A Perfect Blood th-10

by Kim Harrison

  With a growl, Al dramatically snapped his fingers, turning sideways as if not wanting to see us. Trent grunted softly as the curse broke, stiffly finding his full height. Tugging his suit straight, he stood beside me smelling of ash fires. “You okay?” I asked, almost supporting him as he threw the last of the pain curse off.

  “This is a stupid idea, Rachel,” he said bitterly, his eyes a dark black in the red light. “Let’s trust a demon to be reasonable. Brilliant!”

  Al turned. “You lied to me. Ran away. Shacked up with an elf?”

  The last was a question, and I think it was what he was most interested in. “I took a sick day,” I said, letting him wonder. “I lost my aura in the lines while cursing Ku’Sox. If Trent hadn’t put my soul in a bottle till it healed, I’d be dead. Sorry about sending Ku’Sox to you, by the way. Are you okay?”

  Al pulled his suspicious eyes off Trent and leaned across the ten feet between us, his teeth bared in a nasty smile. “I’m broke and paying him blackmail. Now that you’re alive to take the blame for unbalancing the ever-after, I’ll give you the honor of paying him instead.”

  “Trent knows the cure for the demons’ genome,” I said quickly, heart pounding. “Al, you don’t have to keep going on like this. You can move on if you want.”

  His steps slow and his hands behind his back, Al crossed the distance, the glint of hatred in his eyes for Trent, the snarl on his face for me. The scent of burnt amber flowed between us. It was as if he wasn’t even listening to me—mistrust of the elves ran that deep. “You ask me to trust an elf,” the demon growled, looking at his hands in his gloves, always apart, always alone. “You ask too much.”

  “Al, I think I know what you looked like,” I said, not knowing why. “Originally, I mean.”

  Al turned back to me, his coattails furling and his red eyes finding mine over his glasses. Beside me, I felt Trent take notice. “This is why you came out of hiding? To tell me that?”

  I wished I could bring myself to lean on Trent more, but I didn’t want to look weak. “No.”

  Al’s attention flicked between Trent and me. “You’re in trouble?” he asked dryly. “I can fix that.”

  He reached out, and I backed into Trent, my leg protesting. “No! I’m not leaving with you. Listen to me.”

  But he came forward again, even as Trent put an arm around my waist and pulled me into him. “So ma eva, shardona,” Trent whispered, and I gasped as the line lifted through me, feeling like light as it flowed, my aura scintillating like dust in a sunbeam.

  “What are you doing?” I breathed at the delicious sensation, feeling the stray strands of my hair floating and the warmth of Trent at my back.

  “It’s not a circle,” Trent said, his words a breath on my ear. “I didn’t break my promise.”

  Al, though, seemed to know what it was as his hand clenched and dropped, inches from touching me. He drew back, his expression both disgusted and amazed, and I breathlessly waited as the feeling of rising energy grew in me, a tantalizing zing of Trent’s energy mixing with my own.

  “Curious.” Al’s eyes flicked to Trent’s, and he backed up another step. “I’m broke, Rachel,” Al said in a monotone, as if it hurt to admit that in front of Trent, but his voice grew more animated as he continued. “Tales of an elven cure will get me nothing! You will come back to the ever-after and prove you’re alive so you can tap into the funds that have been accruing in your name and I can buy some damned groceries!”

  “No,” I said firmly, and then said to Trent, far more nervously, “Can you stop that, please?”

  Immediately the line in me fell to nothing and he let go. “Sorry. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

  “It didn’t,” I said, not wanting to admit that it had felt pretty damn good.

  Al snickered, and again I blushed, lifting my chin. “I’m a demon,” I said. “I admit it, the world knows it, but I belong here, in reality. I’m not going back to the ever-after under duress.”

  Al’s posture lost the brief glimpse of indulgent amusement. “I beg to differ, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” he intoned, his eyes flicking from me to Trent, reassessing the situation.

  “You can beg all you want,” I said boldly, my heart pounding. “Trent’s been working to get legislation through to make me a citizen again, with rights and responsibilities. If I’m lucky, I’m going to have to pay taxes next year, right, Trent?”

  “Ah . . .” he faltered, inching back a bit more.

  Thoughts were whirling behind Al’s eyes, the possibility of a demon having rights in reality having distracted him. I think it bothered him that he wasn’t accepted as a person, much as he’d deny it. Hands on his hips, he eyed me up and down, his gaze lingering on my hurt leg. “Why did you break that bracelet? To fix your leg?”

  His tone was bitter, and I shook my head, the motion quick with nervousness. “I have to twist some charms.”

  “You mean curses,” Al said, almost leering.

  “Curses,” I affirmed, wishing I hadn’t shoved the chair out of the line. “I have to find HAPA or I’ll get blamed for several murders. But I broke the charm so that I could fix Winona.”

  Al looked up from where he’d been analyzing his fingernails. Like magic, his glove ghosted back into existence. “Winona? A new friend of yours?”

  I shook my head, remembering Winona’s courage. She was braver than I was. “They cursed her, Al, with my stolen blood. I can’t hide behind what I want to be anymore. It’s hurting too many people. I’m a demon, and I won’t let fear keep me from being a demon anymore. She needs my help,” I whispered. “It’s my fault she’s the way she is, and no one is going to fight my battles anymore.” I looked up. “Even if it scares me.”

  Trent cupped a hand under my elbow, supporting me in such a way that Al wouldn’t readily see. “HAPA has a vial of her blood,” Trent said. “Once they get done analyzing it, they’re going to try to duplicate it and use it to eliminate Inderland one species at a time.”

  Al turned to face us fully, his eyebrows high. “Let’s all hope they start with the elves,” he said drolly. “How very careless of you, Rachel, giving out free curses.”

  “It wasn’t my idea.”

  Taking off his hat, Al wiped a gloved hand over his hair before replacing the hat and squinting into the sun. “Demon,” he scoffed. “You may be a demon, but you don’t have two curses to rub together to protect yourself. You’re coming with me where you will be safe.”

  I shifted my weight, and we backed up a step, to the edge of the line. “No.”

  Al stepped forward, and Trent put a hand out between us, stopping him cold. “She doesn’t want to go with you.”

  Al’s eyes narrowed. “Rachel can’t protect herself,” he said as if I wasn’t standing there. “You know it better than she does. If you truly care about her, let her go. I’ll keep her safe. Fill her with curses until she can stand on her own.”

  I blinked. Care about me? Boy, did Al have it wrong.

  Trent leaned forward over my shoulder, our heads almost touching, his front to my back. “Safe? The same way I kept her safe by hiding her? I nearly killed her trying that, and hiding with you will do the same. No. She will have the sun and shadow both.”

  Sun and shadow both? I’d heard that before. It was an elf thing, and I suddenly felt uneasy. Things were spiraling out of control. I pulled away from Trent to see him better. He looked grim, squinting in the bloodred light, his hair blowing in the fitful wind like the tall grass around us. His jaw was clenched. Determined. He looked determined, and something in me twisted. Not again. I didn’t want his death on my soul.

  Al smacked his walking cane against a large rock standing like an island in the sea of grass. “Sun and shadow. Sun and shadow!” he shouted, and Trent’s grip on me tightened. “There is no both. There is one or the other, and you will come with me now!”

  Al reached, and I pulled the line into me. Like a flood it burst into my soul, raging through the hard-won, already desensiti
zed channels, and racing to my hands. Feeling it, Al jerked his hand away, and Trent got it instead. The man grunted as the full force of the line burned him, and I winced, dampening the flow immediately. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry, Trent!” I said, and he frowned as he straightened from his pain-instilled crouch.

  “My fault,” he said as he found his full height. “It’s okay.”

  Al leaned forward, and Trent grasped my shoulder, ready to yank me away. “It’s down to pride, Rachel,” the demon said, so close that I could see myself reflected in his goat-slitted eyes. “Even if I could get the rest of them to accept that you are sun and shadow both, there’s the undeniable fact that you broke the balance of the ever-after. I’m paying Ku’Sox through the ass to keep it quiet. I need a source of income, and you’re it.”

  Pride. That I could fix. “What if I sign the income from my tulpa over to you? You can pay him from that until I fix the line,” I said breathlessly.

  Al jumped as if startled, and even Trent made a questioning noise. “Tulpa?” Trent breathed, his words tickling my ear.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said, distracted as Al frowned, a calculating squint to his eyes. “That might buy a few groceries until I can work out something with Trent in lifting that elven curse,” I offered, and sure enough, he twirled his walking cane in wide circles as he thought about it. If I could satisfy him, give him something he wanted, he’d let me do what I wanted for a little longer.

  “And you think you’re not one of us,” Al said, his tone flat but with a trace of pride.

  “Oh, but I do,” I said, my jaw clenching against the pain in my leg. I had taken off the bracelet. I had gotten Al to listen. I had Trent as an ally. Three impossible things before midnight. I began to shake, the limits of my flagging endurance reached.

  For a long moment, Al eyed us. “Sun and shadow,” he grumbled, and Trent jumped when the demon snapped his fingers dramatically and a piece of paper floated down, flashing into existence from a space three feet over Al’s head. The demon reached for it as it fluttered, his gaze never leaving mine, a hint of a smile about his lips. “Sign it,” he said, extending it.

  I reached out, but Trent was faster, snatching it before I could. “She’s not signing anything until my people look at it.”

  I was going to fall down if we didn’t finish this soon. My feet were soggy, hidden by the dry grass, and I reached for the pen stuck in Trent’s pocket, making him blink in surprise. “Why?” I said, taking the paper from him as Al smiled. “If it’s not what I agreed to, I will burn Al’s gonads off the first chance I get. Turn around. I need to use your back for a second.”

  “Ah, hold on a tick,” Al said, snapping his fingers again and catching the new paper drifting down. “How silly of me. This is the one. Here.”

  I crumpled the first and dropped it. Al burst it into a quick flame that vanished before it could reach the dry grass, ashes melting into the gritty wind. “Mmm-hmm,” I said, satisfied, as I slapped the paper on Trent’s back and signed my name. Al would need it to get at my funds, and apparently there was a lot there if he wanted physical proof of our agreement.

  The demon was smiling as Trent stood and I handed the signed paper across him. Al was standing a bare three feet away, his mood almost jovial as he took the paper and it vanished in a wash of black sparkles. “Thank you, Rachel,” he said, carefully reaching for my hand as Trent stiffened. “Welcome back, my itchy witch.”

  I couldn’t help my smile, feeling a wash of energy flowing from him to me as he kissed the top of my hand in an overdone show of flair. Trent was glowering, clearly unhappy, as he stood within yanking distance while Al flirted. I was ready to cry in relief. I was back, alive, with the line in me and on good terms with my teacher. Somehow we had done it.

  “Bye, Al,” I said as he eyed me from over his glasses.

  “If I ever see you in sweats again, I swear by Bartholomew’s balls I will flay you.” Al dropped my hand. His smile faded as he looked at Trent, and then he was gone, the grass he had displaced whispering back into place.

  I took a deep breath, exhaling the gritty wind and feeling my feet go cold. I’d done it. No, we’d done it.

  “Signing an unread contract with a demon wasn’t very smart,” Trent said, and I dropped my second sight. The hum of the line fell to nothing in me as I dropped it, too, but I could feel it just within my reach, easing my headache away with the heartbeat of creation.

  Reality superimposed itself over the red-sheened ever-after. My hair settled, and I looked at the ruin of Trent’s office. Smiling, I walked over to the desk to see how much of that coffee was left. “Oh, I beg to differ,” I said smugly, dropping my crutch on the rolling chair in passing.

  He looked mad, but I was in a great mood even if I had one hell of a night facing me.

  “My office is trashed,” he grumped as he squished across his damp carpet and took the coffee that I was holding out to him. “Why are you smiling? My fish are dead.”

  “Because Al and I are okay,” I said, taking a sip from my cup and musing silently over the rim of it. “And that’s important to me. But I’m sorry about the fish.”

  “You think that was okay?”

  I sat back against Trent’s desk, trying to look sexy in sweats. “Yup. Al fixed my leg.” I smacked it to prove my point, and it made a dull thwack of sound. “He could have taken me any time he wanted, but he listened.” I’d known it from the start but Trent wouldn’t have believed me. “I told you not to do anything. That show you put on for him told him one thing, and one thing only.”

  Trent looked up, his eyes running from my dangling foot, up my curves, and finally to my face. “What’s that?”

  I smiled, taking a sip. “You’re willing to risk death to help me.”

  Trent’s eye twitched as he thought it over, realizing what he must have looked like to the demon. “Your hair is a tangled mess.”

  “Is it?” I couldn’t stop smiling, my relief buoying me up. “You have ever-after dust all over your face.” I slid from his desk, feeling frumpy in my black sweats but bursting with success. “Right here,” I said as I set the coffee down on the low table beside him, leaning over him and brushing my thumb under his eye.

  Trent jerked, his hand reaching up to grip my wrist.

  “What are you doing?” he said, and I hesitated, not knowing.

  We both turned as muttering voices grew loud outside the door, and the snick of a key sounded.

  “Sa’han!” Quen said as he pushed open the door, stopping dead in his tracks as his feet squished into the soggy carpet and he saw the broken video screen and the busted fish tank. Behind him was David. Both men were looking at us, and Trent let go of my wrist. Slowly I straightened, confused. What was I doing?

  “Ah, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said as I dropped back, my feet damp and my enthusiasm fading.

  What in hell was I doing, indeed?

  Chapter Twenty

  The foyer was dark, seeing that it still had no lights or windows, and I smiled blandly at David as I almost pushed him out the door, my band of defunct silver making a dull bump in my pocket. He’d been reluctant to leave since bringing me back from Trent’s, and though having a self-assured, handsome man in the church was always a pleasure, I was just about at my wit’s end trying to get my curses made with him hanging around sneaking glances at my recipes. I kept telling him everything was okay, but he knew it wasn’t, even if a zing of excitement ran through me every time I reached for a ley line and found it waiting for me.

  I’d known that breaking Trent’s charm wasn’t the magic pill that would make everything better, and indeed, now that the excitement had worn off, I found myself dealing with a moody vampire who was worried about keeping Nina out of jail, and Wayde sulking in his room because I’d gotten snagged a hundred feet from him. At least Jenks had forgiven me for having broken Trent’s charm without him. And I still didn’t know why I had touched Trent so . . . familiarly.


  But what was bothering me the most was the demon texts open on my kitchen counter, making me wonder what I might have to do to keep my promise to myself. Was it okay to use a demon curse to catch a person committing a horrendous crime? What if the curse looked benign? Was using “dead-man’s-toe” morally okay if the man’s relatives had knowingly sold him for parts? Was it okay if they hadn’t, but using it would keep a sick wacko organization from making more tragedies such as Winona? I didn’t know, and I was too tired to figure it out. No wonder Trent always looked stressed under his facade of cool. Finding effective curses that didn’t violate my moral code was getting harder, but I wasn’t going to succumb to fast, easy, cheap, morally wrong magic. I was a demon, but I was not demonic.

  “Thanks again for bringing me home, David,” I said as I leaned into the early evening, one hand on the door frame. Cold air spilled in, holding the hint of rain yet to fall. The sun was near setting, and the sky was fabulous with pink and blue and white, the wind pushing the darkness before it. The street itself was gray and silent—expectant, maybe, and I was stuck in the church making curses while everyone was looking for HAPA. Maybe that’s why David hadn’t left sooner, wanting to make sure I wasn’t headed out after them alone.

  Sure enough, David eyed me in suspicion as he hesitated on the stoop, his long coat touching his toes and his hat on his head, looking yummy and delish in a lone-wolf kind of way.

  “Really, we’re all good here,” I lied, wincing when the pixies flowed out of the church over us in a shrill wave to test their cold tolerance.

  Shrugging his coat higher up his neck, David squinted at me. “Just don’t go out alone,” he said, glancing behind me and into the sanctuary, bright with electrical light. “Even with your magic, you need to be more careful, not less. That guy . . . Eloy. He’s a sniper. You can’t protect yourself against that. Bullets travel faster than sound.”

  I frowned at his sharp gray sports car, at the curb, wishing he’d get in it and go away so I could make my curses in peace. “You’re right. I’ll be careful.”