The Outlaw Demon Wails (40 page)

The familiar sight of the twin stairways to the side door was a shock. It was exactly the same, and the untouched state of the cathedral made the rest of the city look twice as broken. “Trent,” I whispered, my knees weak. “Why do you think everything is sort of parallel? I've heard Minias say ‘When the two worlds collide.' Is the ever-after a mirror of our reality?”

Trent slowed as his eyes fell from the moon to land upon the expanse of trees growing where the side parking lot would have been. “Maybe. And it's ruined because of the demons?”

I jumped at a sharp click of stone. “Maybe their Turn didn't go very well.”

“No,” he said, easing forward silently. “The trees where we crossed were more than forty years old. If things went bad at the Turn, then they would be only that old. Elves left two thousand years ago, and witches five. If the ever-after is a reflection of reality, the similarities should have ended when we diverged, and they seem to mirror each other up to almost today, perhaps. It doesn't make sense.”

He took the nearest of the concrete stairs carefully, and I followed, watching behind me instead of my footing. “Like anything makes sense here?”

Trent tried the door. It was locked. My lips pressed tight, I set my satchel down to find Jenks's lock-picking kit. The sound of sliding rock quickened my cold fingers, and Trent's gaze flicked everywhere as he waited. I wanted to get off the street like yesterday.

I found the kit, and after tucking it under my arm, I zipped my bag closed. A branch in the nearby trees waved wildly, and a black something hit the earth.
Shit.
Trent put his back to the door, watching. “Do you think that maybe more than the buildings are parallel?” he asked as I crouched before the lock. God, I'd give just about anything for Jenks.

“You mean like people?” I wiggled my fingers for his
special light
and he handed it to me.

“Yes.”

I shined the light on the lock, sighing at its corroded state. Maybe I could kick the door in? But then we couldn't shut it. My thoughts went to Trent's question, trying not to imagine a demon with the morals of Trent. “I hope not.” I stood, and his attention jerked to me. “I'm going to try to pick the lock,” I said. “Watch my back, okay?”

Damn it. I didn't like where I was, but I had no choice.

Trent hesitated as if hearing more than I was asking, then faced the trees.

I took a slow breath and tried to ignore the soughing of the wind and the grit that was making my eyes ache. The case Jenks had bought to hold his tools was soft on my cold-numbed fingertips, and I fumbled at the ties holding it closed. Nice quiet ties instead of a noisy zipper. The man was a thief at heart and had thought of everything.

The kit came silently open, and in a flash of light that rocked me back, Jenks darted out.

“Holy crap, Rachel!” the small pixy swore, shaking himself so the glowing dust lit my knees. “I thought I was going to be sick. You bounce around like a grasshopper when you run. Are we there yet?”

I stared slack jawed, slowly losing my balance and falling to sit on my butt.

“The basilica?” Jenks questioned, seeing Trent standing speechless over us. “Damn, that's more freaky than a fairy's third birthday party. Oh, hey, nice jumpsuit, Trent. Didn't anyone ever tell you the guy in the jumpsuit always gets eaten first?”

“Jenks!” I finally managed. “You shouldn't be here!”

The pixy flexed his wings, landing on my knee and running a careful hand over one of the lower ones to straighten it out. The light from him was clean and pure, the only thing here that was really white. “Like you should?” he said dryly.

I glanced at Trent, seeing by his tight features that he had already figured out the problem. “Jenks…Trent only bought four trips. With you along, we only have one left.”

Trent turned from the forest, clearly angry. “That last remaining trip is mine. I'm not responsible for your backup's stupidity.”

Oh, God. I was stuck in the ever-after.

“Hey, you stupid-ass elf,” Jenks exclaimed, rising up in a burst of gold glitter.

There was a collective rustle from the shadowed trees, and I got to my feet. Neither Jenks nor Trent noticed, seeing as Jenks currently had a drawn sword pointed at Trent's eyeball.

“I am Rachel's backup,” he continued, the glow from him making a spot of normal color on the scratched side door to the church. “I come with her and am included with her trip as much as her shoes and her hair scrunchy. Human law doesn't count our existence, so neither should demon. I'm an accessory, Mr. Elven Magic,” he said bitterly. “So don't get your dancing tights in a twist. You think I'd endanger Rache's life by using her pass to get here if I wasn't sure we both had a way out?”

Please, please let him be right.

Jenks saw my fear, and his wings increased their pitch. “I don't count, damn it! I didn't use up one of your trips!”

Trent leaned forward to say something nasty, but a huge chunk of rock slid into the nearby street, interrupting him. All three of us froze, and Jenks dampened his glow.

“Back off, Jenks,” I said, cursing myself. “If there's only one trip left, Trent gets it.”

“Rache, he can bargain for more! He should have included me anyway—”

“I'm not going to ask Trent to bargain with anyone else. He gets it!” I said, fear bubbling through me, black and thick. “He made the deal. You changed it.”

“Rache…” He was scared, and I held out a hand for him to land on it.
Damn it all to hell and back.

“I'm glad you're here,” I said softly, stifling a jerk at a rock plinking down. “Trent can have his lousy trip. He got us here, we can get ourselves back. That's what we do. And that's even if we need to. If Minias doesn't know you hitched a ride, we probably still have two jumps out.”

Jenks's wings had turned a dismal blue. “Pixies don't count, Rachel. We never do.”

But he counted to me.

“Can you get the lock?” I said to change the subject. “We have to get off the street.”

The pixy made a smug noise and dropped to the corroded lock. “Tink's tampons!” he swore as he dug through the rust and slowly vanished inside, leaving a faint glow. “This is like crawling through a sand hill. Crap, Matalina's gonna kill me. The only thing worse than blood is rust.”

I really hoped I'd get the chance to hear Matalina ream him out. I really did.

Worried, I put my back to the door and sent out a silent prayer that the surface demons would hold off a little longer. I couldn't set a circle or draw on a line, though I felt a strong one nearby, from across the dry river where Eden Park would be. If I tapped it, a demon would come to investigate. My gaze slid to Trent. I wasn't going to ask him to renegotiate for more trips out of here. But fear clenched my stomach.
Damn it, Jenks.

Trent's hands twitched, and he looked worried.
Why am I doing this again?
“How's it coming, Jenks?” I muttered.

“Gimmie a minute,” came a faint call back. “There's a lot of corrosion. And don't worry about the trip home, Rache. I saw how Minias did it.”

Hope was a surge of adrenaline, and I met Trent's startled gaze. “Can you teach me?”

Jenks emerged from the lock, landing on the handle to shake the rust from himself in a burst of wing movement. “I don't know,” he said, his voice stronger. “Maybe if elf-boy let me use the charm to go back and I could compare it to coming here.”

“No,” Trent said grimly. “I'm not renegotiating because your sidekick tagged along.”

Anger made my face burn. “Jenks is not a sidekick!”

Jenks rose up to land on my shoulder. “Let it go, Rache. Trent couldn't buy a clue if he had a million bucks in a dollar store. I saw what happened when Minias shoved us through the lines. The ever-after is like a drop of time that got knocked out, sitting alone by itself with no past behind it to push it forward and no future to pull it along. It's hanging to us by the ley lines, sort of. Your circles aren't made up of differing realities, they're
made up of the stretchy stuff that's holding us and the ever-after together, keeping the ever-after from vanishing like it should. But, ah, I hear things coming, so why don't we go in?”

A drop of time?
I thought, pushing the door open to see a smothering blackness. The scent of dry paste met me, and when a guttural cry broke the wind's hush, fear slid all the way to the bottom of my soul and wrung every breath of courage from me. It had been distant, but there had been a definite echo of movement from all around us.

“Go,” I hissed at Trent, and the elf dove in. I snatched up my pack and followed, moving as if the monster under the bed was ready to reach out and grab my ankle. Trent stopped in the middle of the doorway, and I plowed into him. We fell in the dim light coming through the door, and as Jenks swore and told us to shut it, I breathed in a heavy dust and tried to get up.

Trent managed it first, slamming the door and cutting off the moonlight. It was warmer inside, without the wind. I couldn't see at all, and I listened to his fingers scrabbling at the lock and his breath, loud and harsh in the blackness.
Holy crap, we just made it.
Frozen, I waited for a thump at the door, but it never came.

“You guys look stupid on the floor like that,” Jenks said, shaking himself until he glowed. “I'm going to check the doors. If this really is the basilica, I know exactly where they are. Back in a sec.”

The pure glow from him darted off to leave a fading ribbon of falling dust. God, I was so glad he was here.

A red haze from Trent's penlight eased into existence. His face was haggard and dust streaked, and his jumpsuit was filthy with a white, ash-like film. The light did little to illuminate anything else, and we got to our feet.
Mr. Elf has a get-out-of-jail-free card, and I don't.
Frankly, I'd rather have Jenks.

“I've got a brighter light,” he offered. “You want to wait to use it until we hear back from…Jenks?”

My brow eased slightly, and I felt a little more charitable. “That is an excellent idea,” I said, wishing he'd shine what light we did have around a
little more. Especially upward. No one in the movies ever looks up until the saliva starts dripping down.

I was digging out my own light when the formidable sound of the power thunking on echoed through the church. Both Trent and I fell into a crouch when the glare of electric lights burst into existence. Blinking, we rose, our gazes traveling over the inside of the small cathedral.

Time
, I thought again as my lips parted.
The ever-after is a splash out of time? Held to us by the ley lines and being dragged along? So why is it so parallel?

I had no idea, but the basilica looked like the one I'd dragged Trent out of. Well, sort of. A dingy yellow foam covered the inside of the stained-glass windows to block any light from entering or escaping. The pews had been shoved to the back of the sanctuary in a pile of half-burnt varnished wood. Smoke and fire damage marked the walls and ceilings. The christening well…God save me. It was full of what looked like blackened bones and hair, utterly defiled. An ugly stain of black ringed it. Blood? I wasn't going over to look.

My eyes finally went up, and tears pricked. The beautiful woodwork was still there, and the chandeliers, faintly tinkling. A haze of white was slipping from them in a fog, the flow of electricity shaking loose the dust to sift down on the tiled floor gouged by a past fury.

Trent moved, and my gaze shot past him to the altar. It stood on a raised stage, and it, too, was covered in black stains. Something really ugly had happened. I felt my expression twist, and I shut my eyes. Either the sanctity had been broken or it had been defiled by witches or elves. If it was a different time, how far ahead were we?

I refused to look at the defiled altar as I followed Trent onto the stage. I thought I felt a shiver pass through my aura as I stepped onto holy ground, and when I looked at Trent, he nodded.

“It's still holy,” he said, glancing at the altar. “Let's find the samples and get out of here.”

Easy for you to say
, I thought bitterly, not trusting Jenks's opinion that he didn't count.

The dry clatter of pixy wings intruded, and my relief was almost a pain when Jenks shot in from the back rooms. My easing of tension was short-lived, though, as he landed on my extended fist, gray and clearly shaken.

“Don't go out there, Rachel,” he whispered, the clear tracks of tears showing strongly on his rust-dusted face. “Please, don't go out there. Stay here. Ceri said the samples were here on holy ground. You don't
need
to go anywhere else. Promise me. Just promise me you won't leave this room.”

Fear made a lump at my core, and I nodded. I'd stay here. “Where are the samples?” I said, turning to see Trent running his hand over the woodwork as if he was looking for a secret panel. The yellow foam on the windows seemed to soak up the light. My breath hissed in and Trent froze at the sound of nails. Something was crawling on the outside of the glass.

“My God,” I said, retreating to the altar to put my back against it as I looked up. “Trent, do you have any weapons? Like a gun?”

He looked at me in disgust. “You're here to protect me,” he said as he closed the distance between us and stood beside me. “You didn't bring a weapon?”

“Yeah, I brought a weapon,” I snapped as I brought my splat gun out and aimed it at the ceiling where the sounds were coming from. “I just thought that since you're a freaking murderer you might have a gun, too. God, Trent, please tell me you brought one?”

Jaw clenched, he shook his head no, but he touched a wide side pocket in his jumpsuit for reassurance. He might not have a gun, but he had something. Fine. Mr. Kalamack had a secret weapon he didn't want to share. I hoped he wouldn't have to use it. Heart pounding, I watched the yellow foam and tried to slow my breathing. How were we going to do this while under attack? If I set a circle for protection, real demons would be all over us.