Stutely's hand didn't exactly tighten around Clio's, but he stiffened.
Twenty thousand could buy a lot of things. And demons probably had their fingers in all kinds of criminal pots. Could be the Sheriff had just been getting clean ID docs, or...
Or.
Or he'd been after somebody with the specific kind of expertise that demons had a reputation for. The kind of expertise that had left its mark in violent scars all over Clio's back.
From Artemis' darkening expression, she had clearly reached a similar conclusion.
"I'm going," she said, and the iron edge to her voice dared anybody to contradict her. She was going to gouge the Sheriff's eyes and feed him to mountain lions.