by Ким Харрисон
"I'll give it to Piscary," I said as sweat trickled down my spine. "But I want something."
All eyes were on me. Piscary's smile widened. He slipped an arm behind Ivy and pulled her gently close. There was barely a flicker behind her brown eyes. "Ivy is mine," he said.
My breath shook as I exhaled. "Ivy belongs to herself. I want you to rescind the blood gift you made of Kisten, take him back into your camarilla, and give me protection from yourself and those yahoos," I said as I tossed my head to indicate everyone else in the room. "I also want my church back, and the freedom to pursue my business interests without interference."
Trent stiffened. Quen uncrossed his arms and took a more balanced stance. Al turned completely around from where he'd been scribing more ley line symbols on the two-way mirror. Piscary blinked in surprise. "Kisten?" he murmured in question. "You want… Kisten?"
"Yes, I want Kisten back under your protection," I said belligerently. "Will you rescind his blood gift or not? "
Piscary made a small sound of surprised consideration. Then, as if shifting his thoughts, he said, "You would have to restrain from persecuting me, of course."
"That's not fair," Al protested indignantly. "I'm trying to get Cincinnati's gambling and protection, and that gives you an unfair advantage. I want a witch on my payroll, too."
I gritted my teeth. I will not put myself on Piscary's payroll. I will not. "I can work on that," I said to Piscary. "It depends upon how much you tick me off."
The small man in his traditional Egyptian robes steepled his fingers in consideration. "You want me to rescind my gift of Kisten, take him back into my graces, grant you protection from all of them," he said with an elegant gesture, "and have me still be subject to your unique sense of moral outrage?"
Al's shoes clicked smartly, and everyone tensed as he came to the table. Clearly enjoying everyone's unease at his approach, Al sat with a provocative motion at the head of the table. "I'll say it again, Rachel Mariana Morgan. You're not shy about asking for things."
I wished he'd stop using all my names. "Look," I said, seeing Edden relax now that the demon was sitting. "I know what the focus is, what it does, and that it works. I've got it, and I won't give it away for nothing." My gaze slid to Trent's. "And money doesn't keep me alive."
"I can keep you alive," he said, his gray voice confident, though Edden stood behind him to cart him off to a cell if he couldn't make bail. "You underestimate me if you think I can't."
I grimaced as I remembered him offering me an island to get me out of the city and under his thumb. I still didn't know why. Maybe because he'd known that my blood could kindle demon magic? But he was afraid of black magic. It didn't add up.
"Thanks, but no," I said tightly. "I'd rather deal with the undead." Mrs. Sarong was looking at my shoulder bag as if she might snatch it, and I pulled it closer. "The focus will cause more turmoil than the Turn. I can't destroy it without twisting demon magic, and despite what you all think, I avoid it when I can." I took a deep breath, turning to Piscary. "I'm assuming you will keep it hidden and on this side of the lines so the Weres don't overthrow vampire superiority?" I asked, and he nodded, the light glistening on his shaven scalp.
"They are not superior to us!" Mr. Ray bellowed, and Mrs. Sarong edged her chair away in a show of distancing herself from him, clearly tired of his lack of grace.
"And that's why you want it so bad?" I said sharply. "Without the focus you're second, maybe third, on the food chain. Deal with it. Everyone else does."
Tension had pulled all my muscles tight. I was losing control. Edden had a weapon, but there were two predators and one elven warrior in here, all deadly on their own.
Piscary alone looked confident. "You're afraid," he breathed, the rim of brown about his eyes starting to disappear. "You smell… so good."
Adrenaline dove through me, followed by the memory of him pinning me to the floor of his apartment, licking the blood from my elbow on his way to my neck. "And you stink like three-day-old carrion under your pheromones and witch charms. Do we have a deal or not?"
"Perhaps," he said shortly. "But you ask for too much. I'm going to have my hands full trying to keep that fluffy ball of damnation under control," he said, glancing at Al, as his smile grew to show his fangs. "That's why they let me out. I must do my civic duty."
Behind him Skimmer shifted uneasily, and glanced nervously at her. "You mean Al?" I questioned when the demon leaned back and put his shiny dress shoes on the table in satisfaction. "No problem. I'll have him back in the ever-after as soon as I make an interdimensional phone call."
I wasn't a demon practitioner. I wasn't.
"You little canicula!" Al swore, his feet hitting the tile as he stood. His glasses slipped, and he fumbled for them. "You can't! You don't know anyone's summoning name but mine!"
Edden moved, drawing his weapon. The safety clicked off, and Al stumbled to a halt, remembering he had a body now that couldn't go misty. Quen was tense, and Trent was stiff in his chair. I was the nearest to him, but he knew I wouldn't protect his lame elf ass. Besides, he was looking at me as if I had sprouted black wings with matching tail and horns.
Piscary, though, was as cool and calm as ever, Skimmer behind him looking scared at last, and Ivy blinking, the faintest worry lines showing upon her forehead. Compared to Piscary, Al was weak now, trapped in a witch's body and capable of doing only what Lee could. "You can't banish him," the undead vampire said coolly. "Not with him possessing another."
I lifted one shoulder in a nervous shrug. "Someone in the ever-after owes me a favor. Al's over here hiding from trouble. If I blow the whistle, someone will pick him up."
"You bitch!" Al howled, jerking when Edden aimed his weapon. "You don't know anyone but Newt, and Newt doesn't have a summoning name. Who gave you their name?"
"He's back into the ever-after?" Piscary said, smiling again to show his fangs.
"And out of your territory." My fingers trembled, and I glanced at Trent, bothered by his look of horror. "Territories," I added to make it plural, not liking that Trent thought I dealt in demons. "I'll do that for you for free, Trent."
Trent shook his head, his fair hair floating in the breeze of the building's air. "You consort with demons," he whispered, then turned to Quen, looking betrayed. Everyone he thought was untainted was not. Seemed like Trent had his own problems.
"I don't," I said, unclenching my teeth before I gave myself a headache. "Someone in the ever-after owes me. You have a problem with my calling in a favor to get rid of Al? "
His confidence shaken, Trent asked, "What did you give a demon for a favor owed?"
Stomach cramping, I turned to Piscary. "Do we have a deal or not?"
The vampire smiled to make me shudder. "Very much so."
Al growled, and as Edden held him at gunpoint, I shoved the package down the entire length of the table. "Mazel tov," I said, depressed, anxious, and jittery.
"It was the gift?" Trent stammered. "You brought it to the wedding?"
"Yup," I said with a false brightness. I felt sick. Buying Kisten's and my safety from Piscary was so wrong. But it was either that or deal with a demon, and I'd rather keep my soul clean and let my morals get dingy. I guess. But I felt filthy. This wasn't who I wanted to be.
"Son of a bitch…" Al said as Piscary's long fingers stretched forward to take it.
"Rachel!" Jenks shouted from the ceiling. "Get down!"
My breath hissed. Not looking, I dropped. The flat of my arms hit the tile, and I saw Al's feet move toward me. I rolled under the table to Quen. But Quen was gone.
"Get down!" Edden's voice bellowed, strong and demanding. I was on my hands and knees under the table, and I tensed for a gunshot. It never came.
A guttural snarl erupted from the back of the room, and I gasped when Al fell into my sight on the floor. Piscary was atop him. The undead vampire had launched himself across the room. He was protecting me. I had paid him to keep me alive, and that's what he was do
ing.
Shocked, I scrambled up.
Quen and I had exchanged places. The warrior elf had Trent backed into a corner by the door. Edden was standing before them, gun trained on Al. The Weres were by the back counter, wide-eyed. Ivy was blinking where she sat, looking at her reflection in the distant two-way mirror, oblivious to Skimmer's attempts to tug her upright and to the back of the room. The pretty vampire's eyes were black in fear, and her mouth was open in horror. I could smell burnt amber, and I patted at my clothes, looking for damage. But then I saw it. The doorknob had been melted. We weren't getting out of here anytime soon.
Oh, God. I wanted to live.
The lights were on in the room behind the mirror, and someone was trying to break the glass with a chair. Heart pounding, I backed up to the wall, my gaze on Piscary and Al.
"Jenks! Get back!" I shouted when I saw the sparkle of pixy dust. Snarling, fangs bared, Piscary grappled with Al. The demon was at a severe disadvantage in his witch body, and I went cold when I realized that Piscary had him. Hand covering my neck, I stood in shock as the vampire sank his teeth.
Al howled, managing to get an arm between them, then a knee. With a pained grunt, he tried to shove Piscary away, failing. Tears of remembered fear filled my eyes as the demon went limp with a moan, the vampire saliva starting to work.
My hand clutched my sore upper arm, and I looked away. My gaze found Trent behind Quen. He, too, appeared shocked. I don't think he knew until this moment the horror Quen and I had endured when we were attacked by an undead. They didn't care. They existed to feed. The walking and talking simply made it easier for them.
Edden was ashen-faced, but his painted weapon stayed steady, waiting. The pounding on the mirror had shifted to a pounding on the door.
With a sodden thump, Piscary let Al drop. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, then delicately cleaning even that from himself with a black handkerchief, Piscary rose. His eyes were black. He had just fed, but we were trapped in here with him. Al's hand lifted, then fell.
The room tensed, and Jenks landed on my shoulder. He was pale, as shocked as the rest of us. "It's not over, Rache," he said, his voice frightened. "Get yourself in a circle."
I drew myself up to tap a line and set an informal circle, but a hint of burnt amber brought my attention to the front of the room. Shit.
A mist was forming over Al. Al wasn't dead. He was leaving Lee's body now that it wasn't useful anymore. Piscary didn't know it, standing satisfied and full of himself, smiling benevolently. Any circle I was going to make had to have a real beginning to stand against a demon. My bag and its stick of magnetic chalk was on the other side of the table. Hiking up my dress, I crawled up onto the table to jerk my bag to me. Backing into a corner as Piscary advanced, I scrabbled in my bag, fingers fumbling.
"Rache! Hurry up!" Jenks shrilled.
Heart pounding, I found it, yanking it out. It slipped, and I cried out in frustration as it rolled under the table. I dove for it, but Quen got there first, and both our hands landed on it.
"The demon isn't dead," the elf said, and I nodded. "I need this," he said, jerking the chalk from my fingers.
"Damn it, Quen!" I shouted, then screamed when a set of fingers fastened about my ankle and dragged me out from under the table. I twisted and, flat on my back, stared up at Piscary. He bared his fangs, and my heart gave a thud. From my neck came a pulse of feeling, but I was too scared for it to feel good. Piscary's eyes closed in twisted bliss, soaking it in like sunshine. Behind him a sheet of ever-after swirled and condensed into a vision of the Egyptian god of the underworld, his smooth chest bare and bells jingling from his scarlet-and-gold loincloth.
I never thought I'd be so glad to see Algaliarept. Too bad he was likely going kill me after he finished staking Piscary.
"Piscary," I said breathlessly as the demon's goat-slitted eyes glinted red and a long canine tongue slipped out to catch a drop of hanging saliva, "You might want to turn around."
"Pathetic," the undead vampire mocked, and I stifled a gasp as he yanked me up.
"You only killed Lee, you stupid ass," Jenks said from above me. "Not Al."
The vampire took a deep breath, scenting the air. I shrieked when he shoved me away. I flew backward, hitting the cupboards. Struggling to breathe, I put a hand to my back.
"Rachel!" Jenks shrilled. "Are you okay? Can you move?"
"Yeah," I rasped, almost cross-eyed as I looked at him inches away from me. I scanned the room for Ivy, not seeing her. Someone screamed. It wasn't me this time, and I staggered up.
"Oh, my God," I whispered as Jenks hovered beside me. Al had Piscary. It was a vision from the depths of history as a jackal-headed god grappled with an Egyptian prince in royal robes who had set himself even with the underworld. The demon had his hands around Piscary's neck, his fingers pressing into the vampire's flesh as if it were dough, and he was trying to pinch his head right off. Piscary was fighting him, but now that Al was in demon form and pissed to the ends of the Turn, the undead vampire hadn't a chance.
Piscary couldn't die. It would ruin everything.
"Quen! Give me the chalk!" I wheezed, hand over my bruised throat. I had to save Piscary. Damn it, I had to save his worthless, stinking, perverted life.
From his corner, Quen hesitated.
"Who do you think Al will go after when he's done with Piscary!" I exclaimed, frustrated, and the elf threw it at me.
My heart leapt. Crap, why did people always throw stuff at me? I was a lousy catch. But I put my hand up, and the chalk hit it with a satisfying thump. Keeping one eye on the jackal-headed god and the dying vampire, I hunched over, tripping on my dress as I drew a circle around them, making it as big as I could to stay out of their way. Jenks went before me, and I followed the path he was dusting to get it circular.
"Ivy," I gasped when I found her, standing blank-faced before the mirror, watching her faint reflection, oblivious to everything. "Go to Quen. Get over by Quen. I can't help you."
She didn't move, and when Jenks shrilled at me to hurry, I lurched past her, praying she would be okay and cursing my helplessness.
I had to crawl under the table to finish the circle, and as I came out, the end of my silver line met the beginning. "Rhombus," I breathed, tapping a line. The gold of my aura flowed upward, the black of demon smut following to coat it a breath behind.
"No!" Al howled, his eyes red with fury as he dropped Piscary an instant too late.
The vampire hit the floor. Still conscious, Piscary grabbed the demon about the calves and pulled him down. Piscary was on him in an instant, fangs tearing ribbons of flesh like a wolf's. I scrambled up, shocked as he gulped them down to make room for more, trying to savage the demon into nonexistence. The sound was absolutely… horrifying.
"Let them kill themselves," Trent said from beside the door, pale and shaking.
"Demon!" I shouted, unable to risk calling Al by his summoning name. "I have bound you. You are mine. Leave here and go directly to the ever-after!"
The Egyptian god howled, saliva dripping red from his muzzle and his neck reduced to ribbons of exposed flesh. He had returned to his demon form, and he was vulnerable.
"Leave now!" I demanded, and with his anger ringing within the room, Al vanished.
Piscary fell through the space where Al had been, his arm hitting the floor to catch himself. Hand against his crushed neck, he found his feet. The room was silent but for Skimmer's gasping breaths, sounding almost like sobs. The Weres were in one corner and the elves in another. Edden was passed out on the floor beside the door. Just as well. He would have tried to shoot someone, and that would only have given him more paperwork.
I turned to Quen, the chalk still in my grip. "Thanks," I whispered, and he nodded.
Slowly Piscary collected himself, turning from a savage monster to a ruthless businessman, albeit one covered in blood. His eyes were utterly black, and a shudder rippled over me. Taking a step forward, he stopped at the edge of my bubb
le. He tugged down the sleeves of his elegant traditional dress robes and wiped the last of the demon flesh from his mouth, clearly waiting. My pulse slowed, and, praying I was safe, I slid a foot forward and broke the circle.
Hell, I had saved his undead life. Surely that meant something to him.
"You could have let him kill me," Piscary said, scanning the room until he found Ivy, her back to him as she touched her reflection.
"Uh-huh," I panted, scooping up my bag and tucking the chalk away. "But you're my ticket to normalcy, right? And the only way to get Kisten's blood gift reversed."
Piscary raised one eyebrow. "I can't rescind my gift of Kisten's last blood. I wouldn't even if I could. Kisten needed to be reminded of his reason for existence. And besides, that would have been rude."
Would have been? I thought, going cold. As in past tense?
"Kisten…" I stammered, suddenly feeling trapped. My hand clutched at my sore arm, and I felt sick. Jenks's wings rose to a pitch that made my eyes ache. Kisten. "What did you do?" I took a frantic breath. "What did you do to him!"
The vampire dabbed at the black blood leaking from him. It smelled like incense, potent and heady. "Kisten is dead," he said flat out, and I reached for the table, dizzy. "Not only dead but truly dead. Twice. He didn't have it in him to stay the course." Piscary pressed his lips and cocked his head in a mockery of interest. "I'm not surprised."
"You're lying," I said, hearing my voice tremble. My chest clenched, and couldn't get enough air. Kisten couldn't be dead. I would know. I would have felt it. Something would have been different, everything, and nothing was. Jenks had said he'd called. He couldn't be dead!
"He went underground!" I exclaimed, frantically looking at everyone— wanting someone, anyone, to tell me I was right. But no one met my eyes.
Piscary smiled to show a glint of fang. He was getting too much joy from my despair for it not to be true. "You don't think I know when one of my own passes into undead existence?" he said. "I felt him die, and then I felt him die again." Face showing a twisted pleasure, he leaned toward me and whispered loudly. "It was a shock to him. He didn't expect it. And I licked up his despair and failure, reveling in it. His entire life was worth just that one… exquisite moment of failed perfection. Pity his living bloodline ended with him, but he was always so careful. It was as if he didn't want anyone to follow him…"
