by Kim Harrison
I glanced at the blue chrysalis, then shoved it into my coat pocket to deal with later. “Edden…,” I pleaded.
Wincing, he sighed. Five steps away, someone waited for him with a clipboard. “I can’t promise Mia anything. Especially now. Rachel, go home.”
I licked my lips and the wind made them into ice. “You can’t prove she did this.”
“I can’t prove Ms. Walker did either. Go home.” I hesitated, and he exclaimed, “Rachel, go home!”
“Bad dog,” Al whispered, mocking me, and my face flamed. Pierce slid up beside us, and I gritted my teeth, not liking the ghost seeing me being treated like this.
“Fine,” I said bitterly. “Do what you want.” This is a crappy New Year’s. “Ivy, I’m going home. Are you staying?”
Ivy looked from Pierce to the beaming demon. “Ah, you don’t mind if I hang here for a while, do you? Glenn wants my opinion on something.”
Crime scene slut, I thought bitterly, more than a little jealous that they would let her stay but wanted me to leave. I didn’t want to be alone in a car with Al and Pierce, but I gave her a wave good-bye and turned. Edden had already walked away in a huff, and Glenn was waiting uncomfortably for Ivy.
Ticked, I turned my back on all of them and started walking.
Twenty-nine
This was the second time I had suffered a demon in the back of my car, and I didn’t like it any better than the first. Al was more obnoxious than Minias had been, leaning forward between Pierce and me to point out red lights and shortcuts through human and Inderland slums that only an idiot would take this time of night—though with a demon along, it might be safe. The smell of burnt amber slowly grew in my small car despite whatever charm he was using, but I didn’t dare crack a window to let in the freezing night. Though the heater was cranked, Jenks was still cold. He really shouldn’t have been out of my bag, much less sitting on the rearview mirror.
“You could have made that light if you had gunned it,” Al said.
No one was behind me, and I let the car coast forward a foot to the red light before I jammed on the brakes. Al’s nose smacked into the headrest, and Pierce’s arm, already extended to brace himself against the dash, stiffened. “I’m driving,” I muttered with an apologetic glance at Jenks. My toes are freezing in these stupid heels. What was I thinking?
“Yes, but you’re not doing it properly,” the demon protested, in a better humor than I liked. He hadn’t given me any trouble about getting in the backseat, but maybe he could keep a better eye on Pierce that way. Honestly, the man was not going to hurt me. Even now, when I glanced at him, his frustrated expression shifted to one of anxious hope.
“Mistress witch,” he said as our eyes met, and my phone vibrated, almost unheard.
“Do you know how to get that?” I asked him, giving Al’s hand a tart smack when he reached for it in my bag. The demon had gone back to looking like himself, and my fingers were soundless as they hit his white-gloved, thick hand.
The light changed, and I eased forward, driving carefully as it was icy near the bridge.
“I’ll help him,” Jenks said, dropping down into my bag. “You’ve seen Rachel use it, right?” he said sarcastically. “You’ve been spying on us for a year.”
Pierce frowned as he pulled the slim pink phone from my bag. “It’s not a powerful trick,” he said indignantly. “And I’ve not been spying. Rachel, if I could explain.”
“Just open the top, okay?” Jenks said, and I frowned at him to be a little nicer.
The scent of burnt amber grew when Al put the flat of his arms on the two seats to make a bridge for his head to rest on. “May I use your phone when he’s done?” he asked sweetly.
I debated what might happen if I slammed the brakes on again. “No. Sit the way you’re supposed to, or we’re going to get pulled over for a Breathalyzer.”
“No fun,” he simpered, slumping back.
I breathed easier, wishing Pierce would simply leave so I could go home and forget this day had ever happened. What a waste.
From the backseat came Al, humming the tune to Jeopardy! until Pierce found the seam and wrangled the top open. Motions hesitant, he went to put it to his ear, stopping when Jenks hovered before the phone, hands on his hips as he barked, “This is Rachel’s secretary. The lazy-ass witch is currently busy. Can I take a message?”
“Jenks!” I complained as Al snickered and Pierce looked appalled, but Jenks—the only one who could really hear whoever it was—had become serious.
“Where?” he asked, and a bad feeling trickled through me, chilling me though the heater was cranked and sending my hair to tickle my face. From the back came an unearthly, satisfied chuckle. All I could see in the rearview mirror was a dark shadow with red goat-slitted eyes. Fear slithered through me. Shit, I have a demon in my backseat. What in hell am I playing with?
“Good witch,” Al said, his voice coming from nothing, and I stifled a shudder. “You’re starting to understand.”
“I’ll tell her,” Jenks said, then stomped on the “end” button. I jumped when Pierce snapped the phone closed, then jerked the car back into the proper lane when a horn blew.
Jenks rose up, looking eerily dark in the chill car with no dust slipping from him. “That was Ford,” he said, surprising me; I had thought Edden, or maybe Glenn. “He’s at a coffee shop downtown with Mia. She wants to talk to you. I think Ms. Walker gave her a good scare.”
Oh God. It’s starting. “Where?” I said, tension knotting my gut. Ivy. I had to call Ivy.
Jenks laughed, filling the car with the sound of bitter wind chimes. “You’re not going to believe me,” he said.
I checked behind me, then in front. “Junior’s place, right?” I said dryly, then did a U-bangy. Pierce reached for the dash, his long face going white, but Al didn’t shift an inch, ramrod straight, dead center, in my tiny backseat. The car swung wildly, finding its new direction as another horn blew. “That’s past Edden’s blockade, isn’t it?” I asked. “How does she do that! The woman must have a way with the force.” I’m not the banshee you seek. I may pass.
Jenks walked Pierce through calling Ivy to tell the FIB as I made my way back over the bridge into Cincy and down to the shopping district. I doubted very much that Mia was giving up. More likely, she was sacrificing Remus to buy her way out of trouble, and my tension ratcheted up as we pulled into Junior’s place.
It was packed, but Al did something involving Latin and what looked like the same gesture I occasionally used on people who cut me off in traffic on Vine, and the Buick ready to pull into the last parking spot changed its mind. My pulse quickened when I spotted Ford’s gray car three vehicles down. Ivy. We should wait for Ivy and the FIB, but that might be too late.
“Both of you stay in the car,” I said as Jenks dove for my bag and I zipped it up. I didn’t even see the demon get out. One moment, I was snatching up my bag and slamming my door shut, and when I turned, he was there—standing way too close. The security lights shone on his hair, carefully styled and ridged, his jaw tight and his demon eyes almost glowing in the dim light. He didn’t say a word. Waiting. On the other side of the car, Pierce got out and gave me a worried look.
“I’ll get you a coffee,” I said as I pushed around Al. “Then stay out of my way.” I didn’t hear Al following when Pierce took my elbow as I slipped in my heels, but he was there.
The door jingled a welcome, and the four of us entered, me in my Carew Tower restaurant finery, Al in his usual velveteen and lace, Pierce in jeans and a stolen coat, and Jenks in my bag. We didn’t get as many looks as one might think. It was New Year’s, and there was a wide span of dress. Junior’s wasn’t far from Fountain Square, and the place was busy, voices fast-paced and excited because of the fire downtown and the blockades. If Mia was here, I was sure she was soaking up the excitement.
“Rachel, if I could have but a moment.”
“Not now, Pierce,” I said as I let Jenks out. The pixy rose, not a spec
k of dust coming from him as he flew heavily to the nearest light fixture and parked himself beside the hot bulb. He gave me a thumbs-up, but it was obvious he was suffering as he put his elbows on his knees and hunched over. I was on my own till the FIB got here. Worse, I was babysitting Al.
I shoved my gloves in my pockets and scanned the floor while standing in line. A spike of adrenaline shot through me when I found Mia smack in the middle of the place, Remus on one side of her, Ford on the other. Holly was on her lap, the infant resting, her eyes closed and at peace with the world. I met Ford’s eyes, and he nodded before getting up and trying to find a chair for me. That table looked too small to talk to two serial murderers.
Pierce brushed my arm, and I jerked. “Mistress witch?”
“Don’t call me that,” I muttered, conscious of the people around us. There were too many people in here. Someone was going to get hurt.
“Rachel, I’ll allow that my situation looks dire, but I’m of a mind to help you.”
My attention swung back to him, remembering the night we’d met. He was basically a runner—member of the coven of moral and ethical standards aside. Even if he couldn’t tap a line, he could help. I didn’t think Mia had arranged for this meeting to kill me, so it was likely Remus was going to be the biggest threat. Him I could handle, and I’d put my best undies online if Mia wasn’t about to sacrifice him to remain out of jail and off the grid.
“Think you can do what I say?” I asked, and he grinned, tossing his hair from his eyes in a way that wasn’t like Kisten’s at all, but reminded me of him all the same.
“You’re not alone,” he said, eyes darting to Ford’s table. “I’ll help you settle your hash, and then we might talk.”
His hand reached for mine, and Al shoved between us. “Two grande lattes, double espresso, Italian blend,” he said to the clerk. “Light on the froth, extra cinnamon. Use whole milk. Not two percent or half-and-half. Put a shot of raspberry in one for my itchy witch here.”
And put it in porcelain, I thought, wondering if this was the only way demons liked their coffee. Minias had ordered something similar, minus the raspberry.
“The runt will have a juice box.” He turned to Pierce. “It will make you big and strong, won’t it, little fella.”
Pierce’s jaw clenched and his blue eyes narrowed, but he swallowed the insult.
“Anything else?” the clerk asked, and I looked to find that it was Junior himself.
“Espresso,” I said, remembering Jenks. Swinging my bag around, I dug out my wallet. The light caught the glitter on my dress, and I thought how stupid it all seemed. At least my toes had thawed.
“Hey,” Junior said suddenly, backing up a step when he saw the gun in my bag. “I heard about you. You’re shunned. Get out of my shop.”
Shocked, I looked up, blinking. Could he have said it any louder, maybe? But my mood quickly turned to anger. “Look, Junior,” I said bitterly, my bile finding an easy outlet. “I’d really like to. Going home and taking a bubble bath sounds really great right now.” I leaned in close so only he, Pierce, Al, and probably Jenks could hear me. “But two of those good people sitting in the middle of your freaking shop are wanted for the assault of an FIB officer, a double murder, causing a riot at the mall, and are the number one suspects in that fire at Fountain Square tonight. Why don’t you get everyone else out of here so I can take care of it?”
His eyes were wide, and he stared at me. “Do me a favor and forget that I’ve been shunned,” I said, shaking inside. “Think for yourself and do something for the greater good? Huh? Can you do that?”
Our coffee was up, and after I dropped a twenty on the counter, I handed Pierce his juice box and Al one of the paper cups. There were three people behind the counter, and they were looking at us like we were…demons. “Thanks,” I said, shaking as I picked up my drink with the big R for raspberry on it and Jenks’s espresso. I hated it when my temper got loose like that. Al seemed to think it was funny.
The smell of coffee seemed to pull Jenks from the light fixture, and he dropped heavily onto my shoulder, catching his balance with a sudden tugging on my hair. “You okay?” I breathed, and he shivered his wings.
“Just cold,” he said, and I nodded, agreeing. My coat wasn’t doing much to cut the chill either. There was too much in-and-out traffic for my comfort, mostly in.
Halfway to the table, I realized there was no way we’d all fit, and in all truthfulness, I didn’t want Pierce or Al near Mia or Remus. “Jenks, can you and Pierce get people out of here?” I asked, trying to get rid of two birds with one stone.
“I’m not babysitting ghost boy!” Jenks exclaimed from my shoulder.
Pierce added a quick “I suspect you think me less than likely, mistress witch.”
Both of them were frowning when I stopped dead still in the store and turned, coat bumping my calves. Al was smiling. “Jenks, you’re so cold you’re not dusting,” I said, trying not to sound worried. “I need to get people out of here quietly, and you can do that. By the time I need you, you’ll be warm.” I hope. “Until then, let me know if Mia touches my aura.”
I handed Pierce Jenks’s coffee and added, “I’m giving you my phone. Ivy will probably call when the FIB is here. Let me know, and tell them not to barge in here, okay?”
“Jenks can do that,” he said grudgingly.
I put a hand to my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “If I’m right, ugly guy over there is going to have a hissy long before the FIB gets here. I’m going to need your help, and at that point, you can let your testosterone rip. Meantime, Jenks can brief you on what Remus has occupied his last twenty years with so you don’t get smeared. ’Kay?”
I handed Pierce my phone, and when he looked at me wryly, Jenks’s wings clattered to life. “Okay,” the pixy conceded, laboriously making the flight to the wary man, eyeing him before landing on his shoulder and telling him to start at the front.
Two down. I turned to Al and the demon beamed. “Al, why don’t you be a good boy and take the seat of the first people Pierce gets out of here.”
“I want to be closer,” he said, then looked over his glasses at the couple the next table over. Their chairs scraped as they beat a hasty path to the exit, and Al sat, taking meticulous care in arranging his coat.
Okay. Time to earn your rent, I thought as I exhaled heavily. I took a moment to loosen another button on my coat and feel for the comforting weight of my splat gun in my bag as I approached Ford, Mia, and Remus. Ivy would probably tell Edden to be circumspect, but it wouldn’t surprise me that if in their zeal, six FIB cars pulled up with lights on and sirens going.
If Mia didn’t behave herself, this was going to be over really quickly. She had tried to kill me twice, and I knew I should’ve been concerned when I said hi to Ford and sat down in the chair he had pulled up for me, but the only thing I was feeling was tired. That Edden had a warrant and I could shoot them now was a comfort. Eyes were heavy on me as I took the lid off my drink and sipped it. My shoulders relaxed as the hot, rich coffee slipped down. With a little effort, I could see the door and counter both.
Either Mia was going to sacrifice Remus and promise to be good, or this was a plot to see me dead, but I didn’t think Ford would read the situation wrong. The door jingled when a couple left with frightened backward glances, and Jenks gave me a distant thumbs-up. Damn, this was good stuff, and I made a mental note of what it was in case I survived. Raspberry Italian latte?
My eyes rose over the rim of the paper cup. Remus’s expression was both angry and frightened—a bad combination as his attention flicked from me to Al and back. Mia had an unsettling confidence about her as she held the sleeping Holly in her little pink snowsuit. One would never guess they were wanted for assault and possible murder. She was going to bail on him. I knew it. What did she know of love?
“Mia,” I said, seeing that no one else was talking. “Did you set the fire?”
“No.” Her voice was soft to keep Holly f
rom waking, and the toddler’s hands moved in her sleep. Mia’s eyes were fixed on mine, trying to impress me with what I already believed was the truth. “The Walker did. She’s trying to pit my own city against me. I told you she had the skill of a falling log.” Her high voice held a shocking amount of hatred. “She wants Holly.”
Mia held her daughter closer, and the child shifted into a more comfortable position, lips pouting in her sleep. Remus’s hands clenched, and when he saw me notice their white-knuckled strength, he moved them out of my sight.
I put my hands under the table, keeping my elbows still while I pulled my splat gun out and set it atop my knees. “I didn’t think it was you,” I said to try to get them to relax. “I’m trying to stop Ms. Walker, Mia, but you were seen at the fire. The FIB isn’t going out of their way to help anymore. You need to come in. Someone’s going to get hurt.” Like me.
Remus stood, and my heart jumped. “We need to go, Mia. People are leaving.”
A faint, musty scent drifted from the angry man at his movement, tickling my memory. Fear pinged through me, and I froze. It smelled like cement. Cold and rough. Mia felt my fear, the woman going almost slack as my emotions puddled out from me. Ford did too, but his expression was of confusion, not satisfaction. He knew my fear didn’t stem from Mia, but something else, and I shoved the emotion away. Kisten. It’s from Kisten. I don’t have time for this.
Mia moved Holly to a more comfortable position, ignoring Remus. The baby’s eyes opened. Silently, she stared, and as I watched, Holly’s pale blue eyes became the pupil black of hunger. “Did you tell the FIB to drop their investigation?” Mia asked me.
I jerked my attention from Holly, surprised. “Ah, yes, but someone needs to go to jail for the Tilsons. You were living in their house. You beat up an FIB officer.” Tried to kill me twice. Jeez, what am I doing here?