The Outlaw Demon Wails th-6

by Ким Харрисон

  The insufferable man panted, confused, as he put his palms on his knees to catch his breath. "You broke your word," he panted, brown eyes savagely bright. "You can't do that. You're mine." He smiled. "Forever."

  Hands on my hips, I faced him. "If you summon demons, you lousy, stinking piece of crap, you'd better be sure the right one shows up before you let her out."

  His face lost all expression, and he turned to the stage. "You're not Al."

  "Ding, ding, ding," I mocked. "Give that man a prize!" Inside I was shaking, but it gave me an obscene amount of pleasure to watch Tom realize his life had just run full tilt into a pile of demon dung the size of Manhattan. "You have the right to remain silent," I added. "Anything you say I'm going to put in my moss-wipe of a report, and you'll fry faster."

  Tom went a beautiful shade of green.

  "You have the right to an attorney, but unless you're a hell of a lot richer than this basement looks, you're one royally screwed witch."

  His mouth opened and closed, and his gaze darted behind me to the woman by the door. "Who are you? I called Algaliarept," he whispered.

  My breath hissed in. "Shut up!" I shouted, hitting his bubble with a side kick. "Don't say that name!" It was my name now. Oh, God, it was my name, and anyone who knew it could pull me into a circle. What would happen when the sun came up, I couldn't even guess.

  Tom stared. "Morgan? How did you…You killed Algaliarept! You killed a demon and took his name!"

  Hardly, I thought. I took a demon's name and killed myself. Maybe Ivy had been right and I should have just tried to knock off Al. My demise might have been quicker that way. None of this lingering mess to deal with. "Not so tough without your wand, are you, eh?" I said, hearing an intercom buzzing somewhere, barely audible over the woman sobbing by the door. Tom had drawn himself straight, and I pushed on his bubble, appreciating not being burned by it. "Nice," I said, then, frustrated, I hit his barrier with my foot again. The man stumbled back, almost knocking into his circle and sending it down. I started pacing, limping around him as the intercom hummed. "Get used to it, Tom. You're going to be in a cage for a long time."

  But Tom's look went crafty, reminding me he knew how to trip to a line. I stared at him, and his smile grew. He wouldn't. Al was his demon contact, wasn't he? He wouldn't risk it. Al would feel it and be on him in a second. But Al was in jail, so maybe it didn't matter.

  "No!" I shouted, desperate to keep him from jumping. Steeling myself, I put my left hand on the barrier and pushed. I knew what it was now. I had taken his circle before, and with one candle missing, this one was compromised. I could do this. How am I going to do this?

  My aura burned, and teeth clenched, I stared at him from around the lank strands of my hair, panting as I tried to absorb his power. Take control of the line he had tapped. All of it.

  I felt something shift, as if the entire field had gone see-through. I looked at Tom. His eyes were wide; he had felt it, too. And then he was gone. His aura-laced shield of ever-after vanished and I fell forward.

  "Damn it all to hell!" I shouted as I caught my balance. I turned, seeing that poor woman watching me, her sobs temporarily halted. The intercom was still humming, and I stood with my hip cocked and my good hand to my forehead. I could have had him, but I had monologued. Damn it, I was not going to do that again.

  But the woman was still cowering by the door, and forcing a smile, I headed toward her, grabbing the smallest knife in passing to cut her bonds. The intercom finally quit buzzing, a blessed relief.

  The woman's gaze widened in panic. "Stay away!" she screamed, scrabbling back. From behind the door, Sampson barked furiously.

  The utter terror in her voice stopped me cold, and I looked from the knife in my grip to the bodies laying around. There was a sharp scent of ozone in the damp air, and the scent of blood. Her wrists were bleeding around the duct tape. What had they done to her?

  "It's okay," I said, dropping the knife and kneeling to be on her level. "I'm one of the good guys." I am. Really, I am. "Let me get the tape off you."

  "D-Don't touch me!" she shrilled, her green eyes wide when I reached out.

  My hand dropped to my middle. I felt filthy. "Sampson!" I shouted at the door. "Shut the hell up!"

  The dog went silent, and my tension eased in the new quiet. The woman's pupils were huge. "All right," I said, backing up when tears kept slipping down her cheeks. "I won't touch you. Just…stay there. I'll figure this out."

  Leaving the knife within her reach, I searched for a phone to call for reinforcements. Someone's bowels had let go, and it was starting to stink. The intercom began buzzing again, leading me right to it. It was one of those intercom phone systems, and ticked, I thumbed the circuit open. "Betty, is that you?" I shouted into it, releasing some tension.

  "Are you okay down there?" came her worried voice. I could hear the TV on in the background over the music. "I heard screaming."

  "He's tearing apart that woman," I said, trying to make my voice lower and winking at the girl. Her whimpering stopped, and her green eyes were wet and beautiful. "Get off the damn phone! And turn the music down, will you?"

  "Well, so-o-o-orry," she muttered. "It sounded like you were in trouble."

  The line clicked, and the buzz of an open phone line hummed out. My gaze went to the woman, who was sniffing loudly. Hope was in her expression and the knife was in her still-bound hands. "Can I get the tape off you now?" I asked, and she shook her head no. But at least she wasn't screaming. Shaking, I punched in the FIB's number and Glenn's extension.

  The ringing phone was picked up immediately, and Glenn's preoccupied "Glenn here" never sounded so good. I sniffed back a tear, wondering where it had come from. I didn't remember starting to cry. "Hey, hi, Glenn," I said. "I got Tom to voluntarily admit he was letting Al go to kill me. Even got a motive. Could you come over and pick me up?"

  "Rachel?" Glenn gasped. "Where are you? Ivy and Jenks think you're dead. The entire department does."

  My eyes closed and I sent a silent prayer of thanks out. Jenks was with Ivy. He was okay. They both were. I bit my lip and held my breath against the tears. A big bad-ass runner doesn't cry. Even when she finds out she's a demon. "I'm in Betty's basement," I said, keeping my voice low so it wouldn't warble and give away how upset I was. "There are five black ley line witches down here out cold, and at least one upstairs. You're going to need some salt water to wake them up. He tried to make some poor girl into a goat," I said, tears starting to flow. "She looks like me, Glenn. They picked her because she looks like me."

  "Are you okay?" he asked, and I forced myself to stop.

  "I don't know," I said, feeling my life end. "I'm sorry for dumping this on you, but I can't go to the I.S. I think Tom's doing this with their blessing." I looked at the last spot I'd seen him in, hatred briefly overpowering tears from the adrenaline crash.

  "She's alive," Glenn said off the phone. "No, I'm talking to her. You got the house number? You got the number?" There was a crackle of static, and he was back. "We'll be there in five minutes," he said, his deep voice soothing. "Sit tight. Don't move unless you have to."

  I slumped to the floor with the phone to my ear. I felt worse than the woman, who was chewing at her duct tape. "Sure," I said listlessly. "But Tom is gone. Watch Betty. She may look stupid, but she probably knows some nasty stuff." I felt dizzy. "Anyone who kicks their dog is nasty."

  Glenn sighed in frazzled frustration. "I'm on my way. Damn it, I'm going to have to leave this phone. Talk to Rose until I get there, okay?"

  I shook my head, drawing my knees to my chin. "No. I have to call Ivy."

  "Rachel…," he warned. "Don't hang up on me."

  But I did. The tears slipped down, cleaning the grit of ever-after from my face, but nothing could clean the shame from my mind. A demon. Trent's dad had made me into a freaking damned demon?

  Miserable, I sat where I was with my knees to my chin. A light touch on my shoulder jerked my head up, and the woman,
who had freed herself, jumped back. Her eyes were wide, and she was shaking in her jeans and red top. "I thought you killed them," she said, her gaze darting over the destruction. "They're asleep?"

  I nodded, only now realizing what my attack on them must have looked like. Relief cascaded over her, and she dropped down in front of me, looking like she needed a shoulder to cry on but was afraid to touch me again. "Thank you," she said, shivering. "You look just like me."

  I sniffed back my tears and wiped my face. "That's why they kidnapped you."

  Her head bobbed. "You're stronger, though." Smiling, she flexed her bicep. Her smile faded, and she clutched her knees to her chest. "How did you get in that circle? You must be a really powerful witch." She hesitated. "Are you?"

  My eyes shut and I clenched my teeth. "I don't know," I said, eyes damp when I opened them. "I really don't know."

  Thirty

  Glenn's black car wasn't my style, but it was nice in an FIB sort of way. The back was full of file boxes, which made it hard to recline my seat enough to close my eyes and take a nap as he drove me home. The clutter was unusual. Glenn usually kept his car as tidy and together as himself, rigorously fastidious.

  I was so tired, but sleep was impossible. Tom had gotten away, and now he had a vested interest in seeing me dead. My look-alike was safe in custody and would be headed home as soon as the med guys checked her out. She told me she was going to take some martial arts classes so Tom couldn't hurt her again, and that, combined with Sampson sitting on her lap in the back of a cop car, assured me she'd be okay.

  My fingertips were sore from the burn I'd gotten by trying to take Tom's compromised circle, as was my palm from scraping it in the ever-after. I winced when I toggled the switch to crack the window, but the pain was worth hearing the sounds of the kids playing hide-and-seek in the dark, the squeals and shouts of protest coming in unseen soothing me. My eyes shut, and I tried to follow the car's path by its motion. When it got out that an I.S. operative had been summoning demons and letting him go to trash charm shops and terrorize citizens, the I.S. would have to publicly disapprove of Tom, dissolving his contract and moving his name from payroll to most-wanted. Privately, he would likely get a nasty slap and a boot out the door as they tried to disguise his public failure to tag me. I wasn't on their active list, but I knew they wouldn't mind seeing me on a granite table. But at least I wouldn't have to pay for the damages to the charm shop anymore.

  The whine of Glenn's window cracked my eyelid, and the increased wind made my almost-dry hair flutter against my cheek. My red curls stank, the scent of burnt amber obvious in the tight confines of the car. No wonder Newt was bald.

  Glenn cleared his throat, sounding decidedly peeved, and I shut my eyes. I knew he wasn't happy with me, thinking I'd taken on the entire coven without letting even my roommates know. "This wasn't my idea," I said, bracing my knee against the door when we took a turn. "I didn't mean to do this. It just happened."

  Glenn cleared his throat again, this time in disbelief, and I opened my eyes and sat up. The passing streetlights lit his face to make him look older than he was. Tired. "Backup would have increased your chances of getting that wacko," he said tightly, accusingly. "Now he'll be twice as hard to find."

  Guilt warred with fear, and my teeth clenched. I couldn't tell him I had been summoned into Tom's basement from the ever-after and I thought I was a demon. My elbow went to rest against the door, and I cupped my chin in my hand. "It was an accident," I muttered. "I was working on something with Trent—"

  "Kalamack?" The FIB detective glanced from the road to me and back again, his dark hands gripping the wheel tighter. "Rachel, stay away from him. He holds a nasty grudge and has a lot of money."

  Crap, I miss my dad. My breath came and went. Maybe I could give Glenn some of the truth. "I was helping Trent with an ongoing project—"

  "The same thing that killed your fathers?" he asked, and I shrugged.

  "Sort of. I was in the ever-after, and I got pulled into a demon's summons by mistake. I showed up in Al's circle, and when I got out, I let them have it." Breathe in, one two three. Breathe out, one two three four. "Trent is still stuck there."

  "In the ever-after? Damn it, Rachel," Glenn whispered, and I stared, drawn by the unusual curse coming from him. "Does anyone else know he went there voluntarily?"

  Glenn's worried expression came at me in flashes of streetlight, and my eyebrows rose. I'd never dreamed this might look like me getting rid of Trent. Though the press labored under the assumption that we were secret lovers, everyone in a uniform knew we hated each other. That I continued to take his money was just weird. "His bodyguard," I said, not knowing how Quen was going to react. "Ivy and Jenks. My neighbors—the ones that don't exist?" I finished dryly.

  Glenn's grip shifted, and I knew he wanted to reach for the radio and call something in.

  "It was an accident," I finished, putting my knees together as I said it again. "What was I supposed to do? Let them bleed that woman to death?"

  "There are always options…," he cajoled as we turned down my street.

  "Tom admitted he called Al with the intent of letting him go to kill me. Said he would get a raise. The girl heard him. Ask her." I dropped my chin back into my hand and stared at the passing night. Fear gripped my heart at a recurring thought. I had been summoned out of the ever-after like a demon. Would I be drawn back into it when the sun rose?

  A huge ache filled me. I just wanted to go home, surround myself with the people I loved, and hide, reassuring my subconscious that I was alive and home, even if I might be dragged back to that hell of an existence in a few hours. That Trent was still there, trapped in a tiny black cell waiting for a horrible, degrading future, didn't help.

  I didn't like Trent. Nothing could excuse his murdering, drug-lord past, and I'd seen nothing that convinced me he would change that part of himself. But it bothered me; all the good and bad he had done shouldn't end so uselessly. I was shocked to realize that I cared what happened to him. He was responsible for a lot of good, even if it was for selfish reasons.

  Staring out the window as we passed Keasley's dark house, I rubbed my arm, almost able to feel Trent's grip there, his last chance to touch someone lingering on me still. He hadn't asked me to save him. He hadn't asked me to stay and fight. There'd been no anger or frustration that I was going to be free, pulled to where he couldn't follow and leaving him to suffer both our punishments.

  In the moment when everything had fallen from him, he'd asked me to make sure his people survived. His words had been free of the guilt I now felt. He only sought the reassurance that his people would live, that his life would amount to more than running drugs and murder.

  Well, there was no way I was going to make sure the elves survived. He could do his own dirty work. I'd simply have to rescue him so he could do it himself. Crap on toast, I really needed to talk to Ceri.

  My church was ahead, all lit up, with light streaming out of every window to run across the black grass. Even before we got close, I saw a pair of red eyes blink at me from the topmost nook and a wing shift in salute. Bis knew I was back, and I sent a silent thank-you to his kin who had kept me safe in the basilica last night. They hadn't known me or my plight, but they'd saved me, and I owed the gracious, noble beings my life. I'd pay Bis's rent myself just to keep him around.

  The familiar taillights of my car were in the carport; someone had driven it home for me. Quen, maybe? Four streaks of greenish light swirled around the steeple and dropped down to Bis, and when one veered off to dart toward us, I pulled myself together and lowered the window completely. It had to be Jenks. Please, let it be Jenks.

  My eyes warmed with unshed tears as his familiar wing-clatter battered against my ears and Jenks darted into the car.

  "Rachel!" he gasped, looking good in his black thief outfit. "Tink's contractual hell, you did it! You're here! God almighty, you stink. I wish you were smaller; I'd slap you so hard you'd land in next week! I could ha
ve killed Trent when he shoved me back with that sample."

  I shook my head in confusion. "He didn't shove you back. He said you took the curse and left us."

  The pitch of his wings hesitated, and he dropped to my fingers. "How, by my bloody daisies, would I do that? I didn't do anything. I felt like my insides were being pulled through a snail's back door, and I showed up in the basilica to scare the holy crap out of some poor woman." He glanced at Glenn, the sparkles shifting from him turning to red. "Uh, hi, Glenn."

  My throat was tight, and my hand shook as he stood on it. I wished I was smaller, too. Trent's reaction to Jenks's absence had been too genuine to be fake, and why bother lying? Maybe pixies were like demons, in that they couldn't stay on the wrong side of the lines when the sun rose? "Did Quen get the sample?" I asked, thinking of Trent's request. "Is it safe?"

  The pixy was beaming. "Yeah, I gave it to Quen." A burst of light exploded from him, and Glenn winced. "When you didn't show, Quen took the sample to Trent's. He tried to take Ceri with him, but she said you'd need her when you got back. Holy crap, I have to send one of my kids to tell her you're here. I knew you could figure out how to jump the lines. Did you show up at the basilica, too? How come you called Glenn and not us? We would have picked you up."

  He rose from my hand when it started shaking violently. Neither man commented on it, but Jenks's excitement cut off with a worried expression. He thought I'd learned how to jump the lines. He didn't know I had been pulled back by riding Algaliarept's summons. "You're not listening to the FIB channels, are you," I said, and Jenks's eyes widened.

  "No…," he said, his stance turning suspicious. "Why?"

  Glenn pulled to the curb before the church and shoved the car into park. "We kept everything off the airwaves," he said as he leaned over the backseat and groped for his coat. "We didn't want the I.S. to show up."

  "Rache?" Jenks said warily, hovering as I hid my hands so he couldn't see them shake. "What did you do?"