A Perfect Blood With Bonus Material

by Kim Harrison

  “Anyway, we don’t have time for you to practice scaring civil servants,” he said as we made our way back through the cars. “I want you to try that curse. The marvelously complex one rife with risk that you’ve been avoiding. We have a party to attend later tonight.”

  Swell. Head down, I reclaimed my hand and dug through my shoulder bag for my keys as we neared my car. “Al, I’m not ready to fix Winona. What if I get it wrong?”

  But he had put a heavy, white-gloved hand on my shoulder, and even as I reached for my car door, my outsides seemed to pull inward with a rush of ever-after, and I snapped a bubble of protection around me as I felt the line take me. It held the icy sensation of frost, and my mind seemed to relax into an om of a hum. I had missed this.

  They’re going to impound my car if it’s still here in the morning, I thought at Al flatly, but the world was already materializing around us, damp and green. I had no idea where we were. It was cold and snowy outside in Cincinnati.

  Al’s hand slipped away, and I looked up to see a plate-glass ceiling. Tired ferns edged the slate path we were standing on, and moss. Benches lined the way, most having clay pots on them with even more ferns and flowerless orchids. I peered through the vegetation, deciding that we were in a huge hothouse, the ground cold and gray beyond the glass and the heaters that I could now hear humming. The greenhouse was large enough for trees, and it smelled like vermiculite.

  Ahead were more trees, and behind us was a small table and two wire chairs with comfortable, plush cushions. It was vaguely familiar, and I looked up into the dark, silent canopy high overhead.

  “Where are we?” I asked. “Trent’s interior gardens?”

  The demon tilted his head, giving himself a devilish mien. “Of course. Popping right into Trenton Aloysius Kalamack’s house would be rude.”

  It must be something else, because Al had never before been interested in what was rude.

  “Mmm, where is my little bitch?” he murmured, his buckled boot grinding into the slate as he turned.

  “Winona?” I asked, my anxiety swelling.

  “Not Winona. Ceri.” Al breathed deeply. “Bloody-hell wench was easier to deal with when I had control of her soul. She’s gotten positively uppity. Wait here. I’ll fetch her.” He hesitated, his head spinning to look down the trail. “That way, I think. I can smell baby shit.”

  “Al!” I called, not wanting to be caught in Trent’s hothouse alone, but he had vanished in a cascading wash of black ever-after.

  I slumped. I was probably on-camera, somewhere. “Hello?” I called, going to sit in one of the chairs. A rustling at the edge of the ferns caught my attention, and I looked down expecting to see a rodent or maybe a bird, but my lips curved up in a smile when I found a gaunt fairy, silver and pale, standing guard with a hand-carved spear pointed at me. She didn’t have any wings, telling me she was one of the fairies who had attacked me last summer.

  “Hi,” I said, my eyes widening when the fairy made a stabbing motion at me, snarling. “Um, I know your sister Belle. I’ll take her something if you like.”

  Immediately the fairy straightened and stood her spear up to point at the sky. Giving me a long-toothed, scary smile, she ran into the brush. I watched the slowly swaying vegetation grow still, wondering what Trent felt about having become the first year-round landlord of a clan of fairies. They couldn’t migrate, and this was far better than inviting them inside the house. Maybe I should set up a little hothouse of my own. Nah, I liked the pixies too much.

  I dropped my keys into my bag, and seeing my phone, I pulled it out to text Ivy that I was at Trent’s with Al and that my car was parked at the DMV. There were soft steps on the slate walk, and I looked up, dampening down an unexpected wash of feeling at the sight of Trent. He was moving at a confident pace, but his stance was wary as he came forward, unbuttoning his suit’s jacket to show a soft linen shirt and a gray tie. I had no doubt that I’d tripped some sort of alarm, but the fact that it was Trent coming to see me, not Quen or a faceless security guard, did a lot to ease my mind.

  The memory of tagging HAPA at Junior’s swam up, and I flushed. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, but I had felt so free with him, talking about memory charms while having pie, and now everything was awkward again. I didn’t know why.

  “Rachel?” he said as he came to a stop beside the table, a long, narrow hand coming to rest atop the tiled surface. “When did you get here? Is Ceri with you?”

  I pulled my eyes from his hand, still bare of any ring save the one, twin to my own, on his index finger. “Uh, hi. No. Hey, I’m sorry, but Al is wandering around, looking for her.”

  Trent’s face lost its expression, a ribbon of fear sliding behind his eyes before he mastered it. “You’re joking, right?” he said, his hand with the missing fingers going behind his back.

  Wincing, I pulled my shoulder bag closer to me on my lap. “I wish I was. I’m sorry about this. He thinks that charm, uh, curse for Winona is ready. Trent, I’m sorry. If I’d had any warning, I would’ve called. He snagged me from the DMV parking lot thirty seconds ago.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, looking up into the vegetation. I followed his eyes and saw a camera blinking. “Really!” I insisted, scooting to the back of my chair. “He’s been like this lately. Popping into my kitchen like it’s his closet and he’s looking for his slippers. I think the other demons are giving him a hard time, and he’s using me as an excuse to leave. He keeps taking my spelling equipment and whipped cream.”

  Trent reached for an insanely thin phone from the inside of his suit’s jacket, flipping it open and beginning to tap fast with his thumbs, like an adolescent girl. “If there’s a demon wandering around, Quen should know,” he muttered.

  “Sorry.” It was the third time I’d said it, and my gaze lingered on his mutilated hand.

  “It happens around you,” he added sourly, eyes on his tiny keyboard.

  “You’re taking it rather well.”

  Trent snapped his phone closed and tucked it away, his remaining fingers curling, hiding the fact that some were missing. “If he so much as touches my girls, I will hold you responsible.”

  I stiffened. Taking my bag from my lap, I set it on the slate floor, leaned back in the chair, and crossed my legs to look more confident. “Al is not my responsibility,” I said lightly, even as I felt a new tension begin to take hold. If he touched Ray or Lucy . . .

  Pulling the other chair out, Trent sat, angled away from me but not enough to be rude. “He’s here because of you. Take responsibility.”

  I frowned, pulling my thoughts back from the curse I’d found to put maggots into food stocks. “Can we wait to see how bad he is before we start burning me in effigy?” I said sourly, and he cracked a smile.

  Relief spilled into me, and he shifted to put the flat of an arm on the table as he looked into his garden, his mind clearly on other things as we waited. “Have you seen any more evidence of HAPA?” he asked, and I uncrossed my legs, surprised.

  “Yes and no.” I forced my teeth to unclench. “Glenn is quitting the FIB.”

  Trent’s eyes flicked to mine and held. “Really?”

  I nodded. “As far as anyone knows, you took me out for coffee so I could blow off steam. I think Ivy and Jenks suspect something, since no one seems to care that Dr. Cordova is gone and I’m not hell-bent on finding HAPA, but Ivy tells me Glenn is quitting the FIB, packing up Daryl, and moving to Flagstaff where the air is cleaner.” Ivy was pissed, to say the least, which made living with her difficult. Well, more difficult than usual.

  “I think the-men-who-don’t-belong asked him to work with them,” I whispered, and Trent’s foot stopped moving. I looked up to find him watching me with an I-told-you-so expression, and I picked at the stone table. “It’s either that, or he figured out that Dr. Cordova was a member of HAPA and he wanted out.”

  “Felix
won’t return my calls.” Trent was reaching for his phone again. “Damn,” he swore softly when he changed his mind and left it where it was. “I don’t like the closed hearings they’re conducting with the three HAPA members they have, either. It smacks of the old days.”

  It was one of the few times I’d ever heard him swear, and it made me smile even if the news wasn’t good. “Does Ceri know what we did on our coffee date yet?” I asked, and he jerked his attention to me.

  “God no.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I think she suspects something, though. We’ve had cherry pie for dessert five nights in a row.”

  His voice drawled, and my smile deepened. We both settled back, content to wait as events shifted around us. I kind of liked having secrets with Trent, and I glanced sidelong at him in the growing darkness as snow started to fall, a soft hush on the glass ceiling. His profile was clean and young, his smile at our last words fading into a slight frown at some private thought.

  He had turned Dr. Cordova into a monster, and I didn’t care. What made it so different from what Chris had done? Was it because his justice was an eye for an eye, brutal but satisfying in a horrible way? Was it because Cordova wanted to wipe out Inderland, and he was protecting it? Or maybe that I knew he’d never do anything like that to me?

  Someday, you’ll thank me for that skill echoed in my mind. Don’t change because I’m a bastard quickly followed it, and I dropped my eyes, confused.

  “There she is,” Trent said softly, his gaze on the path as he stood. I still didn’t see anything, but a second later, I heard Ceri’s voice. Another moment, and she made a turn on the path and was there. She had both Lucy and Ray, the smaller baby, over her shoulder, looking back at Al. I stiffened and rose to my feet, even if the demon was following at an obvious ten-foot distance. He was making funny faces and turning his hair different colors to entertain the little dark-haired girl, and I didn’t like it.

  “Ceri! What are you doing?” Trent exclaimed, almost panicking as he strode forward to take Ray from Ceri’s shoulder. The little girl fussed, clearly wanting to watch the funny man with the nose drooping down to his chin, waving like an elephant’s trunk.

  “Relax, Trenton.” Ceri shifted Lucy out of the way and gave Trent a chaste kiss on the cheek before she came to me. “The girls need to see what a demon is. They’re safe. Al wouldn’t dream of abducting them. I’d follow him into the ever-after and turn evidence on him for every shady deal he has made in the last thousand years.”

  Smiling at me, she touched me on the shoulder, and I stood to give her and Lucy a hug, still not sure about having the girls so close to Al. “Isn’t that right, Aunt Rachel?” Ceri said wryly as I drew back.

  “Aunt Ra-a-achel?” Al drawled.

  I ignored him, busy arranging Lucy’s fair hair to show off her pointed ears. “Not to mention that I will be very unhappy if he does.”

  Al made a rude sound, and Ray gazed at him, quiet now that she could see him. “Happy, happy,” Al said sourly as he rocked to a halt when Trent pointed where he should stand, ten feet back from the table. “How did my life spiral down to making one person happy?”

  Watching Al suspiciously, Trent pulled out a chair for Ceri, and she sat. “It happens when you become a parent,” she said, arranging herself with small motions of grace. Her eyes went to Ray, resting in Trent’s arms, the baby fixated on Al. “Stop trying to charm her.”

  “But she is such a darling!” he cooed. “I think I shall take you anyway. Such beautiful hair you have.”

  My face went cold, and my head jerked up.

  Ceri’s eyes narrowed, her aura almost flashing into the visible spectrum as she tapped a line hard enough to make my teeth ache. “Al. Leave. Now.”

  I tensed, but Al wasn’t moving, instead pouting like a forgotten uncle as Lucy and Ray kicked and fussed. “I didn’t mean now,” he protested. “I’m not going to raise the child. I’m having enough trouble with Rachel.” Smiling at Lucy, he whispered, and with a sparkling explosion of lights, two dozen tiny horses with butterfly wings burst into existence. Both Lucy and Ray squealed in delight, Lucy almost squirming off Ceri’s lap to chase them.

  “Al!” Ceri shouted, and with a flash of burnt amber, the beautiful horses fell to the earth and turned into squirming maggots. I recoiled, and Lucy howled her outrage. Ray simply looked surprised, the emotion appearing far too mature for her tiny features. Ceri’s lips were a hard line as she stood, Lucy struggling in her arms.

  “If you touch my children,” Ceri threatened, and Al threw a hand dramatically into the air.

  “Tish tosh. I do not want your babies. What is a demon for if not to scare?”

  Lucy tight in her arms, Ceri stalked forward, her hair starting to float. “You aren’t scaring them, you are charming them!”

  Al grinned, showing his flat, blocky teeth. “I am scaring you, love,” he said, reaching out to tickle Lucy.

  The little girl squealed in delight. Ceri yanked her back, and Trent sucked in his breath, clearly furious. I wasn’t all that happy, either, and I understood their dilemma. Putting the babies down might only make them more vulnerable. Taking them from the room might have the same result. There was no safe place if a demon wanted you and was free to roam about. The only way to fight a demon was to not look away. Not even to blink. The only thing keeping Al civilized was . . . what? I didn’t know, and it made me uneasy.

  “Perhaps we should leave, Rachel,” the demon said, his voice having a mocking lilt, and Ceri’s frustration flashed over her. “I don’t think we’re welcome here.”

  “You said you could help Winona,” Ceri said as she jiggled Lucy, trying to get her to stop reaching for Al, and Al’s smile grew wicked.

  “Perhaps.”

  Al was looking at me, and a wave of worry made my stomach clench. “I think I can. I’ve been working on it,” I said as I looked at Ceri, glad when she moved Lucy farther from Al. “I have a curse prepped, but I don’t know if it will make things worse or better. I’ve never tried mixing curses before.”

  Ceri took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s an honest answer.”

  Ray cried out to get Al’s attention, and Trent frowned, holding her closer when the demon blew bubbles at her like kisses, each one a different color. “I can help Winona,” Trent said darkly. “We don’t need a curse. Or you, demon.”

  Surprised, I turned to look at him, seeing his slight flush. That wasn’t what he had said before.

  Al, too, huffed, his back to us as he stared up into the foliage. It was starting to get dark, and there were little lights up there where the fairies were, tiny fires in the trees. “It was a curse that changed her,” he said as if he didn’t care. “Only a curse can reverse it, not wild elf magic, and it will be Rachel’s curse,” he said, turning to me as I made a noise of protest. “I know I can do it,” he said, his hands behind his back as he looked up to the snow collecting on the ceiling. “I want to know if you can. Besides, you’re the only one who knows what she looked like before.”

  I fidgeted in the chair. “What if I make her worse?” I asked, and Al shrugged as if he didn’t care. His hands, though, were still clasped behind his back. It was one of his few tells, and as I looked at Ceri, she raised an eyebrow in question, recognizing it as well.

  “Should I get her?” Ceri asked, bouncing Lucy on her lap to distract her.

  Al pulled a watch from a tiny pocket by way of a gold fob. “I wish you would,” he said distantly. “She sounds fascinating.”

  “It isn’t fascinating, it’s horrible,” I said sourly, but looking at Ceri, I saw her hope, her confidence. “I’ll try it if she wants to risk it,” I said, and Al threw up his hands in a small exclamation.

  I suddenly found myself holding a slightly squishy Lucy as Ceri stood, plopping the babbling baby in my lap. “I’ll get her,” Ceri said breathlessly, then ran down the path, her soft shoes almos
t silent.

  “Ceri,” I called as I held the baby out from me, but it was too late.

  Lucy was craning her neck to watch her mom, a sound of dismay coming from her. Her little face screwed up, and she started to cry. “Trent, some help here?” I said, but it wasn’t until Al strode forward saying, “Let me,” that Trent got to his feet and intercepted him, taking both babies and moving to a bench just down the way.

  I exhaled in relief as he put space between the girls and Al. They’d grown another month older since I’d seen them last, and Lucy was standing now, holding Trent’s knee and wobbling as she fussed for her mother. Ray wasn’t happy, either, looking more mad than anything else, her little face squished up in annoyance as Lucy filled the air with her noise.

  “Al—” I whispered, wanting him to do the curse instead, but he shook his head.

  “No,” he said, his head down as he examined the tiny spear now sticking out of his arm. Apparently the fairies didn’t like him. “Your curse seems fine. The last thing I want is you embarrassing me.”

  “Liar,” I said, and he turned to me, shocked.

  He plucked the spear out and dropped it, clearly wanting to protest, then seemed to collapse in on himself. Expression bothered, he glanced at Trent, trying to wrangle the two babies into some semblance of quiet, then came close to me, his boots with the silver buckles rapping smartly. I leaned back in my garden chair, and he put a hand on the table, almost pinning me there. “Hell, Rachel,” he breathed into my ear, and I stifled a shiver at his dusky form around me. “I don’t know what I’m doing, either. If you screw it up, it looks like another stupid-Rachel moment. If I screw it up, it looks as if I don’t know what I’m doing, and while the first is embarrassing, the second is intolerable.”

  He pulled back at the sound of hooves on stone, his red eyes wide. “Chin up, chest out, stand up straight,” he said as he yanked me to my feet, smacking my gut and shoulder in quick succession until I stood before the table, scowling at him. “Don’t say anything. Ceri thinks I’m a god.”