The Outlaw Demon Wails (36 page)

“No.” It was a little brusque, and seeing his hurt, I added gently, “I'd rather spell alone, if you don't mind. I'm sorry, Takata.”

I couldn't look at him, afraid that he would know
why
I wanted to spell alone. Damn it, I didn't know how to trade summoning names with a demon, but I knew it involved a curse. Takata, though, was wincing for an entirely different reason, apparently.

“Could you call me by my real name?” he asked, surprising me. “It's kind of stupid, but hearing you call me Takata is worse.”

I paused at the door. “What is it?”

“Donald.”

I almost forgot my misery. “Donald?” I echoed, and he flushed.

He stood, reminding me of how tall he was as he awkwardly tugged his T-shirt down over the top of his jeans. “Rachel, you aren't going to do anything stupid, are you?”

I stopped looking for my shoes when I remembered they were at Trent's. “From your point of view, probably.” Al had tortured my mom because of me. There were no marks on her, but the wounds were there in her mind, and she'd taken them for me.

“Wait.”

His hand was on my shoulder, and when I stared at him he let go.

“I'm not your dad,” he said, gaze lighting on my neck with its bruises and bite marks. “I'm not going to try to be your dad. But I've watched you your entire life, and you do some of the damnedest things.”

The feeling of betrayal was rising again. I owed him nothing, and I couldn't see him in my life anywhere. It had been hell growing up having to be strong for my mother because she couldn't handle things. “You don't know me at all,” I said, letting a sliver of my anger show.

His brow furrowed, he tried to reach out, then let his hand drop. “I know you will do anything for your friends and those you love, ignoring that you're vulnerable and life is fragile. Don't,” he pleaded. “You don't have to take this on all by yourself.”

My anger flared, and I tried to rein it in. “I wasn't planning on it,” I
said bitingly. “I do have resources, friends.” My arm came up and I pointed deeper into the unseen house. “But my mother has been tortured for almost thirteen hours because of me, and I'm going to do something about it!” My voice was rising, but I didn't care. “She suffered as that bastard pretended to be my dad. She endured it knowing that if she let him out of that circle or walked away, he might come after me. I can stop him, and I will!”

“Lower your voice,” Takata said, and I just about lost it. Jaw clenched, I got in his face.

“My mother isn't going to live her life hiding on hallowed ground because of something I did,” I said, more softly now but no less intently. “If I don't do something, next time he might physically hurt her. Or start taking it out on strangers. Or maybe you! Not that I give a flip.”

I headed out into the hall. His footsteps were heavy behind me.

“Damn it, Rachel,” he was saying. “What makes you think you can kill him when the entire demon society can't?”

I scooped up the keys by the front door where I'd left them, sparing a thought that the I.S. was probably looking for Trent's car by now. “I'm sure they can,” I muttered. “I think they simply don't have the guts to do it. And I never said I was going to kill him.” No, I was just going to take his name.
God save me.

“Rachel.”

He took my arm, and I halted, looking up his height to find his expression pinched in deep concern. “There's a reason no one hunts demons.”

I searched his face, seeing me in it everywhere. “Get out of my way.”

His grip tightened. Grabbing his arm, I did a quick ankle tuck and sent him down, resisting the urge to follow it with a fist in his gut—or somewhere a little lower, maybe.

“Ow,” he said, his eyes wide as he stared at the ceiling, one hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath and figure out how he got on the floor.

I looked down at him and his shock. “Are you okay?”

His fingers prodded his lower chest. “Yeah.”

He was in my way, and I waited for him to move. “You want to know
what it's like to have kids?” I said as he sat up. “Some of it's letting your daughter do stuff you think is stupid, trusting that just because you can't do something doesn't mean she can't. That maybe she's smart enough to get herself out of the trouble she gets herself into.”

I felt my focus blur as I realized that's what my mom had done, and though it had been hard and left me knowing more than a thirteen-year-old should, I was better able to handle the bigger dangers my thrill-seeking tendencies got me into.

“I'm sorry,” I said as Takata pulled himself backward to lean against the wall. “Will you watch my mom while I take care of this?”

He nodded, his dreadlocks swinging. “You bet.”

I glanced past the high window in the door to guess at the time, but at least now I could spell at home. “Get her to my church a few hours before sunset,” I said. “If I'm not there, Marshal will be if I can get ahold of him. He's a target now, and you, probably. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put your life in danger.” No wonder he hadn't told me I was his daughter. It wasn't anything that would help extend his life.

“Don't worry about it,” he said.

I hesitated, my stocking feet silent on the carpet as I fidgeted. “Can I take your car? The I.S. is probably looking for Trent's.” A smile curved his thin lips up, and still sitting on the floor, he dug in his pocket and pulled out his keys to hold them up to me. They were foreign and heavy, keys to who knew what.

“I never thought I'd ever hear you asking for my keys,” he said. “It's Ripley's—don't go running any red lights.”

I fidgeted some more, then pulled my hand off the doorknob and crouched to see him face-to-face. “Thanks,” I said, meaning for everything. “Don't take this like I'm forgiving you or anything,” I added, then gave him a tentative hug. His shoulders were bony, and he smelled like metal. He was too startled to do anything back, so I stood and walked out, shutting the door carefully behind me.

A bright glow from the noon sun filled the kitchen, and I sat with one elbow on the table, my forehead cupped in my hand. The other hand, the one with the demon mark, was firmly on the cool glass of the scrying mirror. From the open kitchen window came the sounds of pixies at play. I was exhausted, having missed out on almost an entire night of sleep. And Minias, the demon from judicial hell, was not being helpful.

“What do you mean, you won't do the curse?” I said aloud so Ivy, sitting on the counter by the sink, could hear at least one end of the conversation. “It was your idea!”

A ribbon of irritation-colored thought slipped through my mind, followed by the eerie sensation of words not mine in my head.
Al cut a deal two days ago. He agreed to stand trial, so he's out on bail.

“Trial?” I yelped, and Ivy uncrossed her legs in a show of worry. But Al being out for two days would explain how he'd had time to create a disguise to look like my dad. I hadn't wanted to go to the demons but if Ceri twisted the curse, one of us would have to take on the smut—assuming she would still do it—and if I went through the demons, I could negotiate the smut away. That Minias was reneging on our unfinished
arrangement ticked me off. “When is his trial?” I asked, trying not to freak out.

I pressed my hand harder into the scrying mirror when Minias's presence seemed to fade while he presumably searched for the answer. I was very glad the calling glyph worked when the sun was up. Actually, this was the best time to use it since Minias couldn't follow the connection and simply…appear.

Here it is
, came Minias's bothered thought, diving through my idle musings like ice water.
He's down for sometime in the thirty-sixth.

I closed my eyes and struggled for strength. “The thirty-sixth. Is that this month?” We only had thirty-odd days a month, but they were demons.

No. It's the year.

“Year!” I yelped, and Ivy's face pinched in worry. “This isn't fair! You came to me. I said I'd think about it. I thought about it. I want to do it! He's terrorizing my mother.”

Not my problem. Al is functioning within the law, and everyone is happy. You'll get your say in court after he does, and if it's determined he broke his word to you, Newt will put him in a bottle and that will be the end of it.

“I won't survive twenty years waiting for him to come up on the docket!”

It's not an important case, and you'll have to wait
, he said.
I'm busy. Is there anything else you want to bitch about?

“You little will-o'-wisp of a ghost fart,” I snarled, borrowing one of Jenks's favorites. “I know who's summoning him. I can't touch him because summoning demons isn't illegal.”

You should go into politics and get a law passed
, Minias said, and when I took a breath to protest, he snapped the connection.

I jumped, catching a yelp of surprise at the abrupt sensation of half my mind vanishing. It wasn't really, but I'd been functioning with an expanded capacity and was back to normal.

“Damn it all to the Turn and back!” I yelled, then shoved my scrying mirror across the table to thunk into the wall. “Al cut a deal. He's out on
bail and free to harass me all he wants. By the time his ticket comes up on the docket, I'll be dead and he can say anything he wants.”

Ivy's expression took on a look of pity, and she drew her knees up to her chin. “I'm sorry.” She had been treating me differently since our coffee in the mall. Not standoffish exactly, but a bit hesitant. Maybe it was because our relationship had changed. Or maybe the shift was because I had smacked her into the wall and almost fried her.

“It's not fair!” I exclaimed, standing up and stomping to the fridge. “It's bloody hell not fair!” Furious at my helplessness, I yanked open the fridge and grabbed a bottled juice. “I find out who's summoning Al,” I said as I turned and tried to get the stupid thing open. “And then I can't arrest him. I agree to exchange names with Al, and they change their mind.”

“We'll work something out.” Ivy looked at the archway and put her feet on the floor.

“His court date is in the thirty-sixth,” I said, still struggling with the lid. “I don't even know when that is. And I can't get the damn lid off this juice!”

Slamming the bottle down on the center counter, I stormed out, headed for the living room. “Where's the phone?” I barked, though I knew where it was. “I have to call Glenn.”

My bare feet slapped on the hardwood floors. The soothing grays and smoky shades Ivy had decorated the room in did nothing to calm me. I snatched up the phone and punched Glenn's number in from memory.

“I had better not get his voice mail,” I grumbled, knowing he was working today. It was the day after Halloween and he would have a lot of cleanup to do.

“Glenn here,” came his preoccupied voice, and then a startled, “Rachel? Hey, I'm glad to hear from you. How did you do making it through Halloween?”

My first nasty words died in his concern. Leaning against the fireplace mantel, I let my tension go. “I'm fine,” I said, “but my mom spent the night with my favorite demon.”

The silence was heavy. “Rachel. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

I brought my head up when I realized he thought she was dead. “She's alive,” I said belligerently, and I heard him exhale. “I know who's summoning Al. I need a warrant for Tom Bansen. He's an I.S. boy, if you can believe it.”

There was no answer, and my blood pressure spiked. “Glenn?”

“Uh, I can't help you, Rachel, unless he's broken a law.”

My hand, gripping the phone, started to shake. Frustration knotted my stomach, and that combined with the lack of sleep had me at my rope's end. “There's nothing you can do?” I said softly. “Nothing you can dig up on this guy? The coven is either trying to kill me under the I.S.'s blessing or Tom's a stinking mole. There's got to be something!”

“I'm not in the business of harassing innocent people,” Glenn said tightly.

“Innocent people?” I said, waving at nothing. “My mom is going to be hospitalized in the funny farm because of last night. I have to stop him now. The freaking bureaucrats have him out on bail!”

“Tom Bansen?”

“No, Al!”

Glenn took a slow breath. “What I meant was if you catch Tom in the act of sending Al to kill you, I can do something, but it's hearsay right now. I'm sorry.”

“Glenn, I need some help here! The only options left to me are really ugly!”

“Don't go after Bansen,” Glenn said, his voice carrying a new hardness. “None of them, you hear me?” He sighed, and I could almost see him rub his forehead. “Give me today. I'll find something on one of them. That widow is probably a good bet. Her file is as thick as her late husband's.”

Frustrated, I spun to the high window and the red leaves still clinging to the tree. “My mother is sedated on her couch, and it's my fault,” I whispered, guilt just about breaking my soul. “I'm not going to wait around for him to start on my brother. I have to be proactive on this, Glenn. If I'm not, everyone I care about will be killed.”

“I got you a warrant for Trent this spring,” Glenn said. “I can do this. Call your brother and get him on holy ground, then give me a chance to do my job. Don't go after Mr. Bansen, or God help me, I'll be knocking on your door with a pair of cuffs and a zip-strip myself.”

Head bowed, I tightened my arm about my middle. I didn't like relying on other people when someone I loved was in danger. Let him do his job? That sounded so easy. “Okay,” I said, my voice flat. “I won't go after Tom. Thanks. Sorry for barking at you. I had a rough night.”

“That's my girl,” he said, cutting the connection before I could respond.

Worn out, I hung up the phone. I could smell coffee, and I headed for the kitchen and Ivy's ideas. I wouldn't go after Tom without a warrant—the man would have me in the I.S. lockup for harassment—but maybe I could lean on him a little harder. He obviously wasn't convinced I was a threat. Perhaps if I set fire to his lawn—by accident—he might wait a few days to summon Al again.

I jerked to a stop in the threshold of the kitchen, shocked to find Trent standing between the center island counter and the table, trying to look like he wasn't bothered by the angry living vampire staring at him. The shoes I had left by Quen's bed were cleaned and on the table, and Jenks was on the counter. My face reddened. Crap, I'd forgotten all about him.

“Hey!” the pixy snarled, red sparks dropping from him as he got in my face. “Where the hell have you been? I was stuck in Trent's security office all night!”

“Jenks!” I exclaimed, dropping back. “God, I'm sorry. I sort of drove right by.”

“You didn't drive by, you broke the moss-wipe gate!” His tiny features twisted with anger, he hovered before me, the scent of ozone dripping off him like the sparkles he was letting slip. “Thanks a hell of a lot. I had to bum a ride home with greenie-weenie here.”

Trent, obviously. Before the sink, Ivy uncrossed her arms, more comfortable now that I wasn't waving my dirty laundry from the adjacent room for him to see. She might have warned me, but I'd been throwing off enough emotion to hit her like a bus.

“Relax, pixy,” Ivy said, shifting into motion to hand me my juice bottle with the lid twisted off. “Rachel had a lot on her mind.”

“Yeah?” he snapped, wings clattering harshly. “More important than her partner? You left me behind, Rachel. You
left me behind
!”

Guilt hit me, and I flicked a glance at Trent.
Still waving my laundry.

Wings blurring, Jenks darted into the mended rack when Ivy's eyes narrowed. “She found out her dad wasn't her real dad,” Ivy said, “and she was on her way to talk to her mom. Give her a break, Jenks.”

Jenks's held breath escaped him in a long, wondering sound, and then his pointing finger dropped. The dust slipping from him thinned to a whisper. “Really? Who's your dad?”

Frowning, I sent my attention to Trent, who still hadn't moved but for shifting his feet, grinding his dress shoes into the grit of salt left on the floor. He looked awkward, soft almost, having changed into a pair of jeans and a green shirt.
Like I'm going to open that topic up with him in the room?

“Thank you for bringing my partner home,” I said stiffly. “The door is down that hall.”

Trent didn't say anything as he took in the wonderfulness that was my life. I had saved his friend, father figure, and head of security. Maybe he wanted to thank me.

Ivy's eyes widened for no reason I could see, and before I knew what was happening, she ducked when a flood of pixy children raced in over her head by way of the open kitchen window. Shrieking and yelling, they swirled around their dad, making my eyeballs hurt. Ivy had her hands over her ears, and Trent looked positively agonized.

“Out!” Jenks cried. “I'll be right there. Tell your mom I'll be right there!” He looked at me in question. “You mind if I…take a moment?”

“Take all the time you want,” I said, slumping into my chair at the table and setting the open bottled juice beside the scrying mirror. I thought about hiding the mirror from Trent, then let it stay in view. My stomach hurt too much to drink anything.

Jenks headed for the kitchen window, hanging back until sure all his kids went before him. “I'm sorry, Jenks,” I said morosely, and he touched his forehead in a mock salute.

“No problem, Rache. Family always comes first. I want to hear all about it.”

And he was gone.

I puffed my breath out when the ultrasonic barrage vanished. Ivy turned to get a mug from the cupboard. I didn't care that Trent was standing awkwardly within smacking distance, and I put my head on the table beside the mirror.
I'm so tired.

“What do you want, Trent?” I said, feeling my words come back to me from the table as a warm breath. I had too much to do. I had to figure out a way to put the fear of God in Tom without getting caught. Or I could go for what was behind door number two and try to find a way to kill Al. They wouldn't put me in jail for that, would they? Well, at least not this side of the lines.

Ivy set a cup of coffee by my hand, and I pulled my head up to give her a grateful smile. Shrugging, she sat before her cracked computer, and together we faced Trent.

“I want to talk to you about Quen,” he said, his dexterous fingers moving restlessly and his fair hair starting to float in the breeze from the open window. “Do you have a minute?”

I've got until the sun goes down
, I thought.
Then I'm going to step out onto unsanctified ground and try to kill a demon
. But I took a sip of coffee and gave him a dry “Let's hear it.”

The knock on our front door made me sigh out loud, and I wasn't surprised when I heard it open and recognized Ceri's soft steps as she hastened down the hall. My thoughts jerked back to her offer to help me with the curse herself. I wasn't sure if the offer was still open since we had argued about her making charms for Al. That's not why she was here, though, back from her all-night vigil at the basilica. She was here to learn if the man she loved had lived out the night.

“Rachel? Ivy? Jenks?” she called, and Ivy eased back into her chair. “It's me. Forgive me for walking in. Is Trenton here? His car is out front.”

I turned to Trent, shocked at his stark fear. He had casually moved to put the counter between him and the door, and his alarm was hidden
behind a professional smile. My mood went utterly black. He was afraid of her and her demon smut, too chicken to admit it openly.

“Back here, Ceri,” I called, and the pretty elf breezed in, long white skirt flowing to a stop around her ankles when she saw Trent.