American Demon

by Kim Harrison

  “Try it,” I said, and Weast chuckled, rolling his shoulders aggressively as he walked out.

  “Let him go, Rache,” Jenks said, but I wasn’t about to follow him. Pissed, I tugged the door shut, appreciating the hard thud. Angry, I shifted the bar to lock the door. I’d only have to unlock it again to leave, but that wasn’t the point. “You okay?” Jenks asked, and I nodded, arms over my middle. I didn’t like Weast. Didn’t like his threats. Didn’t like how he had Glenn at his beck and call and didn’t value his opinion.

  “We’re still going after Landon, aren’t we?” Jenks said, and I nodded. I didn’t like the distasteful head of the dewar, but I liked a know-it-all, clandestine group of humans who thought they could use him as bait even less.

  CHAPTER

  23

  It went without saying that I felt special behind the wheel of Trent’s favorite two-door. It accelerated like a startled horse and turned like a bird. The gray finish moved like smoke in the sun, and I tried to play it cool when people ogled it at stoplights. But it was hard with the wind in my hair and my sunglasses on, especially when Takata’s latest, “Gritty Rainbows,” came on all eight of the car’s high-end speakers.

  “Do you think he’s still singing about you?” Jenks said from the rearview mirror. The afternoon sun was shining through his wings and dust to make him look magical.

  Wincing, I lowered the volume. “I hope not.” The new single was Takata’s usual unrepentant, shrewd, loud anger at the system, but this time there was a hint that things might work out even if it was all going to hell. The message seemed to be on-target, as it had shot to the single digits on more than one chart and hung there since its release. That its inspiration might have been in my ongoing trials seemed likely. Why would Takata mess with what had worked in the past?

  “You should have told me you were attacked this morning.”

  Jenks’s voice was sullen, and my attention flicked from the road to him. “I handled it,” I said as I made my way through the Hollows to the waterfront.

  “Yeah? That’s kind of the point of having me there, isn’t it?” His wings hummed, and a new sheet of dust spilled down. “Thanks for crapping all over my daisies. I feel useless enough as it is. Holed up with my kids for the winter, getting in their way. We’re a team, Rache. Even if Ivy isn’t part of it anymore. Maybe we’re more of a team.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, both hands on the wheel instead of cupping around him as I wanted to. Not that he’d let me. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. Don’t blab to Trent, okay? If he knows, he’ll try to convince me to go into seclusion, and then we’re down half of what makes us work.”

  Jenks sighed, wings drooping. “You think not telling him is the easy way, but it’s not.”

  My lips twitched in guilt. “What difference does it make as long as I don’t go to sleep?” The Hollows waterfront was busy with the early-evening rush hour, and I slowed to a crawl behind a big-ass SUV plastered with witch-themed stickers. But my eyes flicked to my bag when my phone dinged. “Could you get that for me? It might be Trent.”

  “Sure.” I slowed to a halt, turn signal ticking, as Jenks dropped down to shove things around in my bag.

  “Ah, Trent says no-go for tonight, but we’re on for an early breakfast at Carew Tower. He also called in a dinner order at Celeste’s, and could you pick it up on your way back? Already paid for.” Jenks made a rude sound. “And then he has some hearts and crap.”

  I smiled, even though the delay was probably Landon’s ploy to give the baku one more night to get the job done. There’d be fewer people around for breakfast, which was good. Hiding a splat gun in my usual casual security top and skirt would be easier, too. “Could you send him a live-long-and-prosper emoji for me?” I asked, and Jenks groaned and dropped back down.

  “Flaming fairy farts, Rache,” he grumbled as he scrolled to find it and hit send. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You want me to have him check a box if he likes you or not?”

  “Thanks,” I said as he returned to the mirror, his cheerful gold dust telling me that despite his continued dramatic gagging sounds he secretly approved.

  Finally the light changed, and after making the turn, I pulled into Piscary’s empty, weeds-in-the-cracks parking lot. Ivy’s cycle was in back by the truck-delivery door. Beside it was Nina’s little red sports car and an unfamiliar black SUV.

  Oh yeah, I thought, remembering Ivy telling me that she had guests from DC coming in. The undead didn’t travel much because of the necessity of a guaranteed light-tight space to wait out the day, so it wasn’t surprising that they—whoever they were—were still here. They’d probably head out tonight after catching a quick bite. Ha-ha.

  Lip curling, I slowed as I drove past the overdone black-and-chrome rental to park at the quay. “You want anything?” I said as I put Trent’s car in park.

  “A nap.” Jenks stretched, and a contented gold dust slipped down. “How long you going to be?”

  I reached for the handle, fumbling when I didn’t find it where I thought it should be. “I’ve got to go through my spell cupboard. Then my closet. Take a shower. Detangle my hair. Demark my heels. Oil my gun. Not in that order. Two hours?”

  “Why do women always overcomplicate things?” he said as I got out. “I mean . . . ,” he added, having darted outside to wait impatiently for me to lock the car. “Take a shower. Do your hair. Shine your shoes. I can be ready in five minutes. Clean my sword. Bam! Let’s go.”

  I smiled as I adjusted my sunglasses. “Breakfast date or not, it’s Carew Tower. If I don’t look as if I belong, I’ll end up in the I.S. lockup when this is done instead of chatting with the manager about how to pay for the damage.”

  But as I neared Kisten’s boat, I decided it was likely going to be less of a breakfast meeting and more of a high-powered, magic-laced discussion that broke something. I wanted Landon’s blood, and he wasn’t going to give it up knowing that I would use it to incriminate him.

  Jenks lit on my shoulder with a tired sigh. “I swear, it’s easier being a pixy sometimes.”

  “Sometimes I’d agree with you.” My arms swung as I walked, and the sun felt good. I lightly touched the soggy algae-covered pylon to keep my balance as I lurched down onto the teak boards, boot heels clunking. The boat swayed imperceptibly with my weight, and head down, I rummaged for my keys as I stepped into the cool shade of the large overhang.

  But I froze as I stood before the sliding-glass doors, frowning. The door was unlocked.

  Ivy? I wondered, hesitating. And then the tantalizing, spicy scent of the long undead tripped down my spine, plucking every nerve ending on the way down to make me shiver.

  “Hey, uh, Rache?” Jenks said in warning, but I was way ahead of him, and I took my splat pistol from my purse, backing up into the sun until my calves hit the back bench of the large canopied cockpit.

  “Who the devil is on our boat?” I whispered as the shadow of a man approached the door.

  I couldn’t tap a ley line while over water, but damn it, someone was on my boat! Even in the semidark of the boat’s interior, I could see he was in a suit coat and sported a professional haircut and a slim build. If he was a vamp, he was clearly still alive since the sun was up. If he didn’t have a good reason for being on my boat, I was going to turn him into a dead one.

  Expression grim, Jenks hovered beside me and loosened his garden sword.

  But when the man came closer—smiling and ducking his head, actually giving me a little wave as he reached for the latch—I wondered if he was a vampire.

  Simply put, he was not beautiful. Oh, he might have been once, being tall and having a slim build. The dead bred what they liked over the eons, and the dead liked beauty above all.

  This guy wasn’t it.

  “Sorry for startling you,” he said as he slid the door open and came out, blinking in the shade of
the overhang. “I was hoping to find you, actually. Ivy said you might be here. You’re Ms. Rachel Morgan, yes?” he added, eyes touching briefly on Jenks before returning to me.

  His voice was average everything, and unsure, I nodded, reassessing my first impression. It wasn’t that he was unattractive, but his numerous scars got in the way. His nose was misshapen from being broken too many times. Lines from battle, not the bedroom, ran along his chin and one side of his face to his eye, which was a little droopy compared to the other. His irises were brown and his complexion tan—and kind of lumpy. Short, carefully styled dark hair showed that one of his ears had been ravaged. Early thirties maybe.

  But it was the wave of vampire incense lifting from him that worried me. He was a living vampire, one holding a great deal of status by the amount of pheromones he was giving off. He’d been sipping on someone old for a very long time, and probably vice versa. “Yes,” I said, remembering what he’d asked me as I tried to reconcile him with everything I knew about vampires—and came up short.

  Slowly his smile faded as my eyes traveled over him, clearly comparing him to what he “ought” to be. He pulled himself straighter, tugging his smartly tailored suit coat down over his linen slacks. There was no tie, but it would have looked wrong on him. More scars peeped from his wrists, appearing self-inflicted, not vampire bedroom play. By the age of them, he’d been working his way up from average Joe to someone’s scion for a long time, and my pulse quickened at both the threat and the promise that held. But it was his unshakable confidence that drew me—confidence that said he’d been sipping blood so old, it tasted like electric dust.

  “How like a vampire, eh, Jenks?” I said, and the man’s faltering smile vanished. “No one home, so he assumed he can go in.” I put the splat gun in my bag, sure he could move fast enough to avoid it. The keys, I kept in my fist. “Get off my boat.”

  “It’s not your boat,” he said, unable to hide his anger as his pupils grew and the brown rim around his pupils shrank. “It belongs to Kisten Felps’s estate, since given over to the city of Cincinnati. I have every right to be here to evaluate the assets available to the city’s master vampire. Which makes you a squatter.”

  “Son of a green troll fart! Who do you think you are?” Jenks said, and I cocked my hip, staying right where I was in the sun.

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” I said, trying to appear relaxed as the pheromones he was giving off began tripping red flag after red flag. “Before you get all excited about evicting me, check with your lawyer. The Hollows has laws on the books protecting so-called squatters when a past relationship is involved.”

  “Really . . .”

  “Yes, really.” I shifted my grip on my keys, making sure he saw the little cross charm hanging from them. “Who are you?” I added as my libido began making little bubbles of memory pop against the top of my brain, memories of Kisten, of Ivy, of the stupid things I’d done before I wrote vampire sex out of my Little Book of Rachel. This guy was clearly someone’s scion. Damn it, why do I always like the dangerous ones?

  Again he smiled, pulling something through me to make my knees feel like water. “My name is Pike,” he said as he came forward a step, hand extended. “Let’s start over. You must be Ms. Morgan.” His eyes flicked to Jenks when the pixy hummed a warning, but he didn’t take his hand back, and I slowly reached out to meet it. His fingers were tan, slimmer than Trent’s, and he wore tiny cuff links in the shape of skulls and crossbones. Cute.

  “Like the fish?” Jenks said snidely. “Cold, ugly, and lots of sharp teeth.”

  “You forgot mean,” Pike said with what looked like a real smile as my hand fitted briefly into his. His touch was warm and callused, and I knew how his fingers would feel lightly running down my body. Damn vamp pheromones.

  “Rachel,” I said, then stifled a quiver when our fingers parted and the vampire incense swamped me with the gusto of a Sunday school song.

  “Rache . . . ,” Jenks said in warning, and I took a step back. The thought of throwing him overboard trickled through me, but I was smarter than I had been three years ago. I think.

  “I, ah, take it you’re here with the DC delegation checking out Cincy’s master vampire situation.” I backed up again, starting when I hit the seats.

  Pike nodded. “Constance Corson would like to meet with you.” He took in my sudden alarm and smiled. “Ivy and Nina are with her as well.”

  Oh good. One skilled, manipulative undead and her scion, one iffy-control undead, and a highly protective, possibly overreacting living vampire. What could go wrong?

  “Not today. Sorry,” I said, then let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. That Cincy’s new master vampire was a woman had me worried. I’d rather deal with a dead man than a dead woman any day or night.

  “She’s downstairs. Waiting.” Pike tried to smile over his frown as he gestured to Piscary’s back loading dock. “We leave tonight, and she’d like to use the time to meet you.”

  “I bet she would,” Jenks muttered, now perched in the ceiling supports.

  “Sorry.” Pike was between me and my door, and I wished he’d move. “I can’t fit another appointment in today.”

  “Make time,” Pike almost growled, and I jerked, too slow as he stepped forward and took my arm. “As a personal favor to me,” he said as Jenks’s wings rasped a warning. “I’m not going back down there without you. It will only take a moment.”

  My fingers fisting my keys tightened, but scratching him would have only made things more awkward. Besides, if he was yanking me to the dock, then he was moving away from the door.

  “Sorry about this,” I said, even as a rush of good feeling spread through me when Pike flooded the air with pheromones to soothe and befuddle.

  Jenks knew what was going to happen and flew clear. Pike didn’t have a clue, oblivious that me tripping on my feet was really to pull his head down so my rising knee would hit his scarred, ugly chin even harder.

  Pain raced through my knee as it hit him with a resounding crack. Pike grunted, his grip on me loosening in surprise. I ducked into him, arm twisting to lever him over to crash back first onto the teak floorboards, where he lay, legs askew.

  I dropped down, pixy dust wreathing me as I put my leg across Pike’s neck, my fingers twined in his surprisingly silky hair. It would have been a shame to pull it out, but I would. “Now you can tell her I hit you,” I said. “She can’t get mad if you tell her I hit you.”

  Pike blinked up at me, a not-surprising hint of appreciation and delight in him. Then it vanished in a flicker of worry.

  “Don’t try to bespell me,” I said as I got off him and extended a hand to help him up. “You don’t have enough undead blood in you to manage it, and you’ll only embarrass yourself.”

  “Apparently,” Pike muttered as I yanked him up and let go of his hand the instant I could.

  “Pike, was it?” I said as he dusted off his jacket, looking both irate and chagrined. “I fully understand and appreciate Constance’s schedule, but I’m not coming up with excuses because I don’t want to meet her. I simply don’t have time on such short notice. I’ve already made plans, and I need this afternoon to get ready. Shower, do my hair, practice a few new curses.”

  Pike frowned as he glanced at Jenks polishing his sword. “She’s going to be Cincy’s master vampire. This is more important than a date.”

  Things had shifted. My back was to the door, and he was on the outskirts in the sun. It gave me a confidence I hoped wasn’t a delusion. “I really wish it was a date,” I said as I hiked my bag back up my shoulder and put a hand on the door as if dismissing him. “Suffice it to say, I’m working, and I can’t meet with her today. Please give her my apologies.”

  “You can take ten minutes—”

  He was almost asking now, instead of demanding, which meant he was going to endure some pain for coming bac
k without me even if I did knock him down. Vampire power structures sucked.

  “It’s not the ten minutes that it would take to go down and meet Constance, but the six hours after that I’d be spending with the I.S. after I smack her up to impress upon her that I will not be her underling. Maybe in a few days after I finish taking care of the baku.”

  Pike’s expression hardened. “The baku is not your responsibility.”

  I glanced at Jenks, and the pixy snorted. Curious, though, that Constance knew about it. Knew and was doing nothing. “It’s in my city, isn’t it?” I said as I opened my door. The scent of vampire slipped out, making me wonder how long he’d been in there: waiting for me, going through my things, taking measurements for curtains. “Look, I’m sorry if this is gets you into trouble.”

  “Trouble . . . ,” Pike echoed, and Jenks dropped down to land on my shoulder.

  “Tell Constance that if she wants to see me, I’d be more than happy to meet her. But not today, and certainly not in the same room where I downed her predecessor. Tell you what.” Head bowed, I fumbled in my bag for one of our old cards. “Here’s my cell number,” I said as I extended it. “Call me in about a week. I’ll probably have healed from whatever damage bringing in the baku is going to cause by then, and we can get together somewhere nice and neutral. Like the zoo,” I added flippantly. “Or a coffeehouse.”

  Pike looked at the card, eyebrows going high at the wasp-waisted silhouette that Jenks said looked like a hooker. “You never downed Cormel.”

  “I was talking about Piscary. Cormel was too much politician and not enough mob boss to control the city. You know that, or Washington wouldn’t be looking to replace him.” I backed up into the boat, feeling safer though I wasn’t. “It takes a firm hand to keep Cincy in order. We’ve been given free rein to police ourselves for a long time, and if you push them too hard, upset the status quo too far without an obvious, clear benefit, they will take you out. Or try to.”