For a Few Demons More (33 page)

I bit back my ire, proud of the Hollows' basilica. And I wasn't the “help.” I was the person who was going to keep the rabble from taking potshots at them as they paraded their rich elf asses down main street.

“That sounds equitable, love,” Trent said from beside me. “I'll meet you inside.”

Ellasbeth leaned to give him a peck on the cheek, and though he trailed a hand along her cheek as she moved away, he didn't kiss her back.

Heels clacking on the sidewalk, she led her parents to the side door, since the front was clearly locked. “Send Caroline in when she arrives?” she said over her shoulder, effectively telling us to stay outside until the maid of honor got here. That was fine with me.

“I'll do that,” Trent called after them, and the three elves turned the corner, Ellasbeth loudly telling her mother about the lovely little baptism pool. Her father was bent in conversation with her mother, clearly berating her for her interest in Jenks. She wasn't listening, almost walking sideways in her attempt to get a last look at Jenks.

Jenks was silent, clearly embarrassed. I thought it odd, since he charmed humans all the time. Why was it different when an elf liked him?

“Hey, uh, Rachel,” he said, the hum of his wings loud as he lifted to hover before my eyes, “I'm going to take a look around. Back in five.”

“Thanks, Jenks.” But he was already gone, his tiny body a speck darting over the spires.

I brought my eyes back to find Quen waiting for me. “You expect me to believe a pixy is an effective backup?” he asked, eyebrows high. “Why do you have him out here? Are you trying to make the situation difficult?”

Somehow Quen's attitude didn't surprise me. Stifling my pique, I headed to the side parking lot. “He'll have the lowdown on the entire block in thirty seconds. I told you you're doing yourself a disservice by keeping pixies out of your garden. You should be begging for a clan to move in, not lacing sticky web in your canopy. They're better sentries than geese.”

The older elf's wrinkles slid into each other as he frowned. He had come up on my left, and with Trent on my right I felt surrounded. “And you trust Jenks?” Quen asked.

I think it was the first time Quen had called Jenks by his name, and I glanced at him as we rounded the corner and the traffic noise dulled. “Implicitly.”

No one said anything, and, embarrassed, I blurted, “I can't protect you if you aren't together. Or is this just a way to have someone pretty on your arm when you walk into a room?”

“No, Ms. Morgan,” Trent said softly, his bangs drifting in the slight breeze. “But seeing as the sun is up, how much danger can we be in from a demon? I don't expect Lee to show, and if he does, it won't be until after dark.” He hesitated. “With a demon pulling his strings.”

We couldn't very well go in after Ellasbeth had told us to stay out, and I wasn't eager to spend more time than I had to with her. It seemed Trent wasn't either, so we settled to a stop by the side stairs and the less imposing secondary entrance off the parking lot. My sandals scuffed against the white lines of the painted-on basketball court, but Quen was silent in his soft shoes. I wanted a pair despite that they would leave me that much shorter.

“You…ah, trust me in sensitive matters?” I said to Trent. “What does that mean?”

Trent tracked a flock of pigeons, blinking as they crossed the sun. “It means I trust you to keep your mouth shut but not to keep your fingers out of my desk.”

Quen shifted to stand almost out of my sight. I turned to keep him in it. “That bothered you, didn't it? That I could sneak into your office?” I asked.

Ears reddening, Trent glanced at me. “Yes.”

Pleased, I shifted my shoulders. Casual looked good on him, and I wondered what he'd look like in a burger joint with his elbows on the table and his hands wrapped around a half pound of beef. He wasn't much older than me, forced to grow up fast when his parents died. I wanted to ask him if his kids would have pointed ears when they were born, but I didn't. “I won't do it again,” I said suddenly, not knowing why.

At that, Trent turned to face me. “Break into my home? Is that a promise?”

“No. But I won't.”

Quen cleared his throat to cover a chuckle. Green eyes fixed on mine, Trent nodded. He didn't look happy, and I was feeling sorry for him. “That,” he said, “I'll believe.”

Quen stiffened, but his attention was on the sky, not me. I put my hand up when I recognized Jenks's wings. “Rache,” he panted, landing on my hand and grasping my thumb when he nearly fell off. “We got a problem…coming down the road…in a '67 Chevy.”

“Better than a trip wire,” I said dryly to Quen, wondering if I should move my new cuffs from my shoulder bag to my hip. Then I asked Jenks, “Who is it? Denon?”

The car in question came around the corner: a powder blue convertible with the top open. Engine racing, it pulled into the far end of the lot. Quen shifted from casual to protective. Pulse pounding, I tapped a line. The rush of power took me by surprise, and I staggered. “I'm fine,” I said, pushing Trent's arm off me. “Stay behind me.”

“It's Lee!” Trent said, his face alight. “My God, Lee!”

My mouth dropped open. The car lurched to a halt, parked ten feet away and cantwise to the lines. Trent stepped forward, and I yanked him back.
Lee escaped Al?

The man turned off the car and pulled his head up, smiling at the three of us and squinting from the sun. Leaving the keys in the ignition, he opened the door and got out.

“Lee…?” I stammered, not believing it. A rush of guilt swept me. Though I had tried to prevent it, I had been there when Al took Lee as his familiar instead of me. That he had escaped was impossible, but here he was, angling his trim surfer-boy body out of the car with an unconscious grace. His small nose and thin lips gave him casual good looks, and his Asian heritage was obvious in the straight, severely black hair cut short above his ears. Looking confident and cocky in a faintly frumpy black suit, he strode forward with hands outstretched.

“It's not Lee,” Jenks said, having moved himself to my shoulder. “He doesn't smell right, and that's not a witch's aura. Rache, that isn't Lee!”

Shock became mistrust. “Stay back!” I said, jerking Trent behind me when he moved.

He stumbled, then caught his balance. Scowling, he tugged his shirt straight. “The sun is up, Morgan. I know a few rules about demons, and that one you can't break. Lee escaped. What did you expect? He's an expert at ley line magic. Deal with the jealousy.”

“Jealous!” I barked, not believing this. “You want to bet your life on it?” Lee was still coming forward, and, putting out a hand, I shouted, “Stop right there! I'm telling you to stop!”

Lee obediently halted ten feet away, his black hair gleaming in the light. He drew a pair of round sunglasses from a pocket and perched them on his small nose, hiding his brown eyes. Hands spread wide in innocence wronged, he almost bowed. “Good afternoon, Rachel Mariana Morgan. You look eminently
ravishable
with the sun in your hair, love.”

The blood drained from my face, and I took a faltering step backward. It wasn't Lee. It was Al. The voice had been Lee's, but the cadence and pronunciation were Algaliarept's.
How?

“Holy crap! It's Al!” Jenks squeaked, and his grip on my ear tightened.

“Get him in the church,” I hissed at Quen. Feeling betrayed, I almost panicked. The sun was up! This wasn't fair! There was scuffling behind me and Trent's indignant complaint.
Damn it,
I thought.
This isn't a committee decision.
“Get him out of here!” I yelled.

Al's smile widened. He stepped toward us.

There wasn't time. I lunged forward, my forearms hitting the pavement, my fingers brushing the white marking of the basketball court, and my toes taking the rest of my body weight.
“Rhombus!”
I shouted. Tears sprang up at the gravel cutting the soft part of my arms, but with a welcoming drop of power through me, the amber wash of ever-after flowed up from the earth, arching to a close over our heads.

Hurt, I let my knees touch the pavement, and I slowly got up, brushing my arms and palms free of grit. Damn it, I had ruined Ceri's present. I glanced first at Al—who looked mildly insulted—then Trent and Quen, safe inside my circle with me.

The older elf was stiff, clearly not liking being in my bubble—large as it was. Face tight, he eyed the black smears of demon smut crawling over my amber-tinted enclosure. It looked particularly ugly in the sun, and since Quen was skilled in ley line magic, he knew that the black was a reflection of what I had done to my soul—and the only way I could have gotten it that fast was by playing with demon magic.

Angry, I backed up, still rubbing my arms. “I got it twisting a demon curse to save my boyfriend's life,” I said in explanation. “I didn't kill anything. I didn't hurt anyone.”

Quen's face was empty of emotion. “You hurt yourself,” he said.

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

Trent scuffed his feet. “That's not Lee,” he whispered, his face ashen.

Jenks landed on my shoulder—having flown off when I hit the ground. “Good God, the man is dumber than Tink's dildo. Didn't I say it wasn't him? Did my lips not move and say it wasn't him? I'm small, not blind!”

Recovering his earlier aplomb, Al smiled. Trent retreated into Quen's protection, away from me and Al both. Al had mauled Trent the same night the demon had first attacked me; Trent had a right to be afraid. But the sun was up. This could
not
be happening.

We all jumped when Al poked a finger at my bubble, and the black seemed to pool in the ripple he made. “No, not Lee,” the demon said. “Yet it is him. One hundred percent.”

“How?” I stammered. Had we been spelled into thinking it was daylight when it was really after sunset?

“The sun?” Al looked up, taking off his glasses and basking in it. “It
is splendidly pretty without the red sheen. I quite like it.” His gaze fell to me, and I shivered. “Think about it.”

One hundred percent Lee, but not Lee? That left only one possibility. And whereas if someone had asked me Monday, I would have said it was impossible, I now found it remarkably easy to believe, after having shoved a demon out of my thoughts just three days ago.

“You're possessing him,” I said, feeling my stomach clench.

Lee clapped his hands. He was wearing white gloves, and it looked wrong, so very wrong.

“You can't do that,” Trent said from my elbow. “It's a—”

“Fairy tale?” Al brushed a piece of nonexistent dust from himself. “No, just
very
expensive and
normally
impossible. It's not supposed to last past sunup either. But your father?” Al looked from Trent to me and back to Trent. “He made Lee special.”

It had been mockingly sincere, and I went cold. Lee's blood could kindle demon magic. So could mine. Ah, swell. Just peachy damn keen. But Lee was smarter than this. He knew that Al couldn't hurt me and get away with it. There was more. We hadn't heard it all.

I could smell the clean scent of crushed green leaves, and I realized Trent was sweating. “You tricked him,” Trent said, the distress clear in his voice. I didn't think it was fear for himself. I think he was truly distressed that his childhood friend was alive and trapped in his own head by a demon.

Al put his shades on. “I got the better end of the deal, yes. But I'm following it to the letter. He wanted out. I gave him his freedom. In a manner of speaking.”

“Lee,” Trent said, moving forward, “fight it,” he encouraged.

Al laughed, and I drew Trent back. “Lee's gone,” I said, feeling ill. “Forget him.”

“Yes, listen to the witch.” Al wiped his eye with an elegant hankie drawn from a pocket. He wasn't using the ever-after. His sunglasses had been in a pocket, too. His abilities were diminished to Lee's. It went along with what Ceri had said about demons being no more powerful than a witch, apart from several thousand years of storing charms and curses inside themselves. If he was truly in Lee's body, then he was limited to what Lee could do until he brewed himself back to omnipotence.

Very expensive. Normally impossible.
It added up to one person. One crazy person. “Newt did this, didn't she?”

Jenks swore softly, and Al spun, his anger looking wrong on Lee's face. “You are getting annoyingly perceptive,” he said. “I could have figured it out on my own.”

“Then why didn't you?” I said, fear tightening all my muscles. “You can't twist a curse complex enough to best the sun. You're a hack,” I prodded, and Jenks's wings hummed.

“Rachel, shut up,” he pleaded when Al reddened. But I forged ahead, wanting to know why he was here. My life might depend upon it.

“You had to
buy
a curse from her,” I goaded. “How much did it cost, Al? What do you want that you're too dumb to get on your own?”

He stared at me through the shifting bands of color of my bubble, and I stifled a shudder. “You,” the demon said, chilling me. “If it gives me a shot at you, then it's worth my everlasting soul,” he intoned, his voice sliding through me to leave the taste of lightning on my tongue.

I refused to back up, almost numb. My breath came and went, and Quen's presence seemed to grow stronger. “You can't,” I said, voice quavering. “You made a deal. You or your agents can't hurt me this side of the lines. Lee knows that. He'd never agree.”

Al's smile widened, and when he tapped his dress shoes against the pavement in delight, I saw he had lace on his socks. “Which is why I will free him the instant before you expire, so he is the one actually doing it. He has reason enough on his own to want you dead, so the agent clause won't come into play. But killing you is the last thing I want to do.” Gazing past me to where the sky met the basilica's towers, he breathed deeply. “The moment I leave Lee, I am susceptible to summonings and such. And much as I hate to miss the fall parties, this is so-o-o-o much more fun. Don't think that makes you safe, though.” He brought his gaze down, and I shivered at the alienness hidden behind the normal brown orbs. “I can keep you alive through a tremendous amount of pain.”