The Good, The Bad, And The Undead th-2

by Ким Харрисон

  I shook my head.

  "Later, perhaps?"

  With a cry of frustrated rage, Piscary took a wire-weave chair and slammed it against the barrier. I jumped, my mouth going dry.

  Algaliarept gave the incensed vampire a sideways glance as Piscary ripped the leg off the chair and tried to pierce the barrier like a sword. The demon took a belligerent stance at the edge of the circle, showing me its tight butt in leather pants. "Bugger off, old man," it mocked in Kist's fake accent, infuriating Piscary all the more. "The sun will be up soon. You'll have another chance at her in about three minutes."

  My head came up. Three minutes? Was the sun that close to rising?

  Furious, Piscary threw the bar, which skittered and rolled across the carpet. His eyes black pits, he began to make slow, sedate circles about us in anticipation.

  But for the moment I was safe in Algaliarept's circle. What's wrong with this picture?

  Forcing my arms down from the tight grip around myself, I glanced at Piscary's fake window, seeing the glint of sun on the highest buildings. Three minutes. I pushed my finger-tips into my forehead. "If I ask you to kill Piscary, will you call us even?" I asked as I looked up.

  It struck a sideways pose. "No. Even though killing Ptah Ammon Fineas Horton Madison Parker Piscary is on my to-do list, it is still a request and would cost you, not absolve your debt. Besides, if you send me after him, he will likely summon me again as you did and you'd be right back where you started. The only reason he can't summon me now is because we haven't agreed on anything and we're in summoning limbo, so to speak."

  It grinned, and I looked away. Piscary stood and listened, clearly thinking.

  "Can you get me out of here?" I asked, thinking of escape.

  "Through a ley line, yes. But this time, it will cost you your soul." It licked its lips. "And then, you're mine."

  Happy, happy choices. "Can you give me something to protect myself from him?" I pleaded, getting desperate.

  "Just as expensive…" It tugged its gloves tighter to its fingers. "And you already have what you need. Tick-tock, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Anything that will save your life will require your soul."

  Piscary was grinning, and my stomach turned as he came to a standstill eight feet away. My eyes darted to my bag with the vial Kist had given me. It was out of reach on the wrong side of the barrier. "What should I ask for?" I cried desperately.

  "If I answer that, you won't have enough left to pay for it, love," it breathed, bending close and sending my curls drifting. I jerked back as I smelled Brimstone. "And you're a resourceful witch," it added. "Anyone who can ring the city's bells can survive a vampire. Even one as old as Ptah Ammon Fineas Horton Madison Parker Piscary."

  "But I'm three stories down!" I protested. "I can't reach a ley line through that."

  Leather creaked as it circled me, hands laced behind its back. "What will you do?"

  I swore under my breath. Past our circle, Piscary waited. Even if I managed to escape, Piscary would walk. It wasn't as if I could ask Algaliarept to testify.

  Eyes widening, I looked up. "Time?" I asked.

  The vision of Kist looked at its wrist, and a watch twin to the one I had smashed with my meat tenderizer appeared about it. "One minute, thirty."

  My face went cold. "What do you want for you to testify in an I.S. or FIB courtroom that Piscary is the witch serial killer?"

  Algaliarept grinned. "I like the way you think, Rachel Mariana Morgan."

  "How much?" I shouted, looking at the sun creeping down the side of the buildings.

  "My price hasn't changed. I need a new familiar, and it's taking too long to get Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos's soul."

  My soul. I couldn't do it, even if it would satisfy Algaliarept and ultimately save Nick from losing his soul and being pulled into the ever-after to be the demon's familiar. My face went slack and I stared at Algaliarept so intently that it blinked in surprise. I had an idea. It was foolish and risky, but maybe it was crazy enough to work.

  "I'll voluntarily be your familiar," I whispered, not knowing if I could survive the energy it might pull through me or force me to hold for it. "I'll freely be your familiar, but I get to keep my soul." Maybe if I retained my soul, it couldn't pull me into the ever-after. I could stay on this side of the ley lines. It could use me only when the sun was down. Maybe. The question was, would Algaliarept take the time to think it through? "And I want you to testify before my end of the agreement becomes enforceable," I added in case I managed to survive.

  "Voluntarily?" it said, its form blurring at the edges. Even Piscary looked shocked. "That's not how it works. No one has ever willingly been a familiar before. I don't know what that means."

  "It means I'm your damn familiar!" I shouted, knowing that if it thought about it, it would realize it was only getting half of me. "You say yes now, or in thirty seconds either I or Piscary is going to be dead, and you will have nothing. Nothing! Do we have a deal or not?"

  The vision of Kist leaned forward and I shirked away. It looked at its watch. "Voluntarily?" Its eyes were wide in wonder and avarice.

  In a wash of panic, I nodded. I'd worry about it later. If I had a later.

  "Done," it said, so quickly I thought for sure I'd made a mistake. Relief filled me, then reality hit with a soul-shaking slap. God help me. I was going to be a demon's familiar.

  I jerked back as it reached for my wrist.

  "We agreed," it said, snatching my arm with a vamp quickness.

  I kicked it square in the stomach. It did nothing, rocking back with the transfer of momentum but otherwise unmoved. A gasp slipped from me as it scratched a line across my demon mark. Blood flowed. I jerked back, and making shushing noises, the demon bent its head over my wrist and blew on it.

  I tried to pull away, but it was stronger than me. I was sick of the blood, of everything. It let me go and I fell back, sliding down the arch of its barrier, feeling my back tingle. Immediately I looked at my wrist. There were two lines where one had once been. The new one looked as old as the first. "It didn't hurt this time," I said, too strung-out to be shocked.

  "It wouldn't have hurt the first time had you not tried to stitch it up. What you felt was the fiber burning away. I'm a demon, not a sadist."

  "Algaliarept!" Piscary shouted as our agreement was sealed.

  "Too late," the grinning demon said, and disappeared.

  I fell backward as its barrier vanished from behind me, shrieking as Piscary lunged. Bracing myself against the floor, I brought my legs up into him, flipping him over me. I scrambled for my bag and the vial. My hand dove into my bag, and Piscary jerked me back.

  "Witch," he hissed, gripping my shoulder. "I'll have what I want. And then you'll die."

  "Go to hell, Piscary," I snarled, thumbing the vial open with a soft pop and throwing it into his face.

  Crying out, Piscary violently pushed away from me. From the floor, I watched him lurch away, wiping at his face with frantic motions.

  Heart in my throat, I waited for him to fall, waited for him to pass out. He did neither.

  My gut tightened in fear as Piscary wiped his face, bringing his fingers to his nose. "Kisten," he said, his disgust melting into a weary disappointment. "Oh, Kisten. Not you?"

  I swallowed hard. "It's harmless, isn't it."

  He met my eyes. "You don't think I survived this long by telling my children what can really kill me, do you?"

  I had nothing left. For three heartbeats I stared. His lips curved into an eager smile.

  I jerked into motion. Piscary casually reached out and grabbed my ankle as I tried to rise. I fell, kicking out, managing to hit his face twice before he pulled me to him and immobilized me under his weight.

  The scar on my neck gave a pulse, and fear surged through it, making a nauseating mix.

  "No," Piscary said softly, pinning me to the carpet. "You will be in pain for this."

  His fangs were bared. Saliva dripped from them.

  I struggled f
or air, trying to get out from under him. He shifted, holding my left arm over my head. My right arm was free. Teeth gritted, I went for his eyes.

  Piscary jerked back. With a vamp strength, he grasped my right arm and snapped it.

  My scream echoed against the high ceilings. My back arched and I gasped for air.

  Piscary's eyes flashed black. "Tell me if Kalamack has a viable sample," he demanded.

  Lungs heaving, I tried to breathe. The wave of misery thrummed from my arm and echoed in my head. "Go to hell…" I rasped.

  Still pinning me to the carpet, he squeezed my broken arm.

  I writhed as agony sang through me. Every nerve ending pulsed into a burn. A guttural sound escaped me, pain and determination. I wouldn't tell him. I didn't even know the answer.

  He leaned his weight onto my arm, and I screamed again so I wouldn't go insane. Fear made my skull hurt as Piscary's eyes flashed into hunger. His instinctive need had risen high, triggered by my struggles. The black of his eyes swelled. I heard my sounds of pain as if outside my head. Silver sparkles from shock started between me and Piscary's eyes, and my cries turned to relief. I was going to pass out. Thank you, God.

  Piscary saw it, too. "No," he whispered, his tongue making a quick pass over his teeth to catch the saliva before it fell. "I'm better than that." He took his weight from my arm. A groan came from me as the agony dulled to a throb.

  He leaned to put his face inches from mine, watching my pupils with a cool detachment as the sparkles disappeared and my focus returned. Under his impassivity was a growing excitement. If he hadn't already sated his hunger with Ivy, he wouldn't have been able to keep from draining me. He knew the instant my will returned, smiling in anticipation.

  Taking a breath, I spit in his face, tears mixing with my saliva.

  Piscary closed his eyes, his expression showing a tired irritation. He let go of my left wrist to wipe his face.

  I swung the heel of my hand up to smash it into his nose.

  He caught my wrist before it hit. Fangs glinting, he held my arm. My eyes traveled down the scratch he had cut in me to invoke the amulet. My heart gave a hard pound. A ribbon of blood trailed slowly to my elbow. A drop of red swelled, quivered, and fell to land upon my chest, warm and soft.

  My breath was shaking. I stared, waiting. His tension rose, his muscles tightening as he lay atop me. His gaze was fixed to my wrist. Another drop fell, feeling heavy against me.

  "No!" I shrieked as a carnal groan slipped from him.

  "I see now," he said, his voice terrifyingly soft, harnessed need pulsing under it. "No wonder Algaliarept took so long finding out what frightens you." Pinning my arm to the floor, he leaned closer until our noses lay side by side. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. "You're afraid of desire," he whispered. "Tell me, little witch, what I want to know or I will slice you open, filling your veins with me, making you my plaything. But I will let you remember your freedom—mine forever."

  "Go to hell…." I said, terrified.

  He eased back to see my face. It was hot where his robe had shifted and his skin touched mine. "I will start here," he said, pulling my dripping arm to where I could see it.

  "No…" I protested. My voice was soft and frightened. I couldn't help it. I tried to bring my arm closer, but Piscary had it tight. He pulled my arm in a slow controlled motion as I fought to keep it unmoving. My broken arm sent surges of nausea through me as I tried to use it, pushing at him with the strength of a kitten.

  "God no, God no!" I screamed, redoubling my struggles as he tilted his head and sent his tongue across my elbow, moaning as he cleaned it, his tongue moving slowly to where the blood flowed freely. If his saliva reached my veins, I would be his. Forever.

  I wiggled. I thrashed. The warm wetness of his tongue was replaced with the cool sharpness of teeth, grazing but not piercing.

  "Tell me," he whispered, tilting his head so he could see my eyes, "and I'll kill you now instead of in a hundred years."

  Nausea bubbled up, mixing with the darkness of insanity. I bucked under him. The fingers of my broken arm found his ear. I tore at them, reaching for his eyes. I fought like an animal, instinct a hazy mist between me and madness.

  Piscary's breath came in a harsh pant as my struggles and pain whipped him into a frenzy of restraint I'd seen in Ivy far too often. "Oh, the hell with it," he said, his flowing voice cutting through me. "I'm going to drain you. I can find out some other way. I may be dead, but I'm still a man."

  "No!" I shrieked. But it was too late.

  Piscary's lips pulled back. Forcing my bleeding arm to the floor, his head tilted to reach my neck. The haze of pain swelled into ecstasy as he ground his fingers into my broken arm. I screamed into his moan of anticipation.

  A distant boom of sound struck through me, and the floor trembled. I spasmed, the warm rapture of my arm shocking into a breathless feeling of pain. The sound of men shouting filtered in through the haze of nausea.

  "They won't reach us in time," Piscary murmured. "They're too late for you."

  Not like this, I thought, out of my mind in fear and cursing the stupidity of it all. I didn't want to die like this. He bent to me, his face savage with hunger. I took a last breath.

  It exploded from me as a green ball of ever-after smashed into Piscary.

  I wiggled in the minuscule shifting of weight. Still on me, Piscary snarled and looked up.

  My arm was free, and I wedged my knees between us. Tears blurred my vision as I fought with renewed desperation. Someone was there. Someone was there to help me.

  Another blast of green smashed into Piscary. He rocked back. I got a leg under me and levered us up, flipping Piscary off me.

  Scrabbling to my feet, I grabbed a chair and swung. It hit him, the shock echoing up my arm.

  Piscary turned, his face savage. He tensed, gathering himself to leap at me.

  I backpedaled, my broken arm clutched tight to me.

  A third blast of green ever-after hissed past me, hitting Piscary and sending him flying backward into a wall.

  I spun to the distant elevator.

  Quen.

  The man stood beside a huge hole in the wall beside the elevator in a cloud of dust, a growing ball of ever-after in his hand, still red but taking on the tinges of his aura. He must have had the energy stored in his chi, since we were too deep underground to reach a line. A black satchel sat beside his feet, several wooden swordlike stakes extending out from the open zipper. Beyond the hole was the stairway. "It's about time you got here," I panted, staggering.

  "I got caught behind a train," he said, his hands moving in ley line magic. "Bringing the FIB into this was a mistake."

  "I wouldn't have had to if your boss wasn't such a prick!" I shouted, then took a shallow breath, trying not to cough at the dust. Kisten had taken my note. How did the FIB get there if Quen didn't bring them?

  Piscary had regained his feet. He took us in, showing his fangs in a wide smile. "And now elf blood? I haven't fed this well since the Turn."

  With a vamp's speed, he raced across the large room to Quen, backhanding me in passing. I was flung backward. My back hit the wall and I slumped to the floor. Dazed and hovering on the edge of unconsciousness, I watched Quen evade Piscary, looking like a shadow in his black bodysuit. He had a wooden stake the length of my arm in one hand, a growing ball of ever-after in the other. The Latin spilled from him, the words of the black charm burning themselves into my mind.

  The back of my head throbbed. Nausea flooded me as I touched a spot of agony, but I found no blood. The black spots before me cleared as I got to my feet. Dazed, I looked for my bag of charms through the haze of wall-dust.

  A masculine cry of agony jerked my attention to Quen. My heart seemed to stop.

  Piscary had caught him. Holding him like a lover, Piscary was fastened to his neck, supporting both their weights. Quen went slack and the wooden sword fell to the floor. His shriek of pain swelled into a moan of ecstasy.

  Usi
ng the wall for support, I got to my feet. "Piscary!" I shouted, and he turned, his mouth red with Quen's blood.

  "Wait your turn," he snarled, showing me his red-smeared teeth.

  "I was here first," I said.

  Angry, he dropped Quen. If he had been hungry, nothing would have moved him from downed prey. Quen's arm lifted weakly. He didn't get up. I knew why. It felt too good.

  "You don't know when to leave well enough alone," Piscary said, coming at me.

  Latin fell from me, burned into my mind from Quen's attack. My hands moved, etching black magic. My tongue swelled at the taste of tinfoil. I stretched for a ley line, not finding it.

  Piscary slammed into me. I gasped, unable to breathe. He was on me again, reaching.

  In the fear, something broke. A flood of ever-after flowed into me. I heard my scream at the shock of the unexpected influx of power. Gold laced with black and red burst from my hands. Piscary lifted from me. He crashed into a wall, shaking the lights.

  I pulled myself up as he slumped on the floor, realizing where the energy had come from. "Nick!" I cried in fear. "Oh God. Nick! I'm sorry!"

  I had pulled on a line through him. I had pulled the energy through him as if he had been a familiar. It had raced through him as it had me. I had pulled more than he could handle. What had I done?

  Piscary was slumped where the wall met the floor. His foot shifted and he swung his head up. His eyes weren't focused, but they were black with hatred. I couldn't let him get up.

  Racked in pain, I grabbed the leg of the chair Piscary had torn free and staggered across the room.

  He lurched to his feet, supporting himself with a hand against the wall. His robe was almost undone. His eyes suddenly focused.

  I gripped the metal rod in one hand like a bat, pulling it back even as I ran. "This is for trying to kill me," I said, swinging.

  The bar of metal hit him behind the ear with a sodden smack. Piscary staggered, but didn't go down.

  My breath came in an angry sound. "This is for raping Ivy!" I shouted, my anger at him for hurting something so strong and vulnerable giving me strength. I swung, grunting in effort.