American Demon

by Kim Harrison

  Al’s window was down a crack despite the chill, and the sun shone on his gently moving dark hair to make it look almost white. The cold breeze had put Jenks on the radio buttons instead of his usual spot on the rearview mirror, and true to his pixy nature, he’d been going up and down the dial, looking for God knew what.

  “Wait. Leave it there,” I said as Takata’s latest spilled out, and Al and Jenks shared a snicker. But I’d liked his music before I knew he was my birth father, and I turned it up, right as it was ending.

  “That was Cincy’s hometown boy himself, Takata,” the announcer said, bringing a smile to my face as Al stopped at a yellow light. “Tickets for his solstice concert will go on sale next week, but you can win them here first. Stay tuned for how to get them at the end of our interview with Sa’han Landon, the high priest of the elven dewar, which is-s-s-s coming up next.”

  My smile vanished, and I stared at the radio. Jenks eyed me from the tuner knob, his dangling feet idly kicking. “You okay?” he said as I pushed back into the seat to stare at nothing.

  “Fine.” I wasn’t going to admit that Landon was getting to me. He’d been on the radio all week, TV morning shows, brief interviews on the local nightly news, anyone who would give him a mic in exchange for his version of reality. Trent was good with letting lies roll off his back, but I’d been brought up where if you didn’t quash a rumor fast and with fists, it became the truth.

  “Tired,” I added, and Jenks rubbed a hand along his wing to smooth it, clearly seeing through the lie. “I was up early this morning. And then I had a really weird dream while waiting for you and Ivy.”

  “Curious,” Al said, actually waving at the woman in a MINI twin to my own as he accelerated through the intersection. “My dreams have been unusually restless as well.”

  I looked at him, thinking a demon driving through Cincinnati was about the coolest thing ever. “I didn’t know you had bad dreams.”

  “Quite often,” he said softly, eyes on the traffic. “And they’re none of your business. Rachel, I never told Ceri about Hodin.”

  I froze. Damn, damn, and double damn. When had Al and Dali had time to talk? “Uh,” I said, warming at Jenks’s wry expression. “Maybe Newt told her?”

  My car’s steering wheel creaked under Al’s grip. “Newt dosed herself into forgetting him,” he said, voice tight, and I began to quietly panic.

  “Okay, so I lied to Dali,” I admitted, almost sitting sidewise in the seat to face him. “I didn’t want to admit it was a dream. Dali might decide it meant something. And it doesn’t.”

  But instead of relaxing, Al became more worried, brow furrowed as he looked across the car at me.

  “This morning,” I lied again, and Jenks, still on the radio buttons, crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “It woke me up. Nightmare about a pixy turning into a nice-looking demon with black hair. Scared the crap out of me. That’s all.”

  Hearing the drop of truth in my lie, Al made a soft “Mmmm” of sound and turned away.

  “It was just a dream, Al,” I continued, pulse slowing. “I probably got the name from the collective. We were all sharing a really tight space a few months ago.”

  “Perhaps,” he admitted, focus distant. “But Hodin was known for working his mischief through dreams. Tell me if you have another.”

  “Sure,” I said, but Jenks was still squinting at me in disapproval. “Dali said he was dead.”

  Al stiffened, his eyes fixed firmly on the road. “He is. The dewar killed him to keep their secrets safe when we began to best them. Which was probably a good thing, seeing as he was more dangerous, unpredictable, untrustworthy, and outright mendacious than the Goddess he so desperately wanted to believe in,” he finished mockingly. “He was an idiot.”

  But he almost sounded jealous, and I exchanged an uneasy look with Jenks. “You’re a good driver,” I said to change the subject. We were less than a mile from Junior’s, and everything felt awkward.

  “It’s not that hard.” Jenks fiddled with the tuner until he found the weather. “Two pedals and a wheel. Big, fat, hairy-fairy, whooping deal.”

  “Thank you.” Al inclined his head to acknowledge the compliment. “It’s my third time.”

  “You mean since getting your license, right?” I asked as we gained the interstate and his speed eased into something less stop-and-go and more slow creep.

  A shoulder lifted and fell as he settled in behind a rusted truck. “To not say otherwise would not necessarily be false.”

  I looked at the charms on my key ring, uneasy. Double negatives had always confused me. Jenks sighed unhappily at the expected low for tonight. It was close to his comfortable threshold, and again I was glad that his stash of portable foods was in the trunk beside my overnight bag. He’d be okay at Trent’s conservatory, but damn it to the ever-after and back, we belonged in the church, not spread out over the greater Cincinnati area.

  Al’s fingers tapped in annoyance as the left lanes began to move faster than us, but our exit was just ahead and he endured. Though the park was close, it would probably take us another fifteen minutes.

  “You said you wouldn’t hog the girls’ attention. Maybe you should change?” I suggested.

  Al gave me a sideways look. “You want the dog-headed god?”

  Jenks snickered. “I do. I want to see Ellasbeth deal with that.”

  “No,” I said shortly. “Don’t you have a happy face for parties?”

  Al simpered at me, silent as he took the exit.

  “Okay.” I fiddled with my hair, holding it to my head so it wouldn’t snarl in the wind. “Hey. Can you do a basic elf?” I asked, suddenly seeing an opportunity.

  “If the situation requires it,” he said in distaste, lip curling.

  I shifted in the seat to face Al more fully. “There was an elf at my church this morning.”

  “I knew it!” Jenks exclaimed, his unexpected gold dust vanishing in the breeze.

  “Before you got there,” I added, and the four-inch man frowned.

  “I knew I smelled elf,” Jenks said. “I thought it was coming from you. He was eating that cold lasagna, wasn’t he? The entire couch stank. I bet he slept there.”

  “His hair looked like it. He ran off when he heard you and Ivy. He might be a Landon spy. I want to know if Ellasbeth recognizes him.” I felt a little guilty that I didn’t trust her, but not much.

  Al’s grin widened. “The situation requires it,” he said, and I smiled back, the feeling of shared deviltry almost rubbing out the guilt of lying to him. Why am I covering for Hodin? I thought. Oh, yeah. Death, destruction, mayhem. But if I was honest, it was his confusion paired with his desire to work it out that had me silent. I’d been there myself, knowing I was in deep shit and simply needing the time to find a few more facts before making a world-changing mistake.

  “He was about sixteen,” I said, remembering the kid startled and resolute in the dark of my church. “Few inches taller than me. Gawky. Cropped ears, and tan. He’s got that almost transparent blond hair of a pure elf, and it’s kind of long. And messy.”

  The car’s engine slacked off, then renewed a steady hum as Al misted out and back, shifting his appearance on the fly to match my description. He was still wearing his fifties suit, now too large on the adolescent-thin body. His hair, too, had changed, blond as it blew in the wind, and he had a lightly tan, angular young face instead of a slightly ruddy, square-jawed older one. Somehow he’d even gotten a hint of innocence, and something in me twisted.

  “Wow,” I said, impressed with Al’s internal spell library. “He was wearing torn jeans and an olive shirt. Shorter hair,” I directed.

  Again Al misted out, coming back even faster this time, and I stared at the goat-slitted red eyes of a demon from a clearly elven face.

  “His nose is a little more angled,” I said, hoping no one was se
eing this. Shape-shifting while driving. Sheesh. “His eyes are a little wider, less sleepy. Narrow chin.”

  Al’s features blurred, and even his hands changed.

  “Too thin,” I said, and Jenks hopped to my knee, clearly wanting my shoulder but unwilling to risk the cold draft. “Slim, not gaunt,” I added. “And you still have your teeth,” I prompted.

  Al’s smile changed, my car picking up speed as traffic thinned and we took a longer but less traveled street to the park. “Good?” he asked, and I stifled a shudder. His eyes were still wrong, but it was really hard to change them—or so Al claimed.

  “Just a sec,” I said, digging in my bag for my sunglasses. “Try this.”

  He froze as I put my glasses on him, but now it was perfect. “My God,” I whispered, seeing him sitting behind my car’s wheel, looking like a smart-ass kid working on his driver’s ed permit. “That is really creepy.”

  “You don’t smell right,” Jenks said, and Al’s smile faltered.

  “As long as I don’t smell like burnt amber,” he muttered, and both Jenks and I shook our heads. I’d noticed that Al had smelled less and less of burnt amber since the original ever-after went down, until now I really had to search for it. It still lingered about Hodin, though. Curious.

  Exuding a familiar confidence, Al shifted the mirrors to accommodate his new size. “I bet Edden would pay extra for this,” he said, head cocked as he gave his image the once-over in the rearview mirror. “If I ever cared to work for him again,” he added distantly.

  I couldn’t help but feel smug, even though both our bank accounts were going to suffer for our pride. “As an alternative to a sketch artist? Absolutely.” I pointed at our turnoff and he smoothly took it, using his blinker and everything. He slowed as he approached the stop sign, and I woke up my phone. “I’d ask for a thousand a pop. Make him pay. Hang on a sec. I want Trent to know what’s going on.” Not to mention Quen would have reacted badly to an unknown elf coming over the grass. My glaze slid to Al. Even a cute one.

  “Good idea,” Al said, his voice giving him away. “No wonder it has become so difficult to snag a familiar,” he said, one arm casually on the open window as he waved to the woman in the honkin’ big-ass SUV and smoothly accelerated. “You all have magic with no cost.”

  “You mean, no smut?” I said as I typed and hit send. “There’s a cost. You just don’t see it.”

  “I’m not talking about your wallet,” Al said dryly.

  “Neither am I.” I took in Al’s attitude, casual and in control, seeing a problem. “He’s sixteen and flighty, Al, not a former ruler of China.”

  He beamed across the car, and a vague memory rose of seeing Trent like this, gawky and awkward, at camp. “You know that was never official, love,” Al leered, and the memory was gone.

  “It won’t work if you strut over the grass as if you own it,” I complained, and he sighed, slumping in the seat and pulling his arm back in to carefully set his hands at ten and two.

  But my phone dinged. Trent had sent me a happy face. “Okay, we’re good.”

  “Mmmm, what was this mystery elf wearing on his feet, itchy witch?” Al asked as we stopped at a four way.

  “White sneakers?” I said, thinking they’d looked rather institutional for the rest of him.

  From the radio, the commercial finally cut out and the radio host’s professional patter flowed into a background nothing until Landon’s name cut through like a bright light. “Welcome, Sa’han Landon,” the host almost gushed. “We appreciate you talking to our listeners today.”

  “Rache, turn that slug snot off,” Jenks said, his wings an irritating hum beside my ear.

  “It’s the third show he’s done today,” Al said, his proper British-lord accent sounding wrong coming from such a young-looking body.

  “Don’t touch it!” I said, and Al changed his reach to close his window instead.

  “It’s only going to get you mad,” Jenks said.

  “It’s good to know your enemy’s weaknesses,” Al countered, and I turned up the volume. I didn’t agree with Trent that you only had to convince the people in power of the truth. Truth belonged to the masses, or the masses made bad choices that the people in power couldn’t stop.

  “I think the question on everyone’s mind is why the ley lines went down,” the host said, clearly following a preset list of questions. They’d been the same for every interview. “I know I’ll never forget where I was when suddenly nothing worked. That you brought the ley lines back to life will put your time as the dewar’s high priest in the history books even if you do nothing else.”

  “Thank you.” Landon’s modesty was irksome as he took credit for something he hadn’t done, and I bristled.

  “Ass,” Jenks said shortly, and Al growled, his now-thin hands on the wheel clenching. The look of anger the demon was wearing was alarming on such a young face.

  “I regretted the need to break the lines, but it was necessary to prevent Mr. Kalamack from sending the souls of the undead back to the ever-after a second time. That someone would work to rip them away again after having rejoined their bodies . . . Well, that’s almost inhuman.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Sure,” I said bitterly. “End their curse by causing them to commit suncide. Real nice.” The guilt for the atrocities the undead had to perpetrate upon those who loved them had been predictably too much to take. Everyone in the vampire community understood that, but the old undead had wanted their souls, nevertheless.

  “It was a gesture of goodwill that I’d hoped would usher in a new understanding between all species,” Landon said, and I swear I heard the steering wheel crack again under Al’s pressure. “That Kalamack chose to work against it speaks more clearly to his true agenda. His magic is untouched, while everyone else in the elven community is having problems. Why? His increasingly close relationship with demons, perhaps?”

  Close relationship? He meant me. My foot thumped against the car.

  “Perhaps he’s just better at it than you, Sa’han Landon,” the host said, and Jenks snickered.

  “That’s it!” I exclaimed, and the red dust of surprise sifted down my front. “Al, make a U-turn.”

  His youthful body leaning forward, Al checked behind us before spinning my little car into a tight turn that left me reaching for the dash. “This may have unknown consequences,” he warned.

  “Yeah. Like my foot on Landon’s ass.”

  “The radio station?” Jenks said, voice loud beside my ear. “Take the next right. I know a shortcut. Rachel’s car is small enough.”

  “So why sunder the lines?” the host prompted as Al wove aggressively through traffic. Horns were beeping, and I wasn’t surprised that Al knew all the appropriate hand gestures.

  “I had to,” Landon said. “It was regrettable, but temporarily ending magic was the only way to insure that Kalamack wouldn’t force the undead’s souls back to the ever-after again.”

  “My God! Are you listening to this? He destroyed the lines so elves would be the only ones able to do magic. That it took out the vampires and demons was just the icing!” I exclaimed, holding on as Al drove my car within an inch of its abilities. I’d had enough of Landon’s lies. If Trent wouldn’t say anything, fine. But Cincinnati was used to me doing outrageous things.

  “Even so,” Landon was saying as Al followed Jenks’s pointing finger down a narrow, potholed street overhung with scrubby trees, “I had to gain the support of the witches. Without them, it never would have been possible to reinstate the power in the defunct Arizona ley lines.”

  “You little liar!” I shouted, but they were going into a break and I held the dash as we bounced along a narrow street that ended in a dirt track going almost straight up. “Whoa, wait a moment, Al,” I said, worried. “My car doesn’t have a tall enough suspension for this. You’re going to rip out my transmission.”
/>   “Mmmm.” Jenks’s wings tickled my neck. “I don’t remember it being that steep.”

  Al put it in park, my car facing the impassable road. “He’ll be done with his spot by the time we backtrack and reach the station in this archaic, outmoded form of combustion travel.”

  I said nothing for three heartbeats as an ad for red wigglers played. That Landon’s lies were being accepted as truth—each day making his political clout more secure—really rankled me. It was just pain, wasn’t it? My pulse hammered and my hands went damp. “Okay, jump us there,” I said, shocking myself when I looked at Al and saw that innocent elf staring at me from behind my mirrored sunglasses.

  “Truly?” he asked, his almost white eyebrows high in his young, tan face.

  I nodded. “I need to shut him up.”

  Grinning, Al locked the doors and cut the engine.

  “Wait!” Jenks shrilled. “You are not leaving me in this car. I want to go, too! Damn it, demon, don’t you leave me in this car!”

  Al’s aura slipped over me midbreath, shifting my aura to match the resonance of the nearest ley line. Like two water drops joining, it pulled me in.

  Agony stabbed through me, and I swear I would’ve passed out if I’d had a body, but I was only thought, and my thoughts were on fire.

  A weird gurgle rose up, and I choked it back. My knees threatened to give way, and I locked them, glad I had knees again. My skin wasn’t on fire and a glowing spike wasn’t being hammered into my brain—it only felt that way. Al had been quick, unsettlingly so, but it still hurt.