White Witch, Black Curse

by Kim Harrison

  “You will be jailed for this,” Trent was saying, still having kittens in the corner.

  “Nonsense.” Al polished his glasses with another bit of red cloth. “I’m here to party on this side of the lines, eat a little something, but mostly”—he looked at me and put his glasses back on—“I’m here to keep our itchy witch from killing herself with an ash-to-flesh spell.”

  Jenks’s wings buzzed in the sudden silence, and I turned to Trent. The man was pale, and his hair was in disarray, but he was staring at Al and me. His eyes flicked to Pierce, white-faced in the corner, and he said, “You can bring the dead to life? That’s black magic.”

  “Not at all,” Al protested grandly. “Where do you think our itchy witch found this tricky little runt of a bastard?” He gave Pierce a shove, and the witch gagged. “He’s a ghost.” The demon sniffed. “Can’t you smell the little worms on him?”

  My head thumped into the wall. This was so not going well.

  “You’re a ghost?” Trent said, and Pierce shakily extended his hand from his corner.

  “Gordian Pierce. Coven of moral and ethical standards. You are, sir?”

  “You’re what?” I exclaimed, my face warming.

  Al started laughing, and Jenks dropped down to my shoulder.

  Jenks tickled my ear, almost getting smacked. “Rache!” he hissed. “Isn’t that the coven that got you shunned?” I nodded, and he added, “Maybe he can get your shunning rescinded.”

  I thought about that. Having been buried in blasphemed ground and dealing with demons didn’t stand well in his favor, but he had worked for the coven of moral and ethical standards. They were kind of like the I.S. Once a member, always a member. You couldn’t retire. But you could die.

  Trent shook his hand, looking positively stunned. “Ah, I’m Trent Kalamack. CEO of—”

  Pierce jerked his hand from Trent and pushed himself straight. “Kalamack Industries,” he said, expression twisted as he wiped his hand on his pants. “I knew your father.”

  “I do not freaking believe this,” I said, shifting to stand where I could see both of them.

  Al beamed. “Amazing who you can meet in an elevator,” he said, and Trent eyed me.

  “You have a charm to bring the dead to life. And it’s white,” the elf stated.

  I took a breath to answer, and Al interrupted smoothly. “And it’s for sale, at apprentice rates. No guarantees. I have two right here,” he said, patting his coat pocket. “It’s temporary. The curse to give them a lasting body is a far sight trickier. Someone has to die, you see. I’d imagine that would make them black, but you don’t seem to worry about killing people for your own ends, do you, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack?” he said with a simper. “Funny how you call my witch black, when you kill for profit, and she kills…” He hesitated in mock thought. “Why, she hasn’t killed anyone who didn’t ask her to! Imagine that.”

  Color spotted Trent’s cheeks. “I don’t kill for profit.”

  From the corner, Pierce muttered, “You kill for progress, if you’re anything like your father.”

  As one, we all looked at Pierce. The elevator dinged, and our attention was diverted as the doors opened. “Splendid! A fire!” Al cried cheerfully, striding out into the noisy crowd that had filled the downstairs lobby. The smell of smoke hit me, and I lurched to follow, not wanting Al to get out of my sight. It was crowded as people in evening gowns and suits talked loudly, mixing with people in jeans and heavy coats coming in to get warm but not ready to leave. Or perhaps they couldn’t with the streets blocked off.

  Trying to watch Al and Pierce both, I shuffled over to the coat clerk. Pierce’s hand landed on my arm as I extended my ticket, and I spun, almost smacking him. “Best stay away from that one, mistress witch. His father was a devil on earth,” the dead witch said, his eyes going to Trent.

  “No kidding.” Who should I believe, a ghost, or my dad? My dad was a good man, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t work for the devil on earth. Would he?

  Confused, I took my coat and scanned the crowd for Al’s velveteen one. Seeing Quen, I gave Trent’s security a little shrug to try to tell him everything was okay and to keep him from going into battle mode when he saw Al. The demon had once mauled Trent.

  Trent was making his way to Quen, his pace slow for being recognized and delayed. I pointed him out to Quen, and the security officer jumped into motion, his employer’s coat over his arm.

  I finally spotted Al by the doors, chatting up a pair of twins wearing baby bonnets for the year’s end, and I unzipped my bag. “Inside, Jenks,” I offered as I went to rescue the twins, and the pixy dropped down, cold and probably ready for that hand warmer. I knew it killed him being shoved in a bag like this, but he had no choice. And as I zipped it up, I vowed to be very careful with him tonight.

  I shuffled into my coat as we went, jerking from Pierce’s reach when he tried to help me. “I’ve got this okay,” I said, then winced when Al grabbed my shoulder, pinching me into submission as he helped me into my coat. “Let go,” I demanded, but my options were limited by the crowd. My last arm went sliding into the cold sleeve, and Al leaned in, reaching over my shoulders to fasten my top button.

  “I admire the way you are breaking Trent,” Al whispered from behind me, his white-gloved fingers moving to my chin to force my gaze to Trent and Quen. “So slow, like melting ice. And with his own pride. Masterful. I didn’t know you had it in you, Rachel. Pain gets old after a time, but it’s faster, and profit is the name of the game unless you’re making art.”

  “I’m not breaking him,” I said softly as Al backed up and I shifted my shoulders to get my coat to hang right. Trent and Quen were leaving, and the security officer looked back once before they vanished, his expression blank. I breathed easier when they were gone. At least I wouldn’t be responsible for Trent’s death. Not tonight, anyway.

  The wail of sirens grew louder, and I turned to a second door. Pierce jumped ahead of us to open it, and I did a double take. “Where did you get a coat?”

  Pierce’s face reddened, but it was Al who leaned forward, saying, “He stole it, of course. The man has many talents. Why do you think I’m so interested in him? Or you, my itchy witch?”

  Mood sour, I headed out into the cold, ducking down into my scarf and wishing I was anywhere other than here. If Ivy and Glenn weren’t okay, I was going to freaking kill someone.

  Twenty-eight

  This is not going to go well, I thought, glancing ruefully at Al beside me as we strode down the closed-off street toward Fountain Square. I was cold, and I hunched into my coat and squinted through the flashing lights for Ivy. Pierce trailed behind us, trying not to look like a goober, but he was wide-eyed and clearly from out of town, if not from out of this century.

  The square was organized chaos, with what looked like five I.S. vehicles just arriving, the original two FIB and I.S. cruisers stationed at the event, the expected news vans and ambulance. Topping it off, we now had fire trucks, and the spray from the hoses was turning into little pinpricks of ice on my face. It was the cold that made it miserable, the wind going right through my coat and to my core. Even in my bag, Jenks was going to have a hard go of it.

  There were fewer people than one might have expected, Inderlanders being good at disappearing and naturally avoiding anything that breathed of scandal. A handful of onlookers vied for the news crews’ attention.

  Avoiding eye contact, I quickened my pace to get behind the yellow tape where they could only shout questions I could pretend not to hear.

  There was a cluster of people at the dry fountain being treated for burns and what looked like smoke inhalation. The fire was out, but the firemen were still hosing down the stage, performing, I think, for the news crews. I spotted Edden’s squat form at the edge of the cordoned-off area, and he turned when I shouted. Looking cold but sharp in his tux, he held the yellow tape up for me, and we slipped under. Immediately I felt protected, and when my guard went down, I shivered violently from the
cold.

  “Glad you could join us,” he said, eyeing the two men behind me. “Where did you find the twins?”

  Twins? I thought, breath catching as I spun around to see a sullen Pierce in jeans standing next to a laughing one with dark sunglasses and a brilliant red tie. Holy cow, I thought, feeling a sliver of worry slip through me. Al put a finger to his lips, and I whipped back around to Edden, willing to play the game since it would keep me out of trouble for a few minutes longer.

  “Oh, you know us witches,” I said, not knowing why but only that I had to say something. “Hey, is that Tom?” I said as I spotted what I thought was a familiar face among the wounded.

  “Where?” Edden looked where I pointed. The man in the black trench coat was getting his hand bandaged, but when he saw us notice him, he quickly strode away, the person attending him shouting for him to come back.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Edden cursed, whistling and pointing to get someone to go after him, but it was too late.

  “That was Tom. Tom Bansen,” I said in affront, glaring at Al when he chuckled. The man had once summoned and released Al to kill me. “That’s the third time he’s beat me to a crime scene this week,” I mused uneasily.

  “He must have better intel,” Al said, giving Pierce a shove to stay behind him.

  “Are you giving Tom information?” I asked Al as Edden snagged a passing officer and started shooting off questions.

  A mock-hurt expression came in his eyes as Al peered at me from over his glasses. “Everything I do, I do for you, love.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was an answer or not, and I slowly let out my breath, flicking a glance at Pierce, now gazing up at the Carew Tower restaurant. There were three I.S. agents headed our way, and I had a moment of worry about Al until Edden flashed his badge and the men turned away.

  The officer with him jogged away, and Edden put his hands on his hips to assess the situation. Standing there he looked like a squat Jenks without the wings. With a stiff mustache. And a round face. And a tux too cold for the weather. Okay, so he didn’t look anything like Jenks, but the same protector-of-the-world attitude was there.

  Seeing Glenn’s tall form with a bunch of FIB personnel, I tapped Edden’s arm and we headed that way. The poor guy looked colder than I was with his knit hat pulled low and his eyes pinched. People were listening to him, though, and he looked like he was in charge.

  Ivy was next to him, her vampire need to protect the weak just about flaming from her, and making me smile. Her red dress flashed from under her coat as the wind whipped it. She didn’t look cold at all. As if noticing my gaze on her, her eyes rose to mine, then shifted to Al. Pierce was lagging behind, eyes on the fountain. Her words never stopped as she talked to the surrounding FIB agents.

  “The I.S. is lying,” she said firmly as the wind brought her voice to us when we got close enough. “No evidence of a banshee being involved is an outright lie. There should be tons of emotion here, and there isn’t. Barely enough to cover a fender bender. It’s as if it’s a Tuesday night, not New Year’s Eve after the ball has dropped and there’s been a fire. Emotion should be echoing between the buildings, and it isn’t. There’s nothing here. Someone sucked it up.”

  The circle of FIB officers shifted to let us in, and we rocked to a stop with Al uncomfortably close behind me and Pierce still at the fountain. The missing emotion was exactly the force I’d used to catalyze Pierce’s spell, but unlike a banshee, I hadn’t used it up, simply borrowed it to push the spell into working. I wondered if that made witches and banshees somehow related.

  I could see the shift of attention to Edden as he approached, and Glenn stifled a sigh. “Glenn, where are we?” the FIB captain asked to shift it back, and his son’s mood eased.

  Ivy frowned and crossed her arms over her middle. “Someone sucked the emotion out of here, and it wasn’t Rachel,” she said. “Her magic doesn’t work like that.”

  Not exactly, anyway.

  Glenn wiped a mittened hand under his nose, absolutely miserable with the cold. “I know it was a banshee,” he admitted. “I’m not arguing with you, Tamwood. But you aren’t licensed to give court evidence, and I’m stuck using what the I.S. is telling me. All we have right now is conflicting testimony from multiple witnesses. We know Mia was here.”

  “My amulet lit up,” an FIB officer said, his words echoed by another as the man brought out the spell and showed it to everyone. It was black now, but it was gratifying to know for sure that I’d done the spell right. Yet my blood wasn’t able to invoke it.

  Ivy huffed. “Okay, she was here. But that doesn’t mean she started the fire.”

  Arguments erupted, and Ivy took the opportunity to step out of the circle and come around to where we stood. Nodding to Al, she gave me a distracted smile. “It worked,” she said. “Good. I’m glad for you, Rachel. Pierce, welcome to the chaos of Rachel’s life. The next few hours ought to be fun.”

  I shook my head, but before I could explain, Al took her hand and kissed the top of her black glove. “Your welcome means more to me, Ivy Alisha Tamwood, than a thousand souls. Watching Rachel work is a wonder of one catastrophe after another.”

  That was kind of insulting. “This isn’t Pierce,” I said softly. “It’s Al. Pierce is at the fountain.”

  Ivy jerked her hand from him. Glenn heard, as did most of the FIB agents, but only Glenn knew what Al was. His instruction cut off in mid-phrase, and I shrugged to tell him that gathering FIB souls wasn’t on the demon’s agenda today. Edden’s expression became questioning. Glenn thought for a moment before remembering what he was saying, then continued, shifting to keep Al in his sights. Al huffed when the cautious man undid the snap to his holster. It didn’t go unnoticed by the surrounding FIB officers either. Ivy flicked her attention between the demon and Pierce, now gaping at the fire trucks.

  This was so not right, and I glanced around the square not wanting to believe that Mia had been here. That she’d kill a man to feed her daughter, I might understand, but up to now, she’d always been focused on the individual, not the collective. Even if I wanted to believe she was responsible for this, logic said it wasn’t her.

  Edden broke away from the FIB group as his son’s voice took on the sound of instruction. His gaze tight on Al, he approached. “Rachel, I’m sorry,” he said as he brought his gaze back to me. “I am going to do what’s best for the sake of the child, within the limits of the law, but I’m not putting my neck out for Mia. Not after this.”

  I was too cold to protest, shivering. Glenn was giving out a final instruction, and the men looked grim. “Look for anyone with a baby, probably a woman, but it could be a man, or a man and a woman together,” he was saying. “There shouldn’t be too many infants out here.”

  Ivy had her hip cocked. “Mia did not set the fire,” she said bluntly.

  “More vampire vibes?” Edden mocked, and Al grinned.

  “There is more than one banshee in this city,” Ivy continued. “I saw her. Tall, scary woman with long hair. Dressed like she should be surrounded by security. Not Asian. More Mayan than anything else. She’d look Hispanic to most people.”

  Mayan? I mused, my thoughts immediately going to the top of Carew Tower and the lunch I’d had with Edden yesterday. “That’s Ms. Walker,” I said, feeling my pulse quicken. “Edden, Mia might have been here, but so was Ms. Walker. Which makes perfect sense! Walker doesn’t have her usual haunts, so she’s feeding where she can, stirring up trouble to make herself stronger.”

  Edden’s face was thoughtful, but he waved to Glenn to get the men moving. With a chorus of agreement, they dispersed. It suddenly felt a whole lot colder.

  “Of course Ms. Walker would be here,” Edden said gruffly, but I could hear a note of doubt in it. “She’s tracking Mia. I’d be surprised if she wasn’t here.”

  Ivy sighed and shifted her weight, but I was a lot more direct. “Damn it, Edden!” I shouted. “Why are you being so bullheaded about this? Are you so smitten
with that woman that you can’t look at things logically?”

  The few FIB personnel within earshot turned, and Glenn’s eyes went wide. I suddenly felt nervous as the stocky man forced his clenched jaw to loosen. “Are you so bleeding-heart stupid that you can’t do the same?” he barked back.

  I suddenly realized that Al was quietly arranging the snowflakes on his sleeve, turning them into blue butterflies. The doomed insects flew from him only to die a few feet away, their wings fluttering briefly before being covered by snow.

  “Mia hurt me, too,” I said to Edden, nervous that someone might see Al’s show of demon skill. “Whether you like it or not, Holly is going to grow up to be one hell of a predator. You can either make her a friend, or a foe. Think about it.”

  Edden shook his head, zipping up his coat and walking away. “With friends like her, we don’t need foes.”

  That was one of the lamest things I’d ever heard him say, and I took several mincing steps to keep up with him. “Stop thinking like a human,” I said roughly. “It’s not a human world anymore. We don’t have any proof it was Mia, but you’re ready to put her in jail for it. Banshees are territorial, and I think Walker set the stage on fire to get a quick fix and call Mia out.”

  Edden stopped. Not looking at me, his eyes tracked the ambulance people, packing up. Behind him, Al was strolling forward, and Pierce was hotfooting it to us as well. “Don’t you love how Rachel sides with the underdog?” the demon said, then brushed the garden of tiny blue butterflies from his sleeve. They fluttered to the ground, dead before they touched the snow-caked cobbles. “It’s going to kill her someday,” he said lightly, bending to pick one up. “But not tonight,” he added as he pulled my hand from my coat pocket to put a chrysalis into it, curving my cold fingers protectively around it.