For a Few Demons More (41 page)

“It's okay,” I said, reaching for my seat belt. “I don't think they're at your apartment.”

Saying nothing, David pulled up as close as he could get, fumbling with his seat belt, swearing until it released. “It's my apartment. My curtains were closed. They're open now. And Serena couldn't be awake yet.” Leaving the keys in the ignition, he lurched out of the car, steps crisp and intent as he headed for his door.

I slowly got out to stand wedged between the car and the open door, my arms on the roof. Jenks landed on my shoulder, and we said nothing when an I.S. officer stopped David on the threshold. They spoke briefly, and I felt sick as the man cuffed him. David looked broken but offered no resistance, knowing that to fight would give them a reason to throw him in a cell and forget about him to the limit of the law.

Someone moved past the upstairs window, and I gripped my bag tighter, glad I had the focus, since the I.S. was taking the opportunity to search David's apartment. His cat was watching me from a second window, and it skittered away before a dark figure passed by it. “What are we going to do, Jenks?” I whispered.

Jenks's wings cooled my neck, and I squinted in the glare as they bundled David into a cruiser. “Jenks?” I said, and the pitch of the pixy's wings shifted.

“See you back at the church,” he said, darting off to eavesdrop on them.

I held my breath as he hovered over the lot, dropping like a stone to dart inside the cruiser with David when no one was looking. I wished him well as the cruiser eased forward, hesitating briefly before pulling into traffic.
'Bye, David.

My breath slipped from me, long and slow. Leaning into the car, I retrieved David's keys and dropped them in my bag. I'd find another way home, but I'd need his keys to get in to feed his cat. Damn it. I'd seen this before, and it hadn't ended well.

I shut David's car door with a thump, and my blood pressure spiked when I spotted Glenn's trim silhouette headed for me from across the lot. “Well, at least I know now why you didn't show for our date at the morgue!” I shouted across the distance between us.

His pace was purposeful, but his head was bowed in what I hoped was guilt. “I'm sorry, Rachel,” the ex–military officer said as he halted beside me.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed, more than a little upset at Glenn's overzealous Boy Scout mentality. “Whatever David's been arrested for, he didn't do it! I was with Trent this morning, and he flat-out told me he was the one murdering the Weres to find that stupid-ass statue.”

Glenn didn't look any happier, his stud earrings making an odd statement next to his otherwise eminently professional mien. “I'm really glad to hear you say that,” he said, putting his hands behind his back and all but pinning me to the car with his too-close presence.

Taken aback, I felt my anger slow. “So…you're going to let him go?”

Head shaking, he squinted to look worried. “No, but if Mr. Kalamack can verify that you were with him this morning, I can keep the I.S. from arresting you right now.”

I felt myself pale. “Me?” I stammered. “What for?”

“For aiding and abetting the murder of Brett Markson.” His gaze went to my bag. “You got anything in there I need to know about?”

Adrenaline surged, and I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. “I've got my splat gun, but I don't need a permit for it. And this is crap, Glenn. I just told you Trent murdered them. All of them. The three Jane Wolves were accidents and have nothing to do with the murders.”

Glenn pulled himself straighter, his hands still laced behind his back. “Rachel, could you step away from the car and come with me, please? And give me your purse.”

My mouth dropped open. “Am I under arrest?” I said loudly, clutching my bag closer. Crap, I had the focus in there.

“No one is arresting you—yet,” he said, his expression pained. “Please, Rachel. If you don't cooperate, the I.S. will handle your questioning. I'm trying to jump ahead of them here.”

That was all the encouragement I needed. Feeling very alone for the lack of Jenks, I handed him my bag. It looked funny in his grip, and he gestured with a free hand for me to accompany him. Shaking inside, I fell into step beside him. We were moving steadily to the FIB van—the one with the metal mesh in the windows. “Talk to me, Glenn.”

“Mr. David Hue was seen talking to Mr. Markson last night,” he said unhappily. “Today the victim was found dead in Mr. Hue's apartment Dumpster with your card in his wallet. Mr. Hue admits to having relations with the three Jane Wolves now in the morgue, and when officers came to question him, they found a heavily sedated Were woman showing signs of assault.”

My knees went watery. This looked really bad, and I was glad I'd told Glenn about the focus earlier. “Serena was human, Glenn. The focus turned her. David was helping her to learn to control it before the full moon so she would know what was coming and be able to deal with it. He doped her up in bane so he could get me to help with her pain. That's all that it is!”

Glenn glared at me, his brown eyes full of warning. “Lower your voice.”

Eyes dropping, I frowned, listening to the distinctive radio chatter. “Sorry,” I said, then scuffed to a halt before we got much closer to that open van. “David did not kill Brett,” I said firmly. “The three women in
the morgue were tragic accidents. Serena is trying to deal with what happened, and David is doing the best he can. You should be arresting Trent, not David.”

“Rachel, stop.”

“He told me he did it!” I exclaimed. “Why does no one believe me?”

Glenn leaned close, and I stiffened, using every ounce of will to not break his hold when he took my shoulder. “Shut. Up,” he said tightly, so close I could smell the sweat under his aftershave. “Everyone with a badge knows you hate Kalamack. I can't ask for a warrant to arrest him because you said he told you he did it.”

I made a scoffing noise, then yelped when he yanked me closer.

“I believe you, Rachel,” Glenn said, almost whispering into my ear. “That man is slime. And I'm going to look into it.”

“Look into it,” I taunted, then winced when Glenn pinched my shoulder.

“I said I'm going to look into it, and if I find something, I'll let you know.” He let go of me. “Just hang tight. You're no help to me if you're in jail.”

Dropping back a step, I watched the ambulance crew bring Serena out. They had used a witch spell to trigger her return to her human shape. From what I could see, she looked like the women in the morgue, a trim outline showing under the stretcher's sheet, her long brown hair in disarray. David clearly had a preferred look to his women. Though she was unconscious, pain had drawn her face into lines.

“David didn't hurt her,” I whispered as the ambulance crew loaded her in the back.

“Then he'll be released when she regains consciousness and tells us that,” Glenn said.

I turned to Glenn, tears of frustration blurring my vision. “If we lived in a perfect world.”

My nose tickled with the scent of incense, and I spun. Denon was behind me, clearly amused that he had startled me. He looked better, almost his old self and dressed in his usual polo shirt and slacks that showed off his narrow waist and his muscular legs. Obviously some dead vamp had been at him, giving a little back to boost his morale. It was in his attitude. My pulse quickened at the reminder of the I.S. officers bundling David into cuffs, and I backed up into Glenn. “Denon,”
I said stiffly, telling myself I wasn't afraid of him but of what he could do to me under the flag of I.S. justice.

“Morgan,” the big man said, his deep, beautiful voice sounding like chocolate milk given sound. His gaze slid to Glenn behind me. “Detective Glenn.”

I shivered, his voice creeping up my spine with the subtlety of velvet. Damn, someone had been playing with him, all right. Glenn seemed to have noticed, too, for all he did was nod.

Denon smiled to show his flat teeth. “Morgan, it gives me great pleasure to take you in for questioning in conjunction with the murder of Brett Markson.”

My breath caught when he reached for me, and I fell back into Glenn's solid weight. Flustered, I pulled myself straight. “I have an alibi, Denon. Back off.”

People were watching, and Denon arched his eyebrows. “The time of Markson's death was put at seven. You were asleep, and I know no one was with you. Seeing as both your boyfriend
and
your roommate were with Piscary at the time.” He leered.

I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't think about it. “I was having an early-morning meeting with Mr. Kalamack,” I said, keeping my voice soft so he wouldn't hear it shake.

Denon's eyes widened, cracking his cocky attitude and giving me a measure of strength.

“You know how humans are,” I added, sliding sideways so if I had to move, I wouldn't bump Glenn, but Glenn shifted with me. “The way they insist everyone keep to their time clock. No respect for other cultures.”

Brown eyes narrowing, Denon drew an obscenely thin cell phone out of a belt holster. His brown fingers hitting the buttons carefully, he appeared to scroll through a list of numbers. “You won't mind if I verify that.”

I froze, not knowing if Trent would tell the truth. “Be my guest,” I said boldly.

People were closing in around us. I could feel them. Glenn edged closer. “Rachel…”

My gaze flicked to his, and I felt small between the two black men. “Trent was with me,” I insisted.
But will he admit to that?
I thought, cringing when I remembered how we had parted.
Probably not.

“Mr. Kalamack, please,” Denon said pleasantly, and I heard a woman's voice. “Of course, ma'am. This is Officer Denon from the I.S.” Denon smiled at me as the call was put through. “Mr. Kalamack,” he said cheerfully. “I apologize for interrupting your afternoon. I know you're busy, and this will only take a moment. I need you to verify that you were with Ms. Rachel Morgan this morning between seven and seven-thirty.”

I swallowed hard, wanting my splat gun, tucked away in my bag. It was probably a good thing that Glenn had it.

Denon's eyes flicked to me. “No, sir,” he said into the tiny phone. “Yes, sir. Thank you. You have a good day, too.” Face empty of emotion, Denon snapped the phone shut.

“Well?” I asked. I was sweating. Even a human could see it.

“You act as if you don't know the answer,” he said smoothly.

From behind me Glenn shifted. “Officer Denon, are you arresting Ms. Morgan or not?”

I held my breath. Denon's big hands clenched and released. “Not today,” he said, forcing a smile. Exhaling, I tossed a strand of hair that had escaped Jenks's braid and tried to look confident.

“You're lucky, witch,” Denon said as he rocked back a graceful step. “I don't know what star you're wishing on, but it's about to fall.” And with that, he spun and walked away.

“Yeah, and angels cry when good men die,” I said, wishing he would find a new book of clichés to memorize. Relieved, I reached for my shoulder bag, still in Glenn's possession. “Give me that,” I said, yanking it to me.

The car Denon had gotten into drove away with a tiny squeak of tires.

Head down in thought, Glenn pointed me to an unmarked FIB car: big, black, and sporting blocky lines. “I'll get you home,” he said, and I obediently headed for it.

“Trent told the truth,” I said, our steps matching perfectly. “I don't get it. He could have gotten me in jail, then searched the church for the focus at his leisure.”

Glenn opened the door for me, and I slipped inside, enjoying the courtesy.

“Maybe he's worried someone saw him,” Glenn mused aloud, then
shut my door.

“Maybe he was using Ceri and me as his alibi,” I muttered as Glenn went around the front and got in. I grimaced, thinking,
How sick is that?
Using meeting a beautiful woman like Ceri as an alibi while one of your peons was shoving someone into a Dumpster for you. Glenn started the car, and we waited for the ambulance to leave before us, the lights off and moving slow.

“David won't be taking the blame for this,” I said in determination, clutching my bag on my lap. Maybe Trent told the truth because he knew I had the focus with me, and if the I.S. got it, it would make his task to retrieve it a lot harder?

“I hope you're right.” Glenn's voice was distant as he looked both ways before pulling out. “I really hope you're right. Because if Mr. Hue is officially charged with the murders, the I.S. is going to come after you for aiding and abetting, even with that alibi. David asking you for help looks really bad.”

Settling myself into the leather seats, I put an elbow on the open window and stared at nothing. “Swell,” I whispered to no one.
My life sucks.

My eyes fluttered open when Glenn eased to a stop at a stoplight. Blinking, I realized I was almost home, and I sat up from my slouch. The day had gotten warm, and apparently I'd nodded off. Clearly, being knocked out for eight hours wasn't the same as sleep. Embarrassed, I glanced at Glenn, flushing when he smiled at me, his teeth a startling white against his dark skin.

“Please tell me I wasn't snoring,” I muttered, never imagining I would have fallen asleep. I had only closed my eyes to gather my thoughts. Or maybe to escape from everything.

“You snore cute,” he said, giving his unused ashtray a tap. “You two are funny.”

Jenks rose from it in a puff of gold glitters. “I'm awake!” he exclaimed, tugging his clothes straight and looking charmingly wide-eyed as he arranged his shock of blond hair. He, at least, had an excuse, seeing as he was usually asleep this time of day.

The clock on the dash said it was a shade after two. After leaving David's, Glenn had first taken me to the FIB to make an official statement before the I.S. could choose the most inopportune time to get one from me. From there we went to pick Jenks up at the I.S. and physically drop off a copy of my paperwork, all nice and legal. We fitted the morgue in there, too, which had left me depressed. I was sure Glenn had more to do than cart us around, but since I didn't have a valid license, I appreciated it.

David was still in custody. Jenks had overheard his interrogation, and apparently Brett had met with David yesterday to talk about Brett joining our pack. It was supposed to have been a surprise, which had me in tears when I found out. That's why Trent had targeted him. Trent was slime, and I cursed myself for letting some of the good things he did—like admit he spent the morning with me, for instance—cloud the fact that he was a murderer and drug lord. He only did something decent if it might be of some use to him, such as giving himself an alibi for seven to seven-thirty. Ceri had it right. The man was a demon in all but species.

Under some made-up point of law, the I.S. was detaining David without any formal charges. It was illegal, but someone in the basement had probably realized that the focus was out, seeing as a loner was turning human women into Weres. David was knee-deep in it. It would only be a matter of time before I joined him. Maybe if he was in I.S. custody, Trent couldn't kill him. Maybe.

I'm sorry, David. I never expected this to happen.

The cool shade of my street fell over me, and I gathered my bag onto my lap, feeling for the heavy outlines of the focus. Squinting, I realized there was a black van parked in front of the church—and someone was tacking a note on my door.

“Jenks. Look at that,” I whispered, and he followed my gaze.

Glenn eased to a stop several car lengths back, and when I cracked the window, Jenks darted out, saying, “I'll see what it is.”

The man with the hammer caught sight of us, and with a worrisome quickness he hustled down the stairs and into his vehicle.

“You want me to stay?” Glenn asked, shoving the car into park. He had a pencil in his grip and was writing down the plate number as the black van drove away.

The dust spilling from Jenks as he hovered before the note shifted from gold to red. “I don't know,” I murmured. Getting out, I stomped up the stairs.

“Evicted!” Jenks said, his face white when he spun in the air. “Rachel, Piscary evicted us. He evicted us!”

My stomach going light, I ripped the paper from the nail. “No freaking way,” I said, skimming the official document. It was blurry from being the second copy, but clear enough. We had thirty days to vacate.
They were going to tear the church down now that it wasn't sanctified, but the impetus behind it was Piscary.

Glenn leaned out the window. “Everything okay?”

“Rache,” Jenks exclaimed, clearly terrified. “I can't move my family. Matalina isn't well! They're going to bulldoze the garden!”

“Jenks!” I said, hands upraised though I couldn't touch him. “It's going to be okay. I promise. We'll work something out. Matalina will be fine!”

Jenks stared at me, his eyes wide. “I…I,” he stammered, then with a little moan, he darted up and around to the back of the church.

My hands fell to my sides. I felt so helpless.

“Rachel?” Glenn called from the street, and I turned.

“We've been evicted,” I said, moving the paper in explanation. “Thirty days.” Anger trickled into me.

Glenn's eyes narrowed. “Don't do it, witch,” he warned as he looked at my fists, clenched at my sides.

I gazed down the street at nothing, getting madder. “I'm not going to kill him,” I said. “Give me some credit. This is an invitation. If I don't go see him, he'll do something worse.”
Shit. My mother.

Glenn ducked back in the window. His door opened, and he got out. My blood pressure rose. “Get your little brown-sugar candy ass back in your ugly Crown Victoria,” I said. “I know what I'm doing.”

My fingers felt the outlines of the focus in my bag as Glenn came to the bottom of the steps and looked up at me, pistol on his hip and attitude all over him like icing on a cake. “Give me your car keys.”

“Don't think so.”

His eyes narrowed. “Give them to me or I'm going to arrest you myself.”

“On what grounds?” I asked belligerently, looking down at him.

“Your boots. They're breaking every unwritten fashion law.”

Huffing, I looked at them, tilting one onto the toe to see them better. “I'm just going to talk to him, nice and friendly.”

Eyebrows high, Glenn put his hand out. “I've seen how you talk to Piscary. Keys?”

My jaw clenched. “Put a car at my mother's house,” I demanded, and when he nodded, I shoved the eviction paper into my bag, found my keys, and threw them at him. “Bastard,” I muttered as they hit his hand.

“That's my girl,” he said as he looked at the zebra-striped car key. “You get them back when you go to class.”

I opened the door to the church and put my hand on my hip. “You call me your girl one more time and I'm going to turn your gonads into plums and make jam out of them.”

Chuckling, Glenn got into his car.

Entering the dark foyer, I pulled the heavy door shut hard enough to make the upper transom windows rattle. My bag held tight to me, I stomped into the sanctuary and headed for my desk. Yanking open drawers, I slammed and banged around until I found my spare set of keys. It had everything the first had plus the key that opened Ivy's safe and one from Nick's apartment, never thrown away. God knows why.

A smug satisfaction tugged the corners of my mouth up into a wicked smile as I dropped the keys into my bag, and I went to the side window to watch Glenn turn the corner at the end of the street. The red of the stained glass gave everything outside an unreal look, like the ever-after.

“Jenks!” I shouted as his car vanished. “If you can hear me, get your best suit on. We have some major ass-kissing to do.”