For a Few Demons More th-5

by Ким Харрисон

  "Please tell me that's not for me?" I said, gaze dropping to the gift, and he flushed.

  "It's for Ceri," he said, his gray-edged voice melting into the humid morning. "I wanted to give her something as a visible display of how pleased I am to find her."

  Visible display… God, Trent had a crush on her before even meeting her. Lips pressed tight, I crossed my arms over my chest, but my tough-chick image was being ruined by Rex twining about my feet. She didn't fool me—I was a convenient rubbing post, that's all—and when she realized I was wet, she gave me an insulted look and stalked away. "You didn't find Ceri," I said tartly. "I did."

  "Can I come in?" he asked wearily.

  He took a step forward, but I didn't move and he stopped. My attention flicked behind him to Quen in his black outfit and shades. They had brought the Beemer instead of the limo. Good call; Ceri would be impressed. "Look," I said, not wanting him in my church unless there was a reason, "I didn't think you were coming, so I didn't say anything to her. This really isn't the best time." Not with her crying the way she was. "I'm usually asleep right now. Why are you here so early? I said four o'clock."

  Trent took another step, and I stiffened, almost falling into a defensive stance. Quen twitched, and Trent rocked back. He glanced behind him, then rounded on me. "Damn it, Rachel, stop screwing with me," he said, jaw clenched. "I want to meet this woman. Call her."

  My eyes widened. Ooooooh, pushed a button did I? My gaze rose to Jenks sitting out of sight on the lintel inside, and he shrugged. "Jenks, you want to see if she can come over?"

  He nodded, and surprise showed on both Trent and Quen when he dropped down. "You bet. She'll probably want a minute to get her hair brushed."

  And her face washed, and put on a dress that doesn't have graveyard dirt on it.

  "Quen," Trent ordered, and my warning flags went up.

  "Just Jenks," I said, and Quen's soft-soled shoes scuffed to a halt on the damp sidewalk. The dark elf looked to Trent for direction, and I added, "Quen, park your little butt right here or nothing's happening." I didn't want Quen over there. Keasley would never speak to me again.

  Jenks hovered, waiting, and Trent's eyebrows bunched, weighing his options.

  "Oh, please, test me," I mocked, and Trent grimaced.

  "Do it her way," he said softly, and Jenks darted off, gone in a flash of transparent wings.

  "See?" I said, beaming. "That wasn't so hard." From behind me came a chorus of high-pitched giggles, and Trent blanched. Seeing him nervous, I stepped aside. "You want to come in? She might be a while. You know how those thousand-year-old princesses are."

  Trent glanced past the dark foyer, abruptly reluctant. Quen took the steps two at a time, brushing past me in a whiff of oak leaves and aftershave.

  "Hey!" I snapped, following him in. Trent pushed into motion and came in on my heels. He didn't shut the door, probably for a quick getaway, and as Trent drew to a halt in the middle of the sanctuary, I ducked back into the foyer and yanked the door shut.

  Pixies squealed from the rafters, and Trent and Quen warily watched them. I plucked at my salt-stained shirt and tried to find an air of nonchalance as I prepared to introduce His Most Holy Pain in the Ass to Miss Elf Princess.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose as I strolled past Quen and flopped into my rolling chair, parked beside my desk. "Have a seat," I said, shifting back and forth and gesturing to Ivy's furniture, still arranged in the inner corner of the church. "You're in luck. We usually don't have our living room out here, but we're doing some remodeling."

  Trent looked at the gray suede couch and chairs and turned away, glancing at my desk before moving on to Ivy's piano, where interest pulled his eyebrows high. "I'll stand," he said.

  Rex strolled in from the dark foyer and headed right for Quen. Much to my surprise, the older elf crouched, fondling the orange cat's ears to make her flop onto her back to show her white belly. Quen rose with Rex in his hands, and the cat's eyes slitted in pleasure as she purred.

  Stupid cat.

  Trent cleared his throat, and my gaze shot to him.

  "Rachel," he said, setting his gift on top of the closed piano, "do you make a habit of showering in your clothes? "

  My back-and-forth motion stopped. I tried to think up a lie, but that the power was out didn't lend itself for me to be damp. "I… uh, slept in the graveyard," I said, not wanting to tell him my neighbor had downed me with my own spell, hoping Trent might think it was dew.

  A smirk came over him, and somehow he made it look good. He knew I was afraid of Piscary. "You should have killed Piscary when you had the opportunity," he said, his wonderful voice filling the open space of the sanctuary with the sound of grace and comfort. Damn, the man had a beautiful voice. I had almost forgotten. And yes, I could have killed Piscary and probably gotten off with a plea of self-defense, but if I had, the vampire wouldn't be around to hide the focus for me. So I said nothing. Trent, though, apparently wanted to talk.

  "That doesn't explain why you're soaking wet," he prompted.

  My jaw clenched, but then I forced myself to relax. Hell, if Ivy could do it, I could, too. "No," I said cheerfully. "It doesn't."

  Carefully lowering himself to sit on the piano bench, he inclined his head. "Having trouble with your charms?" he said, fishing for an answer.

  "Absolutely not."

  Quen let Rex drop to the floor, and the cat shook herself, making the little bell Jenks had put on her jingle. I watched Trent fidget subtly, reading in his slightly elevated color and his crisp enunciation how nervous he was. My thoughts went to his anger when he had asked me to work security for his nuptials, his blaming me for Lee's capture and installation as a demon's familiar. A twinge of guilt took me, quickly suppressed. But if I got Lee free of Al, Trent would owe me a big debt of gratitude. One big enough that he might leave me alone?

  "Ah," I said hesitantly into the pixy-giggle-laden air, and Trent looked at me, green eyes interested. Someone in the rafters shrieked when he or she got shoved off the beam, and Trent's eyelid twitched.

  Feeling a smidgen of sympathy, I stood and clapped my hands at the ceiling. "Okay, you've all stared enough. Time to go. There's waxed paper behind the microwave. Go polish the steeple."

  Quen started when Jenks's kids dropped down in a swirling maelstrom of silk and high-pitched complaints. It was Jhan who took control, and with his hands on his hips in a painful reminder of Jenks, he browbeat them all into the hallway.

  "Thanks, Jhan," I said. "I heard blue jays earlier. Be sure to watch for them."

  "Yes, Ms. Morgan," the pixy said seriously, then darted out, Rex trailing under him. There was a crash and a shriek from the kitchen, then nothing.

  Wincing, I moved to lean against the back of Ivy's couch. Quen looked at me expectantly, and Trent said, "Aren't you going to see what they broke? "

  My head shook. "I… uh, wanted to thank you again for interrupting Al yesterday," I said, and my face warmed. God! Al had practically pulled me into an orgasm, right in front of every body.

  Trent's attention flicked to the pixies in the side yard, blurs through the stained-glassed windows, and then his gaze came back to me. "No problem."

  Uncomfortable, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Really. You didn't have to, and I appreciate it."

  Quen shifted his weight and settled in, and, seeing his relaxed posture, Trent found a less-stiff position. He still looked like a male model, sitting at Ivy's baby grand. "I don't like bullies," he said simply, as if embarrassed.

  I grimaced, wishing Ceri would hurry up. A beep came from the kitchen, and the whine of electronics hit my middle ear. The lights winked on, invisible in the bright sun, and from behind me the TV slowly blossomed into noise. Scrambling for the remote, I clicked it off.

  Embarrassment sprang up from nowhere, and I got mad at myself. I could feel Trent evaluating me and my life—my little TV, Ivy's living room set, my plant-strewn desk, the two-bedroom, two-bath church we lived in—and it ti
cked me off that I was coming in so much shorter than his huge living room, his big-screen TV, and his stereo system that filled a wall.

  "Excuse me," I muttered, hearing the washer start to fill. I bet Trent didn't have to entertain with the chug chug of a Whirlpool in the background.

  Flicking off the overhead lights as I went, I stopped in my bathroom to open the washer's lid. It could soak. Then I did a quick check in Ivy's bathroom in case Trent wanted to rifle through her medicine cabinet under the excuse of using the can. It was neat and tidy, the incense-and-ashes scent of vampire a dim hint under the orange-perfumed soap she used. Depressed now, I headed to the kitchen to see if the lights were on.

  My cell phone rang, the electronic music blaring out to startle me. Scrambling for it, I cursed Jenks. I usually had it on vibrate, but someone—aka Jenks—had monkeyed with it, changing my ring tones. Fumbling to the tune of "I've got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts," I finally wrestled the thing out of my damp pocket. Real funny, Jenks. Ha, ha.

  It was Glenn's number, and after a moment's hesitation I leaned against the kitchen counter and flipped it open. I had a bug to put in his ear.

  "Hi, Glenn," I said tightly; he knew I was usually sleeping right about now. "I hear Piscary's out. It would have been nice if someone had told me the undead vampire I put in jail was free!"

  ___

  I could hear keyboards and a loud argument in the background. Glenn's sigh was heavy over it. "Sorry," he said by way of greeting. "I left a message on your phone when I heard."

  "I never got it," I said, only slightly mollified. Then I grimaced. "Look, I didn't mean to bark at you. But I spent the night in my graveyard, and I'm a little cranky."

  "I would've called again," Glenn said, and I heard papers being shuffled. "But when your demon burned down The Warehouse using their bouncers as kindling, we got swamped."

  "My demon!" I yelped, phone pressed tight to my ear. "Since when is Al my demon?" I said softly, remembering how well Trent and Quen could hear.

  "Since you called him up to testify." The FIB officer covered the mouthpiece. I heard something muttered, and I stewed until he returned.

  "That doesn't explain why Piscary is out," I snarled.

  "What do you expect?" Glenn said, sounding annoyed. "Neither the I.S. nor the FIB is equipped to deal with a demon who can walk under the sun. You weren't doing anything. There was an emergency meeting of the City Council, and they let Piscary out to deal with it." He hesitated, then, "I'm sorry. They gave him a full pardon."

  City Council? That meant Trent had known. Hell, he'd been in on it. What a total ass. I had risked my soul to put Piscary behind bars for killing ley line witches. Apparently that meant nothing. It made me wonder why I'd even bothered.

  "This isn't why I called," Glenn said. "Another body has turned up."

  My thoughts were still on Piscary, apparently free to do whatever he wanted to my roommate. "And you want me to come down?" I said, my hand to my forehead and my head bowed as I got angrier. "I told you. I'm not an investigator, I'm a haul-them-in person. Besides, I don't know whether I want to work for you anymore if you're just going to let murderers out when things get rough."

  "Rough!" Glenn exclaimed. "We had sixteen major fires last night, five riots, and a near lynching of some guy in a dress reading Shakespeare in the park. I don't think they even know the number of fender benders and assault charges. It's a demon. You said yourself you spent the night hiding in your churchyard."

  "Hey!" I snapped. That was unfair. "I was hiding from Piscary, not Al. Al's burning things up to get me to go to the ever-after with him. And don't you dare sit there and call me a coward because I don't want to."

  I was furious—my anger fueled by guilt—and I fumed until Glenn muttered, "Sorry."

  "All right, then," I huffed, wrapping an arm around my middle and turning away from the hall. This isn't my fault. I'm not responsible for Al's actions.

  "At least he's gone," Glenn said, no emotion in his voice.

  I laughed bitterly. "No, he isn't."

  There was a moment of silence. "Piscary said—"

  "Piscary and Al are working together. And you fell for it, letting him out so now you have two monsters with free run of Cincy, not one." My face twisted bitterly. "Don't ask me to take care of them for you this time, okay?"

  The background office noise filled my ear. "Can you come down here anyway?" Glenn finally said. "I want you to identify someone."

  My heart clenched. He had said there was another body. Suddenly Piscary was the last thing on my mind. "David?" I said, knees going weak, cold though the sun shone in strong on my back through the kitchen window. Someone had killed him. Someone was killing Weres looking for the focus, and lots of people knew that David was my alpha. God help me, they've killed him.

  "No," Glenn said, and relief, made my breath tremble in my lungs. "It's a Were by the name of Brett Markson. He had your card in his wallet. Do you know him? "

  My brief elation that David was okay shifted to numb shock. Brett? The Were from Mackinaw? I slid to the floor, my back against the sink cupboard, my knees scrunching up.

  "Rachel?" came Glenn's voice from far away. "You okay?"

  "Yeah," I breathed. "No," I amended. "I'll come right down." Ceri. I licked my lips and tried to swallow. "Can you give me about an hour?" Shower and eat. "Maybe two?"

  "Ah, damn it, Rachel, did you really know this guy?" Glenn said, his voice guilty now. "I'm sorry, I should have come over."

  I looked up, seeing Ivy's empty spot at the table. "No, I'm fine. He was… an acquaintance." I took a breath, remembering the last time I saw Brett, hanging at the outskirts of my life trying to ease his way into my pack, a powerful man looking for something to believe in.

  "It's what? Seven-thirty?" Glen was saying. "I'll send a car at noon. Unless you have your license? "

  I shook my head, though he couldn't see it. "A car would be nice."

  "Rachel? Are you okay? "

  There was a demon loose in the city. A master vamp was out to get me. My church was unsanctified. And Brett was dead. "I'm fine," I said, sounding wispy. "See you after noon."

  Numb, I hung up the phone before he could say anything more. It felt heavy in my hand, and I stared at my spell books, at eye level. Damn it, this wasn't right. I wiped my eyes and got to my feet, feeling like everything had changed.

  Bare feet squeaking, I headed into the sanctuary. I came to a halt just past the top of the hallway. Trent was examining the stained-glass artwork, and his shiny shoes caught the light when he turned. Quen was six feet away, looking ready for anything.

  "Trent, I'm sorry," I said, thinking my face must be white when his eyebrows went high. "I can't do this right now. I don't think Ceri is going to come over anyway."

  "Why?" he asked, spinning on a heel to face me fully.

  Oh, God, they had killed Brett. "I shoved her down last night," I said, "and she's probably still upset about it." Brett was dead. He was military. How could someone kill him? He was damned good at staying alive.

  Trent shook out the sleeves of his expensive suit and let out a disbelieving laugh. "You shoved her down? Do you know who she is?"

  I took a quick breath, trying to hold myself together. Brett was dead. Because of me. "I know who she is, but when someone pushes me, I push back."

  Trent glanced at Quen, his face going tight. My jaw clenched, and I kept my breathing shallow. I looked to the rafters for Jenks, trying not to cry. Someone had killed Brett. He had been only one step away from me. I was so damned vulnerable. All it would take was a sniper, but I couldn't live in a cave. This was crap. Purple fairy crap with green sparkles on it.

  I trailed my hand along the wall as I went to sit in Ivy's chair. The scent of vampire incense made me feel even worse. I had to stop living my life as if it were a game. I had to start buying insurance, or I wouldn't live to hear my mother complain about the lack of grandchildren. Though it twisted my gut, I was going to give Piscary the focus to
put into hiding, to bribe him into not killing me. Then I was going to rescue Lee to get Al back where he belonged and Trent off my case. Might as well start there, I thought, sitting up and taking a deep breath. Al, I could take care of later. After dark.

  "Trent," I said, closing my eyes in a long blink as I felt my sense of right and wrong take a hit, "I think I might have a way to get Lee free of Al. It won't cost you a dime, but I want you to leave me alone." I looked at him, his face blank in wonder. "Think you can you do that?"

  "You said you couldn't get a familiar free from a demon," he said, his velveteen voice holding a rough edge.

  I shrugged, staring past him at the door and unfolding myself so I didn't look so miserable. "Where do you think Ceri came from?"

  His expression empty, Trent glanced at Quen. The dark elf blinked once with meaning. "I'm listening," Trent said warily.

  This was where it would get sticky. "I'm going to try to swing a deal with Piscary—"

  "Careful," he mocked. "Someone might think your black-and-white outlook is going gray."

  "Shut up!" I shouted at the billionaire, feeling the sting. "I'm not breaking the law. I have something he might want, and once he has it, I ought to be able to get rid of Al safely and in such a way that will free Lee. But I want your word that you'll leave me and the people I care about alone. And…" I took a deep breath, feeling like I was becoming one of them. "… I'll leave you and your business dealings alone."

  I wanted to survive. I wanted to live. I had been playing in a sandbox with murders and casual killers, with the arrogant innocence of a snowflake in hell. The FIB couldn't protect me. The I.S. wouldn't. Trent could kill me, and I had to respect that even if I didn't respect him. God, who am I becoming?

  "You'd stop trying to tag me?" Trent said softly, and then went still in unvoiced thought. His lips parted, and he looked at Quen in wonder. "She has the focus," he said to him, then turned to me, amused. "That's what you're going to give Piscary. You have the focus," he said around his laugh. "I should have known it was you!"