by Ким Харрисон
"I don't have a form," Jenks admitted, somewhat embarrassed. "We can do it verbally."
The gargoyle nodded, and I backed up a step, sitting beside Ceri when she shifted to make room. It was darker now without my globe, and thunder rolled in a comfortable sound.
"Name?" Jenks shot out. "And your reason for vacating previous residence?"
"Jenks, that's rude," I said, and the gargoyle twitched his tail in a show of acceptance.
"My name is Bis," he said, "and I was kicked off the basilica because I was spitting on the people coming in. Suck-up little Glissando thinks she knows angel dust from dirt and tattled on me."
"Tink's titties, really?" Jenks said in admiration. "How far can you spit?"
My eyebrows rose. His name was Bis? What kind of a name was that?
Bis puffed up in pride. "If we've had a recent rain, I can hit a stop sign from a block away."
"Holy crap!" Jenks's wings lifted him, and he landed closer. "Think you can hit that creepy angel statue from the steeple?"
Bis's color went silver-white to match the fur on his ears and tail, and gold flecks grew in his red eyes. "Faster than you can throw toad shit at a hummingbird poaching your nectar."
"No fairy-ass way!"
"Yes way." Bis settled his wings against himself. The sound was soothing, and my shoulders eased. I think Jenks had found a friend. It was so sweet I could just barf. Except that he really needed one.
"Bis, it's good to meet you," I said as I extended my hand, then hesitated. He was only a foot tall, about half the size of most gargoyles I'd seen from the distant vantage of the road. His hand was too small to comfortably shake even if I wanted to chance those raptorlike claws, but I was willing to bet he was too heavy to land on my wrist in a proper pixylike greeting.
With a surprisingly small whoosh of sound, Bis was in a hopping flight. Jenks jerked back into the air in surprise, and I froze when the gargoyle landed on my wrist. He had gone black again, and his huge ears were bent submissively, like a puppy's. And when his smooth skin touched me, I suddenly felt every single ley line in the entire city.
Shocked, I did nothing as my gaze went vacant. I could sense them, softly glowing in my awareness, like potential unmasked. I could see which were healthy and which weren't. And they sang, like the deep thrum of the earth.
"Holy shit!" I gasped, then covered my mouth, embarrassed. "Ceri," I stammered, turning to her. "The lines…"
She was smiling. Damn it, she had known.
The gold flecks in Bis's eyes were whirling slowly, mesmerizing me. "May I stay, mistress witch?" he said. "If Jenks allows me to pay rent?"
He was lighter than I ever would have expected, almost not there. "You can tap a ley line," I said, still in a pleasant shock. My God, the lines were humming with different vibrations, like different bells have different sounds. The university's was heady and deep, and the one out back was a clear ting. From Eden Park was a discordant twang that had to be that ley line some idiot had built a reflecting pond over, turning it weak and almost dead.
Bis shook his head. "No, but I can feel them. They flow through the world like blood and leak from the surface like an unhealed wound."
I took a breath, only now realizing I had been holding mine. "Jenks, he's got my vote to stay. We can work rent out later, but maybe he can do night sentry duty so you can spend more time with Matalina."
Jenks was standing on the dresser, his reflection making two pixies frowning suspiciously at me. "Yeah," he said absently, his thoughts on something else. "That'd be great."
Ceri came forward and made a short, courtly curtsy. "I'm glad you got kicked off your parapet," she said, smiling. "My name is Ceri. I live across the street. And if you spit on me or my friends, I will turn your wings to feathers."
Bis flashed black and his gaze dropped submissively. "Yes, ma'am."
I looked at Jenks, seeing him asking my opinion with just his expression. I couldn't imagine Ivy would protest. I nodded, enthralled.
"Welcome to the garden, Bis," Jenks said cheerfully. "Rent is due on the first."
It wasn't until half an hour later when I was trooping downstairs to call my mom that I realized I'd taken my protection circle down after the gargoyle had dropped through it without a whisper of resistance.
Not before.
Seventeen
Jenks clutched at my ear as David's car cut a sharp right. The small pixy wasn't feeling well, seeing as it was noon and he was missing his afternoon nap. I had told him he could stay home and spit seeds at the creepy statue in the garden with Bis, but he swore so prettily at me that I had invited him along on David's and my run. And I say David's and my run because we both had a vested interest. Now that David had started a real pack, he'd be up for a raise if he could show a significant savings to his company. I just wanted to smack some sense into whoever was summoning Al and freeing him to kill me. Please don't let it be Nick, I thought, brow furrowed. The woman who owned the house was a witch, but that didn't mean Nick couldn't be wrapped up with her.
The day was sunny, and I had my shades on. The cool breeze coming in the open window felt good in my hair, which was loose and flowing. The skies promised to be clear, and with the moon just past full, it was shaping up to be an excellent Halloween night. If this was the group that was summoning Al and I could suitably impress upon them the error of their ways, I might risk going out. Marshal hadn't called, but I hadn't expected him to. I think he was backing off after our very quiet car ride back to his truck. Trent had put me in an exquisitely bad mood. Exhaling heavily, I made a face no one could see. Whatever.
At least Ceri and I aren't still at odds, I thought, smiling faintly. It felt good to settle that so fast, and I was glad I'd taken the initiative. It wasn't that she'd taught me a new charm that made me feel good, it was knowing that I hadn't lost a friendship. The only thing bothering me now was not knowing what was going on with Quen. I hoped he was all right and that Trent was being a drama queen.
David glanced across the short width of his gray sports car as he slowed at a crossing. The sun glinted on his long black hair, which was pulled back in a casual clip, making him look good. "You should wear a business suit more often," he said, his low voice mixing with the sound of fighting sparrows. We were out in the suburbs, and traffic was light. "You look nice."
"Thank you." I tugged the blah-brown skirt down over my knees. I had on nylons, and they felt icky. My flat-black, no-heel shoes didn't do anything for me either. And the purse that went with this outfit was so not me. At least my splat gun fit in it. David had insisted I look the part if I was coming with him. If he had made me dye my hair and put on brown contacts, I would have thought he was embarrassed to be seen with me.
"It's not the dress," Jenks chimed in, yawning. "She's got a new boyfriend."
I looked askance at him. "Marshal? I don't think so. He bugged out pretty fast yesterday."
Laughing, Jenks darted to David's steering wheel and landed there. "Sure, he's gone now, but he'll be back. Not looking for a girlfriend, my dragonfly's little green turds. That's the oldest line in the book, Rache. Take a smart pill once in a while, huh?"
We had had fun yesterday, until Trent showed up, but I wasn't sure if I wanted Marshal to call. I mean, I knew what was going to happen if he hung around, and I didn't want to go through that crap again. "He's coming off a psycho girlfriend," I said, remembering the soft look in his eyes when he had spun me into him. "The last thing he wants is another."
"That's what I'm saying!" Jenks threw his arms up in frustration. "He's just like you, going from one relationship to another to keep from getting bored, and you are going to get so burned on this one that you're going to need skin grafts."
I made an ugly face at him, but he only laughed. David was eyeing Jenks to get him to continue, and the pixy was more than happy to oblige. "You've got to meet this guy," he said, hands on his hips and his wings going full tilt as he walked along the steering wheel when David turned it. He wa
s in the sun now, and his wings glittered. "A normal relationship isn't enough for him, and he's got this white-knight complex on top of that, which Rachel fed when we asked for his help up in Mackinaw. I hope he gets smart faster than her, or he's going to be in a world of hurt. Probably find himself turned into a rat or something."
I didn't appreciate the reference to Nick, and my mood darkened. "Jenks, shut up," I said tiredly, then turned to David. "Have you talked to the ladies about the pack tattoo?"
Jenks snickered. "Nice segue, Rache. From one pain in the ass to another."
"Learn a new word, Jenks?" I needled.
David grinned to show his small teeth. "I've got an appointment for you with Emojin, Cincy's best tat design artist, the first week in April. I'll pick you up."
"April?" I said, my fear and anticipation easing. "I didn't know it would take that long." Maybe with a little luck, they'd forget about the entire thing.
Shrugging, David watched the road. "She's the best, and nothing but the best for my first female alpha."
I snorted and propped my elbow up on the window as I looked out. My schedule was going to be very full in April. Just watch.
Jenks was snickering, and I sent my gaze to the passing upper-class homes, ignoring him. We were almost there by the look of it, and I'd be glad to get out of the car and take my frustration out on some demon summoners.
"Big lots," I said, seeing the eighty-year-old oaks and shady lawns. The houses were set way back and had iron fences and stone drives.
"The harder to hear your neighbors scream, my dear," was David's answer, and I sent my head up and down in agreement.
Halloween decorations were everywhere—expensive and elaborate displays. Most of them moved, a combination of mechanics and magic that had been found only on locked Hollywood back lots until the Turn. David exhaled loudly as he turned the car onto a cobblestoned, circular drive. "This is it," he said as our momentum slowed and the sound of the tires became louder.
The house was a sprawling ranch with what looked like an inground pool in the back and elaborate landscaping in front. Inside the garage was a black two-seater Beemer, a riding lawn mower, and little else. A basket of cherry tomatoes with a gingham liner was sitting on the steps, a clear indication that the homeowner was Inderlander. I still had to go out and get my tomatoes, and I made a mental note to ask David if he would mind stopping at the Big Cherry on the way home.
Black and orange decorations covered the front porch between the huge Boston ferns and the greyhound statue. They might want to take it in tonight, or someone was going to cover it in tomato. Or worse.
The brakes squeaked as David stopped, and as he put the car in park, Jenks hovered before me. "Be right back," he said, then zipped out the window.
David got out of the car, shutting it with an attention-getting thump. Inside the house, a small dog started yapping hysterically. David looked good in his suit, but also tired. It was just after the full moon, and the two ladies had probably run him hard.
Eager to get my life back, I jumped out of the car and slammed the door.
"Relax, Rachel," David murmured as he came around the car, gripping his briefcase and wrangling his shades into place.
"I am relaxed," I said, then jiggled my feet impatiently. "You want to hurry up?" Please don't be Nick. Let me have made one good choice in my life.
David hesitated, his dark eyes flicking to the barking dog visible through a window. "You can't arrest anyone. You don't have a warrant."
I nudged him into motion and up the short walk. "If I'm lucky, someone will take a swing at me, and then I can hit 'em."
Looking askance at me with a wry grin, David snorted. "Just tell me if it was demon damage, and we'll leave. If it is, you can come back and make whoever it is chew his own balls on your terms, but as far as I'm concerned, this is just some nice lady with a crack in her wall."
Yeah, and I'm the cosmetics girl at Valeria's Crypt. "Whatever," I muttered, then tugged my dress straight and checked my complexion charm as we took the stairs to the shady porch. I wanted my Halloween back.
David rocked to a halt on the mat, tilting his head to watch the dog having hysterics through the long window beside the door. "It's not illegal to summon demons."
I huffed as I tucked my shades into that ugly brown purse, right next to the splat gun, the magnetic chalk, and the heavy-magic detection amulet—so far a nice friendly green. "It's illegal to tell them to kill someone."
"Rachel…," he coaxed as he rung the bell and the barking dog jumped up and down. "Don't make me sorry I brought you."
I stared, fascinated as the blond fuzz ball turned somersaults. "Me?" I said coyly.
The little dog yelped, vanishing in the blur of a swinging foot. I blinked, and my mouth was hanging open unintelligently when the door moved, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a paisley-patterned dress and an honest-to-God apron. I sure hoped it was a costume, because the fifties look was not an attractive fashion statement.
"Hello," she said, sounding like a little-miss-hostess doll. Her eyebrows arched, and I wondered if I had a run in my stockings. She didn't appear as if she was a demon summoner. She didn't appear as if she was in mourning either. Maybe she was the cook.
"I'm David," David said as he shifted his briefcase and shook her hand. "David Hue. And this is Ray, my assistant. We're from Were Insurance."
Ray? As in a little drop of sunshine? I gave him a dry look. I wasn't incognito, here.
"Ms. Morgan," I said, extending my hand, and the woman took it briefly with a noncommittal smile. A wave of redwood spilled from her, telling me she was a witch rather than a warlock, and she'd been spelling heavily lately. I wasn't buying the housewife image—she could probably slam me against the wall. Better be polite.
"I'm Betty," she said, stepping back and giving her dog another shove. It skittered sideways and parked its little yappy butt in the archway to the dining room. "Come on in."
David gestured for me to precede him, so eyeing the panting but silent dog happily staring at me, I went in. Betty's skirt swayed as she set a cordless phone on the table by the door between the huge bowl of wrapped candy and the plate of frosted sugar cookies. Orange pumpkins and black cats. By golly, she bakes, too.
"I understand you have some water damage?" David prompted when the door shut.
A shiver passed through me as it clicked smartly closed. Everything was clean and bright, lit by a high window. The hall was spacious, and clearly the woman was wealthy. The fact that her husband had just died of a heart attack was nowhere on her face or house. Nothing.
Heels clacking, the woman started down the hall. "In the basement," she said over her shoulder. "This way. I have to say I'm surprised you're working on Halloween."
Her tone was slightly sour, and I imagined Betty only offered to be available today as she thought we wouldn't work on Halloween. No one else did.
David cleared his throat. "We like to settle claims fast. Get your life back to normal."
Catch you in a lie, I added, looking at the décor. It was all angles and stark colors that made me uncomfortable. It smelled like hard-boiled eggs. On a long table was a big flower arrangement of lilies and black roses. Okay, so someone had cared.
The rapid patter of the dog's nails at my ankle pulled my gaze down, and the little dog panted happily up at me as if I were his best friend. "Go away," I muttered, motioning with my foot, and he yapped playfully, dancing around my toes.
Betty halted at an unadorned door painted white, and she turned, frowning at him. "Beat it, Sampson," she said roughly, and the cheerful little dog sat at my feet, his banner tail sweeping the tiled floor like mad.
With a last scowl, she opened the door, flicked on the light, and headed down. I looked at David, and he gestured for me to go first. I shook my head, not liking the bare boards and ugly walls after the open whiteness of the rooms upstairs, and sighing, he went first.
Betty was yammering about something, and I took a
breath to steady myself. I didn't want to go down there, but that's what I was here for. Frowning, I looked at Sampson. "Everything okay down there, sport?" I asked him, and he stood, his entire backside waving as he ate up the attention.
"Stupid dog," I muttered as I started down. But maybe not so stupid, since he stayed at the top of the stairs in the sun while I followed Widow Betty into the electric-lit blackness underground. Two steps in, I opened my purse and checked the lethal-spell amulet. Nothing. But the heavy-magic charm was glowing brightly enough to read by.
"I don't know how long the wall has been leaking." Betty's voice came echoing up as she reached the bottom and opened up a second door. It was unusual, but they might have had the vamp door for resale value. "I only come down here when I have to store something," she said as she flicked on the lights and the scent of carpet cleaner came drifting up. "I noticed it was wet a few weeks ago, and I ran the extractor over the carpet and forgot about it, but earlier this week, the crack just sort of opened up, and it got a lot worse."
David stepped into the basement, and after a quick amulet check, I halted at the base of the stair. I wasn't ready yet to let that woman get between me and the door. It was really thick, and it had a conventional lock on the outside and a deadbolt on the inside. Nice. Bet it was soundproof. No one likes screams disturbing their Sunday dinner.
Seeing me there, David nodded almost imperceptibly and went to drop his briefcase on the long conference table set up in the middle of the large room. It smelled too clean for Betty to be coming down here only once in a while. Bleach, and maybe that spray that Ivy used on the blood circles this spring. The cinder-block wall under the front door had a crack I could put my pinky in running from floor to ceiling, thinner rays following the mortar lines.
