by Kim Harrison
I looked out the window again. They had a band down there. Ivy was probably having a lot more fun than me. “What if it was?” I whispered.
“I might have said yes.”
Behind us, the party continued, excitement growing as the serving people started distributing champagne for the upcoming toasts. My eyes searched the ceiling for Jenks. I had to move. No one would be in the ladies’ restroom when the clock ticked over.
Nervous, I tightened my grip on my bag. “What do you want, Trent?” I asked, trying to hurry this up. “You wouldn’t offer if you didn’t want something. Other than me dead, that is.”
He smiled with half his mouth, then became serious. “How do you figure I want something? I’m just curious as to what makes you tick.”
My head tilted, and for the first time all night, I felt in control. “You’ve approached me twice. You’ve touched your hair three times. You had a drink in your hand when we had our picture taken. That will be a first if it goes to press. You’re nervous and upset, not thinking clearly.”
Trent’s face lost all expression. He dropped his head as if in irritation, and when he pulled it back up, there was a new tightness to his eyes. He glanced at Quen, and the older man shrugged.
“Is it Ceri?” I asked. Mocked almost.
His brow furrowed, and he looked out the window.
“You want to know what she really thinks of you.” Still he said nothing, and I felt a sloppy smile come over me. Hiding it, I took a sip of water and set it on the tiny railing. Slowly it started to move away as the restaurant turned. “You won’t like what I say.”
“I don’t like a lot of things.”
I sighed. I couldn’t do this to him. I really couldn’t. Much as I would like to see Trent hurt, betraying Ceri’s trust was not going to happen. I didn’t think he had a Pandora charm anyway. “Ask Ceri. She’ll tell you a pretty story that will save your pride.”
Okay, so I wasn’t above a little dig.
“Rachel.”
He was reaching out, and I pulled back a step. “Don’t touch me,” I said coldly.
Jenks flew up, the glow of his dust reflected in the black glass. He hovered uncertainly, and he tapped his wrist like he’d seen Ivy do when we were running late. He had his sword bared, and though it looked like a shiny olive pick, it could be deadly. My pulse jumped. It was almost time.
“If you will excuse me,” I said tightly. “I have to use the little girls’ room. Happy New Year, Trent.”
Without a backward glance, I walked away, my head high and my bag in my grip. Jenks landed on my shoulder almost immediately.
“Get on the elevator,” he said, and curiosity filled me. People were getting out of my way with whispers and stares, but I didn’t care.
“Elevator?” I echoed. “Why? What’s wrong?”
He took off, flying backward so I could see him grin. “Nothing. There’s a maintenance floor where they store the tables. I wouldn’t have been able to find it if they hadn’t left the key wedged atop the frame holding the inspection notice.” He grinned. “I sat on it when I took Ivy downstairs.”
Arms swinging, I smiled at the elevator man as I entered the lift, and with no regret, shoved him out with a well-planted foot. The poor guy hit the carpet face-first, his loud complaint cutting off as the doors shut. Excited, I held my hand out, and the key dropped into it.
“Thanks, Jenks,” I said as I keyed the panel and hit the button he indicated. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Probably die,” he said, grinning.
Maybe I could pull this off yet.
Twenty-seven
The elevator hardly moved, dropping a floor before the silver doors slid apart to show a dark, low-ceilinged entryway. “Jenks,” I said as I edged to the opening lit by the elevator itself. “Are you sure about this?”
The hum of his wings rose over the faint sound of machinery as he lifted off from my shoulder. “I’ll get the lights. Hit the button for the lobby before you come out so it looks like you left, okay?”
I did what he said, and his faint glow darted out and was lost. There was undoubtedly a camera in the elevator, but Jenks would’ve taken care of it. I followed the pixy’s sifting dust, holding my bag more tightly to me. It was cooler down here. Not like outside, but worrisome.
“Jenks?” I called, hearing my voice come back from hard walls and surfaces. “You okay with this temp?” There were chairs stacked up everywhere, with a wide path leading out. Low carpet. I didn’t think the floor was moving, but if it was like upstairs, there would be only a ring of mobile floor, moving with the steady pace of an hour hand.
Jenks’s faint voice came back, “Tink’s panties. You’re worse than my mother, Rache.”
“I’m just saying it’s cold.” The chairs gave way to tables stacked surface to surface. I moved to an open spot before the bare, black windows. It had the same view as the restaurant above, and I could see Fountain Square if I pressed my head to the glass. We weren’t moving, but the grinding of machinery was loud. Maybe it was too noisy to use this level.
“Found the lights!” Jenks shouted, and with that as warning, bright light flashed into existence from the recessed fixtures overhead.
I jerked, shrinking down below the level of the windows. “Uh, is there a dimmer? All of Cincinnati can see me!”
Immediately the lights went out, and before I could stand, Jenks’s wings were humming by my ear. “No. Sorry. You want me to keep looking?”
Squinting to see with my light-blinded vision, I fumbled for a chair stacked on an upside-down table. “No, there’s enough ambient light.” I said. “I’ll just do this by the window.”
He shook himself to light a small circle, and I set the chair in it, dropping my bag on top. A second chair went beside it, and a third about five feet to the side. “What’s our time look like?” I asked, tension knotting my stomach as I dug in my bag. Finally my eyes readjusted.
Jenks landed on the back of the chair. I recognized the pattern of brocade from having sat on it only yesterday. “Less than two minutes.”
“Why do I always cut these things so darn close?” I said, dropping a pair of jeans on the chair beside me. The eight-year-old memory of Pierce naked in the snow rose up in my thoughts, and I forced it away, setting the rest of his clothes there as well. The shoes had come from Ivy, and they smelled like vampire. I hadn’t asked, I’d just said thank you. My splat gun topped the pile, and Mom’s red-and-white crucible/stone went on the chair across from me. Pulse quickening, I set the three bottles on the window ledge. Almost ready.
I ran my hands down my dress to dry my palms. Despite it being chilly, I was starting to sweat, and in this dress, it was going to show. “Okay. I can’t make a protective circle, so you’re going to have to keep yourself intact,” I told Jenks.
The pixy’s wings blurred into invisibility. “Give me a freaking break.”
A sigh slipped from me. “When Al shows, get yourself out of sight until he agrees to leave people with me alone. Got it?”
Jenks looked at me. “Sure, whatever.”
Like I believed that. “Time?” I asked.
“Half a minute.”
The bottles clinked as I chose one, and Jenks flew to the window, looking down at Fountain Square as I twisted the ground-glass stopper out and poured the liquid into the crucible. The tinkling of the potion drew Jenks back, and hovering so that the draft from his wings shifted the surface, he said, “It doesn’t smell like it worked.”
He looked worried, and I remembered the failed locator charms. “I have to invoke it when they all start singing.”
“Gotcha.” Reassured, he lit on the back of the chair. “And he’s going to be naked.”
“Yup.” I rolled the finger stick between my thumb and forefinger, waiting. Man, I hoped I did this right. If I could get Al to agree to this, it would be the first time I’d gotten anything from him without leaving a bit of my soul behind.
From a
bove, I could hear the faint whisper of a countdown, the concrete and machinery between us making the enthusiastic shouting hardly audible. Ten seconds. I snapped the top to the finger stick and pricked my finger. The sharp jab was a jolt, and I massaged the tip.
“Wait for it,” Jenks admonished. “Wa-a-a-ait for it…Now!”
Heart pounding, I let one, two, and then three drops of blood into the crucible. “Think happy thoughts,” I whispered as Jenks flew to me, and we both waited for the redwood scent that would tell me if I had done the spell right. Like a wave, the warm scent rolled out.
“There it is!” Jenks said brightly, then his expression, lit by his own dust, faded. I backed up from the chair. Okay, I’d done it. Now we’d see if I was as smart as we all hoped I was.
“Holy crap!” the pixy said as the liquid started to spontaneously steam. My pulse quickened, and I picked up my splat gun. Al was going to be pissed. If this didn’t get his attention, nothing would.
“Let me know when you smell burnt amber, okay?” I muttered, but Jenks was fascinated, hovering between me and the rising mist, unseen but for the faint dust slipping from him.
“Here he comes!” the pixy said excitedly, and I got behind one of the chairs. Somewhere in the spell, the dust was being used to give Pierce material to form his temporary body around. The mist started to take on a more human silhouette in the faint ambient light. Every second he looked more there. I didn’t know what kind of shape he was going to be in. Al could’ve beaten him badly by now. I was going to have my hands full with Al and wouldn’t be able to help Pierce.
“Jenks, get back,” I demanded, and the pixy zipped to me and away again. The mist was thickening, and Jenks swore as the misty shape seemed to shrink an inch all around—and suddenly, Pierce was there, his bare feet standing on the brocade fabric with his head near the ceiling facing away from me. Naked as a jaybird.
The man spun, holding on to the back of the chair as he turned. His eyes lit on me, and he let go of the chair, wobbling as he covered himself. “Holy manure,” he said, tossing his head to get the black tangle of hair out of his eyes, his face creased in what looked like anger. “I’d be of a mind to know, what the devil are you doing, mistress witch?”
Jenks rose up, his sword bared. “You scrawny ungrateful piece of crap!”
“Jenks!” I shouted, breathing deep for any sign of Al as I leaned over the chair and tossed Pierce the clothes. He caught them with one hand, and in a smooth motion, he jumped to the floor, putting his back to me as he fumbled to put the pants on.
I was scanning the dark, cluttered floor for demon-sign, but Jenks was more interested in Pierce, shocking the man as he flew to face him, shedding bright sparkles. “We’re saving your ass, that’s what we’re doing,” he said. “And the correct vernacular is holy shit.”
Adrenaline spiked when I caught a whiff of burnt amber, but it was coming from Pierce.
The solid ghost was shoving his legs into the pants, not bothering with the underwear. I couldn’t help but notice—even in the dark—that they were nice legs. Strongly muscled. Used to work.
As if feeling my eyes on him, he turned, trying to get the zipper up. “What are you doing?” he said, clearly aghast. “I opine that it’s not your responsibility to save me. I can take care of myself.”
Still no Al. “Good,” I said, anxious, “because in about three seconds, Al is going to show up, and you need to take care of your own ass. I’m going to be busy. Get behind me and stay out of the way, okay?”
Pierce gave up on the zipper and snatched a white, collared shirt up from the floor. “You rescued me without a plan?” he said, his old-world accent making him sound exotic as he shoved his arms into the sleeves and started buttoning it up. “This is a powerful fix. Nohow around it.”
“Of course I have a plan, but rescuing you wasn’t the point,” I said, affronted. “It’s the catalyst. Get behind me!”
Pierce grabbed the shoes and half-hopped beside me as he put one on. His shirt was untucked to hide his open zipper. The socks, too, he had ignored. “You didn’t rescue me, then?”
“Not really.”
“Do tell,” he said, sounding almost unhappy. His angular, thin face was wearing disappointment as he got his last shoe on and looked up. In the dim light, I could see his dark hair was mussed, and his narrow chin smooth. Though his blue eyes looked innocent, I knew behind them was a devious mind, clever and wicked. And he was looking at me. Damn it to the Turn and back. Stop it, Rachel.
“Pierce. I’m sorry. Can we talk about this after I take care of Al?”
He stood, matching my height. “After?” he questioned.
I looked over the dark storage room, gripping my gun tighter as I started to sweat. “Al wouldn’t talk to me, and pulling you out from under him was the only way I could think of to force the issue. Will you get behind me? I can’t tap a line or set a circle. My aura is too thin.”
“You’re taking on a demon with a thin aura? I can’t commune with the ever-after either! Are you plum mad?”
From above us, Jenks muttered, “I ask myself that at least three times a week.”
His expression going empty, Pierce looked up at Jenks, unknown thoughts sifting behind his blue eyes, looking black in the dim light from the windows.
“I’m not taking him on,” I said as I scanned for signs of Al. “I’m talking to him.”
Thick eyebrows furrowing, Pierce took a breath to say something. My eyes narrowed, but he stopped, holding his breath, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. Jenks’s wings hit a higher pitch, and the skin on the back of my neck crawled.
“Rache?” Jenks had his sword out as he revolved in midair. “He’s coming…”
“Make yourself scarce, Jenks. I mean it.”
With a boom of sound, the air pressure shifted. My instinctive hunch straightened, my eyes going first to the quivering windows, and then the new shadow standing before us in the open space. In one quick lurch, Pierce was beside me. Al was here. About freaking time.
“Student!” Al shouted, his red goat-slitted eyes glowing as he looked over his smoked glasses. He was poised in anger, his velvet coat and lace looking ominous against the black windows. Seeing Pierce, his jaw clenched. “There you are, you little runt. We had an agreement!”
“It wasn’t me!” Pierce shouted indignantly. “She did it!” he added, pointing as he took three steps away.
Agreement? I thought as Jenks started swearing. She did it? “Al, I can explain,” I said even as I leveled my gun at him. I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn’t going to be stupid about it.
“You slimy little slug!” Jenks was saying, hovering over us to light the scene.
Al’s growl of annoyance was loud, and his white-gloved hands clenched. “I am going to pulp one or both of you,” he said in a low voice.
Pride that I had snatched Pierce mixed with a healthy dose of fear. Adrenaline was running, and I felt alive. I thought I’d kicked this particular high, but apparently not. Al made a grab for Pierce, and I jerked him back. Jenks darted up, and the shadows grew darker.
“You’re mine, little runt,” Al intoned. “The longer it takes, the longer you’re going to suffer.”
“Mistress witch summoned me,” he said defiantly. “I have until sunrise before I am obliged to return.”
I had a bad feeling about this. It sounded as if Pierce had already made a deal with Al, and worse, that he was comfortable with it. Damn it, I did it again.
“I told you, Rache!” Jenks said as I shoved Pierce behind me and the pixy dropped down. “I’m sorry, but I told you!”
“I don’t have time for this,” Al growled. He gestured, and Pierce seized, falling to the flat carpet in convulsions at my heels.
“Hey!” I shouted, shifting to stand so Al couldn’t just scoop him up. “Do you not see this gun I’ve got? Knock it off, Al. I’m trying to talk to you.”
Al wasn’t listening, a black haze pulsing as he clenched his white
-gloved hands together, and Pierce groaned, tightening into a ball. This was so not working. “Al, if you don’t knock it off and pay attention to me, I’m going to plug you!” I threatened.
His red eyes flicked to mine. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I squeezed the trigger. Al dove for the side, falling into a roll and landing on his feet, facing me. Behind me, Pierce gasped. “I missed on purpose!” I shouted. “Stop tormenting Pierce and talk to me.”
“Rachel, Rachel, Rachel,” Al said from the dark, his low voice making me shudder. “That was a mistake, my itchy witch.”
Never taking my eyes off the incensed demon, I fumbled for Pierce, helping him up. “You okay?”
“As a summer day in the meadow,” he breathed heavily, wiping his face.
Jenks hovered between Al and me, his face ugly. “Let Al have him, Rache. He’s slug slime. You heard him. He’s already got a deal going.”
Like I don’t? “This isn’t about Pierce,” I said tightly. “It’s about Al snagging people.” I turned to the demon. “And you’re going to listen to me!”
“You should listen to the pixy,” Al said, pulling the lace from his sleeves before making a backward kick to send six tables sliding into the distant wall like dominoes. “If you were wise, you’d throw that pile of refuse to me and beg for leniency. He’s going to kill you.”
The shakes were starting, and I pushed Pierce farther behind me. Soon as Al got him, they would be gone. And I wanted to talk to Al. “Pierce isn’t going to hurt me,” I quavered, and Al smiled, his blocky teeth catching a glint of ambient light.
“Tell him what you are, itchy witch.”
Doubt filled me. Seeing it, Al reclined against a table. Slowly I lowered my gun. “I just want to talk to you. Why are you making this so dramatic?”
“He’s going to betray you,” Al prophesied, taking a step closer, and my gun came up again.
“Why should he be any different from any other man?” I said.
