For a Few Demons More (35 page)

My pulse was fast, but his hold was again light. The song ended, and we seamlessly moved into the next one, the pace slowing. “I Don't Stand a Ghost of a Chance.” Figures. Arching my eyebrows high, I eyed him warily. “You want me to verify your story?” I said caustically. “They don't trust you. Why should I?”

Bother flashed over him, and before I could react, he pulled me into him. My breath was a quick intake, and I lost my bravado in a wash of icy fear. “Oh,” Al hissed threateningly, his words shifting my wispy curls, “no need to get nasty.” He crushed me to him, his heavy hand landing on the back of my neck.

Adrenaline spiked. I was playing with a tiger. I was taunting a freaking demon!

Behind me the band continued, albeit shakily. Seeing my fear, Al
split his lips in a nasty grin. Leaning into me, he tilted his head and whispered, “It doesn't have to be this way….”

His hand caressed my neck, and I sucked in my breath. Hot need trilled through me, sparking from neuron to neuron, lighting a path to my core. My knees buckled, but I didn't move, held in his grip. He was playing upon my scar, and doing it really, really well.

My next breath was a harsh gasp. I couldn't think, it felt that good.

Al's breath mingled with mine, uniting us when his breath swirled in my lungs. The scent of burnt amber mixed with the delicious feeling he instilled, forever melding the two. “Did you think only vampires could play upon your scar?” Al murmured, and I shook when he rubbed his thumb against me. “We came first. They're only our shadows.”

“S-stop it,” I said, my eyes closing. My pulse was a fast thrum. I had to get away from this.

“Mmmm, such beautiful skin,” he breathed, and I shuddered. “You've been dabbling in a little vanity curse, my dear. It suits you.”

“Go to…hell,” I panted.

“Come with me and testify that Ceri has agreed not to teach anyone but a daughter,” he insisted. “I'll take away a mark. I'll give you a night of this. A hundred vanity curses. Whatever you want. Rachel…we don't have to be adversaries.”

A moan, feather light, slipped from me. “You're crazier than Newt if you think I'm going to trust you.”

“If you don't,” he said, breath moist and hot on me, “I'll kill you.”

“Then you'll never get what you want.” His grip clenched, and finding strength in the knowledge that he was trying to dominate me, I opened my eyes. “Let go!” I demanded, my hand balling up and pushing.

“Excuse me, Lee?” came Trent's voice from behind me.

The passion flowing through me cut off so fast I staggered, groaning. It hurt, damn it, having it ripped away so suddenly. Dizzy, I turned. Though Trent looked calm and confident on the surface, I could tell he wasn't. Behind him Quen watched from across the room, tense but distant. It was obvious he didn't approve of his Sa'han interfering.

“You have monopolized Ms. Morgan long enough,” Trent said, smiling. “May I cut in?”

Al's gloved hand slipped from my neck. I took a breath, trying to
expunge the last of the ecstasy he had drawn through me. I stumbled, feeling both numb and alive—unreal.

“Of course, Trenton,” the demon said, placing my hand in Trent's. “I will console myself with talking to your beautiful bride-to-be.”

I wasn't breathing right, and I blinked at Trent as the warmth of his hand stole into mine. But Trent wasn't looking at me.

“Watch your step, demon,” Trent said, his green eyes hardening with an ancient hatred. “We are not helpless.”

Al's smile widened. “That's what makes it fun.”

I jumped when Al put a gloved hand on my shoulder, and I cursed myself for it. “I'll be in touch, Rachel,” he said, voice full and throaty when he leaned closer.

“I'll sharpen my stakes,” I said, pulling myself out of my shock.

His hand fell away, and he walked off laughing, jaunty and sure of himself.

And through it all, the band played on.

I took a slow breath and brought my eyes to Trent's. I didn't know what to feel. I was frightened, relieved. Grateful. He hadn't needed to intervene. I was supposed to be protecting him. It was obvious he wanted to know what Al and I had been discussing, but there was no way in hell I was going to tell him. Still…“Thank you,” I whispered.

A smile twitched at his lips. His head bobbed slightly with the music three times, and then he pulled me into motion. “Yes, well, it's not like I want to marry you,” he said.

My free hand rose as we moved, and after a moment I placed it lightly on his shoulder. Trent didn't say anything, and I started to relax. My pulse slowed, and I began seeing things again. The scent of green leaves pushed out the stench of burnt amber, and I abruptly realized I was utterly pliant in his arms, letting him direct me about the floor without a thought in my head.

I met his eyes. Seeing my horror, he chuckled.

“You are a surprisingly fine dancer, Ms. Morgan,” he said.

“Thanks. So are you. Did you take classes, or is it an elf thing?”

Okay, maybe that had been a little sharp, but Trent didn't take offense, inclining his head gracefully. “A little of both.”

My eyes darted to Ellasbeth. Al was moving in on her, but the woman
didn't know it yet, too intent on trying to kill me with her thoughts. Beside her, her mother was trying to coax Jenks down. Her husband was sitting sullenly beside her, clearly having given up on trying to stop her, and as I watched, Jenks left his post, coming to a light landing before her. Even from here I could see he was embarrassed at the attention, but he was slowly warming up.

Trent twirled us so my back was to them, and I looked at him. “I can't believe you didn't tell them about Jenks,” I said.

His eyes flicked to mine and away. “I didn't think it mattered.”

A chuckle escaped me, and I found it did more than anything else to wash away the remnants of adrenaline. “Your entire species has been shunning pixy contact for forty years, and you don't think it matters? I think you were afraid to tell them.”

Trent returned his eyes to mine. “No. It was for the entertainment value.”

I believed it. He must be bored out of his ever-loving mind. “Trent. Is there something about pixies that you like?”

His hand on my waist pinched in warning. “Excuse me?”

I felt a stir of confirmation. “I'm just curious if there's an interspecies bond or something that you've been neglecting—”

“No.”

That had been way too fast, and I smiled. He liked pixies but wasn't going to admit it. “It just seems as if—”

“No.”

His movements went stiff, and I backed off before he danced me over to Al. “Are you ready for Sunday?” I said, changing the subject. “Wow, married in the basilica. I never thought that would happen.”

“Me neither.” His voice was distant and emotionless. “It should be quite a day.”

I ran my gaze down him. “I bet you wanted to get married outside, huh? Under the trees in the moonlight?”

Trent's ears reddened.

“Oh, my God,” I said. “You do, don't you!”

His roving eyes never met mine. “It's her wedding, not mine.”

Needling Trent was one of my favorite things, and thinking that Al's showing up qualified as trouble and a pay increase, I shrugged, pleased
that the day would end with money in my pocket. “I don't think it's her wedding either.”

We had made a full circuit, and I was looking at Ellasbeth again. Al had captured her attention, and knowing that Trent didn't like his back to them, I moved freely under his direction until he could see them. I wasn't fooling myself that he loved her, but he clearly took his duties as husband seriously. “Sure am glad I'm not royalty,” I muttered. “I wouldn't want to have to bump uglies with someone I can't stand. On a regular basis. And no one else.

“Ow!” I exclaimed, trying to yank my fingers from Trent but finding them caught. Then I colored, realizing what I'd said. “Oh…sorry,” I stammered, meaning it. “That was insensitive.”

Trent's frown turned into a sly smirk. “Bump uglies?” he said, eyes on the table behind me. “You are a font of gutter slang, Rachel. We must do this again.”

The song had ended, and I felt his hand start to slip from mine. I glanced at Ellasbeth, uptight and glaring at me as Al whispered in her ear. The thought of the unending indifference Trent would endure lay heavy on my mind, and I licked my lips in a sudden decision. I tightened my hold on his hand, and Trent eyed me suspiciously.

His attempt to rock away from me turned into a tug, and we seamlessly stepped into “Sophisticated Lady.” He spun me, and I caught a glimpse of Ellasbeth, white-faced as she listened to Al. She was a big girl. She could take it.

It was obvious that Trent had felt my desire to keep dancing, and I wondered if he went along with it simply to bother Ellasbeth. My focus blurred, and as Trent kept silent with his own thoughts, I found myself imagining his life with her. I was sure they would be okay. They would learn to love each other. It would likely take only a few decades.

My gut tightened. Now or never. “Ah, Trent,” I said, and his gaze sharpened on me. “I've got someone I want you to meet. Can you come over tomorrow about four or so?”

His eyebrows rose, and without a hint showing that I was about to complicate his life beyond reason, he chided me, saying, “Ms. Morgan. Your pulse has increased.”

I licked my lips, my feet moving by rote. “Yeah. So can you make it?”

Disbelief shone in his green eyes. “Rachel,” he said irately, “I'm a little busy.”

The song was at the refrain, and I knew he wouldn't dance another with me. “You know that old card you have in your great room, framed on the wall?” I blurted.

That got his attention, and he took a slow breath. “The tarot cards?”

Nervous, I nodded. “Yes. I know someone who looks like the person on the devil card.”

Trent's expression went cold, and his hand pressed heavy on my waist. “The devil card? Is this some sort of deal you've got going?”

“Jeez, Trent,” I said, insulted. “Not the devil. The woman he's dragging away.”

“Oh.” His focus blurred as he thought that over, and then he frowned. “That is in really bad taste. Even for you.”

He thinks it's a joke?
“Her name is Ceri,” I said, stumbling over my words. “She used to be Al's familiar before I rescued her. She was born in the Dark Ages. She's just started putting her life back together and is ready to meet what's left of her kin.”

Trent stopped, and we stood unmoving on the dance floor. Shock showed in his eyes.

“And if you hurt her,” I added, my hands leaving him, “I'll kill you. I swear I'll track you down like a dog and kill you.”

His mouth snapped shut. “Why are you telling me this?” he said, his face pale and the scent of green leaves almost an assault. “I'm getting married in two days!”

I put my hands on my hips. “What does your getting married have to do with anything?” I said, not surprised he would consider himself first and foremost. “She's not a broodmare, she's a woman with her own agenda. And as much as it might surprise you…” I poked a finger at his chest. “…it doesn't include the great and desirable Trent Kalamack. She wants to meet you and give you whatever sample you need. That's it.”

Emotions crossed his features too fast to be recognized. Then the wall came down, and I shivered at the icy control. Saying nothing, he turned on a heel and walked away.

I stared at him, blinking. “Hey, does that mean you aren't coming?”

Moving stiffly, he crossed the room to talk to his parents-in-law-to-be, clearly trying to escape.

A prickling at the back of my neck pulled my attention to Quen. His eyebrows were high in question, and I looked away before he decided to come over. Arms clasped about myself, I headed for a back table where I could sit out the rest of the evening. Jenks landed on my earring in a gliding slide of gold sparkles, his almost nonexistent weight comforting and familiar. “You told him about Ceri?” he asked.

I nodded as the music ended, the singer's voice rising beautiful and alone.

Jenks's wings fanned my neck. “What did he say?”

Sighing, I sat down and started fiddling with the sugar packets. “Nothing.”

My feet hurt, and as I walked the last few blocks from the bus stop to my church, I paused to lean against a maple to take my flats off. A car whizzed by going way too fast, and I scowled at it, listening to the brakes squeal as it turned the corner. Jenks yelped in surprise from my shoulder when I bent at the waist to remove my shoes, darting off in a clatter of wings.

“Hey!” he snapped, the pixy dust sifting from him. “How about some warning, witch!”

I glanced up. “Sorry,” I said wearily. “You were so quiet I forgot you were there.”

His wing noise dulled, and he returned to my shoulder. “That's because I was asleep,” he admitted.

My shoes hooked over two fingers, I straightened. The party had broken up early so all good elves could get home for their midnight siesta. Pixies kept to the same clock—sleeping four hours around midnight and four again at noon. No wonder Jenks was tired.

The cracked sidewalk was warm against the soles of my feet, and we made our way in the streetlight-lit darkness toward the cheerful glow of the bulb illuminating the
VAMPIRIC CHARMS
sign above the door. In the distance a siren wailed. The full moon wasn't due for a few days, but the streets had been busy, even here in the Hollows.

Not that I'd been listening, but the gossip I caught on the bus was
that The Warehouse on Vine had caught fire again. The route home hadn't taken us anywhere near it, but the number of I.S. cruisers I'd seen had been astounding. The few people on the bus had looked afraid, for lack of a better word, yet my thoughts were too full of my own troubles to strike up a conversation, and Jenks, apparently, had been asleep.

My feet were silent on the steps, and I yanked open the door, my gaze darting to the coat hooks in the hopes of seeing something of Ivy's hanging there. Nothing.

Jenks sighed from my shoulder.

“I'm calling her right now,” I said, dropping my shoes by the door and swinging my shoulder bag around.

“Rache.” The pixy left me to hover where he could see my face. “It's been a full day.”

“That's why I'm calling her.” The connection went through as I wandered into the sanctuary, flicking on lights as I headed for the kitchen. Guilt whispered at me. She couldn't have found out about Kisten and me, and even then I think she would have yelled at me before she left. I think.

The sound of crickets joined the hum of Jenks's dragonfly-like wings as I thunked on the kitchen light, squinting until my eyes adjusted to the glare. Ivy's missing computer was depressing, and I dropped my bag on the table to try to make it look less empty. My cell phone rang until Ivy's phone told me it was going to voice mail and I disconnected.

I closed the top with a dull snap. Jenks was sitting atop his brine shrimp, feet moving slightly as his wings hung still from worry. “If it's not one of you, it's the other,” he said sourly.

“Hey, I'm not the one who left last winter,” I said, padding to the fridge for one of Ivy's bottled waters.

“You really want to bring that up?” he snarled, and I shook my head, feeling guilty.

“Maybe she's with Kisten,” I said, cracking the plastic top and taking a swig. I wasn't thirsty, but it made me feel better, as if Ivy might come storming in demanding to know what I was doing drinking her water.

Jenks rose into the air, slowly unfolding to stand on the lid of his
brine shrimp. “Let me know if you hear something. I'm calling it a night. Jhan is in charge if something comes up. If you need me, let him know.”

My eyes widened. He had his kid playing sentry? “Jenks?” I questioned, and he turned from the screen, hovering by the pixy hole.

His shoulders lifted and dropped. “I'm going to spend some time with Matalina,” he said, and I worked hard to keep from smiling.

“Okay,” I said. “You want tomorrow off?”

He shook his head, then vaulted through the hole in the screen. I stepped to the window, leaning over the sink to watch him trail a green shimmer of dust to the stump in the garden. Then he was gone. I was alone. My eyes drifted to the cake Ivy had made for me, still unfrosted. I'd put foil on it this afternoon so it wouldn't dry out.

God, this stinks.

Refusing to let this become a pity party, I yanked one of my spell books out from the shelf and headed into the sanctuary with my water and the tub of frosting. I wasn't hungry, but I needed something to do. I'd watch local TV, since the cable wouldn't stretch out here, pretend to do some research, then go to bed early. Jeez, some birthday this had been.

Is it my fault Ivy's gone?
I thought as I shuffled into the sanctuary. Damn it, why did I let my emotions make my decisions? No one had forced me to bite Kisten. I could have given him the caps back. But Ivy had no right to be upset. He was my boyfriend! Besides, she had said her kiss was a taste so I could decide what I wanted. Well, I was trying to decide, and Kisten figured into that.

Depressed, I flopped into Ivy's cushy suede chair. Vampire incense puffed up, and I breathed it deeply, looking for solace. Far off, I heard the bang of a transformer go, and I waited for the lights to blink out. They stayed lit, happy for me but sad for the squirrel that had just bit the big one, thanks to a zillion volts of electricity. I opened my spell book and snatched up the remote. It was almost midnight. The news probably had something now about the fire.

The TV brightened, and as the commercials blared and I ate a spoonful of frosting, I called Kisten. Nothing. Pizza Piscary's was next, and I listened to the recorded message of their business hours wondering why no one was answering. They must really be busy.

My head tilted, and I looked at the dark foyer. I
could
just grab my keys and head over there, but the presence of so many cops on the street had me worried about my suspended license.

There was another bang from outside, closer this time, and the lights flickered.

Two squirrels?
I thought, then frowned. It was dark. There wouldn't be any squirrels. Maybe someone was taking potshots at the streetlights again.

Curious, I set the frosting down and went to look out a window. The thumping at the door brought me spinning around, and Ceri blew in.

“Rachel?” she exclaimed, her heart-shaped face worried. “Rachel, thank God,” she said, coming forward and taking my hands. “I have to get you out of here.”

“What?” I said intelligently, then looked past her when Keasley trooped in, the older black man's steps painfully quick despite his arthritis. “Ceri, what's the matter?”

Keasley bobbed his head at me, then locked and barred the door.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Ivy isn't in yet.”

“She's not coming,” the old witch said, limping forward. “Do you have a sleeping bag?”

I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of '06.” There was a lot I had lost during my I.S. death threat, and replacing my sleeping bag was low on the list. “And how do you know Ivy's not coming in?” I added.

Ignoring that, the old man headed down the hall and into my room.

“Hey!” I said again, then turned to Ceri when she gripped my arm. “What's the matter?”

Ceri pointed at the TV, now a mishmash of noise and confusion. “He's out,” she said, white-faced. “Al is walking this side of the lines. Free and under no one's compulsion—whether the sun is up or not.”

Immediately my shoulders eased. “God, I'm sorry, Ceri. I meant to tell you. You really need to get a phone. I know. Al was at Trent's rehearsal and dinner.”

The elf's eyes widened. “It's true?” she exclaimed, and I cringed.

“I was going to tell you as soon as I got home, but I forgot,” I pleaded, wondering how she'd found out already. “But it's okay. He's not after anyone but me. He can do the sun thing because he made a deal with
Lee to possess his body until Lee kills me. And that's not going to happen until he's done with me.” I couldn't tell her that the deal she'd made with Al was why he wanted me this time. It would prey on her.

Ceri hesitated. “Doesn't Lee killing you come under the ‘him or his agents' clause?”

My stomach clenched, and I glanced at Keasley at the top of the hallway, waiting for us with my summer comforter in his arms. “Al's going to free Lee before he kills me, and since Lee has reason enough to want me dead, the agent clause won't come into effect.”

Keasley dropped my pillow and comforter just inside the sanctuary before shuffling back down the hallway. Ceri took my arm and started to follow him. “We can discuss the intricacies of demon law later. You have to get to hallowed ground.”

Exasperated, I pulled from Ceri's grip. “I'm fine!” I protested. “If Al was going to do anything, he would have done it already. He's not going to kill me. At least not right away.”

I looked at the TV, mystified as to why everyone was freaking out. Then I looked closer. They weren't in front of The Warehouse, they were in front of a grocery store. Terrified people in vans and station wagons were looting the place. The announcer seemed scared as she told people not to panic, that the situation was under control. Uh-huh. It sure looked under control.

There was a boom of sound and a flash of light, and the pretty reporter swore, falling into a crouch. The camera panned to the gas station across the street. Another flash of light and I realized what had happened. A ley line witch had just blasted someone trying to cut in front of him at the gas station. The faint purple haze was still hanging in the air.

“Are you getting this?” the woman announcer cried out, and my stomach felt queasy when the picture dipped. “The city is going crazy!” she shouted, eyes wide. “The I.S. has declared a state of martial law, and all residents are told to remain inside. Buses will stop at midnight, and anyone on the street will be incarcerated.

“Jake!” she shouted, jumping when a loud bang shook her. “Are you getting this?!”

Jake was indeed getting it, and I stared at people frantically filling their gas tanks. I gasped when a frustrated driver rammed the car ahead
of his to shove it forward. A fight started, and my mouth fell open when a ball of green-tinted ever-after blasted into the gas pump. It exploded in a shower of orange and red. The woman screamed, and the camera fell. My windows rattled, and I turned to the dark street. Damn, that had been close. What in hell was going on? So Al was walking around. I was the only one he wanted.

“I don't get it,” I said, gesturing. “He can only do what Lee can. He's not any more dangerous than your average deranged, masochistic, black ley line witch.” I hesitated, taking in the fear coming through the TV. “Okay,” I amended. “Maybe a little screaming is in order, but he can be brought down.”

“Someone tried.” Ceri tugged at me, but I didn't budge, fixated on the chaos. “He caused trouble at a dance establishment tonight, and when the bouncers tried to get him out, he killed them. Incinerated them right where they stood and set the place to flame. Then he banished the six witches the I.S. sent to catch him into the ever-after. No one can stop him, Rachel, and he's not under anyone's control. People are scared. They want him gone.”

“He incinerated them?” I said, my horror mixing with confusion.
All right, maybe he is more powerful than I thought.
“I'm the one he wants. Why is he doing this?”

She turned from the TV, her eyes wide, and tried to get me to move. “What did he ask of you?” she asked, and I licked my lips.

I hesitated, then said, “To testify that you promised to not teach anyone how to spindle line energy. I told him no, and if he goes back without me, they're going to put him in jail.”

Ceri's eyes closed, her jaw clenching as she struggled to keep her fear and despair from showing. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “He's trying to change your mind. I've seen him do this before. You and Piscary are the only two people who have demonstrated the ability to control him, and because you didn't circle him tonight, everyone will think he's doing this with your blessing. If you don't do what Al wants, he's going to turn the city against you.”

“What!” I yelped as Keasley appeared in the hallway with three bottles of water and the dusty radio I had under the cupboards for when the power went out.

“Bring your phone,” he said shortly. “Do you have extra batteries?”

I couldn't think. Seeing my confusion, he held up a twisted brown hand and went to look for himself. Ceri was tugging on me, and I let her drag me to the top of the hallway.

“This is not my problem,” I said, starting to panic. “If I testify to get Al out of Cincy, then I'm a demon practitioner and he kills me that much sooner. And if I don't help him, then I'm responsible for everyone he hurts or sends to the ever-after?”

She picked up my comforter and, meeting my eyes, nodded.

“Swell.” I couldn't win. I could not win for losing. Damn it, it wasn't fair!

“But that's not the worst of it,” Ceri said, fear showing on her heart-shaped face. “It's all over the news that you had dinner with Al. You didn't take control of him, so they let Piscary out of jail to do it. He's the only other person in Cincy who can.”

I stood for three seconds, taking that in.
Piscary is out? Oh…shit.

“Jenks!” I shouted, heading into the hall. “Jenks! Is the backyard clear?” I had to get out of here. It was dark. The church was unsanctified. My security had become a trap.

Ceri followed me into the kitchen. She looked miserable at my fear, but I didn't care.

“Jenks!” I shouted again, and he buzzed in, his green robe furling.

“What the hell do you want?” he snarled. “Can't you spend one freaking night alone?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Cincinnati is panicking because Al is walking the streets with no one holding his leash,” I said. “Six witches tried to circle him, and he sent them into the ever-after. Everyone's afraid he's here to harvest familiars, and because I didn't catch him, they let Piscary out to get control of him. Is the backyard clear? I'm going to be sleeping in the graveyard tonight.” And tomorrow, and the day after. Hell, maybe I ought to put up a little cottage.