American Demon

by Kim Harrison

  Jenks’s cold wings hummed against me, then went still. “Mmmm. Or he’s napping, maybe,” he said when Ivy gave him a dark look.

  “What does it matter what Trent is doing as long as he stays out of the way?” Ivy grumped as she pointed out a secondary, seldom-used bank of elevators. “This will take twenty minutes.”

  Perhaps, but I’d seen worlds collapse in less time.

  The halls weren’t empty, but being Saturday, it was mostly witches and Weres, and a few living vampires cloistered in their offices. The tower always had a few dead vamps awake in the basement, and I wasn’t entirely happy that that was where we were probably headed.

  But it wasn’t the down button that Ivy hit, and my eyebrows rose as we waited for the elevator, Ivy fidgeting in tells so small that only someone who’d lived with her would have noticed.

  “You’re not going to get in trouble for this, are you?” I said, and Ivy started, the brown rim around her pupil shrinking.

  “No,” she said flatly, but I wasn’t convinced, and I faced her accusingly, hand on my hip.

  “Then what is bothering you?” I demanded.

  Ivy took a breath, her shoulders stiff. But they slumped when Jenks rasped his wings, reminding her he could see her aura flare when she lied.

  “It might be nothing,” she said as she hit the call button again in a tapping staccato that was almost a hum. “Nina and I got a courtesy call from one of the upper vampire camarillas in DC. Cormel isn’t effective anymore, and they’re talking of recalling him to DC permanently and dropping a new master vampire into Cincinnati to replace him.”

  My lips parted, and I quashed a flash of fear. “Someone out of state?” Jenks asked for both of us. “And they want your advice, right?” he added.

  Ivy’s brow furrowed in an unusual show of worry. “I won’t know until she gets here.”

  “She as in the new master vampire?” I said, trying to keep my voice from squeaking. Crap on toast, this wasn’t good. It wasn’t just the new master vampire but her entourage that was going to descend into Cincy and the Hollows, bringing with them the need for a slew of new blood ties to be made. Ivy might be exempt but for the courtesy bite now that she was Nina’s scion, but there would be hundreds of minor disputes as things resettled into the new power balance an unfamiliar vampire brought.

  “I don’t know why,” I said, fully understanding Ivy’s twitchy mood. “Sure, Cormel has been less than useful since fixating on his lost-again soul, but there haven’t been any major issues in the last two months. You and Nina—”

  “It’s not me and Nina keeping the peace that’s bothering them,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes on the numbers counting up from the basement. “Exactly . . . ,” she added reluctantly as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. “Which is probably why they’re sending someone.”

  I followed her in, lips pressing when she hit the button for two floors up. Jeez, we could have walked it. “I thought we were going to interrogation.”

  “I can’t get you into interrogation,” she admitted as the doors closed.

  “Then where we goin’, tall, svelte, and sexy?” Jenks asked from my shoulder.

  Ivy glanced at the folder in her hand. “The accused is likely finishing her post-interrogation interview. She’ll stop at medical on her way to lockup to give a blood sample and patch up any scrapes. Get a physical baseline in case she claims brutality behind bars.”

  “You want me to interview her in medical?” I asked, no longer comfortable with this. No way did I want to get Ivy in trouble to satisfy my curiosity.

  The elevator dinged, and the doors opened onto an empty hallway. “How is your nurse speak?” Ivy asked, looking both ways before nodding for me and Jenks to come out.

  “Lovely.” Hands in my pockets, I followed her. But it was actually pretty good. Fourteen years in and out of the hospital had left a mark. I could even draw blood.

  “How are you doing working belowground again?” I asked as the pheromones of the multiple old undead wafting up from the lower levels of the I.S. tower made my neck tingle.

  “It’s okay,” she said, and when her pace slowed, I caught up. “Nina has the office beside mine. It helps.”

  “You got a real office,” Jenks said. “Nice. What was it you had, Rache? A cubicle?”

  “I’m touched you remember,” I said. “Get off my shoulder, and I’ll touch you back.”

  He laughed, but the easy camaraderie reminded me of Thanksgiving. Family wasn’t just those you grew up with, but those you grew better with. “Hey, Ivy, you mind if I invite Ellasbeth over for Thanksgiving?” I said, and Jenks snickered, knowing where this was going.

  “Sure,” she said immediately as we rounded the last turn. “What’s one more plate?” she added as she pushed open a hall door that led to medical.

  I licked my lips. “And maybe Quen and Jon?” I said, and Ivy sighed. “I’ll help with the cooking,” I offered, trying not to plead. “I make a mean sweet potato side dish.”

  Ivy grimaced. “I’ll ask Nina.”

  “Ellasbeth is wanting Thanksgiving at Carew Tower,” I said, knowing I was pushing it. “Which is okay,” I added when Jenks made a rude sound. “But I don’t want the girls to miss out on too small a space filled with too much family.”

  Ivy sighed, fully understanding. “I’ll ask,” she said again, sounding resigned this time.

  “Thanks, Ivy,” I said, slowing as we reached the glass-fronted medical lab with its orange plastic chairs in the hall for overflow. There was only one person in the rolling office chair inside, slumped before an archaic computer monitor. Behind him were several bays with narrow gurneys and pull-around curtains. Deeper still were closed rooms for situations that demanded more privacy. The tech’s head was down over his phone, and I swear I could hear happy phone-game music through the thick glass walls.

  “It’s hopping here, huh?” Jenks said, and Ivy motioned for us to wait in the water fountain alcove, tucked out of sight.

  “You’d be surprised how touchy the older vamps have gotten about unexplained serial murders,” she said. “They’ve been shunting the domestic disturbances upstairs.”

  “Good for us,” I whispered as I sized up the tech. The Were looked more than capable of handling anything we could give him, his tattoos and scruffy muscle at odds with his reading glasses and lab coat. But if he was manning the desk alone, he’d have to be able to work the computer and handle a testy witch or Were who didn’t want to give a blood sample to prove he or she had been bitten before being put into I.S. custody, not after. One was covered under insurance, the other wasn’t.

  “Give me a second,” Ivy said as she undid the top two buttons of her blouse.

  “What are you doing?” Jenks said flatly, an odd copper-colored dust spilling from him.

  “Improvising,” she said, a faint blush rising to make her seem younger. “Wait here.”

  But that was not what it looked like she was doing when she pulled her long hair from its scrunchy and shifted her bra to show her cleavage. Squaring her shoulders, she sauntered into medical, her voice sultry as she purred, “Hello.”

  “Improvising,” I echoed as Jenks hovered at my shoulder, clearly shocked as Ivy said it was too busy downstairs and asked the tech if he would look at her wrist if he had a moment. Going in without a plan was really loosey-goosey for Ivy. Nina was clearly having a positive effect.

  “Damn, she’s good,” Jenks said in admiration as the guy immediately escorted her to the back area, getting her up on a gurney so he could press close and fondle her wrist with impunity. “Oh, please. Do we have to watch?” Jenks added as Ivy took his glasses off and laughed, throwing her head back to show off her long, smooth neck. “Blau-u-u-uhhh,” he added when Ivy slid from the gurney to pull the Were by his lapels to a back room.

  “It’s better than hitting him on the head,” I
said as I crept out of hiding. But I couldn’t say for sure if I believed it.

  “Let me loop the cameras,” Jenks said as I opened the door, and I paused, still in the hall.

  “She’s not going to get in trouble for this, is she?”

  “Not if I trip the cameras.” Jenks hummed into the office, rising high to stay out of their range as he tripped one, then the other. Turning, he gave me a thumbs-up, and I walked in as if I owned the place.

  I went to the abandoned chair, wincing when I found it still warm. The computer facing me was so old, it had green print. I jiggled the mouse, slumping when a password prompt popped up. It smelled better in here, but medical would have its own exhaust system to prevent a frightened, hurt vampire from setting off the building. A faint scent of vinegar lingered, and my eyebrows rose at the prominently displayed placard informing detainees of their right upon request to immediate blood, bane, or an underground facility.

  “Nice,” I said, and Jenks came back from his sweep, immediately beginning to poke around the desktop clutter. I smiled as he tried a test-tube cap on as a hat, then threw it aside. “Hey, Jenks,” I said, realizing this was the first time we’d been alone in days. “I just wanted to say thanks for spending the winter with your kids.” He jerked, his dust flaring before he turned, a plastic-coated paper clip in hand. “I’m proud of you,” I said, glad that I wouldn’t be worrying about him. “I know moving in with Jumoke, even for a few months, is going to be hard.”

  “I owe Trent a favor,” he said as he wedged the end of the clip into the crack of a drawer and bent a fold straight. “This might help.”

  “Trent? You’re doing this for him?” I blurted, and Jenks shrugged.

  “The man needs a major PR boost,” he said as he unbent a second curve and then the last. “A couple of human-interest stories with me on his shoulder, and the enclave will lighten up,” he added, sighting down the length of metal before heedlessly throwing it away, dissatisfied. “Suckers. All them elves are suckers for pixy dust.”

  I leaned back in the chair and swiveled from side to side. “You noticed that, too, huh?” I said, then we both looked up at a soft thump from the back. “You okay?” I said as I rose, but it was only Ivy, opening the door to hold out a lab coat.

  “That will help. Thanks,” I said as I shrugged into it, rather enjoying the scent of Were that clung to it. “You got him okay?”

  Ivy smiled and buttoned her blouse. “I’m fine. He slipped and hit his head when he thought I was going to bite him. I’ll sit with him and make sure you aren’t interrupted.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and after giving Jenks a look to keep his mouth shut, she slipped back inside and closed the door but for a crack.

  “What do you think?” I said, modeling the lab coat for Jenks, and he gave me a once-over.

  “Try his glasses,” he suggested, and I went to get them from where Ivy had left them on a gurney. Mr. Were was nearsighted, and I squinted at myself in a one-way mirror and wondered if my mother had wished I’d taken up the nursing profession instead of the kicking-ass profession—though the best nurses did both.

  A knuckle knock at the door brought me spinning around. Jenks hit the floor in a burst of dull green. A tired-looking woman in flannel pajamas and cuffs was standing before the desk, escorted by a uniformed I.S. cop. My pulse hammered and I came forward.

  “Where’s Wally?” the cop asked, and I adjusted my glasses so I could look over them.

  “Family emergency,” I said, then cleared my throat to hide the sound of Jenks’s wings. “They called me to sub. Paperwork?”

  I held out my hand, and the cop’s suspicion eased. I had no idea what their protocol was, but paperwork was a good bet. “Gurney, please?” I said as I looked it over. Sandra. Witch. Married. Thirty-three. Worked retail. Accused of assaulting her wife at ten this morning. But the real story was in the woman herself. By the looks of it, she’d been crying, gotten angry, and then probably scared. Too many people at the I.S. liked to play with their food.

  “Uh, you’re going to lock her down, right?” I said when the cop began fiddling with the equipment on the counter. I wanted him to go, and he wouldn’t if she wasn’t cuffed to something.

  The woman made a bark of sad laugher. “I’m not going to hurt anyone,” she said, her voice sounding raw. “I’ve never been in trouble a day in my life.”

  Which was true, according to Sandra’s report. “That’s why I’d feel better if you were restrained,” I prompted, and the cop groaned dramatically and reached for the tether. Unrolling it, he locked one end to her cuffs, the other to the gurney’s grab rail.

  “Better?” he said. It was a lame place to cuff her to. All the woman had to do was hop down and push her way to the drawer, where she could find something to jimmy the lock. It wouldn’t matter how many stars, moons, and clovers the officer had on his cuffs.

  “Thanks,” I said, not caring if the guy thought I was scared. “Okay, can you tell me your name?” I said to the woman, and she sighed.

  “Sandra Betric-Tenson,” she said, blinking fast at the hyphenated name.

  “Thanks, Sandra. A contusion over your left eye. Multiple minor lacerations on your arms. When was your last tetanus shot?”

  “Ah, five years ago?”

  Sandra seemed to rally, probably appreciating a question that didn’t hinge on her wife or why she’d thought starting her morning by trying to decapitate her was a good idea.

  “This might take awhile if you want to get a coffee,” I said to the cop, not surprised when he sauntered forward and jingled the woman’s tether.

  “Sure,” he said, leering. “Be a good little witch.”

  “Shove it, clot breath,” she muttered, but the cop never looked back as he hit the hall and turned to the left. A sprinkling of pixy dust followed him, and I frowned. Ivy was still here.

  “Hard morning?” I said as I pulled the curtain halfway.

  Sandra’s chin lifted and color rose in her cheeks. “You can shove it, too,” she said as I took her wrist and rotated it to catalog the multiple scratches. “I’ve been pushed, threatened, interrogated, bullied.”

  I let go of her arm and dropped back, pretending to look at her paperwork. These glasses suck. “And very busy,” I said, taking the glasses off and setting them on the rolling cabinet. “What were you thinking?”

  “I—I—,” she stammered, and then, gazing at the cuffs, she began to cry, large tears spilling helplessly down her blotchy cheeks. “I don’t know,” she wailed. “I thought I was dreaming. I’d never hurt Gabby. I don’t even know why I was dreaming about it. I mean, jeez, we got married two years ago, why would I still care what flowers we had?” She sniffed, shoulders slumping. “Though at the time, I thought it was the most important thing in the world. Talk about a bridezilla. Is she okay? No one will tell me anything.”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” I handed her the tissue box. Worry tightened my gut as I took in her tears and confusion. If Dali hadn’t stopped Al, I might be the one in intensive care or worse. Hodin? I wondered again. But it didn’t make sense. He’d been free since late September. Why start causing trouble now? Especially when he wanted to remain hidden. Most serial killers wanted the notoriety.

  “I need a blood sample,” I said as I rummaged through the drawers of the mobile cabinet until finding a band and a syringe pack. There were preprinted stickers on her paperwork, and I fastened one on her blood tube, hoping I was doing this right. “Show me how nice you are,” I said, and Sandra shifted her arm so I could tie it off. Her vein popped right up, and channeling my inner nurse, I stuck her. Almost freaky fast, the tube began to fill.

  “What did you hit your head on?” I asked to try to get her to volunteer something.

  “Gabby’s fist,” she said dully.

  “Gabby has a mean right cross,” I said, trying to be funny, but no one was lau
ghing.

  “You have no idea.” Sandra blew her nose on the tissue she’d wadded up, then took another. “I swear I thought I was dreaming. I don’t even know why I was mad. It was just some stupid flowers.”

  “Mmmm.” I pulled the syringe from her. Her cuffs prevented her from easily holding the cotton ball, but I was good and she hardly even bled. “Have you ever sleep-spelled before?”

  “Not until this morning.” Sandra blinked, clearly worried. “Never.”

  She went silent in thought as I dropped her sample in the bag with her paperwork, racking my brain for something to say to get her to open up. But I totally understood her worry. How could you trust yourself not to hurt the person you loved if you might spell them in your sleep? And with that, pity rose through me, and I believed her.

  All the attackers had similar stories, the motives all having been carefully kept from the press. That Al had had a similar experience only made it more plausible. There had to be half a dozen things in our shared past that would trigger him wanting to kill me. Pick one.

  “Let me look at your elbow. Hand, please,” I said, and she extended her arm. I took her wrist, wondering how much ley line energy she could handle. I’d never know with the band of charmed silver around her wrist, truncating her ability to tap a line. It had her name on it already, and if I couldn’t figure out who was doing this, she’d be wearing it for the rest of her life.

  Remembering my own long-gone Alcatraz-stamped band of engraved silver, I tested the span of motion of her bruised elbow. “Sandra, have you ever been possessed?”

  She stiffened in my grip and pulled away. “No,” she said, face pale. “I told you. I was sleeping, and I just . . . I was sleeping,” she affirmed as if trying to convince herself. “Is Gabby going to be okay? I didn’t even know you could spell in your sleep.”