For a Few Demons More (37 page)

“She's fine,” he said, swooping back in.

I wedged my soaked shoes and socks off, padding into the kitchen to leave wet prints as I dropped the bucket just inside it. Continuing on, I headed to my bathroom to wash my comforter. “Ceri's upset, huh?” I asked, fishing to find out what had happened while I was out.

“She's crushed,” he said, landing on the raised lid as I punched buttons to get the washing machine going. “And you're going to have to wait. The power is out. Can't you tell?”

I hesitated, only now realizing it was eerily quiet in here, lacking the usual hum of computers, fridge fans, and everything else. “Not doing too well, am I?” I said, remembering Ceri gaping up at me, her hair in disarray and her eyes wide in shock at my having shoved her.

“Ah, we love you anyway,” Jenks said, taking flight. “The church is clear. The front door is still bolted. I've got some things to do in the gar
den, just yell if you need me.”

He lifted up, and I smiled at him. “Thanks, Jenks,” I said, and he darted out, the buzz of his wings obvious in the power-outage-silenced air.

Shoving my comforter into the washer, I started to plan out my day: shower, eat, debase myself to Ceri, call the holy guy and offer to have his baby if he would find a way to remove the blasphemy and resanctify the church, prep some spells to storm the evil-vampire fortress. Typical Saturday stuff.

Barefoot, I wandered into the kitchen. I couldn't make coffee with the power out, but I could make tea. And by the time I changed into something dry, the water would be hot.

As I rattled around to get the kettle going, my thoughts kept returning to Piscary. I was in big trouble. I didn't think he had forgiven me for walloping him into unconsciousness with a chair leg, and I had an ugly feeling I was still alive so he could use me to bring Ivy in line when the timing was right. Even worse was my growing belief that he and Al were working together. This all was simply too convenient.

From what Al had said, I didn't think it was possible to summon and hold a demon in a circle if he was possessing someone. So Piscary had taken the credit for ridding Cincy of its newest Inderlander in what was probably a prearranged agreement. For services rendered, the master vampire had been pardoned for murdering those ley line witches last year. It was a con. The entire thing was a con. My only question now was who had helped arrange it, 'cause Piscary couldn't safely summon a demon in prison. Someone had helped him set it up.

It just wasn't fair.

The biting scent of sulfur rose as I lit a match and got the burner going. I held my breath as the smoke dissipated, thinking. If I didn't do something soon, I was going to be dead. Either Cincy would run me out on a rail for having dinner with Al and then letting him incinerate bouncers and toss six witches into the ever-after, or Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong would band together and kill me for the focus, or there was the yet-undiscovered faction still trying to find out who had the thing, according to Al. I had to get rid of it. I didn't know how vampires had kept it quiet for so long. Hell, they'd hidden it for half of forever before Nick found it.

My face blanked, and my motions slowed as I set the kettle on the flame. Vampires. Piscary. I needed protection from everyone and his
brother, protection Piscary specialized in. What if I gave the focus to Piscary in return for his freaking protection? Sure, Al and Piscary worked together, but vampire politics came before personal power plays. And even if Al did find out, so what? Al was hiding over here. Once the focus was safe, I could call Minias and rat out Al to get rid of him. I could turn in my favor for that, right? Then I'd be free of Al and Piscary both, and the damned focus would again be safely hidden.

I stood in my kitchen staring at nothing, elation and angst trickling through me. I'd have to trust Piscary to keep it in hiding. Not to mention giving up his desire to kill me. But he thought in terms of centuries, and I wasn't going to last that long. Vampires didn't want the status quo to change. Piscary had everything to gain if I gave it to him, and the only thing he had to lose was revenge.

Hell, if I did this right, I could get Lee free and Trent would owe me big-time.

“Oh,” I whispered, my knees feeling funny, “I like this….”

The front doorbell bonged, and I jerked. Rex was sitting in the kitchen's threshold—staring at me—and I brushed past her. If I was lucky, it was Ceri. I had tea already going.

“Rache!” Jenks said, zipping in from who knew where, his voice excited as I paced barefoot through the sanctuary. “You'll never guess who's on the front steps.”

Ivy?
I thought, my heart leaping, but she would have just walked in. I hesitated, drawing my hand back from the door, but Jenks looked wound up, glowing in the smothering darkness of the foyer with excitement, not fear. “Jenks,” I said in exasperation, “cut the twenty questions and tell me who's out there.”

“Open it!” he said, eyes bright and dust spilling from him. “You're clear. Tink's a Disney whore, this is great! I'm going to get Matalina. Hell, I'm getting my kids.”

Rex had followed us—pulled by Jenks, not me—and with images of news cameras and vans, I reached for the locking bar, sliding it up and away. Nervous, I looked down at myself, fully aware of the disastrous image I made, with my salt-stained dripping hair, a pixy by my side, and a cat at my bare feet. God, I lived in a church!

But it wasn't a news crew on my front steps blinking at me in the sun; it was Trent.

Surprise flickered over Trent, then vanished under the cool confidence of his six-hundred-dollar suit and hundred-dollar haircut. Quen stood on the walk below like a chaperone. There was a fist-size pale blue package in Trent's hands, the lid fastened with a matching bow lined in gold. “Is this a bad time, Ms. Morgan?” Trent said, green eyes flicking from my bare feet to Rex, then back up to me.

It was friggin' seven o'clock. I should be in bed right now, and he knew it. Painfully conscious of my damp, rumpled state, I shook my stringy curls out of my eyes. My thoughts zinged back to my idea to get Lee free of Al, but he was here for Ceri. I had almost forgotten.

“Please tell me that's not for me?” I said, gaze dropping to the gift, and he flushed.

“It's for Ceri,” he said, his gray-edged voice melting into the humid morning. “I wanted to give her something as a visible display of how pleased I am to find her.”

Visible display…
God, Trent had a crush on her before even meeting her. Lips pressed tight, I crossed my arms over my chest, but my tough-chick image was being ruined by Rex twining about my feet. She didn't fool me—I was a convenient rubbing post, that's all—and when she realized I was wet, she gave me an insulted look and stalked away. “You didn't find Ceri,” I said tartly. “I did.”

“Can I come in?” he asked wearily.

He took a step forward, but I didn't move and he stopped. My attention flicked behind him to Quen in his black outfit and shades. They had brought the Beemer instead of the limo. Good call; Ceri wouldn't be impressed. “Look,” I said, not wanting him in my church unless there was a reason, “I didn't think you were coming, so I didn't say anything to her. This really isn't the best time.”
Not with her crying the way she was.
“I'm usually asleep right now. Why are you here so early? I said four o'clock.”

Trent took another step, and I stiffened, almost falling into a defensive stance. Quen twitched, and Trent rocked back. He glanced behind him, then rounded on me. “Damn it, Rachel, stop screwing with me,” he said, jaw clenched. “I want to meet this woman. Call her.”

My eyes widened.
Ooooooh, pushed a button, did I?
My gaze rose to Jenks sitting out of sight on the lintel inside, and he shrugged. “Jenks, you want to see if she can come over?”

He nodded, and surprise showed on both Trent and Quen when he dropped down. “You bet. She'll probably want a minute to get her hair brushed.”

And her face washed, and put on a dress that doesn't have graveyard dirt on it.

“Quen,” Trent ordered, and my warning flags went up.

“Just Jenks,” I said, and Quen's soft-soled shoes scuffed to a halt on the damp sidewalk. The dark elf looked to Trent for direction, and I added, “Quen, park your little butt right here or nothing's happening.” I didn't want Quen over there. Keasley would never speak to me again.

Jenks hovered, waiting, and Trent's eyebrows bunched, weighing his options.

“Oh, please, test me,” I mocked, and Trent grimaced.

“Do it her way,” he said softly, and Jenks darted off, gone in a flash of transparent wings.

“See?” I said, beaming. “That wasn't so hard.” From behind me came a chorus of high-pitched giggles, and Trent blanched. Seeing him nervous, I stepped aside. “You want to come in? She might be a while. You know how those thousand-year-old princesses are.”

Trent glanced past the dark foyer, abruptly reluctant. Quen took the steps two at a time, brushing past me in a whiff of oak leaves and aftershave.

“Hey!” I snapped, following him in. Trent pushed into motion and came in on my heels. He didn't shut the door, probably for a quick getaway, and as Trent drew to a halt in the middle of the sanctuary, I ducked back into the foyer and yanked the door shut.

Pixies squealed from the rafters, and Trent and Quen warily watched them. I plucked at my salt-stained shirt and tried to find an air of nonchalance as I prepared to introduce His Most Holy Pain in the Ass to Miss Elf Princess.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I strolled past Quen and flopped into my rolling chair, parked beside my desk. “Have a seat,” I said, shifting back and forth and gesturing to Ivy's furniture, still arranged in the inner corner of the church. “You're in luck. We usually don't have our living room out here, but we're doing some remodeling.”

Trent looked at the gray suede couch and chairs and turned away, glancing at my desk before moving on to Ivy's piano, where interest pulled his eyebrows high. “I'll stand,” he said.

Rex strolled in from the dark foyer and headed right for Quen. Much to my surprise, the older elf crouched, fondling the orange cat's ears to make her flop onto her back to show her white belly. Quen rose with Rex in his hands, and the cat's eyes slitted in pleasure as she purred.

Stupid cat.

Trent cleared his throat, and my gaze shot to him.

“Rachel,” he said, setting his gift on top of the closed piano, “do you make a habit of showering in your clothes?”

My back-and-forth motion stopped. I tried to think up a lie, but that the power was out didn't lend itself for me to be damp. “I…uh, slept in the graveyard,” I said, not wanting to tell him my neighbor had downed me with my own spell, hoping Trent might think it was dew.

A smirk came over him, and somehow he made it look good. He knew I was afraid of Piscary. “You should have killed Piscary when you had the opportunity,” he said, his wonderful voice filling the open space of the sanctuary with the sound of grace and comfort. Damn, the man had a beautiful voice. I had almost forgotten. And yes, I could have killed Piscary and probably gotten off with a plea of self-defense, but if I had, the vampire wouldn't be around to hide the focus for me. So I said nothing. Trent, though, apparently wanted to talk.

“That doesn't explain why you're soaking wet,” he prompted.

My jaw clenched, but then I forced myself to relax. Hell, if Ivy could do it, I could, too. “No,” I said cheerfully. “It doesn't.”

Carefully lowering himself to sit on the piano bench, he inclined his head. “Having trouble with your charms?” he said, fishing for an answer.

“Absolutely not.”

Quen let Rex drop to the floor, and the cat shook herself, making the little bell Jenks had put on her jingle. I watched Trent fidget subtly, reading in his slightly elevated color and his crisp enunciation how nervous he was. My thoughts went to his anger when he had asked me to work security for his nuptials, his blaming me for Lee's capture and installation as a demon's familiar. A twinge of guilt took me, quickly suppressed. But if I got Lee free of Al, Trent would owe me a big debt of gratitude. One big enough that he might leave me alone?

“Ah,” I said hesitantly into the pixy-giggle-laden air, and Trent looked at me, green eyes interested. Someone in the rafters shrieked when he or she got shoved off the beam, and Trent's eyelid twitched.

Feeling a smidgen of sympathy, I stood and clapped my hands at the ceiling. “Okay, you've all stared enough. Time to go. There's waxed paper behind the microwave. Go polish the steeple.”

Quen started when Jenks's kids dropped down in a swirling maelstrom of silk and high-pitched complaints. It was Jhan who took control, and with his hands on his hips in a painful reminder of Jenks, he browbeat them all into the hallway.

“Thanks, Jhan,” I said. “I heard blue jays earlier. Be sure to watch for them.”

“Yes, Ms. Morgan,” the pixy said seriously, then darted out, Rex trailing under him. There was a crash and a shriek from the kitchen, then nothing.

Wincing, I moved to lean against the back of Ivy's couch. Quen looked at me expectantly, and Trent said, “Aren't you going to see what they broke?”

My head shook. “I…uh, wanted to thank you again for interrupting Al yesterday,” I said, and my face warmed. God! Al had practically pulled me into an orgasm, right in front of everybody.

Trent's attention flicked to the pixies in the side yard, blurs through the stained-glassed windows, and then his gaze came back to me. “No problem.”

Uncomfortable, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Really. You didn't have to, and I appreciate it.”

Quen shifted his weight and settled in, and, seeing his relaxed posture, Trent found a less-stiff position. He still looked like a male model, sitting at Ivy's baby grand. “I don't like bullies,” he said simply, as if embarrassed.

I grimaced, wishing Ceri would hurry up. A beep came from the kitchen, and the whine of electronics hit my middle ear. The lights winked on, invisible in the bright sun, and from behind me the TV slowly blossomed into noise. Scrambling for the remote, I clicked it off.

Embarrassment sprang up from nowhere, and I got mad at myself. I could feel Trent evaluating me and my life—my little TV, Ivy's living room set, my plant-strewn desk, the two-bedroom, two-bath church we lived in—and it ticked me off that I was coming in so much shorter than his huge living room, his big-screen TV, and his stereo system that filled a wall.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, hearing the washer start to fill. I bet Trent didn't have to entertain with the
chug chug
of a Whirlpool in the background.

Flicking off the overhead lights as I went, I stopped in my bathroom to open the washer's lid. It could soak. Then I did a quick check in Ivy's bathroom in case Trent wanted to rifle through her medicine cabinet under the excuse of using the can. It was neat and tidy, the incense-and-ashes scent of vampire a dim hint under the orange-perfumed soap she used. Depressed now, I headed to the kitchen to see if the lights were on.

My cell phone rang, the electronic music blaring out to startle me. Scrambling for it, I cursed Jenks. I usually had it on vibrate, but someone—aka Jenks—had monkeyed with it, changing my ring tones. Fumbling to the tune of “I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts,” I finally wrestled the thing out of my damp pocket.
Real funny, Jenks. Ha-ha.

It was Glenn's number, and after a moment's hesitation I leaned against the kitchen counter and flipped it open. I had a bug to put in his ear.

“Hi, Glenn,” I said tightly; he knew I was usually sleeping right about now. “I hear Piscary's out. It would have been
nice
if
someone
had told me the undead vampire
I put in jail
was
free
!”

I could hear keyboards and a loud argument in the background. Glenn's sigh was heavy over it. “Sorry,” he said by way of greeting. “I left a message on your phone when I heard.”

“I never got it,” I said, only slightly mollified. Then I grimaced. “Look, I didn't mean to bark at you. But I spent the night in my graveyard, and I'm a little cranky.”

“I would've called again,” Glenn said, and I heard papers being shuffled. “But when your demon burned down The Warehouse using their bouncers as kindling, we got swamped.”

“My demon!” I yelped, phone pressed tight to my ear. “Since when is Al
my
demon?” I said softly, remembering how well Trent and Quen could hear.

“Since you called him up to testify.” The FIB officer covered the mouthpiece. I heard something muttered, and I stewed until he returned.

“That doesn't explain why Piscary is out,” I snarled.

“What do you expect?” Glenn said, sounding annoyed. “Neither the I.S. nor the FIB is equipped to deal with a demon who can walk under the sun. You weren't doing anything. There was an emergency meeting of the City Council, and they let Piscary out to deal with it.” He hesitated, then, “I'm sorry. They gave him a full pardon.”

City Council? That meant Trent had known. Hell, he'd been in on it. What a total ass. I had risked my soul to put Piscary behind bars for killing ley line witches. Apparently that meant nothing. It made me wonder why I'd even bothered.

“This isn't why I called,” Glenn said. “Another body has turned up.”

My thoughts were still on Piscary, apparently free to do whatever he wanted to my roommate. “And you want me to come down?” I said, my hand to my forehead and my head bowed as I got angrier. “I told you. I'm not an investigator, I'm a haul-them-in person. Besides, I don't know whether I want to work for you anymore if you're just going to let murderers out when things get rough.”

“Rough!” Glenn exclaimed. “We had sixteen major fires last night, five riots, and a near lynching of some guy in a dress reading Shakespeare in the park. I don't think they even know the number of fender benders and assault charges. It's a demon. You said yourself you spent the night hiding in your churchyard.”

“Hey!” I snapped.
That was unfair
. “I was hiding from Piscary, not Al. Al's burning things up to get me to go to the ever-after with him. And don't you
dare
sit there and call me a coward because I don't want to.”

I was furious—my anger fueled by guilt—and I fumed until Glenn muttered, “Sorry.”

“All right, then,” I huffed, wrapping an arm around my middle and turning away from the hall.
This isn't my fault. I'm not responsible for Al's actions.

“At least he's gone,” Glenn said, no emotion in his voice.

I laughed bitterly. “No, he isn't.”

There was a moment of silence. “Piscary said—”

“Piscary and Al are working together. And you fell for it, letting him out so now you have two monsters with free run of Cincy, not one.” My face twisted bitterly. “Don't ask me to take care of them for you this time, okay?”

The background office noise filled my ear. “Can you come down here anyway?” Glenn finally said. “I want you to identify someone.”

My heart clenched. He had said there was another body. Suddenly Piscary was the last thing on my mind. “David?” I said, knees going weak, cold though the sun shone in strong on my back through the kitchen window. Someone had killed him. Someone was killing Weres looking for the focus, and lots of people knew that David was my alpha.
God help me, they've killed him.