by Kim Harrison
He shifted his shoulders, uncomfortable. “Watch the I.S. and the FIB, too.”
“Glenn?” I said, surprised, and he shook his head.
“Not Glenn. The I.S. and the FIB. They’re watching you tighter than HAPA now that you have access to your full range of magic. They don’t trust you, and probably for good reason. Why do you think they wanted that list of magic you could do?”
My gaze went down, hearing the truth of it.
“Promise me you’ll stick with Ivy or Jenks,” he said, touching my sleeve to bring my eyes back to his. “Outside your pack, you’re vulnerable. Friends are there to watch your back.”
Friends. Again my eyes couldn’t meet his as I remembered why I’d faced down Al with Trent, not Ivy and Jenks. I hadn’t wanted to risk my friends. Trent wasn’t my friend. I didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t my friend.
David squinted in distrust, and I plastered on a fake smile. “Rachel,” he said, a small but sturdy hand landing on my shoulder. “I know you’re capable, but perhaps you should let the I.S. and the FIB handle this from here on out. You’ve done your part for home and country.”
“That’s funny. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything except get caught, get shot, and limp away with nothing to show for it.” My jaw clenched when the pixies streamed back in, shouting about invaders coming. Must be the Were Scouts canvassing again for pop bottles. “The FIB is outclassed, and the I.S. keeps making stupid mistakes. I need to be at the next take—if only to prove they can trust me. That’s what I’m aiming for. Trust.”
His expression was just shy of pity, and I looked past David to the diesel truck, COOLE’S POOLS AND TABLES on the side, that was squeaking to a stop at the curb. I’d forgotten that I’d made the appointment, and I’d almost canceled when Ivy had reminded me of it. But the need to have something, anything, done and accomplished, even if it was nothing more than having Kisten’s pool table fixed, had stayed my hand. David eyed the truck, then me, his hands in his pockets.
“I will not go out alone,” I said as the truck’s door slammed and three scruffy Weres got out. Apparently their numerous tattoos gave them protection against the cold as they had no coats. The tidiest had a clipboard, and the others a satchel of tools each.
Seeing them, David seemed to relax. “Promise?” he said dryly, and I winced.
From my shoulder came a tiny “Promise, promise!” as Jrixibell, one of Jenks’s youngest daughters, mocked the serious Were. The curses to find HAPA were sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for Ivy to take them to Glenn. Apart from getting in a car and driving around the city, there wasn’t much I could do until one pinged on HAPA. I could sit and watch nature documentaries with Jenks and the kids the rest of the night if I wanted. And trust me, watching a dozen pixies scream as a crocodile chomped on a zebra was something not to be missed. They invariably cheered for the crocodile, not the zebra.
“Promise,” I said with a sigh, and Jrixibell squealed and took off, leaving a bright spot of sunshine that slowly faded from my shoulder.
“That’s my girl,” David said. Ducking his head at my puff of annoyance, he went out, turning back when he was only one step down. “The tattoo looks good. You like it?”
I couldn’t help my smile as I remembered Trex from the bus. “Yes,” I blurted out as I briefly covered it with my hand. “Thanks. For everything, David. You’re too good to me.”
He tugged his hat down over his eyes, but I could still see his smile. “I could say the same thing,” he said softly as the three pool table repair guys started up the walk.
“See you later,” I said, fidgeting as I breathed in the coming night, wanting only to be out in the pink and blue—hunting. The FIB didn’t trust me?
David headed for his car, nodded to the Were with the clipboard in passing, sort of a nonthreatening threat that one Were gives to another entering his territory. The two behind the first slid to the side to give David lots of room on the sidewalk. I waited for them, leaning against the door frame when the Were with the clipboard hesitated, watching David get in his car. Turning to me, the rough man cleared his throat.
“Ah, Ms. Morgan?” He glanced at his clipboard. “I’m Chuck, from, ah, Coole’s Pools and Tables. We’re here for a table repair?”
He looked understandably confused. It was a church. “I’m Rachel.” I slid backward into a cloud of pixies. “You’ve got the right place,” I said, trying not to sneeze at the cloud of pixy dust. “Come on in. The table is just inside.” I held my breath and stiffened as the pixies swirled and retreated deeper into the church. The light coming in was eclipsed as the Weres followed, shuffling. “Sorry about the pixies,” I added as one shut the door.
Weres generally didn’t like sanctified ground, and the three repair guys shifted their shoulders as if trying to fit into a new skin while they looked the space over. The pews had been removed long ago, leaving the worn oak floors, but you could still see where the shadow of a cross had once hung over the altar up front. Tall ceiling-to-knee-high windows of stained glass let in light when the sun was up. Ivy’s baby grand piano was just inside the entrance, and my unused rolltop desk sat alone at the opposite far end where the pulpit used to be. Across from it was a coffee table, chairs, couch, and TV making up sort of a makeshift waiting room. In the middle of the high-ceilinged space was the pool table, under a long light, almost making an altar to Kisten’s memory.
The three guys took it all in with their mouths hanging open. The pixies playing in the open rafters didn’t help. There’d probably be a gargoyle up there when the sun went down. God, my life was weird.
“Shit, man,” the dark-haired Were with the starburst tattoo said when he finally looked at the torn and battered pool table. “Who burned your table?”
“Shut up, Oscar,” the Were with the clipboard growled.
“We had an incident,” I said, looking at the ring of burnt felt and wishing I’d fixed it sooner. But stuff kept interfering.
Jenks dropped from the rafters, startling the crap out of Chuck. “Some nasty bitch of a woman from the coven of moral and ethical standards tried to fry Rache,” the pixy said, apparently proud of it. “I pixed the Tink-blasted dildo, and Rache’s black-arts boyfriend blew her right out the front door. Bam!”
I cringed as the Weres hesitated. “Ah, we had an incident,” I insisted. “Can you fix it?”
Jenks laughed, then flew off, yelling at his kids to get out of their stuff.
Chuck was running his hand on the flat surface, picking the edges of the felt where it had been burned. “We can fill the gouges with a composite, sure. Level it. Wax the cracks. Put some new felt on it.” He looked up, then blinked at the three pixies watching him from the overhead light. “Uh, it will take a couple of hours with that gouge. We might have to do two thin layers instead of one thick one.”
“Whatever it takes.” My fingertips brushed the nicked varnish. Kisten, I still miss you. “I’ll tell Ivy you’re here. She’s probably going to want to watch to make sure you get it level.”
“We guarantee it,” Chuck said, then stiffened. Two giggling pixies rose up with a piece of equipment from one of the satchels. “Hey!” he shouted, then glared at Oscar, who was staring, transfixed, his hands spread wide but clearly at a loss as to what to do, afraid he might hurt them. “Bring that back!” Chuck yelled, staring at the ceiling where a cloud of pixies hung, screaming at the top of their lungs, fighting over it.
“Jenks!” I said, exasperated. “Will you get your kids under control!”
A piercing whistle just about split my head open, and the kids scattered. The instrument dropped, and I gasped as Jenks darted under it, catching it and falling a good three feet before getting his wings under him and halting his motion. Adrenaline made my head hurt, and I exhaled loudly as Jenks dropped the gadget in Oscar’s hands.
“Sorry,” he said, looking as frazzled as I felt. “They’ve been cooped up all day. I’ll get them outside now that the rain’s quit.”
The three Weres had clustered, looking at the finger-size level as if the pixies might have damaged it. “Thanks,” I breathed to Jenks. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just . . .”
Jenks grinned as he dusted. “Don’t worry ’bout it, Rache. I yell at my kids all the time.”
Still, I felt guilty about the lapse, but he had already zipped to the top of the hallway to shout at his kids about getting their asses outside and cleaning their huts for winter before he bent their wings backward. Things had been different since Matalina died, but seeing him handle his fifty-plus children alone had granted him a new respect from me. He was a good dad, if a little unconventional.
I smiled hopefully at the suspicious Weres as the church emptied of pixies, Jenks included. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” I said, wanting to make my exit before they decided we were too weird and left. “And thanks for coming out on such short notice. I really appreciate it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Chuck had his eyes on the rafters and the single pixy Jenks had let stay.
Spinning on my heel, I stepped lightly down the hall and to the kitchen. Ivy was standing at the table, in her coat, fingering my prepped curses as if trying to figure out how they worked. Her purse was on her chair, and she looked as if she was ready to leave.
“Oh!” she said, flushing as she dropped the charm and it clanked back into the rest. “Ah, are they the pool table guys?”
I nodded and came farther in, still feeling like we were walking on eggshells. Jenks had told me she’d gone scary evil when she’d found out I’d been taken. It had been Nina—Nina, not Felix—who had kept Ivy from hurting herself or anyone else until she’d finally broken down and cried in frustration before focusing her soul on getting me back. I thought it telling that Ivy had been there trying to help Nina, but it was Nina who had helped her.
“Be nice,” I suggested. “They aren’t keen on being in a church, and Jenks maxed out their ‘acceptable weirdness’ levels already.”
She smiled with her lips closed. “Not a problem. These are done then?” she asked, picking up the one she had dropped, holding it carefully between two fingers.
Nodding, I yanked a chair out and turned it before sitting in it backward. “Yup. Providing they aren’t hiding in a ley line, they should work. I had a great focusing object.” I frowned, remembering the HAPA knot I’d found while showering, snarled behind my ear. It was my hair, but their knot. It would work.
Tired, I put an elbow on the table, dropping my forehead into my hand and rubbing it. Ivy touched my shoulder, and I jerked my head up. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, a hint of a smile for having surprised me.
“I’m fine,” I said sourly. “Just . . . anxious.” Winona was safe, but as soon as HAPA set up shop again somewhere, they’d mutilate someone else. I had to find them first.
My hand went to my middle, and Ivy began stacking the charms in a small sack with a spell-house logo on it. I felt ill, jittery from the Brimstone and queasy on self-awareness hitting me from all sides. Eyes flicking to the messy counter, I wondered if Trent would still accept a curse from me to give him his fingers back. And why had I touched his face?
Ivy carefully creased the bag closed, the folding paper sounding loud. Her attention went to my jiggling foot. “I wanted to stay while they fixed the table, but if I go now, the amulets can be on the streets at the next shift change. Mind if I take your car?”
“No, go ahead,” I said, stopping my foot’s motion.
“Thanks. I’m going to see if Nina will talk to me after I drop them off. I’ll have my cell on in case Glenn calls.”
My gaze flicking to her, I nodded, absently biting a fingernail. The image of Nina choking that man to death flashed through me, and I stifled a shiver. The FIB had been there, making it hard for the I.S. to cover up the incident—and they would cover it up if they could. “Is the FIB prosecuting?” I cautiously asked, and Ivy put the bag in her purse.
“If it’s proved that the man she killed is HAPA, then no. That’s not what I’m worried about.” Ivy looked at my shoulder bag on the table, and I pulled it closer to get my keys for her. “Nina’s in trouble,” Ivy said as she caught the jingling keys. “Felix, too, and not because they killed a HAPA member. He severely misjudged his impact on her, and she doesn’t have the ability to handle alone what he’s been pumping into her the last couple of days. He can’t simply leave anymore. She’d kill the first person who touched her the wrong way. The longer he’s in her trying to give her control, the worse it gets.” Ivy’s eyes were haunted. “They’re both severely unbalanced. I don’t see how—”
Ivy’s words broke off, and she looked at me, more grief in her eyes than I’d seen in a long time. “They aren’t going to make it, are they?” I said, and Ivy closed her eyes as she shook her head. They were bright when they opened back up.
“Felix doesn’t have a clue about what to do. Rachel, she’s too good to die like that.”
“You can help her,” I said, and she dropped her head, her long hair hiding her face.
“I can,” she said softly. “Rachel . . .”
Chest tight, I shook my head. Ivy had a huge need to give, to nurture. Some of it was her vampiric nature, but most was her heart. She grieved for her own lost innocence, reviling the monster that Piscary had made her into, unable to love without hurting what she most desired. She’d been getting better, but if she could help Nina, it might allow her to see the beauty in her own soul. “If you can help her, you should,” I said, both scared for her and loving her for her sacrifices. “You know how to cope with the power and passion. I mean . . . if you want to.”
She pulled her head up, refusing to look at me. “I was exactly like her once,” she whispered. “It was so hard. I don’t know if I can help her without becoming her again.”
“I know you can,” I said confidently. “You survived. Nina will, too, with your help.”
“Yes, but . . .” She hesitated, her gaze finally coming to me. “I survived because I fell in love.” With you was unspoken.
My heart hurt, but I kept smiling. This was a good thing. Ivy needed to feel good about herself, and this might finally prove to her that she deserved positive things in her life. “Go,” I said, and she looked down at her hands.
“I’ll be with Nina if you need me,” she said, and I blinked in surprise as she bent down and gave me a chaste peck on the cheek, like you might see any two friends give each other in parting. In a swirl of vampire incense, she was gone, her boot heels click-clacking in the hall.
“Thank you,” I whispered, touching my cheek. There hadn’t been a twinge of reaction from my scar. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Demons couldn’t be bound, so it stood to reason that I couldn’t, either. Were the toxins finally wearing off, or had she truly let me go?
I sat where I was, listening to her speak to the Weres for a moment, and then the door shut, leaving only the Weres talking among themselves. My heart ached, but it was an old feeling, one now laced with pride in her. The revving of my car was a faint hint, and then even that faded, leaving the soft rumble of Weres talking and the rising scent of curing polymer.
The kitchen was a mess, as disorganized and jumbled as my thoughts because I hadn’t cleaned anything while I spelled, as I usually did. Throat tight, I lurched to my feet. If I hustled, I could get this tidy in ten minutes. Sighing, I looked over the clutter. Maybe twenty.
From the front, I could hear the guys going in and out, bringing in more tools. I was glad Ivy was moving on. Really. I just wished I wasn’t quite so alone.
One of the Weres yelled back, “Red or green, ma’am?”
“Green!” I shouted as I looked down at the open demon texts, my fingers cramping as they skated across the dark, perhaps blood-based print. I’d had a surprising amount of luck with finding a curse to thwart a memory charm. Demons apparently didn’t like to forget. It was a communal curse. Say the words and pay the cost, and you were good t
o go. And since I’d gotten rid of the damn bracelet . . .
Was it easy, like a wish? Or was it using my resources to their fullest potential?
I didn’t know anymore. But I did know that I didn’t want to be ignorant and oblivious of what happened when all was said and done. The I.S. didn’t have a problem using illegal memory charms, and I wanted to remember.
Running a finger under the print, I whispered the words, trying to practice the cadence before I actually tapped a line and did it. I hadn’t accessed the collective since taking off the bracelet, and the last thing I needed was to do it wrong and attract attention. Certo idem sum qui semper fui. I am the same as I was before—or something like that. My Latin sucked.
Settling myself at the center counter, I took a deep breath and tapped the line out back in the garden. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and smile as it spilled into me, seeming to bring with it the shiny, clean sensation of a thin, new ice. It was different every time, and yet the same. I let the line course through me, humming like the pulse of the universe. Thank you, Trent, I thought. Thank you for taking this away so I would know it for the gift it is.
Slowly my pleased smile faded and my eyes opened. Faint, at the edge of my awareness, something wasn’t resonating right, not in this line, but somewhere. The tear, I thought, and my gut clenched. I’d fix it. Somehow.
I looked back down at the words, feeling guilty not for the tear, but that this curse wouldn’t work on anyone but a demon. “Stop it,” I whispered, head bowed over the print and the energies of the line building in me, demanding action. Guilt. Was I going to feel guilty about everything? I was a demon, damn it. I wouldn’t even need this curse if I was a normal witch.
Head up, I shoved the guilt down deep. If the I.S. wiped Jenks’s and Ivy’s memories, I’d find a way to fix them. The important thing was that someone remembered.
“Certo idem sum qui semper fui,” I said softly, shivering as I felt a sliver of my awareness dart from me, arrowing through the theoretical collective of whispering demons’ thoughts, down to the dark annexes where no one went. I shivered, my fingers sliding over the textured paper as the sensation of my soul melting around a stored curse shook me. And then, like folding space, my splinter of awareness and my soul merged like water drops, bringing the curse within me forever.