Gerard Keay glowered at the two hunters from behind his tar-black bangs. "No."

Julia Montauk gripped his mother's book of the dead tighter, her eyes narrowing to slits like some sort of predatory animal. "You'll answer our questions, or Trevor and I will-"

"Kill me?" Gerard said with a mirthless laugh. "Burn the book? Please, be my guest. The only thing more agonizing than existing as flayed flesh tanned into vellum is having to listen to your inane questions."