs were pinned using iron knives like a butterfly specimen, while his three eyes were nothing more than ...