The Outlaw Demon Wails th-6

by Ким Харрисон

  The tears pricked, and I dropped a handful of clean silverware into the dry half of the sink and ran hot water over them. I couldn't. It was too risky.

  Pulling a cloth from a top drawer, my mom took the handful of clean silverware I'd dropped into the sink. "Let's say you're right," she said, "and you don't even adopt or take in a child who needs a home. But what if you're wrong? There's someone out there who's suited for you. Someone who has enough strength or knowledge to keep themselves safe. I bet there's a foxy young man looking right now for a woman who can take care of herself and thinking he can't have anyone either."

  I smiled faintly, picturing it. "I'll place an ad, okay?" SWFW looking for SWM. Must be able to fight off demons and vampires, and be willing to put up with jealous roommate. Then I sighed in the thought that that pretty much summed up Nick and Kisten. Nick was a real winner, and Kisten was dead. Because of me. Because he had tried to save me.

  My mom touched my arm, and I handed her one of Ceri's teacups.

  "I just want you to be happy," she said.

  "I am," I said confidently so I could believe it. "I really am." But when I found out who had bitten me and killed Kisten, and then I ripped him apart, I was going to be a whole lot happier. Maybe Al knew a Pandora charm. Maybe he had a book and I could just read up on it when he was sleeping.

  From the sanctuary came the masculine sound of a hello and the excited tinkling of pixy chatter. It was Quen; the party was breaking up. Passing my mom the last dish, I went more melancholy still. I had saved Quen, but not my dad. That sucked.

  My mom must have known my thoughts as she gave me a sideways hug. She pulled away, but her damp hands seemed to leave a lasting impression on me. "Don't make such a sad face, Rachel. I loved your dad. But I've been hurting for so long, I forgot how to be happy. I need to…"

  I nodded, knowing where she was coming from. "Put something good in its place so you can think about him without the pain?"

  She nodded, giving me another tight hug as if she was trying to squeeze some of her happiness into me. "I want to help Ceri get her things back home," she said, and I dried my hands. We left the kitchen together, my mother's arm still over me. It made me feel good, like I felt when I was little. Protected. Loved.

  But when we entered the sanctuary, my arm fell away. Takata is here, too?

  The man gave me an awkward wave as he stood by the piano with his fingers in the frosting and pixies sitting on his thin shoulders. I felt a stab of emotion when my mother's demeanor changed and she went to him, delighted. She seemed younger, especially with that new haircut. Her heart was light now that the truth was out, which made me feel bad that it had taken so long for that to happen.

  Ceri had her raincoat on, and seeing me standing alone, she excused herself, gathering Quen in her wake as she crossed the room. She was beautiful in her happy contentment, and I glanced at Ivy. The vampire wore a hungry look I understood. It wasn't vampiric hunger; it was the hunger from seeing someone who has what you want but knowing that if you get it, it will break your heart, your life, and your soul.

  Neither of us would be having children. It was as if Ceri were having a child for all of us. Poor little baby was going to have so many aunts he or she wasn't going to walk on anything but rose petals.

  "Rachel," Ceri said, beaming as she took my hands, "thank you for the wonderful party. I never—" Her expression shifted, and tears deepened the green of her eyes. Quen touched her shoulder, and she straightened, smiling. "I never thought I'd ever do this," she continued. "I thought I was going to die mindless in the ever-after. And now I have the sun, love, and a chance to live and have purpose." Her grip on my hands tightened for a moment, deepening the intent behind her next words. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," I said, feeling the prick of tears as I mourned the loss of my own dreams. "Stop it. You're going to make me cry."

  I glanced at Quen as I wiped the corner of an eye. He was stoic, letting the estrogen flow around him as if it couldn't touch him.

  Ceri's gaze flicked to him and away. "If it's a girl, we're naming her Ray. If it is a boy, Raymond."

  There was a lump in my throat, and I couldn't swallow. "Thank you."

  She leaned in and gave me a quick hug. "I have to leave. Trenton wants to poke and prod me with more tests." The young-seeming elf rolled her eyes, and my hand slipped away.

  "Then you'd better go." Trent wasn't gunning for me, but I distrusted his silence.

  Her smile went stiff, and she whispered, "Be careful with Al. If you're honest with him, he will be less likely to…hurt you. And if he gets angry, try singing."

  She pulled back, and I glanced at Quen, wondering how much of this conversation was going to end up in Trent's ears. "Okay. Thanks. I'll remember that." I didn't know how me singing "Satisfaction" would make anything better, but the honesty thing? I could do that.

  My focus sharpened on Ceri and she nodded. "I must say good-bye to Mrs. Morgan and Ivy," Ceri said, touching Quen's arm. "Can you give me a moment?"

  He gazed at her and said "Yes," but what I heard was "I will give you the world if you but ask."

  Ceri smiled and walked away. Quen watched her go, then flushed when I cleared my throat with an attention-getting sound. "Don't worry," I said as I put some space between us now that Ceri was gone. "I won't tell anyone you're twitterpated."

  The uncomfortable man stared at a spot behind and somewhat above me. His scar, now defunct and made silent with illegal genetic tinkering, was a white mass of tissue almost hidden behind his collar. "I don't think I thanked you for helping me," he said evenly, "on Halloween night."

  I turned so that we were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, both watching Ceri talking to my mom and Ivy. "Yeah, well, no good deed goes unpunished."

  He inclined his head, but his expression was blank, and struck by a sudden thought, I blurted, "Hey, you do know that the familiar thing with Trent was just to get him out, right? He's not really going to be my familiar." But there was a new shadow of a mark on my arm, mirroring Trent's. I'd assumed Newt had transferred the mark to Al, but it looked like I had it. Curious.

  Quen gave me a half-smile. "He knows." After glancing at Ceri, he leaned so no one but I could see his face. "He tried to kill you because of what his father did to you, accidentally giving the demons a way to reclaim their kin, but you're alive because you saved my life when he could not, then went on to save him at great cost to yourself when he was helpless. If not for that, you, your church, and everyone and everything in it would be razed to the ground."

  "Yeah. Okay," I said, nervous and believing him. Trent had a right to hate me. But he owed me big. If I was lucky, he would ignore me. Quen saw Ceri saying her last good-byes, and I jiggled on my feet. I had one more thing to say, and this might be my last chance.

  "Quen," I said, the softness of my voice stopping him. "Would you tell Trent I'm sorry that I mishandled things so badly that he had to endure being treated like an animal?" The scarred man looked silently at me, and I grimaced. "I never should have taken Trent into the ever-after. I think it was an ego thing. That I was trying to prove to him that I was stronger or smarter than he was. It was stupid and egotistical…and I'm sorry."

  The man's leathery, pox-scarred face turned into a smile. Eyes drifting to Ceri, he nodded. "I'll do that." His gaze came back to me and he extended his hand. Feeling weird, I shook it. His fingers were warm, and it was as if I could feel them on me even after he went to join Ceri to guide her slowly to the door.

  The two of them left amid a flurry of noise, and much to my relief, they took a nice slice of the pixies with them. I exhaled in the subdued uproar of winged things hopped up on sugar, and my mom and Takata headed my way. She had her purse and coat, and it looked like they were leaving, too.

  I leaned against the pool table with a whisper of nervousness tightening my muscles. Takata would never take the place of my dad—I didn't think he was going to try—but he was going to be a part of my life and I didn't kno
w what that meant yet. Again I was startled by how alike we looked. The nose, especially.

  "We're going to go, too, sweetheart," my mom said, her heels clicking smartly as they approached. "It was a lovely party."

  She gave me a hug, her pink-and-blue goody basket thumping on my back. "Thanks for coming, Mom."

  "I wouldn't have missed it for anything." She stepped back, her eyes bright.

  At her elbow, Takata shifted awkwardly. "Did you ask her?" he said to my mom, and I looked from one to the other. Ask me what?

  My mom took my hand, trying to reassure me, but it wasn't working. "I was just about to." Flushing, she met my gaze and asked, "Would you house-sit for me for about two weeks? I'm going out to the West Coast to visit Robbie. He's met a nice lady and I want to meet her."

  Somehow I didn't think meeting Robbie's girlfriend would make her turn that particular shade of red. She was going out there to be with Takata. "You bet," I said, forcing a smile until it became real. "Anytime. When are you leaving?"

  "We're not sure yet," she said, glancing shyly at Takata. The older rock star was smiling with half his mouth, apparently as amused as I was with my mom's embarrassment.

  "Well." My mom settled herself. "I was going to stay to help pick up, but it looks like there isn't much left."

  I glanced at the sanctuary, nearly back to normal under the attentions of Matalina and the remnants of her brood. "No, it's okay."

  She hesitated. "You're sure?" she said, her gaze flicking behind me to the rest of the church. "It's Saturday. Isn't that the day…"

  I nodded. "It is, but he's still looking for a set of rooms. I have another week's reprieve."

  Takata nervously ran a hand through his unruly hair, and I smiled wryly. "This is the same demon who was trying to kill you, right?" he asked. I could smell the redwood coming off of him. He wasn't happy, but he didn't feel it was his place to say anything. Smart man.

  "Yup." When my mom wasn't looking I shot him a look to get him to be quiet. "He sold everything he owns to get me, so he'll treat me okay." So shut up so my mom doesn't get spastic.

  My mother beamed and gave my hand a squeeze, but Takata looked horrified. "That's my girl," she said. "Always keep a few cards back."

  "I will." A feeling of peace filled me as I gave her a hug good-bye. She was a cool mom. We broke, and I looked at Takata, then gave him a hug, too. God, he was tall. He seemed pleased until I tightened my grip on his shoulder, holding him while I whispered, "If you hurt my mother, I will be all over you like mist."

  "I love her," he whispered back.

  "That's what I'm afraid of."

  My mom was frowning at me when I let go of Takata, apparently knowing I'd threatened him. But hey, that's what a kick-ass daughter was for.

  Ivy sidled up to me, looking nice in her jeans and sweater. "'Bye, Mrs. Morgan. Takata," she said, clearly trying to get them out. She wasn't one for long partings. "Let me know about the security for this solstice, Takata. I can get you a good price."

  Takata started edging backward. "Thanks. I will."

  He took my mom's goody bag and escorted her out to the door. Matalina took advantage of the open door and corralled her kids, getting them out of the church on the excuse of taking the leftover fruit cups into their stump now that the rain had slacked off. My mother was chatting cheerfully as the door thumped shut behind them all, and I exhaled, soaking in the welcome silence.

  Ivy started gathering the trash, and I pushed myself into motion. "That was fun," I said as I took a pool cue and jerked free an end of the festive banner from above the windows. It fluttered down, and I tugged to pull the other end off.

  Ivy came to help me wind it up. "Your mother had her hair differently."

  A soft feeling of melancholy slipped over me. "I like it. It looks better," I said.

  "Younger," Ivy added, and I nodded. We were working the long banner together, folding it back and forth on the little brackets, getting closer to each other with each bend.

  "I haven't made any progress in finding out who killed Kisten," she said unexpectedly. "Just eliminating people."

  Startled, I let the packet go as we met in the middle. Ivy caught it with her vampire reflexes before it unfolded more than two twists and casually folded it up. "It has to be someone outside Cincy," she said, pretending ignorance at my fluster. "Piscary wouldn't give him to a lesser vampire outside of the camarilla, only a higher one. I'm going to try to get into the airline records, but whoever it was probably drove in."

  "Okay. Do you need any help?"

  Not meeting my eyes, Ivy dropped the packet in the bag and set it aside. "Have you given any thought to talking to Ford?"

  Ford? The memory of the FIB's psychiatrist flashed through me, and I warmed. He made me nervous.

  "If you could remember anything. Anything at all," Ivy was saying, sounding almost afraid. "Even a smell or sound."

  Scared, I felt the inside of my lip for the small scar. The memory of someone forcing my back into a wall rose up from my past. Vampire incense and the agonizing, aching need to be bitten, to feel the icy burning of teeth in me, followed close behind—and the fear that I couldn't stop it. It wasn't a memory of Ivy, but of Kisten's killer. There was nothing to identify whom it had been, only the terror of being forced into something I desperately didn't want.

  My heart was pounding, and I looked up to find Ivy at the far end of the sanctuary, her eyes black as she felt my fear and it triggered her instincts. "Sorry," I whispered, holding my breath to get my pulse to slow. Seeing her like that, I wondered how we were going to do this—live in a church together without pressing each other's buttons. That we had been doing this for over a year didn't help. It made things worse.

  Ivy grabbed the leftover cake off her piano. Her motions edging into a vampiric quickness, she breezed past me and went into the hall. "Don't worry about it."

  I listened to my breathing and counted to ten. Fingers slow, I gathered the bowl of jelly beans from my mom's baby-shower game and followed her. I found Ivy leaning against the sink, her expression mildly peeved. The cake was sitting forgotten on the counter.

  "Don't screw this up by thinking too hard, Rachel," she said softly, her voice like silk against the rain. "The question isn't if we can do this. It's can we live with ourselves if we don't try." She looked up, her eyes a steady brown, but there was a hint of hurt in them. "Don't apologize every time you feel something and accidentally jerk me around. It makes me feel like you've done something wrong. You haven't. You're just being you. Let me take my share of the responsibility. Just give me time to collect myself. Okay? And maybe start wearing your perfume again."

  I blinked, shocked that she was actually talking to me instead of running away. "Okay. Yeah. Sure. Um, sorry."

  She snorted at that, and clearly wanting to drop it, she found the tinfoil and started wrapping up the leftover cake. It seemed different now, as we silently went about the business of cleaning up the kitchen, both of us not quite walking on eggshells, but peaceful almost, knowing nothing was ever going to happen between us and we could just concentrate on getting along. But when things loosened up into a casual comfort was when I usually had the most trouble with relationships. Sighing, I turned at the sound of pixy wings in the hall.

  "Hey, I think Al's here," Jenks said as he hovered between us, and a spike of fear slid through me and was gone. Ivy took a slow breath, but she was smiling as her softly dilating pupils met mine.

  "I can't see him, but the air got about three degrees colder in that ley line," Jenks added, then hesitated, his expression going wary when he noticed we were a careful eight feet apart. "Did I interrupt something?" he asked warily.

  "No," I blurted. What is Al doing here? I thought I had tonight off. "Is it still raining?"

  Ever the observant pain-in-the-ass, Jenks flew a circle around Ivy. "Are you sure?" he persisted, laughing. "'Cause it looks like—"

  "No," I reiterated as I started for the back door, anticipation of the un
known running through me. Who would have thought I'd ever go into the ever-after willingly. "Ivy and I were discussing how I need to go talk to Ford. See if I can remember anything new."

  Ivy was right behind me with Mr. Fish. I opened the door to find the rain had settled into a fine mist. I glanced at the Betta, then her. "Uh, Ivy?"

  "Take your fish," she said, eyes low as she shoved it at me. "Use him like a canary. If he can handle the toxicity of the ever-after, then you can."

  Knowing it would be easier to just accept the fish than argue, I took him. A sneeze ripped through me, and I almost spilled the bowl. "I'm coming!" I shouted, knowing Al was trying to hurry me up. Like the weather wasn't enough of a goad?

  Jenks was tight by my ear as I waved one finger at the empty-seeming garden. I couldn't see Al without bringing up my second sight, but he could probably see me. "So you want me to make an appointment for you with Ford?" Jenks asked uncertainly.

  Oh, yeah. I squinted, considering it. I wanted to know who'd killed Kisten and tried to bind me, but it was as scary as all hell. Reading on the damp night that the pain was still too fresh, Ivy shook her head and spoke. "Let me see what I can find out my way first. Someone must know something."

  A twinge of fear for her joined the fear for myself. "No, I can do this," I said. "Whoever did it is an undead, and it's a lot safer for me to spend a couple of hours on the couch with Ford than for you to poke around in the affairs of the undead."

  Ivy's perfect face scrunched up in protest, but before she could say anything, I sneezed again. Damn it, I'm coming!

  On Ivy's shoulder, Jenks harrumphed. "Like Ivy has ever had a problem poking around underground? We'll be fine. Kisten didn't have me watching his back."

  Together they made a determined picture, and I sighed. "Okay," I said, giving in, then sneezed once more. "I gotta go." Impatient bastard. This was as bad as your date sitting in the drive and beeping a horn. I hated that, too.

  I adjusted my grip on Mr. Fish and started down the stairs in the rain. The smell of the dying garden was strong, and my ankles went damp. Behind me, I heard Jenks ask something and Ivy mutter a soft, "I'll tell you later."