by Ким Харрисон
Recovering his earlier aplomb, Al smiled. Trent retreated into Quen's protection, away from me and Al both. Al had mauled Trent the same night the demon had first attacked me; Trent had a right to be afraid. But the sun was up. This could not be happening.
We all jumped when Al poked a finger at my bubble, and the black seemed to pool in the ripple he made. "No, not Lee," the demon said. "Yet it is him. One hundred percent."
"How?" I stammered. Had we been spelled into thinking it was daylight when it was really after sunset?
"The sun?" Al looked up, taking off his glasses and basking in it. "It is splendidly pretty without the red sheen. I quite like it." His gaze fell to me, and I shivered. "Think about it."
One hundred percent Lee, but not Lee? That left only one possibility. And whereas if someone had asked me Monday, I would have said it was impossible, I now found it remarkably easy to believe, after having shoved a demon out of my thoughts just three days ago.
"You're possessing him," I said, feeling my stomach clench.
Lee clapped his hands. He was wearing white gloves, and it looked wrong, so very wrong.
"You can't do that," Trent said from my elbow. "It's a—"
"Fairy tale?" Al brushed a piece of nonexistent dust from himself. "No, just very expensive and normally impossible. It's not supposed to last past sunup either. But your father?" Al looked from Trent, to me, and back to Trent. "He made Lee special."
It had been mockingly sincere, and I went cold. Lee's blood could kindle demon magic. So could mine. Ah, swell. Just peachy damn keen. But Lee was smarter than this. He knew that Al couldn't hurt me and get away with it. There was more. We hadn't heard it all.
I could smell the clean scent of crushed green leaves, and I realized Trent was sweating. "You tricked him," Trent said, the distress clear in his voice. I didn't think it was fear for himself. I think he was truly distressed that his childhood friend was alive and trapped in his own head by a demon.
Al put his shades on. "I got the better end of the deal, yes. But I'm following it to the letter. He wanted out. I gave him his freedom. In a manner of speaking."
"Lee," Trent said, moving forward, "fight it," he encouraged.
Al laughed, and I drew Trent back. "Lee's gone," I said, feeling ill. "Forget him."
"Yes, listen to the witch." Al wiped his eye with an elegant hankie drawn from a pocket. He wasn't using the ever-after. His sunglasses had been in a pocket, too. His abilities were diminished to Lee's. It went along with what Ceri had said about demons being no more powerful than a witch, apart from several thousand years of storing charms and curses inside themselves. If he was truly in Lee's body, then he was limited to what Lee could do until he brewed himself back to omnipotence.
Very expensive. Normally impossible. It added up to one person. One crazy person. "Newt did this, didn't she?"
Jenks swore softly, and Al spun, his anger looking wrong on Lee's face. "You are getting annoyingly perceptive," he said. "I could have figured it out on my own."
"Then why didn't you?" I said, fear tightening all my muscles. "You can't twist a curse complex enough to best the sun. You're a hack," I prodded, and Jenks's wings hummed.
"Rachel, shut up," he pleaded when Al reddened. But I forged ahead, wanting to know why he was here. My life might depend upon it.
"You had to buy a curse from her," I goaded. "How much did it cost, Al? What do you want that you're too dumb to get on your own? "
He stared at me through the shifting bands of color of my bubble, and I stifled a shudder. "You," the demon said, chilling me. "If it gives me a shot at you, then it's worth my everlasting soul," he intoned, his voice sliding through me to leave the taste of lightning on my tongue.
I refused to back up, almost numb. My breath came and went, and Quen's presence seemed to grow stronger. "You can't," I said, voice quavering. "You made a deal. You or your agents can't hurt me this side of the lines. Lee knows that. He'd never agree."
Al's smile widened, and when he tapped his dress shoes against the pavement in delight, I saw he had lace on his socks. "Which is why I will free him the instant before you expire, so he is the one actually doing it. He has reason enough on his own to want you dead, so the agent clause won't come into play. But killing you is the last thing I want to do." Gazing past me to where the sky met the basilica's towers, he breathed deeply. "The moment I leave Lee, I am susceptible to summonings and such. And much as I hate to miss the fall parties, this is so-o-o-o much more fun. Don't think that makes you safe, though." He brought his gaze down, and I shivered at the alienness hidden behind the normal brown orbs. "I can keep you alive through a tremendous amount of pain."
I swallowed. "Yeah, and you can't go misty to avoid my foot hitting your crotch either."
Tilting his head, Al stepped back. "There is that."
"Who is Newt?" Trent said, reminding me I wasn't alone, and I jumped when he touched my elbow. "Morgan. I want to know right now if you practice demonology!"
Jenks darted from my shoulder, anger hard on his tiny features. "Rachel is not a practitioner!" he said hotly, easily dodging Quen's attempts to get him away from Trent. Quen dropped his hand, probably only now realizing how dangerous a small flying thing with a sword could be.
Trent's eyes had never left mine, trusting that Jenks wouldn't hurt him. His question had been laced with an iron demand for an answer. Fear lay under it, but stronger than that was anger at me for dabbling in demons. My eyes returned to Al. "Newt is a very old, crazy demon. I bought a trip home from her when your friend dumped me there."
"Her?" Trent stammered, panic sliding behind his green eyes. "There are no more female demons. We killed the last few before leaving the ever-after."
"Well, you missed one," I said, but Trent wasn't listening, having been pulled aside by Quen. The older elf was very distressed and I wondered what was bothering him. Al? Being trapped in my circle? The threat of Jenks? Ellasbeth's wedding being crashed by a demon? All of the above?
But then my own fear started to tighten about my spine. I had shoved Newt out of my thoughts a few days ago. She'd been looking for the focus. Shit. What if Al wants it to pay off his new debt to her? He had said the curse to do this was expensive. Was he the one killing the Weres trying to find out who had it?
"Why are you really here?" I breathed. If he was after the focus, there wasn't much I could do to stop him once he realized I had it.
My question seemed to delight Al, and he simpered, adjusting the cuffs of his gloves. "I'm here for my best friend's wedding. I would have thought that was obvious."
Damn it. It was the focus. I had to call Minias. I'd rather get a mark removed for it, not hang on to it until the school bully took it from me and I got nothing. But if Al got it, it would hit the streets as soon as the sun went down, sold to the highest bidder, and there we would be with an Inderland power struggle, courtesy of me.
My pulse was fast, but standing in this circle wasn't doing anyone any good. "Ready, Jenks?" I said, and the pixy dropped to hover beside me. He nodded, features tight as he shifted his grip upon his sword. Eyes narrowing, I reached my hand out and broke the circle.
Quen exploded into motion, jerking Trent behind him. "Morgan!" he shouted, and I rounded on him.
"Relax!" I snapped, releasing some tension. "He isn't going to do anything. He's here for a wedding." I glanced at Al, seeming eminently controlled and still standing right where he had been. "If Al wanted us dead, we'd be in the ground a week ago. He's been here since the invitation hit Lee's mailbox." Pulse hammering, I turned to Al. "Am I right?"
Eyes hidden behind his glasses, the demon nodded.
"He's harmless," I continued, as much to convince myself as Trent and Quen. "Well, not as lethal, maybe. If he's in Lee's body, he doesn't have access to all the curses he's stored in himself over the past millennia. He's only as good as Lee is—was. Until he spends some time in the kitchen anyway. And he's going to follow the rules of our society, or he's going
to end up in jail, which won't be any fun." Forcing my jaw to relax, I arched my eyebrows, wishing I could do the one-eyebrow thingy. "Will it?" I said.
Al inclined his head, and Quen almost jumped him, catching his movement in a sharp motion. "How fast you learn," the demon said, scowling at Quen's mistrust. "We must sit together at dinner. We have so much to chat about."
"Go to hell," I said softly. This was a crappy birthday, forty thousand notwithstanding.
"Not until I kill you, and though I will, it's not going to happen today. I like your yellow sun." Tugging up the sleeve to his jacket, he glanced at his watch. "I'll see you inside. I do so want to meet your darling little-woman-to-be, Trenton. Congratulations. It is an honor to stand up with you." His smile widened to show perfect, simply dazzling teeth. "Fitting," he drawled.
I felt a chill as I remembered Ceri. Oh, man… I had to call her. Al was loose.
Steps jaunty, Al headed up the stairs to the door, oohing and aahing at the architecture and detail work. His body language looked wrong on Lee's body, and with the strength of the ley line running through me, I felt like I was going to throw up.
"Quen," Trent said, clearly alarmed. "He can't go in there, can he?"
I pulled out my phone, then put it away, since Keasley didn't have a phone and Ivy wasn't home to relay a message to them. "He can," I said, remembering how Newt had controlled me while I was on holy ground. "Besides, only the stage and altar are sanctified, remember?" The basilica hadn't been fully sanctified since the Turn to allow Cincy's more important denizens to partake of life's little ceremonies. The altars were still blessed, just not the entryway and the pews.
We all watched Al open the door. Turning, he waved to us, then passed the threshold. The door shut behind them. I waited for something to happen. Nothing did.
"This isn't good," Quen said.
I choked back my burst of laughter, knowing it would come out sounding hysterical. "We… ah, had better get in there before he does something to Ellasbeth," I said, wondering if we might all go out for a beer first. Or a six-pack. In the Bahamas.
Trent rocked into motion an instant before Quen, and with Jenks on my shoulder again, I fell into step beside him. Trent dropped his head for an instant, then pulled it up to me. "You aren't a demon practitioner?" he asked as we took the first steps up.
I put a hand to my stomach, wondering if this day could get any worse. "No, but they seem to practice me."
Twenty-three
The twenty-four-piece band Ellasbeth had hired was taking a break, leaving the muted intensity of a single classical guitar as a pleasant background to the self-congratulatory conversation at the far end of the table. Having long since lost my upright posture, I had an elbow on the pristine linen tablecloth, my fingers rolling the stem of my wineglass back and forth, wondering if I could bill Trent for the forty thousand even if Al didn't do anything.
The rehearsal dinner had been way over the top. I could have lived for a week on what had been put in front of me, and the waste bothered me. But that paled in comparison to my discomfort during the dinner conversation. Ellasbeth had shoved me, Quen, and Al as far from herself as she could. I was sure if she could have gotten away with it, the prickly woman would have put us in a different room. Al had earned his spot because of fear, I out of spite, and Quen to keep an eye on both of us.
Everyone at our end of the table was long gone; the ring bearer and his parents, the three flower girls and their folks, the ushers, and the woman who was going to sing were all laughing in a fawning circle about Ellasbeth. Trent was sitting by her. He looked tired. Maybe he should have taken more interest in the wedding arrangements and made sure that some of his friends were invited to balance out Ellasbeth's. Maybe he didn't have any friends.
Right now Al's chair was vacant, he having excused himself to go to the little boys' room. Quen had gone with him, and I didn't have anything to do until they returned. I thought the idea of a demon using the facilities was odd, and I wondered if Al was a living being and used to it, or if going to the can was a new and exciting experience.
Jenks had spent the evening in the chandelier avoiding Mrs. Withon. I found myself hoping he might pix Ellasbeth so we could leave. Tired, I raised my glass and sipped my wine. I was going to pay for it tomorrow, but damn, it was one of the best red wines I'd ever tasted. I would've looked at the label, but I knew it was far out of my reach, even without the allergies.
My gaze slid to Ellasbeth, and I rolled the possibility around in my thoughts that she knew I was allergic to it and had served it intentionally. As if feeling my gaze, she turned to me, smug as she chatted with her friends. Her face shifted expression for an instant when I heard Al's voice in the hallway. The demon in Lee's body came in laughing with the band trailing behind him, and I worried until I saw Quen with him. From the chandelier came Jenks's soft wing chirp, letting me know he had seen them.
Quen met my eyes, and I relaxed, taking another sip of wine and setting it out of my reach. It had surprised me how easy it was to work with the elf. We complemented each other, seeming to have found a comfortable body language that usually took me several runs with a person to develop. I wasn't sure if that was good or not.
The band settled themselves—picking up seamlessly with soft forties jazz when the guitar ended—and I clapped with the rest when a woman in a sequined gown started singing "What's New?" I slumped back, then started when I felt someone's hand on my chair.
Heart in my throat, I spun, my alarm falling into self-disgust. It was Lee, or Al rather, and his normal-looking brown eyes glittered in amusement. Pulse still fast, I sent my gaze to Quen. The older man smiled, seemingly enjoying that I had been surprised.
"What do you want?" I said, shoving Al's gloved hand off the back of my chair.
His gaze lifted to touch upon the small dance floor as Trent and Ellasbeth moved to it. Great. They were dancing. I'd be here all night.
Smiling like… well, the devil, Al gestured as if inviting me to dance. My breath puffed out of me and I crossed my knees. "Right." No way was I going to dance with Al.
Lee's striking Asian features melted into a smile. "You have something better to do? I have a proposition concerning that nasty mark of mine you're wearing."
My heart gave a pound, then settled. I felt every muscle tighten. Getting rid of my demon marks was high on my to-do list. But I was sure whatever he had in mind wouldn't do me any favors. Still, talking to Al here was better than doing this on the bus ride home, or my kitchen, or my bedroom if he decided to follow me. I glanced up to Jenks in the chandelier, and the pixy shrugged, his wings a dull orange. "Why the hell not," I muttered, standing up.
"That's the spirit!" Al dropped back a step to elegantly offer his arm.
I thought about my splat gun, then left it in my bag under the table. No need to put it in Al's reach. "Jenks is up there," I said, edging past Al to reach the dance floor without his help. "You do anything funny and he'll pix you."
"Oh, I'm shivering in my little silk boxers," Al scoffed.
"You've never been pixed," I said, and a frown crossed his brow, making my guess that he couldn't go misty to avoid pain and discomfort seem likely. My feet were on the parquet floor, and he put out his hand, waiting for me to take it.
Suddenly I realized I was standing face-to-face with a demon—and he wanted to dance. O-o-okay, I thought, thinking my life couldn't get any more chancy. Al huffed impatiently, and I slid my hand onto his. The white cotton of his glove was soft, and I stifled a shudder when his free hand went to my waist. If he tried to get rid of the air between us, I was going to slug him.
"There," he said, when my hand lightly touched him and he shifted us into motion. "Isn't this nice? Ceri danced very well. I miss that."
Nice? It was as nerve-racking as all hell. My pulse was pounding, and I was glad he had on the gloves, not only because I didn't want to touch him but because I was starting to sweat. He had said something about getting rid of my mark, though
, so I'd listen. "What—" I croaked, then cleared my throat, embarrassed. "What do you want?"
"This is a rare opportunity," Al said, smiling at me with Lee's beautiful teeth. "How often does one have the chance to dance with her savior amid the glitter of elves?"
I sighed in impatience. At least I told myself it was impatience. The reality was, I was starting to get a little light-headed from not breathing. "I'm out here for one reason only," I said, moving stiffly with him in time with the music. "And if you don't start talking, I'm going back to arranging the sugar packets."
Al's hand tightened on mine, and he shifted my weight. I hobbled when he spiraled me out to a swoop of music. Tense and gasping, he yanked me back, and I hit him, a puff of burnt amber assailing me. I pushed, but he had me close. Eyes wide, I tensed to stomp on his foot, but my muscles went weak when he whispered, "I know you have the focus."
His breath moved my hair, and this time when I struggled, his grip loosened. Pulse hammering, I put air between us. His hand on mine pinched, and, conscious of people watching, I put my hand back atop his waist.
"I can smell it on you," he murmured. "Demon magic, older than you, older than me. It marked your hand where you grasped it. It stains everything you touch, a trail that the knowing can follow like the dusting of prints."
I swallowed, moving woodenly to the slow jazz. "I'm not giving it to you," I said, hardly breathing. If I did, it'd be on the streets by sunrise. "You kill me and you'll lose your lease on Lee's body and have to go back. You hurt me and Newt will put you in a bottle. Let go of me."
Charm flowed from Al, looking wrong coming from Lee's body. "Yes. Let's do that," he said, his voice wispy with distraction. "Let's call Newt. She will show up right here and put me in a bottle. You'd like that, wouldn't you? "
I fought to not twist my fingers from him, but I knew he wasn't going to call my bluff. He was scared of her, too. Besides, I didn't know how to call her. I'd have to go through Minias, and I knew he wouldn't agree to it, whether he owed me a favor or not.
