American Demon

by Kim Harrison

  My heart pounded as, with a pop of air, Hodin snapped into existence behind Trent. “Good Goddess, I was busy,” the demon snarled, clearly unhappy. “Did you imagine a mystic?”

  Trent shifted out of the way, his lips pressed in anger. When Hodin saw me standing there, his face went ashen. “Negare . . . ,” he whispered, horror lighting through him, and my throat tightened. “I thought you were exaggerating. This is . . . Why are they focused on you? Even if you treat with the Goddess, they shouldn’t be doing . . . this!”

  “Because I taught them how to comprehend life made of mass,” I whispered, and Hodin went even more pale. “They like it better than life made of energy.”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” Bis said from across the room, afraid to get closer as he began to cry in earnest. “I’m sorry.” He beat his wings at nothing we could see. “Go away. Just go away!”

  But the mystics didn’t, and I blinked, seeing stars. Don’t start talking to me. Please.

  “Fix what you broke,” Trent demanded, and Hodin ripped his gaze from me.

  “Ahh . . .” The demon spun in a tight circle, scanning Trent’s upper rooms in a glance. “Rachel, come here,” he said, taking the two steps down into Trent’s informal living room and with a touch turned Trent’s lead crystal coffee table to slate. “I’m not in my spelling clothes,” he murmured as he patted his pockets.

  “Chalk?” Trent offered, taking a piece of magnetic chalk from his pocket and tossing it across the room. He shadowed me, hands outstretched, afraid to touch me as I made my slow way to Hodin. It felt as if I were stepping on sparkles, mystics squishing out from between me and the floor. It was getting worse as the word went out.

  “Bis.” Brow furrowed, Hodin quickly sketched the initial pentagon. “Come here. Do you remember the mess Newt made of her soul signature?”

  “It’s burned into my brain,” the little gargoyle sobbed, and I felt his heart breaking as he flew across the room to land atop the table. He’d wanted this so bad, and now it was going to be taken away again. “Rachel, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I whispered. My heart was breaking, too, but I was scared, and I felt overly full as I wobbled down the two steps into the living room, as if I might spill over if I leaned too far. Back stiff, I sat on the edge of the chair, the bells jingling as I clasped my hands in my lap. “Hurry.”

  “Can you do this any faster?” Trent said as he made a fist and shook sparkles from his knuckles. “They’re calling their friends.”

  “This isn’t textbook,” Hodin said, then blanched as he looked up from the glyph he’d sketched. “Um, you don’t happen to still have your candle?”

  “Here,” I said, fingers numb and fumbling as I took it from my pocket.

  “That will help.” Exhaling in relief, Hodin rolled the lumpy candle, still warm from my pocket, between his palms before he set it in the center, where all the lines crossed. “Simper reformanda. Solus ipse,” he said, setting and lighting the center candle in one ill-advised gesture.

  I was never going to be free of them, and my chest hurt.

  “Okay, here we go. I’ve never tried it without the supporting candles. Obscurum per obscuris,” Hodin said in a commanding voice, his hands coming together in a pop of sound that made Zack jump.

  “Black magic!” His eyes wide, Zack pushed back into the chair as the pentagon opened into the more familiar pentagram, the five points holding a ghostly image of a flame without a candle.

  “Hang on, Rachel. It’s working,” Trent whispered, and Hodin shot him an annoyed look.

  “I worked a quick fix into the boilerplate,” Hodin said. “But I never expected . . . this. Rachel, I apologize. I thought you were exaggerating your claim. If I’d known, I never would have let you jump out like that.”

  “Just fix it,” I ground out, light-headed and dizzy with latent power I hadn’t called.

  Eyes on flames that weren’t really there, Hodin began muttering. I blinked fast as he untwisted the curse, feeling something in me shift and change as the red dulled, and the purple in my aura turned silver again. My hands shook as my cheerful green muddied with a dull yellow to brown, and once more, my soul reflected Al’s aura.

  “Bis?” Hodin asked, but the kid was crying, and thumbnail-size tears were falling heavy and warm on my shoulder. I hadn’t even known he’d moved to it, and I touched his feet gripping me. “Goyle!” Hodin shouted, and Bis jumped. “Is it the same?”

  “What does it matter?” Bis sniffed. “If it’s different enough that I can’t reach her, then it’s different enough for the mystics to not see her.”

  Hodin nodded sharply. “Just so.” He looked at me, his goat-slitted eyes holding what would have been pity in anyone else. “Ut omnes unum sint,” the demon said to seal the curse, and breath shaking, I leaned to blow my sputtering candle out.

  With a pop that I felt deep in my gut, something seemed to twist and break off.

  “Rachel?” It was Trent, tentatively taking my elbow as he crouched to put his eyes even with mine. “Did it work?”

  “I think so.” I blinked, trying not to cry. I was a runner. I was a demon. Neither one cried. But my throat was closing up and I felt if I took a breath, it would come out weepy. The tingling was beginning to dissipate, but I’d never be able to travel the lines alone. Always, I’d have to rely on someone else.

  “I wanted you to have this, Rachel,” Bis said, sobbing. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair. I can break the world and open one anew, but I can’t sing the lines to you.”

  “We’ll find another way,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.

  “Come this way.” Trent stood, drawing me to a stand. “Let’s see if they follow.”

  But I knew they wouldn’t. Bis was on my shoulder, and I couldn’t feel the lines through him, couldn’t hear them sing, couldn’t swim among them like silken dark water. I could still feel them if I reached for one, but all I saw were the shadows they cast. All I felt was the dross they shed.

  Numb, I followed Trent across the sunken living room, shivering as I felt the mystics peel from me, leaving their warmth behind as if I’d walked from sunshine to shade. “That’s better,” Hodin said as the bells on my sash jingled to a stop. “They don’t see you anymore.”

  “Rachel?” Bis warbled, his nails pinching me. “I gotta go. I need a minute. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Bis,” I said, and he vanished, right from my shoulder. He had gone, and I was left behind. I took a slow breath, finding it easier. “Thank you,” I said, feeling flat as I met Hodin’s eyes. “I owe you.”

  Hodin’s lip twitched as something passed through his thoughts. “No, you don’t.” He tugged his robe tighter, hiding his bare feet. “Excuse me. I was in the middle of something.” Then he hesitated, giving Trent a hard stare. “If you value her life, tell no one about me.”

  And then Hodin vanished with hardly a pop of air. Behind him, Zack started. Trent was still cupping my elbow, and I felt miserable. The lines of the pentagram seemed to blur. It didn’t matter how fast I blinked, the tears were going to come. “I need some air,” I whispered as I looked at the main stairway. No wonder Bis had left. This was miserable.

  “Rachel, I’m sorry,” Trent said, and I pulled from him.

  “Will you all stop saying that!” I shouted, and Zack’s eyes widened. My breath trembled in my chest, and I locked my knees. “I just need to think,” I said, not meeting anyone’s eyes as I paced to the staircase that led down to Trent’s great room. My hair moved, but it was only the wind of my passage; the mystics were gone. “Is the front wall open?” I shouted as I started down, tiny bells ringing.

  “Yes,” Trent called back, and my pace never wavered.

  Arms around my stomach, I headed down. I needed to be alone, if only for a moment. The great room was dusky with November’s early sunset coming in the great window. My
feet were silent on the stairs, and I felt the muffling silence fold around me, taking me in as I descended deeper into the nothing. I held my breath as I passed the second floor with the surgery suites and secondary living quarters, down to the first floor. Hunched and unseeing, I wove through the clusters of chairs and couches, breath held against the hurt.

  The window wall was a shimmer of silk. Trent had asked Lee months ago to modify the energy barrier to be visible so the girls wouldn’t crash into it. Babyproofing had a new meaning when magic was involved. I put a hand out in case as I walked through the ward, shivering as the energy seemed to peel off the last of the mystics.

  Finally I was outside. I lifted my head, bringing the chill air deep into my lungs as the soft chatter of the artificial waterfall and the scent of chlorine from the hot tub filled my senses. None of this was mine, and in a surge of motion, I pulled the spelling robe off in a tinkling of bells and sat miserably on the end of a lounger, my knees almost up to my chin and my legs awkwardly splayed. Maybe if I had been at my church, it wouldn’t hurt so bad, but I doubted it.

  Bis and I had held everything for one glorious moment. The world had spread at our fingertips, waiting for us to spin through it at will. It had been my safety line in a world that would just as soon see me dead. Now I was back to being a demon who couldn’t travel the lines without help. Even worse, I’d gotten Bis’s hopes up, only to crumple them up and throw them in the fire.

  “I’m sorry, Bis,” I whispered, hoping the little guy was okay. We’d find a way past this, but I didn’t know how, and I sniffed, the tears no longer important.

  But then I stiffened at the faint rasp of dragonfly wings, wiping my eyes and sitting up before Jenks could see my misery.

  “Hey, hi,” I said, trying for blasé, but the soft gray-silver dust he was spilling told me he’d already heard. “Isn’t it too cold for you out here?” Silent, he hovered before me, his narrow features pinched in the glow of his wings. “They told you, huh?” I said, cursing myself when my voice didn’t hold steady but rose.

  Saying nothing, he shrugged and moved to sit on my shoulder.

  Silent, we watched the ripples on the pool until we both got cold and I stood to go back in.

  CHAPTER

  18

  “So you took some air,” Jenks said as I rose sLOW after leaden step up Trent’s grand staircase. His wings were cold as he pressed against my neck to warm himself, and my new spelling robe was carefully draped over my arm. “So what? Do you have any idea how often I took some air when Mattie and I were first married?”

  “Thanks, Jenks,” I said, knowing he was still upset I’d endangered myself if he was bringing up Mattie. As we neared the upper level, I shook off the feeling that we were ascending to the treetops. I couldn’t help but wonder if that had been Trent’s intention. The man loved climbing trees, though he was embarrassed to admit it. I’d only caught him up one once.

  “You think the kids avoided the Davros statue because of the poison ivy?” Jenks asked, trying to fill the void with something so I wouldn’t notice the pain. “That’s where I take my air.”

  Trent’s voice was becoming audible, his musical tones moving up and down to soothe my raw emotions. I felt weak for having left despite Jenks’s words, but I hadn’t wanted Trent, or most especially Bis, to see my misery. Jenks, though? He could see it. I’d helped him through the loss of his wife, and though this wasn’t the same, he understood.

  “Mmmm, I smell scared elf,” Jenks said as I began to pick out the conversation. “Someone has been playing mind games with Zack.” Wings rasping from the cold, he lifted from my shoulder.

  “Hey, ah, Landon told Zack that you’d kill him if you caught him in your church, so be nice,” I said.

  Jenks jerked to a hovering halt. “Nice? Tink’s tampons, Rache. You never let me have any fun,” he said before darting up and away, but I suspected he was less concerned with messing with Zack, and more concerned about telling Trent to stop talking about me.

  Alone, I worked my way up the last of the stairs, slowing as my head rose above the level of the floor. Zack was slumped at the small table where the girls and I ate breakfast, but Trent was in the kitchen, still sporting that tractor apron. My lips parted when I saw Quen standing across from Zack, arms over his chest as if in disapproval. He’s back? Where are the girls?

  “Quen?” I said, my pity party easing. “Where are the girls?”

  His smile thin, Trent wiped his hands on a towel. “With Ellasbeth. She has the entire week off, apparently, and for safety’s sake, I agreed she can have them until Tuesday morning. Jon took Quen’s place since I wanted Quen’s opinion on the baku.” He hesitated. “Isn’t that right, Quen?” he added pointedly to make Quen grimace.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I said as I gave the older, battle-scarred elf a quick hug. “We need your help.”

  “I’m pleased you’re all right, Tal Sa’han,” he said formally, and at the table, Zack nearly choked at the elven term of high respect. “Busy night?” he added, giving Zack a sidelong look.

  Jenks circled Quen twice before landing on his shoulder as if to prove to Zack that he was a nice pixy. “We filled him in,” Jenks said. “He doesn’t remember nothing about the baku.”

  “The Order probably wiped it out,” I said as I dropped back, and Quen’s expression darkened. “Is Bis here?” I asked as my gaze went to the top of the fridge, where he liked to stay, but the space was empty, and I shoved a stab of pain down.

  “He needed some air, too.” Jenks sat on Quen’s shoulder and licked something off his chopsticks. “See, Rache. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  Then why did I feel so bad?

  “You just missed him.” Trent was busy at the counter, shoulder moving as he shredded a chunk of hard cheese. “He went to talk to his dad, but if you need him, tap a ley line and call him. He’ll hear you.”

  “Okay.” At least we still had that, and depressed, I draped my new spelling robe over the back of the couch. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing unusual,” Quen said dryly. “The Sa’han is insisting on putting himself into needless danger. That’s why I’m here. I could have told, and did tell, him over the phone that I knew nothing about the baku.”

  “Quen,” Trent complained, and the older elf arched his dark eyebrows to make Zack snicker.

  Zack was probably why Quen had really left the girls to Jon, and I came into the kitchen. “What are you doing to upset Quen?” I said as I sent my arm around Trent’s middle, distracting him as he drained a colander of pasta. “Mac and cheese?” I guessed.

  Trent gave me a sheepish look. “I loved pasta and cheese when I was his age,” he said, glancing past the open counter at Zack. “He looks hungry.”

  My arm tightened around his waist. “Mac and cheese is not what’s bothering Quen.”

  Quen pointedly cleared his throat, and I eased my hold on Trent. Pointed tips of his ears reddening, Trent dumped the drained pasta into a huge bowl and added the cheese. “He’s fifteen and his magic isn’t working. How much danger can I be in?”

  My eyebrows rose, and Trent avoided my gaze. We both knew how much danger Zack could be. Those had been upper-level charms he’d been trying to hit me with. “Your magic isn’t working, either,” I said as I snitched a chunk of cheese. Trent’s mac and cheese was not the usual fare, and the sides of my mouth almost hurt, the cheese was so sharp.

  “True.” Trent stirred the cheese in, then began rummaging in an upper cupboard for a second bowl. Setting it on the counter, he leaned in, breath tickling my neck as he whispered, “You’re going to tell me who that demon is later, right?”

  I nodded, gaze flicking up to Jenks, Quen, and Zack. Later sounded good. I could now, seeing that Hodin had spilled the beans about himself. I hadn’t done it.

  “You cannot shelter a dewar elder,” Quen said sourly, his arms b
ehind his back, “especially when he’s only fifteen.”

  “You want to take him in? Really?” I eased out of the kitchen, and Zack shrank down under my hard gaze. “In your compound with the girls,” I said flatly. “You do know he’s Landon’s replacement.” No wonder Quen was here.

  “Was,” Zack said, his angry, melodious voice sounding at home among Trent’s casual wealth. “I was. I’m not anymore.”

  “Enemy of my enemy,” Trent said with a little twist to his lips, but his smile worried me.

  “Still . . .” I lowered myself to sit down across the table from Zack. “Seems risky. For both of you. You talked to Trent for five minutes—”

  “It was twenty,” Jenks said from across the room. “Then Quen showed up, and poof, no more talking. Just a lot of glaring and whispering.”

  No doubt. “Twenty minutes,” I amended, “and you figure Landon is lying and Trent is the next coming of Gilgamesh.”

  Jenks landed on my shoulder, smelling like jasmine. “Jeez, Rache. I thought you said go easy on the kid,” he said as he chewed a chunk of dried nectar.

  “I’m not a kid.” Zack’s cheeks were red and his green eyes were bright as Trent slid a bowl of mac and cheese in front of him. “I’m almost sixteen. Landon is lying. The Sa’han’s story makes more sense.”

  “Oh, so he’s the Sa’han now.” I put my elbows on the table and leaned in. Quen nodded his approval and dropped back a step, content to let me take up his battle. “Some guy makes you mac and cheese, and you believe every word he says. Zack, we need to talk.”

  Zack frowned sullenly, fork in hand. “I didn’t come to that conclusion because of a bowl of pasta. Trent isn’t lying. I can see it more clearly than if I had a truth amulet.”

  “Maybe Trent’s a better liar,” Jenks said from my shoulder, lips smacking as he ate the last of the pollen from his fingers.