The Outlaw Demon Wails (17 page)

I bit my lip and listened to my pulse in my ears. “Get the hell out of here, Al,” I said, not bothering to put any more direction behind it.

He blinked slowly. His features smoothed out, and a real smile curved over his face. “You're either really smart, or even more stupid than I thought,” Al said, then vanished with a dramatic flair of red smoke.

“Rachel!” Jenks shouted, buzzing furiously in my face and shedding dust. “What the hell are you doing? He'll come right back!”

I took a slow breath and straightened. Scrying mirror in my grip, I carefully listened to the church, feeling the air for any sign of demons. My hand ached, and I flexed it, plucking a few of Al's hairs from under my fingernails in disgust. “Let it go, Jenks,” I said. Something was shifting between Al and me—had shifted. I didn't know quite what, but I felt different. Maybe because I wasn't whining to Minias. Maybe me treating Al with more respect might just get me a little more respect from him. Maybe.

“You stupid witch!” Jenks was shouting. “Get your lily-white ass on holy ground. He's going to come back!”

“Not tonight he won't.” The adrenaline crashed, and I found my knees shaking. My gaze slid to Rynn Cormel, standing in the corner trying to control himself, and I took another even breath to try to slow my pulse and not smell so tempting. The vampire still hadn't moved, but he was starting to look more human. Tired, I slid the scrying mirror back where it belonged between my three untouched demon books. Al had burned a mundane earth charm book.

Rynn took a step forward, jerking to a halt when Jenks got between us and buzzed a warning. The vampire was disgusted. “You let him go,” the man said. “With no compulsion. You
do
deal in demons.”

The coffee was done, and I crossed the room, trailing my trembling fingers through the plane of the bubble to break it as I passed. I settled against the counter where I could see both the man and the arch to the hallway. Taking a steadying breath, I poured a cup of coffee, and after asking Rynn Cormel with a gesture if he wanted any, I took a sip.

“I don't deal in demons,” I said when the first of it slipped down my throat. “They deal in me. Thanks for trying to help, but Jenks and I had it under control.” I didn't want him thinking I needed his protection. Vampire protection came at a cost—one I
wasn't
going to pay.

Rynn Cormel's eyebrows rose. “Had it under control? I saved your life.”

Jenks huffed. “Saved
our
lives? Your hairy ass! Rachel was the one that saved
yours
. She circled him.” The pixy turned to me, missing Rynn's dark expression. “Rache,” he fussed. “Get on holy ground. He might come back.”

I frowned at him while my free hand prodded my ribs for a possible bruise. “I'm fine. Take a chill pill before you set your dust on fire.” The pixy sputtered, and I looked at the master vampire. “Do you want to sit down?”

Jenks made a burst of frustrated noise. “I'm going to check on my kids,” he muttered, then darted out.

Rynn Cormel watched him leave. He gauged my fatigue, then eased across the room to sit in Ivy's chair before her cracked monitor. There was a long, bloodless scratch on his cheek, and his hair was mussed. “He was burning your books,” he said, as if it was important to him.

I glanced at the pentagram Al had sketched on my counter and the second book sitting in a pile of ash. “He wanted out,” I said. “He was burning my books because he was pissed I was going to call another demon to put him in custody. I'm hoping that because I gave him a night of peace he will give me the same.”
God help me. I'm trusting a demon to make a moral decision based on respect?

The vampire's expression shifted to understanding. “Ah-h-h-h-h. You chose the harder, riskier path, but by doing so, it told him you weren't going to rely on another for your safety. That you don't fear him.” His head tilted. “You should, you know.”

I nodded. I should fear Al. I did. But not tonight. Not after seeing him…disheartened. If he was depressed that a stinking little witch kept evading him, then maybe he should stop treating me like a stinking little witch and treat me with some respect.

Deciding Rynn Cormel was fully in control of himself, my shoulders started to relax. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

He allowed himself a slow, charismatic smile. I was alone with Rynn Cormel, politician extraordinaire, master vampire, and once ruler of the free world. I pulled the sugar closer to the coffee. I was starting to shake, and I was going to blame it on low blood sugar. Yeah, that was it.

“You sure you don't want some coffee?” I said, ladling in a third spoonful of sugar. “It's fresh.”

“No. No, thank you,” he said, then winced, looking utterly charming. “Ah, I find I'm in the position of being embarrassed,” he said, and I caught back my snort. “I came here to assure myself that you were well after your demon attack yesterday, and I see that not only are you fine, but that you're fully capable of protecting yourself. Ivy was not overestimating your skill. I owe her an apology.”

Smiling faintly, I pushed the sugar away. It was nice to hear a compliment once in a while. But undead vampires don't get embarrassed. He was a young, sweet-talking, very experienced master vampire, and I watched his nostrils expand as he breathed in Ivy's and my mingled scents.

The vampire shook his head in a very human gesture. “The woman has a will like no other,” he said, and I knew he was talking about Ivy besting her instinct to bite me. It was hard when we lived together like this.

“Tell me about it,” I said, all of my awe from sitting in my kitchen with Rynn Cormel washed away by the panic of fighting for my life. “I think she uses me to test herself.”

Rynn Cormel's gaze came back from Mr. Fish. “Is that so?”

The questioning tone in his voice made me nervous, and I watched him catalog the mixing of Ivy's life and mine. Standing straighter, I gestured with my coffee mug. “What can I do for you, Mr. Cormel?”

“Rynn, please,” he said, flashing me one of his famous smiles that had
helped save the free world. “I think after that, we should be on a first-name basis.”

“Rynn,” I said cautiously, thinking this was really weird. I took a sip of coffee and eyed him over it. If I didn't already know he was dead, I'd never have guessed he wasn't alive. “Don't take this the wrong way, but why do you care if I'm okay or not?”

His smile widened. “You're part of my camarilla, and I take my duties seriously.”

I suddenly wished Jenks was here. A spike of fear plinked through me, and I became very interested in the whereabouts of my splat gun. Rynn wasn't living, but the sleepy-time charm would drop him as fast as anyone else. “I won't let you bite me,” I said, the threat in my voice clear as I forced myself to take another drink of coffee. The bitter smell seemed to help.

Other than his pupils dilating, he hid the effect my fear had on him. I was impressed.

“I'm not here to bite you,” he said, pushing his chair back away from me an inch or so. “I'm here to keep anyone else from doing so.”

I watched him suspiciously and uncrossed my ankles—getting ready to move if I had to. He had told Al that I belonged to him. Tried to save me from Al because of that. “But you consider me part of your camarilla,” I said, not dumb enough to tell him I didn't want his help just yet. “Don't you bite everyone in it?”

At that, he relaxed, leaning forward to push Ivy's keyboard out of the way and put his elbows on the table. An eager light filled him, and I marveled at how alive and excited he looked. “I don't know. I've never had one,” he explained, his dark eyes fixed earnestly on mine. “And I've been told I'm charmingly eager in my efforts to start one. A politician can't—it doesn't make for a fair race.”

Shrugging, he leaned back, looking very attractive, confident, and young. “And when the chance arose for me to prevent Piscary's children from being scattered, to take his well-structured, happy camarilla as my own and assert a claim on you and Ivy?” He hesitated, his attention traveling over my demolished kitchen. “It made my decision to retire very easy.”

My mouth went dry.
He had retired to get closer to Ivy and me?

Rynn Cormel's gaze returned to me. “I came here tonight to make sure you were intact, which I can see you are. Ivy said you were capable of protecting yourself, but I assumed her assurances were simply another one of her ways to keep me from meeting you.”

I glanced at the empty hall, things starting to fall into place. “That run of hers tonight was fake, wasn't it,” I asked, but it wasn't a question.

The vampire smiled, bringing a leg up to rest a foot on his knee. He looked really good sitting there in my kitchen. “I'm pleased Ivy was telling me the truth. I'm suitably impressed. You've been bitten more times than your skin shows.”

Again I felt uncomfortable, but I wouldn't cover my neck. That was an invitation to look.

“You have very beautiful skin,” he added, and I felt a dropping sensation, quickly followed by a tingling surge.

Damn it
, I thought, reining in my emotions. I knew my skin—less than a year old and hiding an unclaimed vampire bite—was like a steak dangling in front of a wolf. Unless the wolf was very well fed, he was going to go for it.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, his voice a wisp of hollow sound. “I didn't mean to make you uneasy.”

Yes, you did
, I thought, but I didn't say it aloud. I pushed from the counter, needing the false security of more space between us. “Are you sure you don't want some coffee?” I asked, going to the pot to intentionally turn my back on him. I was afraid, but if I wasn't obvious about it, he'd back off.

“I'm in Cincinnati because of you,” he said. “Piscary's children owe you thanks for their well-being. I thought you should know that.”

My lips pressed tight, and with my arms wrapped about myself, I spun to him, ready for it. The chitchat was over.

“I heard about you and Ivy living together in this church and what she wants from you,” he said, and my face flamed. “If you can save her soul after her first death,” he continued, “it would be the most significant advance in vampire history since the live-video feed.”

Oh…that.
I hesitated, embarrassed. This was not what I had expected.

The master vampire smiled. “Lacking a soul is why most vampires don't continue past their thirty-year death anniversary,” he explained. “By then, the people who loved them and have been giving them blood are either undead as well or simply dead. Blood from someone who doesn't love you is a thin meal, and without a soul, an undead vampire has a difficult time convincing anyone that he or she loves them. It makes it hard to form an emotional bond that is real and not contrived.” He shifted, the scent of vampiric incense coming clear to me. “It can be done, but it takes a lot of finesse.”

Somehow, I didn't think Rynn Cormel had that problem. “So if I can save Ivy's soul…,” I prompted, not liking where this was going.

“It will allow the undead to continue to form auratic bonds with new people, extending their undead existence forever.”

I leaned against the counter and crossed my ankles. Sipping my coffee, I thought that over, remembering that when Ivy had bitten me she had taken a portion of my aura along with my blood. The theory went along nicely with my private theory that an undead vampire needs the illusion of a soul or aura about it or the brain will realize it is dead and drive the vampire into the sun to kill it, thus bringing the mind, the body, and the soul back into balance.

“I'm sorry,” I said, thinking that the pope would have a coronary at my thoughts. “It can't be done. I don't know how to save Ivy's soul when she dies. I just don't.”

Rynn Cormel's gaze roved over the scattered herbs crushed underfoot, and I warmed, wondering if he knew I'd been experimenting with ways to safely curb Ivy's blood lust.

“You're the one who broke the balance of power between the vampires and the Weres,” he accused so very softly, and I felt cold. “You found the focus,” he continued, and my pulse quickened.

“My boyfriend—my ex-boyfriend—did that.”

“Semantics,” he said, waving a hand. “You brought it into the light.”

“And I buried it.”

“In a Were's body,” he exclaimed, showing a hint of anger.

It might have been to cow me, but it had the opposite effect. Hell, I
had already bound a demon tonight. I was on top of the world. “If you
touch
David…,” I said, setting my cup aside.

But Rynn Cormel only raised his eyebrows, his anger disappearing at the amusement he found in my threats. “Don't try to bully me, Rachel. It makes you look foolish. I'm saying you broke the balance. The artifact is out. Power is shifting. Slowly, with the gentle pace of generations, but it will shift to the Weres.”

He stood. I kept my attention off my splat gun, but I could feel it—utterly too far away.

“If you can find a way for the undead to retain their soul, then the numbers of the undead will grow at a similarly slow pace.” He smiled, starting to button up his coat. “Balance is maintained. No one dies. Isn't that what you want?”

I put a hand to my middle. I suppose I should've expected this; no good deed goes unpunished and all. “And witches and humans?” I asked.

He looked out my kitchen window and into the dark. “Maybe that's up to you, too.”

But what I heard was “Who cares?” Just wanting this to all go away, I said, “I don't know how to do it. You've got the wrong witch.”

Rynn Cormel found his hat and, with a graceful swoop, plucked it from the floor. “I think I have the only witch,” he said, brushing the matted dandelion seed from it. “But even if you don't find a way, others will see what you accomplished and will build on that. In the meantime, what have I lost by declaring your blood off-limits to all but Ivy? What have I spent in making sure that you and she have a chance to develop a blood relationship free of stress and trouble?”