The Outlaw Demon Wails th-6

by Ким Харрисон

  "Are you okay?" he said, and I nodded. I had to finish this before I chickened out.

  Mouth dry, I turned the stick a hundred and eighty degrees to move his sample to my loop and vice versa. "Omnia mutantur," I whispered, invoking the curse.

  All things change, I thought, then jumped when a feeling of being peeled out of my skin rippled over me. My hands shook, and when I looked, my aura was gone. It just…wasn't there.

  "I had no choice," I said to Trent in explanation—maybe apology—then clenched my gut when the imbalance hit me.

  Pain struck deep, doubling me over, and I pushed violently away in a panic. My foot scattered the curse as I curled into a ball, and I smelled extinguished candle.

  "Jenks!" Trent shouted. "Something's wrong!"

  I couldn't breathe. Bent into myself, I tried to open my eyes. My face scraped against the decaying carpet, and I grunted as I tried to find control. My head felt like it was splitting in two, and I cracked my lids, desperate to see. That made it worse. Oh, God, the imbalance was stronger than anything I'd ever felt before.

  "Rache, you okay?" Jenks said, inches from me as he hovered over the carpet.

  I got one clean breath in before the pain hit me again. I didn't want it, but the imbalance would kill me if I didn't take it as my own.

  "Hold her!" Jenks shouted. "I can't help her, damn it! Trent, hold her before she hurts herself!" he demanded, and I sobbed when I felt Trent's arms go around me to keep me from rolling down the stairs.

  "I take it," I gasped, my head exploding and my chest cramping. "I take the damn curse."

  Like a light switch cutting off, my muscles quit seizing, and I sucked in a ragged breath of air that tasted like candle smoke. I took another breath, then another, content to simply exist without pain. Slowly my muscles relaxed, leaving only my throbbing head. Trent was sitting behind me with his arms wrapped around me. My face was wet, and Trent let go when I moved to wipe the dampness and carpet off my cheek. Slow and lethargic, I looked at my hand to make sure it had been tears and not blood I wiped away. My head hurt that badly.

  "I'm okay," I rasped, and Trent's hold dropped. I heard him slide away and get up. Jenks was watching us from a railing, his face pale and pinched. "Did any demons show up?" I asked him, and he shook his head.

  Utterly wiped, I shifted myself farther from Trent, embarrassed and trying to find some semblance of self again. I had done it. Damn it, it hurt so much that it had to have worked. I looked at my hands, both wanting to and fearing I might see an alien aura. They were shaking. My aura was again hidden, and I was too afraid to ask Jenks if it was mine, or Al's, or nonexistent.

  I looked at Jenks, and he smiled. "It's yours," he said, and my eyes closed as a lump grew in my throat. I pushed the emotion down. We had a run to finish.

  "Do you have Trent's sample?" I asked. "We have to get out of here." I'd cry later over what I had done to myself. Right now, we had to leave.

  "It's coming," he said. "I found it under 'Kallasea.' Female elf installed in…three fifty-seven B.C., if I did my subtraction right. They mark everything from when the elves abandoned the ever-after. Your court date wouldn't have come up for five years." The pixy laughed. "That's what organized justice will do to you. Rome didn't fall. It was strangled in red tape."

  "Bring it to me!" Trent shouted, and both Jenks and I jumped.

  "All right, all right," he muttered as he zipped to the statue. "Don't have a hairy fart."

  They mark the years the same as us, I thought, shoving things into my bag and hesitating when I couldn't find Al's sample. Where in hell had it rolled to?

  "Got it!" came a faint call, and Jenks burst back out in a glitter of gold sparkles. A new ampoule was in his grip, with a faint amber tint to the glass. Trent gazed hungrily up at him, looking like Rex following a pixy toddler. "Once I had a name, it was as easy as pulling the wings off a fairy," Jenks said smugly. "You got anything sweet in your backpack? I haven't eaten in hours. Damn, I'm as tired as a pixy on his wedding night."

  "Sorry, Jenks. I didn't know you were coming, or I would have brought something."

  Trent was shaking, the impatient man snatching up his pack and holding out his hand. "I have some chocolate," he said. "Give me the sample and it's yours."

  We were going to do it. We were going to get out of here. Provided the curse Trent bought from Minias worked. If it didn't, Jenks and I were really screwed.

  Jenks snapped his wings together with a loud crack in anticipation. "Excellent!" he said, then froze in midair. "Uh, Rachel?" he said, every last speck of dust vanishing from him. "I don't feel right."

  "Can it wait until we get home?" I said, checking Ivy's watch. Crap. The sun was up.

  There was a soft puff of displaced air, and my head jerked up. Someone had just popped in. Shit. But when I scanned the room, it was empty. "Jenks?" I said, feeling cold.

  Trent stared at me, one foot on the stairs. "Where's your pixy?"

  Had someone cursed him into nothing? I stared at the fading cloud of dust, my heart clenching in fear. "Jenks!"

  Trent lurched up onto the stage. "Where's my sample? He's gone! He used the last curse and left us here!"

  "No!" I protested. "He wouldn't! How could he? He doesn't even know it!"

  "Then why isn't the curse working?" he shouted. "It's not working, Rachel!"

  "You're asking me?" I snapped back. "I'm not the one who bargained for it. Maybe we need to go back to where we came in. Don't blame my partner if you made a bad bargain!"

  Trent gave me a murderous look. Silent, he took the stairs and headed for the side door.

  "Hey!" I shouted. "Where are you going?"

  He never slowed. "To put distance between us before someone tracks you down. If surface demons can hide from demons, so can I. I never should have trusted you. Trusting a Morgan killed my family. I'm not going to let it kill me."

  The harsh red glare of the sun spilled in when he yanked the door open. Squinting, I glimpsed a flash of purple, prestorm sky. A gust sent my hair flying and atomized the dust circles. Then the door swung shut, cutting off the light and wind.

  Heart pounding, I knelt to shove the last of my curse stuff into my bag. "Jenks!" I shouted, clueless as to where he'd gone to. "We gotta go!"

  Pulse fast, I ran out after Trent. The light was blinding after the soft glow of electric lights. "Damn it, Trent," I shouted as my feet hit the concrete stoop. "I can't get you home in one piece if you run off like that."

  Arms pinwheeling, I skidded to a stop on the narrow landing outside the door. There in the shade of the trees was Minias with three of those demons in red. Trent was slumped on the ground before their feet. He wasn't moving. Crap on toast, they'd known we were here the instant Minias had been slung back home with the sun.

  Hand fumbling for my splat gun, I turned to retreat, only to run into Minias's chest.

  "No!" I shrieked, but I was too close to do anything, and he pinned my arms to my sides. He was in the sun, and I could see his pupils, slitted like a goat's, and the red of his irises, so deep that it almost looked brown.

  "Yes," he said, pinching my arms until I gasped in pain. "What, by the two worlds, have you been doing, Rachel Mariana Morgan?"

  "Wait," I babbled. "I can pay. I know stuff. I want to go home!"

  Minias sent one eyebrow rising. "You are home."

  There was a pop from under the trees, and Minias grimaced as he looked toward it.

  "That witch is mine!" came Al's distinctive voice, and Minias wrapped a possessive arm around me. "She's got my mark!" the demon raged. "Give her to me!"

  "She wears Newt's mark, too," Minias said. "And I have possession of her."

  A ribbon of panic pulled through me. I had to do something. I didn't think Al knew I had his summoning name, or he'd be yammering about that, not the lousy mark he had put on my wrist. I had to get out of here. I had to reach my splat gun.

  Grunting in effort, I wiggled and twisted. Minias swung me around. My legs
folded awkwardly under me as he slammed my ass onto the concrete. I reached for the cement, trying to find my feet and run at the same time. But Minias put a hand on my shoulder, pinning me. A wave of something flowed from him, and I stiffened as I struggled to breathe through the sensation of every last erg of ley line power being pulled from me. It was the opposite of Al's line-overload punishment, and it felt like rape. I struggled to flee, but his hand on my shoulder pinched harder.

  Minias looked down at me, and the scent of amber flowed from him as his gaze took on an inquisitive hue. "Trying to steal Al's name to prevent him from being summoned out was a good idea. Bad idea to attempt to implement, though. No one has ever gotten past that statue."

  They didn't know. They didn't know I had done it, and my success gave me a burst of hope. Soon as they figured it out, Al was going to be pissed, but if I could escape, I'd be okay. I could tap a line and hit Minias with it, but he'd probably just pull it out from me again, and my soul was still ringing from his first invasion. If I was going to escape, it'd have to be physically.

  Gathering myself, I tried to break free, but he knew what I was going to do before I did it. The moment I had my feet, he simply jerked me off balance, into him. His yellow-clad arm wrapped around me, tightening until I almost couldn't breathe.

  At least I can see now, I thought as I spat the hair out of my mouth. The wind was worse with the sun being up, and my hair was gritty and my lips tasted of burnt amber. The red light hurt my eyes. No wonder witches had left to live in an unpolluted world—fleeing a dying ever-after to exist among humans. Stay hidden, Jenks. Wherever you are.

  Al was striding out from under the trees, his white-gloved hands in murderous fists. "That witch is mine!" he spat. "I'll fight this all the way through the courts."

  "Newt owns the courts," Minias said coolly. "You want the witch, you can buy her like anyone else."

  They were going to sell me?

  Al stopped at the base of the stairs, frustrated. "My mark came first!"

  "And that means what?" Minias sniffed, and a pair of wraparound glasses appeared on his face. "Give me permission to jump you underground through the lines," he said to me. "It's disgusting up here."

  My chest hurt, and I wondered if the earth charms in my gun were still good. "No."

  From the gray slump that was Trent came a raspy "Never."

  One of the demons nudged him with his foot, and a shocking scream burst from Trent, quickly stifled and turned into a ragged gasp of air. Pity filled me as I remembered the agony of Al forcing me to hold more ever-after than I could bear. It felt as if your soul were on fire. Tears warmed my eyes, and I shut them when Trent passed out and the ugly sounds stopped.

  "This one at least is mine," Minias said. "Tag him as a novelty and work up a brief history so the collectors will be interested. Don't take a lot of time. Rachel Mariana Morgan will be the high-ticket item."

  "You can't auction her off. She's mine! I've been grooming her for over a year," Al threatened, and the tails of his green velveteen coat flapped as he strode up the steps. His chiseled face was hard, and he squinted as if his tinted glasses were ineffective. "I marked her first. Newt's claim is secondary. This is my job!"

  My teeth clenched, but I could do nothing when Trent and the demon who had touched him into unconsciousness vanished.

  "The courts will decide," Minias said, yanking me out of Al's reach.

  Al's strong jaw clenched and his hands turned into fists. I wasn't all that joy-joy about it either, and I struggled when Minias gave me a shake and said, "Let me jump you."

  I shook my head, and he shrugged, tapping a line. He was going to try to stun me the same way they had stunned Trent. I felt it coming, and I opened my thoughts to take it, gasping as ever-after energy roared into me. I spindled it, panting with the effort.

  Minias's eyebrows furrowed, and he turned to Al. "You ass!" he shouted. "You taught a witch how to spindle a line as well? You lied to the courts? Dali can't help you now."

  Al jerked back a step. "I did not," he said indignantly. "They never asked. And I bound her to condition as tight as the elf 's. What is the problem here! I have control of the situation!"

  I had two demons fighting over me. Seconds, maybe. I reached for a line. Minias felt it.

  "Bloody hell!" he swore. "She's trying to jump!" he shouted, shaking me. "Now how do we contain her?"

  I touched the line, willing it to take me, my thoughts on Ivy. But a thick white-gloved fist swung to meet my temple. It ripped me from Minias's grip, and I fell, my hands getting between me and the cement at the last moment, palms scraping. Someone's foot slammed into my gut, and gasping for air, I rolled into the basilica's side door. Unable to breathe, I stared at the ugly red sky and felt the wind on my face.

  "Like that," Al snarled. "Leave catching familiars to the experts, Minias."

  I felt Minias pick me up, my arms dangling. "Holy sweet spit, she's still not out."

  "Then you hit her again," Al said, and another burst of pain sent me into nothing.

  Twenty-eight

  My head hurt. Actually, the entire right side of my face hurt, not just my head, a deep, throbbing ache that seemed to come from the bone and pulse in time with my heart. I was slumped facedown on something warm and softly yielding, like the mats at the gym. My eyes were closed, and words whispered at the edge of my awareness, fading into the hum of a distant fan when I concentrated on them.

  I shifted my head to get up, slowing when my neck complained. I put a hand to it and pulled my legs under me to find an upright position. The sound of my leather pants scraping the floor was soft, the echoes nonexistent. My eyes opened, but I couldn't see a difference. One hand on my neck, one sort of propping myself up, I tugged David's coat out from under me and took a slow breath. I was wet—my hair damp and the taste of salt water on my lips. The cool certainty of charmed silver rested upon my wrist. Swell.

  "Trent?" I whispered. "Are you here?"

  There was a rough harrumph, chilling me.

  "Good evening, Rachel Mariana Morgan."

  It was Al. I froze in panic, trying to see. There was a click six feet in front of me, and I scuttled backward, crying out in surprise when my back hit a wall. Fear was a sharp goad. I tried to rise, and my head hit the ceiling a mere four feet up.

  "Ow!" I yelped, falling down and moving like a crab until I found a corner. My pulse hammered, and I strained to see. Everything was black. It was as if my eyes were gone.

  Al's low, mocking laugh grew in depth, then faded with a bitter sound. "Stupid witch."

  "Stay away," I demanded, pulse hammering and my knees to my chin. I wiped the last of the salt water from my face and pushed my hair back. "You come near me, and I'll make sure you never engender any little demons. Ever."

  "If I could touch you," Al said, his accent clear and precise, "you'd be dead. You're in jail, love. Want to be my shower buddy?"

  I wiped my face again, slowly letting my knees fall from my chest. "How long?" I asked.

  "Have you been here?" Al murmured lightly. "Same as me. All day. How long will you remain? Just until I get out, and then I'll be back. I'm looking forward to joining you in that tiny box of a cell you're in."

  Fear slid through me, then was gone.

  "Feeling better?" he almost purred. "Come over here by the bars, love, and I'll rub your aching head for you. Rub it right off your skinny little shoulders."

  Hatred nearly dripped from his soothing voice, still so elegant and refined. Okay. I was in jail. I knew why I was in jail, but why was Al? Then I winced, wondering if I could have pissed the demon off any more. He'd warned me not to tell anyone I knew how to spindle line energy. And then I went and did it in front of Minias. They had caught Al in a lie of omission, and I didn't think he could put any kind of spin on it to make it look good.

  Squinting to try to make the black haze take shape, I began to move with my hand outstretched, making a point of staying far from Al's voice. My ears strained to c
atch the echo of my breathing against the maybe-walls, but I heard nothing. A soft touch of fabric on my searching fingers jerked me to a stop, then I reached out. It was a warm body that smelled like blood and cinnamon. "Trent?" I whispered worriedly as I crouched closer and sent my hands over him. They had put us there together? "Oh, God. Are you all right?"

  "For the moment," he said. "Do you mind not touching me?"

  His very awake tone shocked me, and I jerked back. "You're all right!" I exclaimed as the warmth of embarrassment turned to a mild anger. "Why didn't you say anything?"

  "What would be the point?"

  I eased back and sat cross-legged as I heard him shift. I couldn't see, but I guessed he was leaning into the opposite corner. It was the best place in the cell, seeing as it was farthest from Al. I think.

  A shiver rose through me, and I stifled it. Al was there. I was here. I wished I could see. "What are they going to do with us?" I asked Trent. "How long have you been awake?"

  A faint exhalation gave evidence of a sigh. "Too long, and what do you think they're going to do with us?"

  There was the slosh of water in a plastic bottle, and I grew ten times more thirsty.

  "We were caught," Trent said, his gray voice empty of hope. "I woke up here."

  Al cleared his throat dryly. "There's a small question being debated right now as to the legality of my claim on you," he said, and I wondered why he bothered, except that he was probably bored and didn't like being ignored. "You had to go and show them that you could spindle energy. They don't even care that I nullified the threat, deciding to drop me here and let me 'think about what I've done.' Soon as I'm summoned out, I'll pop back in, throttle you to death, then throw your dead carcass on Dali's floor and claim I was handling it and they owe me restitution for interfering."

  He still didn't know I had his summoning name and couldn't be pulled across the lines, but my brief relief died. What did it matter? He'd find out soon enough. My thoughts flicked to Jenks, and my heart seemed to fall to my gut. We'd been so close. God, I hoped he was okay.