For a Few Demons More (52 page)

“Oh!” she said, suddenly embarrassed. “Sure. I'll, um…”

Her thought was cut short when Jenks blew in from the back rooms. “Rache!” he shrilled, shedding gold sparkles. “You okay? Tink's bordello, you're one wild woman. I've never
seen
anyone do the things you did. Who taught you to swear in Latin?”

He was flitting madly between Ivy and me, and I put a hand to the wall so I didn't lose my balance trying to watch him. “It was the curse, not me,” I said.

“How's your knees?” he said, dropping down to look at them, and my head snapped up when he darted to the ceiling. “You hit them pretty hard when Ceri took you down.”

“I don't remember that either,” I said, crossing my legs and praying.
“Could you get out of my way? I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Holy crap,” Jenks said, rising up to follow Ivy and me. “I thought you were going to kill Edden. He's the one who gave you the black eye.”

So that's why my face feels puffy,
I thought, shuffling down the hallway. “What day is it?” I asked, wondering how long it had been since I ate.

“Monday.” Ivy was hovering tight to my heels. “Wait. It's Tuesday now.”

“Oooooh, the spirits did it all in one night,” I said, squinting as I flicked on my bathroom light. My eyes hurt. I turned to find them staring at me as if I'd said something scary. “What?” I protested, and Jenks landed on Ivy's shoulder.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Yes, but if I don't get into this bathroom, I'm going to make a puddle.”

Jenks took flight, and Ivy took three steps back. “You want something to eat?” she said, and I hesitated in my motion to shut the door.

“Anything but Brimstone,” I said, and her face flushed guiltily. The door closed between us, and I put both hands on the washer, leaning over it and shaking. It wasn't blood loss. And I wasn't beaten up that badly. I was fatigued. Something—maybe someone—had fought a battle in me, and I didn't remember any of it. The focus was gone, so it had lost.
I
was the one picking myself up off the battlefield and hobbling to the next fight.

I hoped it would be easier than this last one.

Pushing myself upright, I went to the mirror. My hand moved to peek behind the bandage on my neck, then dropped. I didn't want to know just yet. Turning my head, I looked myself over, deciding that it wasn't bad. A complexion amulet would take care of the black circle under my eye, and the fat lip made me look pouty. There was a bruise on my shin and another on my hip just below where the T-shirt ended. My back hurt when I bent over to check out my knees, but nothing would need more than a day or two to return to normal. It was almost a disappointment. Having been a demon curse, however brief, should leave some kind of mark. A streak of silver hair, or bewitching eyes. Maybe crows on one's roof or a hound from hell at your heel. But what do I get? Blowing out my breath, I stood and squinted at my re
flection.

A black eye. Swell.

Ivy's voice murmured as she talked on the phone, and after taking care of my most urgent need, I decided a shower could wait until after I got a few questions answered and my stomach filled. The dryer contained a pair of jeans instead of Kisten's clothes, so with a new depression, I tucked my
STAFF
shirt in, invoked a complexion charm, ran a toothbrush over my teeth, and called it good. The smell of coffee sifting in under the door made me feel ill, I was so hungry.

Movements slow from the expectation of bad news, I headed out. The bright light of a new day spilled into the hallway from the kitchen. This was the third morning I'd gotten up at dawn instead of going to bed, and I was tired of it.

“Rachel just woke up,” came Ivy's voice before I had gone two steps, and I slowed. She wasn't on the phone; we had someone in our kitchen. “She's not talking to anyone until she gets a chance to eat and catch her breath, and she's not talking to your shrink, so you can just get back into your cruiser and the hell back to the FIB where you belong.”

My eyebrows rose, and I hastened forward.
What's Glenn doing here?

Shit.
Kisten,
I thought miserably, answering my own question.
He's dead
.

“Felps wasn't at Sparagmos's apartment,” I heard Edden say, and my reality shifted. Not only was Kisten's death still uncertain, but this wasn't Glenn, it was his dad. I didn't know if that was better or worse. “We need to find him, and Rachel might be able to help,” he finished.

“Give the woman some peace!” Jenks said. “Piscary said he was dead. Find him on your own. The I.S. isn't going to stop you. They don't care.”

I pushed into motion, ready to try anything if it would lead to Kisten's still being alive. “But if he's alive, he might be hurt,” I said as I entered, and Edden turned from his position at the back of the kitchen. There was someone else with him, looking spare next to Edden's squat bulk, and my bare feet squeaked to a stop.
Edden had brought the FIB's shrink out with him?

Edden glanced at the young man beside him. Ignoring the threat of Ivy standing before the sink with her arms crossed, Edden came forward, his brow pinched in worry. He was in his usual khaki slacks and white shirt, and the gun in his shoulder holster said he was working.
“Rachel,” he said, glad to see me. “You look a lot better.”

“Thanks.” I blinked in surprise when he gave me a hug. The scent of Old Spice puffed up, and I couldn't help my smile when he awkwardly dropped back. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

He smiled and rubbed his elbow. “Don't worry about it. It wasn't you.”

I exhaled in relief, though still feeling guilty, and I looked over the kitchen for anything to eat. Nothing was cooking, but the coffeemaker was gurgling its last. The cake had been frosted, and it sat on the counter as a sad testament of how things were supposed to be. Depressed, I sank down at my spot at the table. “Kisten wasn't at the apartment?” I asked, desperate hope almost painful as it settled in around my heart, and I glanced at the other guy, now shifting awkwardly. “Jenks said he called to say he was going underground. And Piscary has lied before. If Kisten might be alive, I'll do anything.”

Edden's friend went to speak, changing his mind when Ivy pushed away from the sink and slunk to her chair before her computer—her safe spot. Jenks stayed at the window, standing on the sill where he could keep an eye on his kids. I hadn't realized how noisy they were at sunrise.

“Edden thinks human psychology can bring back your memory,” Ivy said, scowling. “Human science can't best a witch charm. It's only going to tear you up, Rachel.”

Ignoring her, Edden turned to the man, and he came forward with a hesitant confidence. “Dr. Miller, this is Rachel Morgan. Rachel, I want you to meet Dr. Miller, our psychiatrist.”

I leaned forward in my chair and shook his hand. The hope that Kisten might be alive was desperate and painful, and the color of the amulet Dr. Miller was wearing shifted from a deep purple to white. “Nice to meet you,” I said, indicating he should sit down, and he and Edden took two chairs to my right.

The young man had a nice grip, which wasn't surprising if he was the FIB's shrink. What did surprise me was the slight lifting of ever-after that had tried to pull through me when we touched. He was human—I didn't sense any redwood coming off him at all, and he worked for the FIB—but he could do ley line magic. And his amulet was metallic—clearly a ley line charm.

He was taller than me, and his brown shoes made an odd statement against his gray slacks and gray-pinstriped white shirt. His black hair was cut to an easy style. His frame was spare, and he was wearing wire-rimmed glasses before his brown eyes.

Glasses? I mused, No one wears glasses unless…

My suspicion was borne out when Dr. Miller tucked them away with a grimace. Crap, they were for seeing auras without tapping into one's second sight, which humans generally couldn't do unaided without a lot of practice. Great. Nothing like a good first impression.

The amulet he wore shifted to a reddish gray, and the FIB's psychiatrist gave me an apologetic smile as he scooted his chair in. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Morgan,” he said from between Edden and me. “Call me Ford.”

Jenks's wings clattered, and he flew to land on the table, standing with his hands on his hips so the hilt of his garden sword showed. “That thing reads emotions, doesn't it?” he said belligerently. “Is that how you do your job? You use that to know if people are telling the truth or not? Rachel isn't lying. If she says she doesn't remember, she doesn't remember. She'd want to find Kisten if she could.”

Ford glanced down at it again, taking it off from around his neck and setting it on the table. “The amulet isn't reacting to her, it's reacting to me. Sort of. And I'm not here to find out if Ms. Morgan is lying. I'm here to help reconstruct what I can of her artificially muted memory with the intent to find Mr. Felps.”

I felt a stab of guilt, and his ley line amulet flashed a brief gray-blue once more.

“If she allows it,” he added, fingering the metallic disk. “The longer we wait, the less she will remember. We are under a time constraint, especially if Mr. Felps is in trouble.”

Ivy's eyes were closed as she struggled to hide her emotions. “Rachel, he's dead,” she whispered. “For the FIB to play on your hope to make their job of finding him easier is wrong.”

“You don't know he's dead,” Edden protested, and a chill took me when she opened her eyes. They were black with pain.

“I'm not going to listen to this,” she said.

I stiffened when she rose and walked out. Jenks hovered uncertainly, then buzzed out after her. The smell of the coffee pulled at me,
and I went to pour myself a mug, filling two more for Ford and Edden. The first gulp hit me like a balm, doing as much as the soft breeze coming in the window to soothe me. Maybe there was something to this up-at-dawn stuff.

“What do I do?” I said as I put the coffee before the two men and sat.

Ford's smile was brief but sincere. “If you would put this on?”

The amulet settled into my hand, and I felt the hum of ever-after running through it, tugging on me as if trying to pull it from my fingertips. “What does it do?”

He hadn't let go of the charm yet, and feeling his fingers slide against mine, I looked up in almost shocked surprise. His lips quirked in a smile when the amulet in my hand turned to a delicate lavender. I was starting to see a pattern here.

“Your friend was correct. It's a visual show of your emotions,” he said, and I cringed. I could guess what lavender meant, and I forced my thoughts to remain puritan pure as I looped it over my head. Unlike an earth-charm amulet, this one only had to be within my aura to work, not touching skin.

“But you said it was responding to you, not me.”

A brief look of pain passed over his features. “It is.”

My eyes widened. “You mean you can feel other people's emotions? Naturally? I've never heard of that before. What are you? You don't smell like a witch.”

Chuckling, Edden took his coffee and retreated to the corner of the kitchen, pretending to watch Jenks's kids in order to give us some privacy.

Ford shrugged. “Human, I guess. My mother was the same way. She died from it. I've never heard of anyone else like me. I'm trying to find a way to make it work for me instead of against me. The amulet is for you, not me, so you know exactly what I'm feeling from you. The intensity of emotion is shown by brightness and the type of emotion by color.”

I started to get a sick feeling. “But you can feel my emotions whether I'm wearing the amulet or not?” I asked, and when he nodded, I added, “Then why am I wearing it?”

Edden shifted nervously at the window. I knew he wanted us to get on with it.

“So that when we're done and you take it off, you have the illusion that I'm not listening anymore.”

Jenks came in right about then, changing his mind about landing on my shoulder at the last moment to park it on Edden's shoulder when he saw my look. It made sense, even if it was a lie. “That's got to be hell,” I said. “Someone ought to make a muffler for you.”

Ford's expression blanked. “Do you think you can?”

I shrugged. “I don't know.”

His brown eyes were distant, and the amulet around my neck went pearl gray. Taking a deep breath, he brought his attention back.

I couldn't help but wonder at the misery of sensing everyone's emotions all the time.
Poor guy,
I thought, and the amulet burst into blue. His lips parting, Ford blinked at me, clearly feeling my pity for him. The amulet shifted to red, and my face flamed to match it. Embarrassed, I reached to take the amulet off. “This isn't going to work,” I said.

Ford's hands enveloped mine, stopping me. “Please, Ms. Morgan,” he said earnestly, and I swear I could feel the amulet warming in our hands. “This is a tool. The reality is that people are far more adept at reading facial expressions than this amulet can indicate. It's simply a way to make a data point of something as nebulous as emotions.”

I sighed, my entire body easing, and the amulet peeping between our fingers went a neutral gray. “Call me Rachel.”

He smiled. “Rachel.” His hands left mine to show that the disk was a silvery purple. Not the purple of anger, as when I thought of the I.S., but lavender. Ford liked me, and when I smiled, he went red in embarrassment.

Jenks snickered, and Edden harrumphed. “Can we get on with this?” the FIB captain complained.

Letting the amulet drop to where I couldn't see it, I straightened, suddenly nervous. “Do you really think Kisten is still alive?”

His brow knitting, Edden crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “I don't know. But the faster we find him, the better.”