by Ким Харрисон
"Jenks!" I shouted, feeling the icy cool of a damp night. It was too cold. It might throw him into hibernation!
"I'm fine!" he exclaimed as he hovered in a red haze of dust. "Let's get the bastard."
I gathered myself to stand, then hesitated in a crouch when Jenks's gaze fixed on something over my shoulder and the pixy went white.
"Uh, bastards," he amended shakily, and a new fear settled in when I realized Al wasn't moving anymore either, but watching whatever Jenks was. In the hush of ambient street noise, a wave of burnt-amber, tainted ozone flowed over me.
"There's another demon behind me, isn't there?" I whispered.
Jenks's eyes flicked to mine and away. "Two."
Terrific. Jenks darted away, and I moved. I tripped on my scarf, then kicked backward when someone grabbed my leg. Their hold faltered, and dropping back to the floor, I spun. A yellow-clad arm reached for me. Gripping someone's shoulder, I swung my foot up as a fulcrum and flung him over me.
There was no crash; whoever it was had gone misty. Three demons? What in hell is going on!
Ticked, I got to my feet only to stumble when a blur of red darted in front of me. My eyes went to my mother. She was okay, fighting to get the clerk's arms off her as the woman panicked, safe in the circle as the store was ripped apart.
"You sent a rent-a-cop after me?" Al bellowed. "Nice try!"
I covered my ears when a pressure shift pulsed against me and Al vanished. The demon in red that had been headed for him skidded to a stop. Cursing violently, he flung his scythe in rage. It sliced through a metallic rack like it was cotton candy, and the display toppled as the clerk began sobbing.
Blinking, I stood and slowly backed away. Packets of amulets crunched under my feet. Holy crap, I thought; the monster looked like death having a temper tantrum, and I jumped when Jenks landed on my shoulder. The pixy had a straightened plastic-coated paper clip, and I found strength in that. So what if there were still two demons here? I could do anything with Jenks watching my back.
"Follow him!" the last demon shouted, and I spun, fearing the worst. Please, not Newt. Anyone but Newt.
"You!" I exclaimed, my breath exploding out of me in that one word. It was Minias.
"Yes, me," Minias snarled, and I jumped when the red demon with the scythe vanished. "Why, by the bloody new moon, didn't you answer me?"
"Because I don't deal with demons!" I shouted, pointing to the shattered window as if I had any authority over him. "Get the hell out of here!"
Minias's smooth, ageless face creased in anger.
"Look out!" Jenks cried as he took off from my shoulder, but I was way ahead of him. The demon was striding across the store in his yellow robe and funny hat, kicking charms and herbs out of the way. I backed up, the cries from the sidewalk telling me how close I was to the circle I'd scribed earlier. My pulse pounded and I felt myself sweat. This would be close.
Murderously silent, he came on, his slitted eyes a red so dark as to be almost brown. His robes unfurled as he moved, looking like a cross between a desert sheik's cloak and a kimono. Pace stilted, he reached for me, the light glinting on his rings.
"Now!" Jenks shouted, and I dropped out from under the demon's reach and rolled past the chalk line.
I was outside the circle; Minias was in it. "Rhombus!" I exclaimed, slapping my hand down on the chalk. My awareness reached out to touch the nearest ley line. Power surged through me and I held my breath, eyes watering as it flowed in unchecked, my desire for a quick circle letting the ley line energy fill me with an unusual force.
It hurt, but I gritted my teeth and held on while the forces equalized in the time it takes for an electron to spin. Pulled by the trigger word, my will tapped the memory of hours of practice, consolidating a five-minute prep and invocation into an eyeblink. I wasn't that good with most ley line magic, but this? This I could do.
"Bloody hell and damn your dame!" Minias swore, and I couldn't help but smile when the hem of his yellow robe swung to a stop. It was blurry from the molecule-thin sheet of ever-after that rose to trap him in my circle.
My breath slipped from me, and I sat back on my butt, my palms behind me on the hardwood floor and my knees bent as I looked at the demon. I had him, and the fading adrenaline was starting to turn into the shakes.
"Rachel!" my mother called, and I looked past Minias. She was frowning at the clerk. The woman refused to take down her protective circle, sobbing and crying. Finally my mother had enough, and with her lips pursed in the temper we shared, she shoved the woman into her own bubble, causing her to break it.
Out of sight behind the counter, the frazzled woman hit the floor and wailed all the louder. I sat upright when the phone was dragged from the counter to thunk on the floor. Beaming, my mother stepped delicately around the scattered charms and spells, hands extended and pride flowing from her like a wave.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I took her grip and she pulled me up.
"Fantabulous!" she exclaimed, eyes bright. "Hot damn, I love to watch you work!"
I had crushed herbs all over my jeans, and I slapped at them to get the flakes off. There was a crowd at the broken window, and traffic had stopped. Jenks dropped to hover behind my mom, making the "crazy" motion with his finger, and I frowned. My mom had been more than a little off since my dad had died, but I had to admit this nonchalance at a three-demon attack was much easier to take than the clerk's noisy hysterics.
"Get out!" the woman yelled as she pulled herself up. Her eyes were red and her face was swollen. "Alice, get out and don't you ever come back! You hear me? Your daughter is a menace! She ought to be locked up and shunned!"
My mother's jaw clenched. "Shut your mouth," she said hotly. "My daughter just saved your butt. She drove off two demons and bound a third while you hid like a prissy girlie-girl who wouldn't know the right end of an amulet if it came out her ass." Color high, she turned with a huff and looped her arm through mine. The plastic bag of charms was in her grip, and it thumped into me lightly. "Rachel, we're leaving. This is the last time I shop in this pee-stained hole."
Jenks was grinning as he hovered before us. "Have I told you lately how much I like you, Mrs. Morgan?"
"Mom…people can hear you," I said, embarrassed. God! Her mouth was worse than Jenks's. And we couldn't leave. Minias was still standing in my circle.
Heels crunching on the merchandise, my mom dragged me to the door, her head high and her red curls bobbing in the breeze from the busted window. A tired sigh lifted through me at the wail of sirens. Great. Just freaking great. They'd want to haul me down to the I.S. tower to fill out a report. Demon summoning wasn't illegal, just really stupid, but they'd think of something, probably a bald-faced lie.
The I.S., or Inderland Security, didn't like me. Since having quit their lame-ass worldwide police force last year, Ivy, Jenks, and I had been showing up the Cincinnati division with a pleasant regularity. They weren't idiots, but I attracted trouble that just begged me to beat it into submission. It didn't help that the media loved printing stuff about me either, if only to feed people's animosity and sell papers.
Minias cleared his throat as we approached, and my mother halted in surprise. Clasping his hands innocently before him, the demon smiled. From outside came an increase in conversation at the approaching cruisers. The jitters started, and Jenks slipped between me and my scarf with that paper clip still in his grip. He was shivering, too, but I knew it was from the cold, not fear.
"Banish your demon, Rachel, so we can get our coffee," my mother said as if he was a nuisance like fairies in her garden. "It's almost six. There will be a line if we don't hurry."
The clerk steadied herself against a counter. "I called the I.S.! You can't go. Don't you let them go!" she screamed at the watching people, but thankfully none came in. "You belong in jail! All of you! Look at my shop. Look at my shop!"
"Put a cork in it, Patricia!" my mother said. "You have insurance." Coyly touching her hair, she turned to Minias. "You're nice looking—fo
r a demon."
Minias blinked, and I sighed at his contriving smile and the bow that made my mom titter like a schoolgirl. The conversations at the broken window shifted, and when I looked at the street and the sound of approaching cruisers, someone's camera phone flashed. Oooooh, better and better.
Licking my lips, I turned to Minias. "Demon, I demand that you depart—" I started.
"Rachel Mariana Morgan," Minias said, stepping so close to the edge of the barrier that smoke curled up where his robe touched it, "you're in danger."
"Tell us something we don't know, moss wipe," Jenks muttered from my shoulder.
"I'm in danger?" I said snidely, feeling better now that the demon was behind a circle. "Gee, you think? Why is Al out of jail? You told me he was in custody! He attacked me!" I shouted, pointing to the destroyed shop. "He broke our agreement! What are you going to do about it?"
Minias's eye twitched and the barest rasp gave away his slippers scuffing the floor. "Someone is summoning him out of confinement. It's in your best interest to help us."
"Rache," Jenks complained. "It's cold and the I.S. is almost here. Get rid of him before they make us fill out paperwork until the sun goes nova."
I rocked back on my heels. Yeah. Like I was going to help a demon? My reputation was bad enough.
Seeing me ready to banish him, Minias shook his head. "We can't contain him without your help. He will kill you, and with no one alive to file a complaint, he'll get away with it."
A chill ran through me at the certainty in his voice. Worried, I glanced at the people at the window, then looked over the store. Not much was standing. Outside, traffic began to move as the amber and blue lights of an I.S. car started playing over the buildings. My gaze fell on my mom and I cringed. I could usually keep the more lethal aspects of my job from her, but this time…
"Better listen," she said, shocking the hell out of me, then clacked her heels smartly as she went to intercept the clerk's dash to the street.
A bad feeling knotted my stomach. If Al wasn't playing by the rules anymore, he'd kill me. Probably after making me watch him murder everyone I loved. It was that simple. I'd been living on instinct for the first twenty-five years of my life, and though it had gotten me out of a lot of trouble, it had also gotten me into just as much. And killed my boyfriend. So though every fiber of my body said to banish him, I took a slow breath, listened to my mother, and said, "Okay. Talk."
Minias pulled his attention from my mother. A sheet of ever-after cascaded over him, melting the formal yellow robe into a pair of faded jeans, leather belt, boots, and a red silk shirt. My face went cold. It was Kisten's favorite outfit, and Minias had probably picked it out of my thoughts like a cookie out of a jar. Damn him.
Kisten. The memory of his body propped up against his bed flashed through me. My jaw trembled, and I clenched my teeth. I knew I had tried to save him. Or maybe he had tried to save me. I just didn't remember it, and guilt slithered across my soul. I had failed him, and Minias was using it. Son of a bitch demon.
"Free me," Minias said mockingly as if he knew he was hurting me. "Then we'll talk."
I held my right arm as it throbbed with a phantom pain, remembering. "That's likely," I said bitterly, and the clerk jerked from my mother, her shrill voice hurting my ears.
Minias wasn't fazed, and he looked over his new attire with interest. A pair of modern, mirrored sunglasses misted into existence in his grip, and he placed them on the bridge of his narrow nose with a meticulous care to hide his alien eyes. He sniffed, and I felt sick at how much he looked like any guy on the street. An attractive, university kind of guy, who'd fit in on any campus as a grad student, or maybe a teacher still working for tenure. But his bearing was uncaring and slightly supercilious.
"The coffee your mother mentioned sounds equitable. I give my word I'll be…good."
My mother flicked her attention to the noisy street, and seeing her eyes glinting in approval, I wondered if this was where I got my need to live for the thrill. But I was smarter now, and putting a hand on my hip, I shook my head. My mother was nuts. He was a freaking demon.
The demon glanced over my shoulder at the sound of a car door shutting and a police radio. "Have I ever lied to you?" he murmured so only I could hear. "Do I look like a demon? Tell them I'm a witch that was helping you catch Al and I got in the circle by mistake."
My eyes narrowed. He wanted me to lie for him?
Minias leaned so close to the barrier of ever-after that it buzzed a harsh warning. "If you don't, I'll give the public what they expect." His eyes went to the people clustered at the window. "Proof that you deal in demons ought to do wonders for your…sterling reputation."
Mmmm. There is that.
The door jingled open. With a cry of relief, the clerk shoved my mother away and ran to the two officers. Sobbing, she draped herself over them, effectively preventing them from coming in any farther. I had thirty seconds, tops, and then it would be the I.S.'s decision as to what happened with Minias, not mine. No freaking way.
Minias saw my decision and smiled with an infuriating confidence. Demons never lied, but they never seemed to tell the truth either. I'd dealt with Minias before, finding that for all his considerable power, he was a novice when dealing with people. He had been babysitting the ever-after's most powerful, insane denizen for the last millennium. But clearly something had changed. And someone was summoning Al out of containment and setting him free to kill me.
Damn. Is it Nick? Stomach caving in, I put a fist to my middle. I knew he had the skill, and we had parted on very bad terms.
"Let me out," Minias whispered. "I'll hold myself to your definition of right and wrong."
I glanced across the demolished shop. One of the officers managed to disentangle himself when the clerk pointed at us, almost gibbering. Other people in uniform were filing in, and it was getting crowded. I'd never get a better verbal contract from Minias than that.
"Done," I said, rubbing my foot across the chalk line to break the circle.
"Hey!" an incoming suit shouted as my bubble went down. The spare young man whipped a thin wand from his belt and pointed it at us. "Everybody down!"
The clerk screamed and collapsed. From outside came the sound of panic. I jumped in front of Minias, hands up and spread wide. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I cried out. "I'm Rachel Morgan from Vampiric Charms, Independent Runner Service. I've got the situation under control. We're cool! We're all cool! Point the wand up!"
The tension eased, and in the new calm, my mouth dropped open when I recognized the I.S. officer. "You!" I accused, then started when Jenks catapulted himself from my shoulder.
"Jenks, no!" I shouted, and the room reacted. A unified protest rose, and ignoring the calls to halt, I lunged to get in front of the man with the wand before Jenks could pix him and somehow land me with an assault charge.
"You sorry-ass hunk of putrid fairy crap!" Jenks shouted, darting erratically as I tried to stay between them. "Nobody sucker punches me and gets away with it! Nobody!"
"Easy, Jenks," I soothed, all the while trying to watch both him and Minias. "He's not worth it. He's not worth it!"
My words penetrated and, with his wings clattering aggressively, Jenks accepted my shoulder when I fluffed my scarf and turned to the I.S. officer. I knew my face was as ugly as Jenks's. I hadn't expected to ever see Tom again—though who else would they send out on a call concerning demons but someone from the Arcane Division?
The witch was a mole in the I.S., working one of their most sensitive, highest-paying jobs while simultaneously laboring away as a peon in some fanatical black-arts cult. I knew because he had played messenger boy last year and asked me to join them. Right after he stunned Jenks into unconsciousness and left him to fry on my car's dashboard. What an ass.
"Hi, Tom," I said dryly. "How's the wand hanging?"
The I.S. officer backed up with his eyes on Jenks. His face reddened when someone laughed at him for being afraid of a four-inch pixy. The
truth of it was, he should be. Something that small and winged could be lethal. And Tom knew it.
"Morgan," Tom said, nose wrinkled as he breathed in the burnt-amber-tainted air. "I am not surprised. Summoning demons in public?" His gaze traveled over the trashed store, and a mocking tsk-tsk came from him. "This is going to cost you."
My breath quickened when I remembered Minias, and I spun. True to his word, the demon was behaving himself, standing still as every incoming I.S. officer pointed their weapons, both conventional and magic, at him.
My mother made a puff of noise, her high heels clacking as she strode to him. "A demon? Are you insane?" she said as she tucked our purchases under an arm to take Minias's hand and pat it. I froze in shock. Minias looked even more surprised.
"Do you honestly think my daughter is so stupid she'd let a demon out of a circle?" she continued, her smile bright. "In the middle of Cincinnati? Three days before Halloween? It's a costume. This kind man helped my daughter repel the demons and got caught in the crossfire." She beamed up at him, and Minias delicately removed his hand from hers, curling his fingers into a tight fist. "Isn't that so, dear?"
Minias silently sidestepped away from my mother. I felt a tug on my awareness as something was drawn from the ever-after to this side of the lines, and Minias pulled a wallet from his back pocket.
"My papers…gentlemen," the demon said, giving me a smirk before he passed Tom what looked like one of those ID holders you see on cop shows.
The clerk slumped against the first officer, wailing. "There were two of them in robes and one in a green costume! I think that's the green one there. They trashed the store! They knew her name. That woman is a black witch and everyone knows it! It's been in the papers and the news. She's a menace! A freak and a menace!"
Jenks bristled, but it was my mother who said, "Get a grip, Pat. She didn't call them."
"But the store!" Patricia insisted, her fear turning to anger now that I.S. officers surrounded her. "Who's going to pay for this?"
"Look," I said, feeling Jenks shivering between me and the scarf. "My partner is cold sensitive. Can we wrap this up? I haven't broken the law as far as I can see."