American Demon

by Kim Harrison

My thoughts went to my church, and I stifled a sigh. Misunderstanding or not, it was still gone. “I’ll give Constance that for free. I’d hate to see her be responsible for losing a Cincy landmark like Pizza Piscary’s because she couldn’t respect another professional’s time.”

  Pike was silent, and I resisted the urge to cover my neck as he stared at its unmarked smoothness. Ivy’s scar was there, as was Al’s, both invisible, both like vampire candy. How many licks does it take . . . ?

  “Would you please get off my boat?” I said as a trill of sensation dropped to my groin from just the weight of his gaze. “I have too much to do today already.”

  Pike took a step back, unhappy and twitchy. “You have three months,” he said, mood bad.

  “Until what?” Jenks asked for both of us.

  Pike lurched up onto the quay, then hesitated to look down at us. “Until you’re evicted. As you say, there are laws for squatters.” He looked at Piscary’s, worry pinching his ugly brow. “Why the hell are you always so nice, Pike?” he said to himself, then walked away.

  “Whatever.” It was the best comeback I could come up with, and shaking, I shut the door to lean back against it. Damn vamp pheromones. I was going to have to air the entire place out.

  “Maybe I could have handled that better,” I said, nose wrinkled as I smelled Pike everywhere. But damn it, boat or not, this was where I lived.

  At least for the next three months.

  CHAPTER

  24

  “You think Landon is going to pull a gopher?” Jenks asked, and I looked up from the spectacular view of the Hollows, lights just now beginning to wink off as the sky brightened. I was logy and slow from lack of sleep despite the no-doze taped to my biceps, but he was bright-eyed and awake. Legs crossed, he sat on the rim of the sugar bowl in his usual working black tights. His usual flash of red to warn off other pixies was gone since they were all underground. By Jenks’s reasoning, all of Cincinnati was his garden from November to March—and it showed.

  “No, he’ll be here,” I said, then tucked a wayward strand of hair behind an ear, feeling special in my Carew Tower finest. My eyes flicked to the bar, where Trent and Zack stood, both in suits and ties despite the ungodly early hour, looking like brothers at the far ends of their parents’ fertile years. “He’ll show if only to try to drag Zack away,” I added.

  “Not on my watch,” Jenks muttered. His gaze was on the honey pot that had come with my tea, but I knew he wouldn’t indulge. Not when we were working.

  And that was what we were doing, even if I was in a smart business dress with my hair tamed under a charm and my spelling supplies in a new leather bag. Trent looked just as nice. I hadn’t seen him in a full suit and tie in weeks. Carew Tower’s rotating restaurant demanded the best of a person, and I smiled and said thank you when the water attendant came over to top off my glass. It was important to stay hydrated when you were kicking ass.

  The man hesitated when he saw Jenks, his eyes going to the three vacant chairs before backing away. Satisfied, I sent Jenks to the ceiling with a finger twitch, for a quick recon. Fatigue pulled at me as I dug in my purse to find Jenks’s heat block under my splat gun. A quick glance to be sure no one was watching, and I artfully wrapped it in my napkin and set it squarely in the middle of the table beside the unlit ambient candle. He could sit on it when he got back, and no one would be the wiser.

  Satisfied, I settled into my chair and sipped my coffee, praying for a caffeine buzz. Staying awake to stave off a baku attack was working, but I was tired, cranky, and not thinking straight. Quen was in a bad mood from researching Trisk’s journals, but listening to Trent talk to his girls on the phone had been the worst, and my eyes strayed to him, now deep in conversation with the restaurant manager.

  I’d already talked to both the building’s and the restaurant’s security, but settling things with management and promises of money were likely what would keep the I.S. from being called if things got icky. And it would get icky. I could tell already.

  But despite it all, a smile grew as I watched Trent work the manager over, smoothing out the coming problems before they occurred. His hair caught the light over the bar, and he had an easy, confident stance with one foot on the rail. Beside him, Zack looked like a yearling colt: lean, elegant . . . and jumpy. His suit had narrow lapels and that extra pocket that had been popular when I’d been growing up, making it likely that it was one of Trent’s old ones rather than something new. The tie, though, was this year’s style, and as I watched Zack touch his sleeve and run his hand down his side, I was pretty sure he liked the way he looked in it.

  “Enjoying the view?” Jenks asked, and I flushed, not having heard him drop down. He was sitting on the napkin-wrapped block, eyeing me as if knowing my thoughts. “Sun will be up soon. Do you think Landon timed this so Bis would be asleep?”

  “I don’t think he plans that far ahead,” I said. “But Bis has a no-doze amulet. I simply have to tap a line, and he’ll come.”

  Jenks’s eyes came back from the honey. “He can find you, but can’t sing you the lines?”

  Eyes down, I fiddled with my teacup with the Carew Tower logo. “It’s like the auras we’re parsing out, Jenks,” I said softly. “You can do a lot with just the surface, but for the intimate things, you need a more delicate, finicky touch.”

  “I suppose.” He ran a hand behind his neck in unease. “I still say Landon won’t show.”

  I followed Jenks’s gaze to Trent and Zack, now headed our way and looking at home in their suits and easy confidence. At least, Trent was confident. Zack looked kind of sick. “Everything okay?” I asked as Zack gingerly took the chair with the best view of the changing cityscape. It also put his back to the elevator, and neither Trent nor I had wanted it.

  Trent nodded as he sat across from me. “The manager will let us know when Landon is on his way up.”

  “Good.” I smiled at Zack, wondering if he was worried we might give him up in return for Landon backing off on Trent. “We can relax for a second or two.” I took a slice of fruit-laden breakfast bread, knife clinking on the dish as I scraped up some butter. “Have you ever been up here, Zack?”

  He jumped at his name, then smiled to hide his surprise. “No. Do you think we’ll be able to see your church when we turn?”

  “Maybe,” I said, but I knew we would. I’d checked the first time I’d gotten up here.

  The water attendant swung back around, and the table was silent as he topped off the glasses and retreated. Jenks’s wings made a regretful hum as he looked longingly at the honey pot.

  “So, Rachel,” Trent said, elbows comfortably on the table, “Quen didn’t find anything in a second perusal of my mother’s journals. Maybe I should let Al look. You said he knew her.”

  “You’d let Al look at your mom’s journals?” I said, surprised, and he nodded, clearly discomfited. “Sure, but if he knew a way to capture the baku, he probably wouldn’t be under house arrest.” I set the bread down and surreptitiously cleaned the butter from my fingers on the underside of the tablecloth since Jenks had my napkin.

  “He might be able to piece something together.” Eyes pinched, Trent leaned back as if looking for some coffee. “And if not, just letting him look might make him feel better about his daughter dating an elf.” Trent glanced at Zack to see what he thought, but the kid was mowing down the breakfast bread as if it was candy, and probably hadn’t heard.

  Daughter? I thought, then smiled slightly. It wasn’t a bad comparison. The mystics made me too erratic for Al to call me a student. Daughter wasn’t right, but I knew that Dali had made Al responsible for me. I’d been told enough times that if I screwed up, Al would take the blame.

  Which then begged the question of whether Trent was getting pressure from not only the enclave but Al and Dali as well to end our relationship. Enough pressure that he felt he had to prove himself.

/>   “Ah, Trent,” I said, not sure I wanted to have this conversation in front of Zack, but Trent wasn’t listening, his attention now focused on the manager.

  “He’s coming,” Trent said, and Zack stiffened, panic flashing across him as he brushed the crumbs off himself and onto the floor.

  “Okay, I’m out of here.” Jenks took flight and, with a shimmering trail of dust, vanished into the restaurant’s decor.

  Trent, too, seemed to gather himself, his slim fingers making sure his tie was in place. “Jenks tells me Weast warned you off Landon yesterday,” he said.

  “Yep.” I watched Zack, not liking his near fear at the prospect of Landon at our table. “Weast as much as admitted to using him as bait to catch the baku.” And how do you feel about that, Zack? I thought, but the kid looked afraid, not angry.

  “I thought as much.” Cool and calm, Trent steepled his fingers. “Jon is trying to dig up some dirt on the Order. He’s fried three computers so far, and the only thing he’s found is that they began as one of the human-only security groups that evolved in the first few years of the Turn. Most joined the FIB when it formed. The rest went underground. Their reach, I’m afraid to admit, is far beyond mine. And unlike the FIB, they have no qualms about using magic.”

  Which explained that eagle amulet that Weast used to dampen my contact with a ley line. “At least they aren’t a hate group.” I watched the elevator, glad my back wasn’t to it, as was Zack’s. “They did lock up HAPA when we caught them.”

  “True.” Trent grimaced. “But the farmer doesn’t hate his cows, even as he considers them inferior and keeps them in pens.” His eye twitched and his lips pressed together. “There he is.”

  Zack turned, his face pale when he spun back around. “I’m not leaving with him.”

  My jaw clenched, and I stood when Trent rose. Gawky, Zack got to his feet as well. I swear, Zack, if you are playing us, I will put a bow on you and give you to a demon.

  Landon was in a suit, the purple ribbon of his office about his neck going well with his tie. He wore rings on his right hand, the one on his Jupiter finger looking like a more ornate version of Zack’s. I’d have been willing to bet that the amulet he had on held magic. And the pin on his lapel. And maybe his cuff links. But as I unfocused my attention and brought my second sight into play, it was his aura that was the most compelling. Zack was right. Something was wrong. It looked transparent, as if something was missing. It wasn’t nearly enough to go to the FIB or the I.S. with, though, and my fingers itched to do the curse and see the damage myself.

  Landon’s security was all in black suits and sporting short military-style haircuts, even the woman. I couldn’t help but notice they all had that same pinkie ring, and I wondered if it was part of the security package. I met the woman’s eyes, reading in her quick assessment of me that she wouldn’t dismiss me as arm candy as the other two had, and I lifted my chin, telling her in language older than speech that I wouldn’t hurt her, if she didn’t hurt me.

  But she shrugged and touched her sidearm. She’d do what she had to, and I sighed and fingered my splat gun through the supple leather of my purse. It was going to be like that, then.

  “I’m not leaving with you,” Zack said before Landon could widen his pretend smile.

  Landon ignored Zack, apart from a glance thick with annoyance, and my own eyes narrowed. “Good morning, Trent,” he said, ignoring me as well as his three security detail spread out, each taking a stance at a nearby table. The few people about had noticed, their conversations becoming tense.

  “Trent, don’t shake his hand,” I said as I looked at Landon’s aura again, and Trent smoothly shifted his extended arm to a gesture inviting him to sit. Trent’s aura was just as bright and clear as always, the sparkles that he and Ivy shared trailing after him like pixy dust.

  “Please. Have a seat,” Trent said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

  I stifled a shudder and dropped my second sight as Trent came around behind Zack to help me with my seat. Zack’s aura was bright green, sporting slashes of purple and those same damn red streaks that spoke of a troubled past. And sparkles. No wonder Trent liked him. I looked up as I finished scooting my chair in, surprised that Landon was still standing.

  “I’m not staying,” he said as Trent returned to his seat. “I’m here to collect my acolyte.”

  “No, you aren’t,” Zack said, chin high and cheeks red.

  Trent paused, halfway down to his chair, and from above came Jenks’s wing snap.

  “Yes, I am,” Landon said, and I cleared my throat as Trent pulled himself upright.

  “Perhaps the gentlemen should sit down if they’re going to argue over where a nearly legal adult is going to park his ass,” I said with my most fetching smile. There were other people in this restaurant, and they all had phones. I’d had my fill of my bad temper landing on social media.

  Landon smiled as he sat. It was fake, but Zack sighed in relief.

  Motions graceful, Trent sat as well, a practiced hand beckoning the waitstaff forward.

  But as we were all given the one-page menu with this morning’s fare, I realized the bartender had her hands on her hips. She was staring at the waitstaff, and frowning, I began to pay attention as well. Suddenly I realized the restaurant’s staff was being replaced by black-clad, trim thirtysomethings wearing running shoes. They weren’t Landon’s men. Or the I.S. Or the FIB.

  Then I looked up at the shaved-headed server blathering on about farm to table and what was in season that went into the omelet, and I froze. This guy was from the Order.

  Great. Weast’s threat swam up from the back of my thoughts, and I forced my jaw to unclench. He couldn’t arrest me for talking to the man, right? But the Order didn’t arrest anyone. They simply shoved you in the back of a white panel van and you were never seen again.

  “Coffee?” Trent suggested, his pleasant voice jerking my attention back. “If Landon isn’t staying, perhaps we should start with something to drink. I’ll have a coffee.”

  “Water,” Landon said. “Still if you have it. Zack, what would you like?”

  “Nothing from you,” he muttered.

  “Espresso?” I smirked at Landon’s security. They’d all slacked off, blind to the real threat.

  “Right away,” the waiter who wasn’t a waiter said, head high as he made eye contact with the guy manning the elevator. People were being encouraged to move to the other side of the restaurant, and the manager was almost dragged into the kitchen, protesting. Trent sighed as he met my eyes, knowing it, too. We didn’t have time for pleasantries.

  “Landon,” I said, and the man’s lip curled. “You’re being used. I don’t know why I care, but it bothers me that a hidden human security force thinks it’s okay to use us as bait to cage something worse.”

  “You are amazing.” Landon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed confidently over his middle. “You really think that is what’s going on?”

  “The Order doesn’t care one troll snot that you’re sending the baku to make me kill Trent,” I said, deciding not to bring up that we were both surrounded. “All they want is the baku. They want it, and they’re not averse to some major dewar collateral damage to get it.”

  Smile fading, Landon sat up, his arms unfolding. “Prove it.”

  “What?” Trent said dryly. “That the Order wants the baku? Or that you’re sending it to push Rachel into killing me?”

  Zack snorted, then tried to hide it behind a sip of water.

  Landon spared an ugly glare at him before turning to me. “I’m here to collect my student. Now,” he added loudly, and I put a hand on Zack’s arm to keep him from bolting.

  “Tell him what you want,” I said to Zack. “We’ve got your back.” Please don’t screw us, Zack, I thought, my breath slipping from me in relief when Zack’s chin lifted.

  “I’
m not leaving with you.”

  “Za-a-ack,” Landon threatened, his attention jerking to me when I casually unscrewed the saltshaker and spilled half of its contents on the white tablecloth.

  “It’s eating your soul, Landon,” I said softly as I used my nail to push the salt into a pentagon. “Give me a drop of blood, and I’ll show you how deep the damage goes.”

  “You think I’m going to give you a focusing object?” Landon stood, clearly angry. Or maybe it was fear. He knew elf magic was wonky and mine wasn’t. “Zack, get up.”

  “No,” Zack said defiantly, and Landon went almost choleric, red-faced with anger as he reached over the table and tried to manhandle Zack up.

  “Landon, let him go,” Trent said tightly as he reached out as well.

  “Trent, stop!” I exclaimed, feeling Zack tap a line.

  There was a burst of light, and Landon yelped, hand jerking as he fell back. My eyes shot to the Order, but they didn’t care, ringing us on the outside. Even the bartender was gone.

  “You little whelp,” Landon said, waving his own people back. “How dare you!”

  Spinning his ring on his finger, Landon began mumbling. I stiffened, then strengthened my hold on the ley line running through the nearby university. Like light itself, it spilled through me, carrying the whispers of everyone else who was using it. It was community, and I soaked it in, relishing it.

  “He’s got this,” Trent whispered, pride in his voice as he looked at Zack, the kid now standing with new confidence, pulling his shoulders down and his head up.

  “Fire in the hole!” Jenks shrilled from somewhere, and I yanked ley line energy into me, spilling into my chi and overflowing to spindle in my head.

  “Ta na shay, voulden!” Landon exclaimed, his expression ugly as he gestured.

  Face white, Zack pushed back, a fisted hand motioning to make a field before him.

  “Look out!” I shouted as Landon’s spell misfired. The bulk of the energy went into the overhead light, and with a sharp crack, it burst. I ducked, invoking a bubble as the shards went everywhere. Trent, too, had gotten a circle up in time, and Zack had made one even before Landon had finished.