For a Few Demons More th-5

by Ким Харрисон

  "I want something," he whispered, his eyes finding mine. "And I'll pay you well for it, but it's not the focus. Wouldn't you like that? To be free of my mark? To be free of me?"

  I stared at him as we danced. He wanted something from me? Not the focus? Feeling ill, I moved my hand to his shoulder. My unfocused gaze on Ellasbeth and Trent shifted as Al turned us. I felt disconnected, short of breath. Al leaned in, and I did nothing, numb.

  "I don't want the focus," he breathed, his words ruffling my hair, "but since you brought it up, you are in a spot of trouble." He hesitated, coming even closer. "I can help you there."

  Jerked out of my thoughts, I pulled back. His gloved fingers gripped harder, and his eyes were stern with the warning to stay where I was. "I don't think you can keep it a secret much longer," he cautioned, "And, you aren't strong enough to hold it on your own once the world knows you have it. What will you do, silly girl?"

  "Don't call me that," I said, then went cold as I put it together. He didn't want anyone knowing I had it? Damn. He was the one killing the Weres.

  Alarmed, my eyes widened and I twisted my hand, only to have his grip tighten until it hurt. "You're killing Weres to keep it quiet that I've got it?" I said, my dance movements going stiff. "You killed Mr. Ray's secretary and Mrs. Sarong's accountant to warn them off?"

  Throwing back his head, Al laughed. Eyes were on us, but as in high school, where the football star gets away with whatever he wants, no one intervened, frightened.

  "No," Al said, confidence flowing from him as he reveled in the power he had simply by what he was. "I'm not killing them to protect you. That is delightful. I know who is, though. If they should find it, they would have no qualms about killing you for it. And that would really piss me off."

  My first impetus to get away from him faltered. "You know who's killing the Weres?"

  As he moved us to the music, he nodded. His black bangs had fallen before his eyes, and I could tell it was bothering him, but he wouldn't let go of me. I didn't think he liked Lee's hair, and I wondered how long it would be until he invested some kitchen time in making a curse to change his looks.

  "Do you want to know who?" he said, tossing his head to clear his vision. "I'll tell you. For an hour of your time."

  First my mark, and now the name of the murderer? "An hour of my time," I said, imagining how that hour might go. "Thanks, but no," I said dryly. "I'll figure it out for myself."

  "In time to do anything about the next death?" he mocked. "Is a life worth sixty minutes of your time? "

  Tensing, I glared. "I won't feel guilty for that," I said. "And why do you care?"

  "It might be someone close to you," he mocked, and fear spiked through me, even as the music changed and the singer started in with "Crazy He Calls Me." I couldn't think as the music swelled, and I moved without resistance when Al danced us away from Trent, who was trying to eavesdrop on our conversation.

  "I need a favor," Al said, lips barely moving and his voice heavy with embarrassment. "Do this one thing and I'll take the focus off your hands. I'll even promise to keep it until after you die. You'll never have to see the wars, the pestilence." He smiled, sickening me. "It's a no-brainer."

  A golden age of peace that would last as long as I lived. Right. As soon as he got it, he'd kill me. With Ceri's help I might be able to make an ironclad deal to keep myself alive, but it was a false hope, and it made my chest hurt. I wanted the simple answer so badly.

  I managed to swallow as I danced with the demon of my future's past. He said he didn't want the focus but would take it as a favor? I moved woodenly as I thought. Something wasn't right. I was missing something. Al said he liked it here, but I could see that the loss of his omnipotence was chafing him. There had to be a reason he was lowering himself to this fraction of strength, and I didn't think it had to do with wanting a suntan. He wanted a favor. From me.

  Pulse settling to a hard beat, I eyed him squarely, squeezing his hand until he noticed. "What aren't you telling me, Al?"

  The demon grimaced.

  Pulling my eyebrows high, I made a telling face. "You're over here for a reason, and it's not me. I'm not that big a pain, and nothing is stopping you from dragging me off…"

  My words trailed to nothing as a thought trickled through me. Why hasn't he just dragged me off? A smile quirked my lips, and I aimed it at the suddenly unsure demon. "You're in trouble, aren't you?" I guessed, knowing I was right when his smooth pace bobbled. "You're up crap creek, and you're hiding on this side of the lines because they can't drag you back while you're possessing Lee."

  "Don't be inane," Al said, but he was sweating. I could see a bead of moisture at his temple, and his hand gripping mine in its glove was getting damp. "I'm here to kill you. Slowly."

  "Then do it," I said boldly. "If you do, you're back in the ever-after. You put yourself into a huge amount of debt to stay here when the sun is up. The only one who knows is an insane demon who probably forgot about you already." Al frowned. Knowing I was pressing my luck, I said, "What did you do? Forget to return a library book? "

  Pain cramped my hand, and I tried to pull from him. "It's your fault," Al snarled, the hate in his eyes stopping my protest. "Newt found out Ceri is running around under a yellow sun knowing how to spindle line energy, and since Ceri was my familiar, I'm the one responsible."

  "Let go," I said, twisting my fingers.

  "If I go back, I'm going to be held accountable," he said darkly, squeezing.

  "You are hurting me!" I said. "Let me go, or I'm going to kick you in the 'nads!"

  Al's grip loosened. I pulled away, standing three feet from him and glaring as the band continued to play, the singer's voice becoming distracted and uneasy. For an instant we stared at each other. Then he snatched up my hand and got us moving again. "Forgive me," he said, not sounding at all apologetic. "I'm understandably upset. I have never been in such a position before." His eyes narrowed. "They don't know you know the same, and it's in your best interest to keep your mouth shut about it. But you were there when she and I struck the deal, and you're going to tell them that she's been bound to keep her mouth shut but for one child. That the damage is contained."

  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 made a telling face. "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 te
stify 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, my eyes flew open. "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 go
ing?"

  "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.