Pale Demon (50 page)

“You said it was only in my imagination!” I exclaimed, turning back to Trent as he stood up and the bed shifted. “You said no one would know!” My eyes darted to the cold feel of metal around my wrist. “And what is this!” There was a band of charmed silver on me. No wonder my head hurt. I was cut off from the ley lines.

“Don’t take it off!” Jenks shrilled as I tried to push it over my wrist, and I let go of it, frightened by his fervor. Maybe my aura wasn’t healed enough to tap a line.

Looking unruffled, Trent tugged his shirt straight, the bright imprint of my hand on his stubbled face. There was a large bruise on the other side, spreading up under his hairline, looking ugly. His right hand was bandaged, and my anger dissolved when I saw that he was missing two fingers, just like in my dream.
What had happened?

“Would you have kissed me if you had known it was real?” he asked, and when I simply stared at him, my face flaming, he turned on his heel. “Ivy, Jenks,” he said, looking stiff as he reached for a cane. “It’s been a pleasure.”

My jaw dropped when his pace was awkward, and then I saw his foot, in a cast. “Trent, wait!” I called, but he kept walking, his back stiff and his neck red. Jenks and Ivy exchanged a heavy look, and I tried to get up, failing. “Trent, I’m sorry for slapping you! Come back. Please! Thank you for getting me out of there. Don’t make me crawl after you. I’m sorry! Damn it, I’m sorry!”

He stopped, his arm stiffly holding open the wide hospital door. The hall noise slipped in, both familiar and hated, and then…he let the door shut and turned back around. I exhaled, falling back against the raised bed, shaking in exhaustion.

“Hey, Rache!” Jenks buzzed close. “What’s it like being dead?”

“A lot like being a sixties housewife. What happened?” Trent said I’d been out for three days. Three days? Where was Pierce? And Bis?

My attention shot to the top of the wardrobe, and a new fear joined the rest when I found him there. The gargoyle was sleeping, an exhausted pale gray with a baby bottle in his tight grip. But what scared me was that I’d known where he was. Even though I was cut off from the ley lines, my eyes had gone right to him. Bis had saved me. Our fates were bound together, and there was nothing I could do about it. He’d chosen me, and now I was responsible for him. For life.

Ivy stood, and I wasn’t surprised when she leaned over the bed and gave me a hug, shocking me from my thoughts. The spicy scent of vampire soaked into me, better than a calming spell. I smiled up at her warmth, feeling loved. “Welcome back,” she whispered, and then she pulled away, her eyes black and tearful. “I have to go, but I’ll come back when your dinner tray is here.”

“You’re leaving?” I said, not liking how my voice wobbled. My gaze darted between her and Bis. “Why?”

“Jenks and I have something to do,” she said, giving the pixy a pointed look.

Jenks hovered between us, spilling a red dust. His hands were on his hips in his best Peter Pan pose. “Like what?” he shot at her. “We’ve done nothing but sit here for three days while you’ve moaned and pissed over Rachel, and now that she’s awake, you want to leave?”

My gaze went to Trent, standing by the window, his back to us.

“Yes,” Ivy said, and I jumped when she gathered my blankets and pulled them up around me, hiding my arms. They were pink, as if I had a sunburn. Ivy and Jenks looked okay, but Trent was a mess. Bis looked kind of gaunt, too. I was afraid to look in a mirror. I had been bleeding from my pores. And Trent had saved me. Maybe twice. Maybe three times.

Seeing my worry, Ivy started to drift back.

“See you around, Rache,” Jenks said, humming loudly as Ivy gave me a last touch on the shoulder and walked out, her boots clattering confidently on the tile. I remembered hearing them in my dreams, their cadence frightened and hesitant. The noise from the hall grew loud, then soft, then silent.

My eyes went to my band of charmed silver, rising to find Trent when the memory of that kiss made my face warm—until my gaze dropped to his cast, then rose to take in his hand. He was missing two fingers. I was missing three days.

“Thank you,” I whispered, but what I wanted to say was, what happened?

Trent’s silhouette stiffened, his back still to me. “You said that,” he said softly.

I tried to shift my weight farther up the pillow, and the blanket that Ivy had tucked around me fell down. “I’m sorry for slapping you,” I added.

Still he didn’t turn. “You said that, too.”

His voice was low and soft, and I remembered him singing to me in words I didn’t understand, holding my soul together. Grimacing, I tried again. “Uh, you’re a good kisser. It was nice.”

His bandaged hand shifted behind his back as he turned to me, wonder in his expression. “Is that why you asked me to stay?”

I managed a thin smile. “No, but I figured you’d turn around if I said it.” He frowned, his thoughts somewhere else, and I added, “You’re supposed to say I’m a good kisser, too.”

At that, he chuckled, but his smile faded fast. Awkward, he moved to an empty chair, one not as close to me as Ivy’s was, but here nevertheless. His eyes flicked to Bis as he sat down, and then a heavy sigh escaped him, a world of hurt in the sound. “You want to know what happened,” he said flatly, more of a statement than a question.

I fingered the band of braided silver around my wrist. It was heavy, more substantial than the one I’d had on in Alcatraz. A faint tingling came from it, not ley line in origin. Wild, elven magic. I flushed again, remembering the kiss, remembering letting his magic flow through me, kindling my chi back to life.

My gaze went to Bis, wishing he would wake up. He looked so sad up there, holding that bottle that had once held my soul. “I remember you singing my soul into that bottle,” I said. “I don’t remember you being hurt.”

A shudder lifted through him. “The sun went down. Al came.” His eyes met mine, the green of them almost gray in the light. “He saw you brain-dead. He was…upset.”

Guilt went through me. “Oh.” Upset, hell, I’d be willing to bet he was furious and looking for someone to take it out on. Damn, Trent was lucky to be alive.

Trent leaned back, his hands going to cradle his knee as he crossed his legs. “I’d go as far as to say he was very upset,” he said, looking at his hand. “It was my fault, naturally. I was the one who freed Ku’Sox. And because he couldn’t take me to the ever-after, he decided to take me apart and move me there bit by bit.”

“My God,” I whispered, seeing his missing fingers in a new way.

“Vivian tried to stop him—”

Worry pulled my heartbeat into a faster pace. “No…”

“She’s in intensive care,” Trent said, and I eased back into the pillow, not relieved, but not as frightened. “She’ll be okay,” he added, his eyes on the floor, undoubtedly reliving it.

“I’m sorry.”

Trent wiped his face in an unusual show of agitation, and I remembered the feel of his bristles on me. “You were brain-dead. He never noticed the bottle. Bis took you, your soul, and hid it away. As far as Al knows, you are still dead.”

He was looking at my sunburned arms and the band of charmed silver, and I saw it in a new way. Al thought I was dead? “You bested him,” I said, and Trent gave a bark of laughter. It was a bitter, angry sound, and it struck through me cold.

“Bested him?” he said, uncrossing his legs. “We survived. And that was because of Pierce.”

Again fear took me. Trent had said Al thought I was dead. Al was still alive. “Where is Pierce?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Trent stood, turning to the window. I couldn’t read his tells. I was afraid to. “Pierce knew you were alive in the bottle,” he said softly, the hospital noise coming in faintly. “He also knew that I was the only one who could get you safely out. If I died, you would die.” Trent turned, his head bowed, looking nothing like himself in his wrinkled clothes and with his hair unstyled. “Pierce doesn’t like me much, but he took the blame. Said he was the one who caused your death by his failure to protect you and keep Ku’Sox from taking you into the lines. Al dropped me and took him instead.”

My face lost its expression. Pierce had sacrificed himself. To save me.

Panicked, I sat up, swinging my feet to get out of bed and coming to a frustrated halt. Damn it, I had a catheter. “Where’s my mirror?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t have it. I started pulling at the silver around my wrist again. “I have to talk to Al.”

Trent’s face was empty of emotion when he turned back to me. “He did it because he loves you. I pity him.”

“Al won’t kill him,” I said frantically, not knowing if it was true. “He’ll be okay.”

Shaking his head, Trent smiled sadly. “I don’t pity him because he’s a demon familiar. I pity him because he loves you.”

I took a breath to say something but couldn’t exhale. Damn it, he’d sacrificed himself so that I would live. He knew I didn’t love him, and he’d done it anyway. “I-I…,” I stammered, fingering the band of silver around my wrist. It was humming with wild magic, slumbering deep within it. I could feel it. I looked up at Trent, confused.

“Al saw you comatose,” Trent said. “He told the demon collective. Perhaps you should keep it that way. This is why I gave you the charmed silver. It was a chance for me to…” He hesitated, sighing as he sat back down. His head was bowed over his knees, and his eyes were on his hands—his beautiful hands, now broken and marred. He might never be able to work some of the finer ley-line charms again, and I shivered.

“My father made you into a tool to save the elven race,” he said softly, his voice pained. “It saved your life but took it from you at the same time by making you into something that most people would deem too dangerous to live.” His head came up, and he met my gaze squarely. “I don’t know why, but I feel responsible. For everything. You weren’t given a choice, and I’m sorry for that.”

“You didn’t do anything,” I said, my mouth dry. “And your father saved my life.”

“By twisting it to his own ends, without asking your permission.” Trent exhaled. “I wanted to give you your choice back. That’s all.”

I followed his gaze to the band of silver around my wrist. That’s all? That was everything.

“It’s not a normal zip strip,” Trent said as he straightened up from his hunch over his knees. “It doesn’t simply cut off your contact to the lines but to the demon collective as well. Otherwise, they would know you were alive, even if you shunned the lines for the rest of your life.”

My lips parted in understanding. If Al had seen me comatose and I was cut off from the collective, then I was as good as dead. Free?

“You can do earth magic still, and ley-line magic will work on you like any human, but demon magic won’t if it goes through the collective,” Trent said, and I brought my wandering thoughts back to him.

“Curses won’t touch me,” I said, and he nodded, his expression more earnest and open than I’d ever seen it. It was as if he was down to his bare essence, too tired and beaten to hide it.

“I didn’t do it to protect you. I did it because my father made you into something, and unless you choose to be that person, then you are nothing but a tool. You are not a tool, Rachel,” he said earnestly, almost frighteningly. “You are a person. You can stay as you are and be, well, not normal, but as close as you can get to it seeing that the coven has denounced you as a day-walking demon. Or you can take the charmed silver off and be who you really are. It’s up to you. It’s your choice.”

He was silent and still now, and I looked at the band, circling it around and around my red wrist. I was a day-walking demon who couldn’t do magic. But I could feel wild magic in me, simmering. Was it coming from the band of silver? Or had it been there all the time, and I only now noticed it, now that my contact with the ley lines was utterly and absolutely cut off?

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Trent said, not understanding my silence. “A choice?”

I took a deep breath, pulling my gaze up as I gathered my thoughts.

“Yes. Yes it is,” I said, and he smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

It was what I wanted. What I had always wanted. So why did it feel so empty?

T
rent’s long black car pulled up to the curb, a soft hush in the dark. In an instant, Ivy was reaching for the handle. The front passenger’s door opened, and she was standing in the street, her eyes on the church’s steeple. Looking back in, she glanced first at Quen, then at Trent, sitting in the back with me and Bis, Lucy in her car seat between us.

“Thanks for the ride, Trent. Quen,” she said, her voice low but sincere. And then she was gone, boot heels clicking on the night-cooled pavement, visibly shaking off being too far from home for too long. Vampires truly were the homebodies of Inderland society, and it had been hard on her in ways I could never imagine. That Trent had chartered a specially designed, low-flying jet to get us home in hours, not days, had been a godsend.

“Tell your pilot his pressure control still sucks,” Jenks said through the open window in parting, and then darted to join Ivy. Giving me a toothy grin, Bis hopped to the open sunroof, and launched himself after them and into the dark.

I held a hand to my head to keep my hair from flying around in the draft from his wings, and Lucy frowned in her sleep, her hand flashing out as if she was falling. Together, Jenks, Ivy, and Bis ascended the stairs in the dark, pulling the heavy oak doors open to let out a flood of light and pixies. I glanced at the headache-inducing cloud of silk and gossamer, then settled back in the soft leather, reluctant to get out—even as glad as I was to get home.

A flash of liquid light turned into Jenks darting to the steeple as he checked in with the pixy on sentry duty. I heard a sharp wing chirp and a high-pitched harangue start. Jenks wasn’t happy about something. More reason to just sit for a moment.

With the sound of clicking metal, Quen undid his seat belt and got out. There were kids shouting somewhere in the next street over, and the revving of a car engine. The trunk whined open, and I shifted my new shoulder bag onto my lap. I didn’t know what had happened to my old one. My phone was gone, but at least Vivian had given me my scrying mirror—for what it was worth. “Thanks for the ride home,” I said to Trent softly, so as not to wake Lucy. “Don’t mind Jenks. The pressure was fine.”

Smiling, Trent tucked a blanket with the Disney logo under Lucy’s chin. She squirmed, but didn’t wake. “It was my pleasure. The honey seemed to do the trick.”

“Yup.” Ivy was yelling at Jenks, who had dropped back down into the church by the sound of it—something about leaving his kids alone and that they’d done okay. Angels and ass seemed to figure into the conversation. Sighing, I looked at the light spilling from the church. I was tired, and getting out of the car only meant more work.

“I know I’ve said it before, but thank you. For Lucy,” Trent said.

I turned to Trent, then smiled at her, pouting in her sleep. My gaze flicked back to him, and I studied his love for her, honest and irrefutable on his face. He was different, less confident, softer. Or maybe I was just seeing him that way. “She’s beautiful,” I said, readjusting her blanket.

The thumps from the trunk were obvious, and I reached for the door.

“Ceri is due any day now,” Trent said, and I wondered if he was trying to get me to stay a moment longer. “But with Lucy there first, Ceri’s baby will be the second born.”

I slumped back, curious. “Lucy is the ranking elf of the next generation? Not Ceri’s baby?”

His new softness vanished, and he eyed me steadily. “I meant it when I said you’d have a say in it.”

Tugging my new jacket closer, I tried to make light of it. “You mean, like I have to babysit or something?”

“I was thinking more like godmother.”

My nervous mirth changed to alarm. Oh jeez, a demonic godmother. Feeling ill, I glanced at him. “Okay. Yes. I’d like that. Thank you. It’s an honor,” I said, not sure this was a good idea but gratified nevertheless. I had Trent’s trust, and it was apparently an all-or-nothing affair. And I guess…he had mine.

I jumped when my door opened, Quen standing ready with my two suitcases and garment bag at the curb. They had canceled my brother’s wedding since my mom had been stuck in jail while San Francisco rocked and rolled. Robbie was never going to forgive me, and I wasn’t invited to the new wedding next month.

Giving Trent a last smile and Lucy a fond touch on her toes, I got out. Quen helped me arrange one suitcase over my shoulder and handed me my garment bag, never unzipped the entire trip. “Thanks, Quen,” I said when his pockmarked, weathered face curled up in a smile. “Tell Ceri I said hi.” Leaning in, I whispered, “And sorry about the ranking elf-baby thing.”

He laughed, making the dark street seem comforting. “She doesn’t care,” he said. “The two of them are to be raised as sisters, though they don’t share a drop of common blood.” Hesitating, he looked to the church’s open door as a stream of noise flowed out. “Would you like some help getting this in?”

Thinking Trent had to be anxious to get home, I shook my head. “I got it. Thanks.” Leaning down, I grinned at Trent through the window, surprised he’d shifted seats and was now in mine. “Thanks for everything.” I raised a hand, the circle of charmed silver catching the light. “You’re, uh, a lifesaver.”

Oh God. I’d said it. And what’s more, I think I meant it.

Trent flushed in the dim light of the car’s interior. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Then, as if he’d been waiting for the apology, he reached into an inner coat pocket and extended an envelope.

I looked at it suspiciously, shifting the weight of my small carry-on. “What is it?”

“If you don’t want it—” he said, and I snatched it. Sometimes Trent’s envelopes had money in them. “It’s from the Withons,” he said as I tore it open and saw a check. A nice check. Six months’ worth of check. Damn, it would pay for a new car to replace the one I’d cracked up on the bridge and then some.

“It’s restitution for the trouble they put you through,” Trent said, bringing my attention up to see him smiling in a rather devious way, and I tucked the money in my back pocket. This would help a lot. Not to mention that it would be the only monetary recompense I was likely going to get for ridding San Francisco of Ku’Sox. ’Course, the demon had destroyed a huge chunk of the Tenderloin, but that area could use a little sprucing up.

“Did you make them do this?” I asked, wincing at the shrill pixy harangue filtering out.
Ahhhh, it’s good to be home.

Trent’s expression went from sly to gratified. “You did good,” he said, fingers resting gently on Lucy. “Have you given any more thought—”

“What, you still want me to work for you? I’m pretty much useless,” I said, feeling the charmed silver heavy on my wrist.

“That?” Trent said, his eyes flicking to the braided bit of charmed silver. “I told you it was a choice. Just say the word, and I’ll tell you the charm to break it. We can talk at Lucy’s birthday party. You like clowns?”

My mouth dropped open, and Quen edged away from me. “You are not subjecting that sweet little girl to clowns!” I exclaimed.

Chuckling, Trent settled back in the car. “Take care, Rachel,” he said as the window started to go up. “Don’t be afraid to call me. We can teach Lucy how to ride.”

Riding. Right. “You take care, too…Trent,” I said, not knowing if it felt odder saying it or meaning it. The last ten days had been educational. The man was clever, intelligent, and utterly lacking in someone he could just…talk to. He was never himself, even with Ceri. It had to be a lonely way to live.

But it wasn’t my problem, and I gave Quen a small wave and turned to the church. I didn’t wait for them to leave, just picked up my suitcases and headed for the stairs. Jenks met me halfway up. “Fairies!” he shrilled. “In the garden!”

“Now?” I stammered, heart pounding.

“Yes! I mean, no!” he shouted, flying backward as I hesitated on the steps. “They attacked two days ago!”

“Is everyone okay?” I asked, my gaze going to the steeple, seeing Bis there now, the glint of his red eyes and his relaxed posture telling me everything was fine.

Trent’s window rolled down, and leaning out, he asked, “Is there a problem?”

Concerned, I said, “Jenks says we were attacked two days ago.”

Quen paused with his hand on the door, exchanging a look with Trent. Was the coven still at it? They’d pardoned me, and even though they were mad at Trent for having released Ku’Sox, they weren’t going to do anything about it lest Trent retaliate with something worse.

“I was eating Tink-blasted cotton candy while fairies were attacking my children!” Jenks said, dripping a red dust.

A faint smile touched Quen’s face, and giving me a nod, he got in the car. Trent, though, was still leaning out the window. “Perhaps Quen should look over your security before we go,” he said, then ducked back into the car.

Quen met my startled gaze, sitting behind the wheel but with the door still open. “Sa’han?”

Jenks was a bright ball of irritation. “My security is fine,” he snarled.

But Trent was talking to Quen over the seat. “It wouldn’t hurt to look around,” I heard him say faintly. “I’ll come in in a minute. Lucy needs attention.”

He wants to come in?
But Quen was getting out of the car, his body language not confused but perhaps…indulgent, and it wouldn’t hurt to have Quen look under my bed. “Okay. Sure. I don’t care,” I said, and Jenks rose up, appalled.

“Rache!” he shrilled.

“We’ve been gone for almost two weeks,” I said as I started up the steps again. “What can it hurt?” But what I was thinking was,
What does Trent want?

Quen’s door thumped shut, and I waited on the threshold for him, yanking the door shut behind us and dropping the suitcase in the dark foyer. Ivy was casually standing at the pool table sorting almost two weeks’ worth of mail, and I relaxed. Something felt like it was missing, though.
Pierce.

“We are all fine,” Jenks was saying as I breathed in the scent of Quen, seeming all the stronger for the foyer being dark. “We don’t need your help.”

Quen flashed a bright smile. “Mr. Kalamack would like me to inspect the grounds.” His gaze shifted to Ivy as if for permission. Wise man. “Is that all right with you, ladies?”

Ivy didn’t even look up from the mail. “Knock yourself out. Stay out of my room.”

Quen turned to me next, and when Jenks buzzed off in annoyance, I asked him, “What is he really looking for?”

Again, he smiled, but it was softer this time. “An excuse, I think.”

Great. Just friggin’ great.

Quen brushed past me, a shredded wisp of cinnamon and wine lingering in his wake. “I’m telling you, we’re fine!” came Jenks’s irate shout as he followed him into the hallway, and then the pixy darted back, dripping a bright silver dust. “Rachel!” he whined at me, his long hair getting in his eyes. There wasn’t a single pixy kid in the church, not unusual if their dad was on the warpath.

I trudged forward with my stuff. “Go with him if you want.”

Jenks rose up and down indecisively as if on a string, but when he heard the back door open and shut, he darted to me, flying backward as he fumed.

“What does he want?” Ivy asked mildly as I passed her.

“I’ve no idea.” I had none whatsoever, but I imagined that his claim of tending to Lucy was an excuse so I wouldn’t see him taking the steps in his cast. He could make it all right, but he lacked his usual grace, and I knew it bothered him.

“What happened?” I asked Jenks as I smacked my luggage into the wall in the hallway.

“The kids fought them off,” Jenks admitted, his dust finally starting to dampen as he followed me to my room. “Them and that
fairy girl.
”

He had almost spat out the last, and I elbowed my light switch on to see his face screwed up in a nasty expression. “Belle?” I asked, remembering that Sidereal’s daughter had remained behind to watch me. It smelled stale in my room, and leaving my garment bag and overnight case on the bed, I propped the narrow stained-glass window open. Night sounds, the scent of marigolds, and the singing of pixies seeped in. Hands on my hips, I sighed, glad to be home.

“She has a name? You knew she was here?” Jenks yelped, a burst of dust lighting my perfumes.

“Well, yeah.” I took off my jacket and hung it on my bedpost. “Didn’t you? Jeez, Jenks. She’s been here for months.”

He fumed, his wings drooping and his tiny features cross as I needled him. Relenting, I tugged my closet door open and hung up my garment bag. Unzipping it, the smell of clean fabric spilled out. “Everyone is okay, right?” I prompted, wondering if I should be more concerned.

“Yeah…,” he admitted. “But…”

“Then relax.” I pulled the beautiful dress from the bag and hung it at the back. “Bis!” I shouted, sensing him up on the steeple. He probably couldn’t hear me, but he’d come anyway.

“You don’t care!” Jenks exclaimed, twin pixies rising in my dresser’s mirror. “We were attacked and you don’t care!”

“Of course I care,” I said, then shut the closet door hard enough to make his dust shake. “But I’ve been trapped in a plane with you for five solid hours. No one is hurt, and you need to chill!” He was scowling at me, and I lowered my voice. “Let me catch my breath, okay?” I pleaded.

A small scraping at the lintel brought my attention to the ceiling. It was Bis, his ears pricked and expectant. He hadn’t been his usual self during the few days we’d spent recovering on the coast before flying home. There was a hesitancy between us that hadn’t been there before, a feeling out of new responsibilities and expectations.

Neither of us knew what being bonded meant, but I sensed where he was most of the time, and he knew where I was. And since we couldn’t ask Al or Pierce what my responsibilities were to Bis and his to me, we’d just have to figure it out as we went along. Him teaching me how to line jump wasn’t an issue anymore, so maybe the question was moot.

“Hi, Bis,” I said as Jenks fumed on my dresser. “You want your shirt?”

Immediately he perked up, slithering into my room and dropping onto my bedside table, wings flat to his back. “I was just going to ask you for it,” he said, sending a sliver of concern through me. “Can you put it on me? I want to show the kids.”