by Kim Harrison
He hesitated, his foot reaching to find the next step down. Slowly he turned back, the tension in his shoulders easing. The motion was slight, but I caught it in the dim light from the sign above the door. “I thought that’s why I was out there,” he said guardedly, shifting his weight to his back foot as he found the top of the stoop again. “Though they told me they wanted my opinion as to the possibility that you did it. I told them you didn’t. I was hoping to get to you before they took you out there.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” I whispered.
Trent took a steadying breath, glancing down at Wayde as he stepped closer. “That’s not the only reason I came over. Rachel, have you given any thought to taking the bracelet off?”
I backed up, feeling sick. The church loomed behind me, safe and secure, and yet fear coursed through me like a red ribbon. “No.”
His jaw tightened as he came closer. “Whatever trouble you’re in with the demons, I can help. I gave the bracelet to you so you could have a choice, but you aren’t choosing anything. You’re letting your fear make your decision for you.”
“Fear!” I exclaimed, stiffening, and the last of the pixies vanished deeper into the church.
His head dropped for a moment. When it came up, in the streetlight I could see his anger clearly. I could tell I wasn’t going to like whatever was going to come out of his mouth next. “You aren’t being a demon,” he said, actually stepping over Wayde. “You aren’t being a witch. You’re hiding, and that’s not why I gave you the bracelet.”
Peeved because he was right, I jerked away from him, the silver glinting between us like a guilty secret. “I’m trying to be me, okay? But they won’t let me. I had to take this stupid job just to get my license back.”
Behind him, Wayde’s breathing quickened, and Trent’s expression became frustrated. “That’s great, Rachel, but do you want to live the rest of your life doing crap jobs to win what is your god-given right?”
Damn it, I hated it when he was right, but I hated admitting it to his face even more. I did have my pride. “If I take this off, I’m in the ever-after,” I said as I shook the bracelet at him, sure now that Jenks and Ivy were listening. “I’m in the ever-after washing dishes and fending off demon advances for the rest of my life. I don’t like it there, okay?”
“I said I’d help you,” he said quickly, his frustration probably because I wasn’t being reasonable, but I couldn’t help it. The man was scaring me, and I didn’t know why. He never had before. Help me? Why would he help me? And could I trust that?
“You need to consider the risk that you’re putting yourself and those around you in by choosing to sever your ability to do quick, adaptive magic,” he finished softly, persuasively, his beautiful voice coaxing me to just . . . listen.
My head drooped, and I looked past Trent to Wayde, his face down and his hand reaching for nothing. “I can’t, Trent,” I whispered. “If I start hurting people, then I start killing them. I don’t want to be that person.”
I looked up and was shocked by his understanding. I blinked, and he hid it by rubbing his hand over the cup of his ear and ducking his head. “I understand where you’re coming from,” he said. “I really do, but this?” He gestured behind him to Wayde. “This isn’t safe for you or anyone else. One good charm could have prevented this altogether.”
“I know that,” I said, feeling the sting of guilt, but he only came closer, his expression softening more.
“Instead, you did nothing, letting it escalate until someone else had to step in, and now instead of a sprained wrist, he might have a concussion.”
“I am not going to kill people!” I said, and he winced as my voice echoed in the rain-emptied street.
“I’m not asking you to,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine. “But you are a demon.”
Arms wrapped around my middle, I looked up into the misty rain.
“That comes with responsibilities and expectations, but it also gives you a way out,” Trent was saying, but my gut hurt. “My God, Rachel, you have an arsenal of abilities you’re ignoring, weapons that can be used to minimize the damage your existence creates. You’re forcing others to pick up your slack. It’s time to grow up.”
He had me until his last words, and my head snapped down. “Stop it. Just stop,” I said, and his shoulders slumped as he realized he’d gone too far. “Thank you for coming over here and rescuing me from my bodyguard.”
Trent’s posture shifted to one of belligerence, his hair dark in the misty rain. “Tell me that again when you mean it, and I’ll buy you dinner,” he said, and my jaw tightened.
“I appreciate that you want to help me screw up my life even more,” I said, heart pounding, “but with all due respect, Mr. Kalamack, when I want the damn bracelet off, I’ll ask you.”
“Is that so?”
His words were clipped, and I desperately wanted to say something different, but he was right and I was scared. And when I got scared, I got stubborn. “Yes,” I said, chin lifted.
For a long moment he looked at me, unknown thoughts making his own jaw clench and a dangerous light catch in his eyes. “Mr. Benson can’t keep you safe from HAPA.”
I stood up straighter, hoping he didn’t see me shaking. “I’m only going out to secure sites. I’m making up some earth-magic charms later. If I’m prepared, I’ll be okay. It’s not as if I’ve never been under a death threat before.”
Trent’s lips lost their hard slant, and he almost smiled. Head dropping, he stepped closer to say something, but behind him, Wayde moved, his knee scraping on the cement as he sat up.
“Damn,” the Were breathed, his head still bowed as he felt his chest. “What the hell hit me?”
I’d never find out what Trent was going to say because he bent to help Wayde to his feet. “Sorry about that,” he said, and I swear I saw a faint glow as he did some healing magic and Wayde blinked fast. “I thought you were taking Rachel against her will.”
“He was,” I said, ignored by both men as I fidgeted at the open door.
Wayde squinted up at me in the dark before he dropped his head again and rubbed the back of his neck. He was wet from having been on the cement, and still dazed. “I was trying to prove a point.”
Trent nodded, that same tight look about his jaw. “It would have worked except for one thing,” he said, and Wayde looked up.
“What’s that?” he asked blearily.
Silent, Trent stared at me while my heart hammered, once, twice, three times. “She’s got friends,” he finally said. His head cocked in challenge, Trent turned his back on me and paced quickly to his car, his steps light and almost silent.
Wayde groaned softly, hunched over as he felt his middle. “Are you okay?” I asked him as I put a hand on his back, then watched as Trent drove away, his wipers going and his brake lights shining on the damp pavement.
“Yeah. Can we go now?”
I nodded, taking his elbow to steady him as we went down the steps. Sure. We could go now. Damn it, I was going to get a tattoo. Swell.
Six
David put his heater-stuffy, gray sports car into park in front of a deserted shop front, and I stared out the front window, the misty black adding to my stellar mood. Even the familiar, pleasant scent of Were mixing with David’s expensive cologne didn’t help. There were no cars here, no pedestrian activity, the rain having emptied the usually busy Inderland neighborhood. It was one in the morning in a bad part of town, but seeing that I was sitting next to an alpha Were with an angry bodyguard in the back, I’d probably be okay, even if David’s car was likely on three chop-shop lists. I’d been in worse neighborhoods on my own.
David looked across the street to a trashy storefront, its windows plastered with old band posters. It looked like a cross between a beauty parlor and a motorcycle outlet, and I suddenly realized that it wasn’t abandoned, b
ut closed. EMOJIN’S was stenciled in faded gold letters on the door. They’re closed, I thought, seeing the dark windows. Thank you, God.
“Thanks, Rachel. I appreciate this,” David said, and Wayde, in the back and nursing a massive headache, snorted.
“They look closed,” I muttered, not looking at either of them.
David opened his door and got out, and the faint scent of old garbage and wet pavement slipped in. “This is the fifth appointment you’ve missed. They don’t expect you to show. Wait here until I know if they’ll see you.”
Wayde lurched out of the backseat, groaning as he found the pavement, and carefully stretched. “I’ll check,” he said. “If I don’t keep moving, I’m going to stiffen up.”
David settled back in the soft leather. “I’ll wait here with Rachel,” he said, and Wayde shut the door, a shade harder than necessary. I knew he was ticked about the bruised ribs, but he shouldn’t have tried to carry me out of the church over his shoulder.
Wayde tapped on the glass, glaring at me. “You’re being an ass. Apologize.”
Sneering, I almost flipped him off.
Wayde, hiding a faint limp, crossed the road to the tattoo parlor. Angling his hand through the wide bars, he knocked on the thick glass. He looked right at home on the street, hunched against the misty rain in his rough canvas coat, faded jeans, and thick army boots. A light came on in the back and I turned away. Great. Someone was still there.
“I mean it,” David said earnestly as he turned the heat down, and I sighed. “I appreciate you doing this, but if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I understand.”
But it wasn’t okay, and I frowned. Wayde was right. I was being an ass, not to mention childish. “I want to do this,” I said, unable to look at the man, my voice sullen. “I’m sorry for being such a pain. I’m excited about it. Really.”
David laughed, then sobered. “I try to steer clear of your affairs . . .” he started.
“I know,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I appreciate it.”
“But I’ll feel better once you have your pack tattoo,” he finished, his dark eyes even darker in the soft rain spotting the windows. His wipers squeaked back and forth, and he turned them off. “You’re vulnerable without all your magic. One man with a van and another with a wad of ether, and you’re gone.”
“It’s not that bad,” I said, uneasy as I remembered Trent saying the same thing in different words.
“Yes, it is,” he said, his brow furrowed. “Especially now that you’ve lost the one thing you had going for you, your anonymity. You’re a demon with little magic, a prize for every self-styled magic slinger this side of the Mississippi who wants to make a name for himself. I’m not about to curtail your freedom, because when you chain someone up to be safe, they’re still chained, but if you don’t take steps to protect yourself, I will, and you will accept it.”
Ashamed, I fiddled with the lip of my shoulder bag.
“Glenn told me what you, Jenks, and Ivy are working on with him,” he added, and I turned to him.
“He told you?”
David nodded, watching Wayde talk through the barred door to an irate woman in jeans and a sweater. “Not a lot,” David said, “but enough to be able to read between the lines of the official statements.” His gaze went to mine, locking on my eyes and holding them. “Be careful,” he said, and I almost shivered. “These people are calling you out. Having a visible tie to someone will make it easier for me to let you go about your business. Especially now that your magic is limited.”
“Ye-e-e-es,” I said slowly, fingering the bracelet. I said I was a demon, but was I really if I couldn’t walk the walk?
Looking at the shop, David said, “You have friends and allies out there. With a tattoo, they’ll recognize you. You deserve it. Accept it with grace.”
Confused, I winced. Trent was telling me to stand on my own, that I had to accept magic as both my downfall and my saving grace. David was telling me to rely on my friends, that doing so was the “grown-up” thing to do. I didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe I could do both. “Thank you,” I said softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come out of the closet.”
“Oh no,” David said, and my head came up at the amusement in his voice. “I’m glad you did. It invoked the demon clause. Between Trent and me, we almost have you solvent again.”
“Demon clause?” I asked sourly, sure the smile quirking his lips was at my expense.
“Demon clause,” he echoed, nodding sharply. “Any action caused by a demon cannot be held accountable to any person and is considered an act of nature. It’s in most boilerplates, and what it means is that all the lawsuits against you have no validity.”
My lips parted, and I sat up straighter. I’d known that David and Trent had been working together to both put laws into place to give me back my rights as a citizen and minimize the damage that me being me wrought, but this was new. “I wasn’t legally a demon when most of those suits were brought against me,” I said, and David smacked a hand on my knee, clearly in a good mood.
“Yes, you were. You were born a demon. The miracle is that you survived it.” I began to smile, and he added, “My lawyer is having a field day making a name for himself. I think he should be paying us to retain him.”
I snorted, relieved that something good had come out of it. “Glad I could help,” I said sarcastically. The woman talking to Wayde was looking at me. Her expression wasn’t eager, and I waved at her. That went over really well by all accounts as she frowned at Wayde, and I watched her say, “I’ll ask her. Wait here.” The glass door shut, and Wayde turned, shrugging.
“Come on,” David said as he opened his door again, clearly in a much better mood. “Let’s see if she’ll let you in.”
A shiver of excitement tempered with dread sifted through me, and I got out, almost tripping on the curb, David had parked so close. Bag high on my shoulder, I shut the car door behind me with a thump that echoed in the rain-wet streets. I looked at the damp, world-weary buildings around me, able to tell that the river wasn’t that far away.
“I’m sorry, David,” I said, and he smiled at me over the hood of his car. “I should have done this a long time ago. Thanks for putting up with me.” Why could I admit I was wrong to David, and not to Trent?
“Not a problem,” he said, then gestured to the store. “Shall we go?”
I nodded and started across the road. There were more lights on now. My head down to watch for the potholes, I made my way to the front door, David beside me. Upon reaching the chipped curb, I peered past the old posters and into the shop, avoiding Wayde’s disgruntled stare. The windows were so thickly covered with colored images that it was hard to see in.
“I’m not going to run away,” I said when Wayde leaned over, almost pinning me to the door.
“Good,” he said shortly, not backing up. “Emojin is on her way down. She’s not sure anymore that she wants to ink you. Way to go, Rachel.”
“Not ink her?” David dropped back a step. “I already paid for it!”
Wayde’s expression was hard. “Then you should have gotten her here before she stood Emojin up five times.”
“I’m sorry about that!” I said loudly, hearing my voice echo in the deserted street. “I wasn’t ready, and I don’t like being pushed!”
The door was being opened, and Wayde turned to face it. “Then I suggest you tell her.”
Inside, a shadow moved, outlined with a sudden light when an interior door opened. There was a glimpse of a stairway up, and then the door shut. David dropped back, and the outer door was opened by a barefoot, heavy woman in a blue-and-green sari-like garment.
I froze. The woman was absolutely gorgeous. I’d never seen a woman this large who carried herself with so much elegance and dignity. Her skin was a pale cream with absolutely no blemishes or marks from a tattoo needle, looking
as soft and supple as a newborn’s. Her hair was a silvery white, braided up off her neck. She had comfortable folds of wrinkles that said she smiled a lot, but she wasn’t smiling now. Native American and French, perhaps? I didn’t know.
“Emojin,” David said through the bars. “Thank you. We finally cornered her.”
“I haven’t said I’d do it,” she said, and I stepped on Wayde’s foot. He backed up, and I felt better. “Rachel Morgan?”
I felt trapped as her brown eyes hit me. “Uh, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like I was back in kindergarten. “I was an ass for standing you up, but I wasn’t ready, and I don’t like being pushed. Will you accept my apologies?”
She took a deep breath, holding it as she looked me up and down again. “Maybe. Come on in and let me hear you talk some.”
Hear me talk? I mused, but she had unlocked the wrought-iron door and turned away, moving her bulk with grace as she went deeper into the store.
David opened the door for me, and feeling like I was being coddled, I went inside. Wayde came in behind me, and finally David. They shut the door with a soft thunk, sealing us inside. I took a slow breath, letting the place seep into me.
The first thing I noticed was a lack of echo. It was warm, too, almost eighty, I guess, and I immediately relaxed. The cement floor had been painted with a fantastic array of colors, mimicking a tattoo. Most of it was faded. The walls were covered in sketches, clearly several layers deep. There was a seating arrangement up front made from old bus seats and a hairdresser’s chair, a huge, stained microwave and coffee urn beside it. Three separate rooms that would have been offices anywhere else took up one side of the store. They didn’t have any doors, but the ceiling-to-waist-high windows had blinds, and they were closed.
Emojin had shifted her bulk behind a U-shaped, businesslike counter in the center of the store. The scratched glass cabinets held jewelry for body piercing. Behind her were deep shelves with sketchbooks of all sizes, the largest thicker than a wallpaper book.
