Million Dollar Demon Page 2

  Not looking at me, he shrugged. “It works by way of your aura.”

  My lips pressed, and I looked down at our interlaced fingers. So it was jewelry, but it was bling with a bang. “Thanks, Trent,” I said, ignoring that it was a way to know if one of us was assassinated. “I love it.” And I did. It was delicate enough to look good on my slim fingers, so small that most people wouldn’t even notice it. Jenks would, though. The pixy saw everything.

  Trent seemed to brighten, but that worry line still crinkled the edges of his eyes. “It only took me a day to make once I found the pearls. That took a good month.” His gaze went to the girls, his focus distant. “They’re from the same oyster. And as unique as you.” Attention returning, he lifted our joined hands and kissed my fingertips. A shiver raced through me, and I felt myself warm. The public show of affection was unusual, but maybe he was making some sort of statement to Ellasbeth, who was clearly not happy.

  For a moment, it was just us, surrounded by the bustle of hundreds, but then his hand in mine tightened as their flight was announced over the loudspeaker. Pulling upright, he sent his gaze to Quen. Immediately the older, dark elf began to effortlessly prep the girls, wiping hands and faces, tidying shoelaces, and directing their attention without looking as if he was manipulating them. Crap on toast, he’s good.

  “I have to go,” Trent said as he stood.

  I rose as well, gut tightening. “It’s only a week,” I said, the sensation of his loss already hard on me as his family bustled to get organized. I felt left out, especially when the girls ran back to the window to look at the plane, their Aunt Rachel forgotten.

  Trent set his coffee on the chair’s arm and pulled me close, his hand warm at the small of my back. “I’ve seen what can happen in a week,” he said with a smile, his lips inches from mine and the scent of wine and cinnamon a heady wave. “Call me?”

  “You call me,” I said instead, and Trent took my cup and balanced it on the arm of the nearby chair as well before pulling me into a passionate hug that lit through me like fire. It was followed by a restrained but tender kiss that left me aching for more.

  “Yes, Madam Demon,” he said playfully as his arms lowered. And then he was gone and I was watching him walk away. Ray held his one hand, Lucy the other. Quen followed behind with Ellasbeth, the woman’s head down as she fumbled in her purse for their tickets. They were the perfect family, and seeing them leave for a week to be surrounded by the over-the-top West Coast elves, I began to worry.

  Leaving Cincy to Constance in order to follow Trent and keep Ellasbeth at bay might have been the better choice.

  CHAPTER

  2

  “The wiring is up to code, Rache,” Jenks said as he hovered before me, a faint rasp coming from his dragonfly-like wings. The sun shining in the big, street-grimed front window glowed in his short blond hair and the silver dust spilling from him, making him look far more innocent than he was. Spiderweb coated the garden sword at his hip, and dust dulled his red bandana, worn to convince any pixy whose territory he might stumble into that he wasn’t there poaching. Considering that such an intrusion was grounds for death, it was an appropriate precaution. “Give me a sec, and I’ll check the plumbing.”

  “Great,” I said, thinking that with their insatiable curiosity and ability to wiggle through walls, pixies could make a fortune in home inspections—if anyone cared to ask. “See if you can track down the source of that smell while you’re at it.”

  “And if it can be removed,” David added, his hands on his hips and duster brushing the floor as he stood with his back to us to watch the light traffic passing outside. His shadow was short on the old oak flooring, but that the sun even made it into the downtown Hollows two-story was somewhat of a miracle.

  Beside him, Sharron clasped her notebook like a fig leaf and smiled. “Remember that everything can be fixed except location. And, Rachel, this property has that in spades.”

  I nodded as Jenks hummed down the short hall to do a more thorough inspection of the tiny ground-floor restroom. Sharron was the epitome of professionalism in her bright yellow suit dress and her Cincy Realty pin, standing in the middle of the empty thirty-by-forty front room. The real estate agent had been working with us for three months. Anyone else would’ve given up by now, but she was just as perky, just as upbeat as the day I’d called her about a flat on the riverfront. It had rented out before I could get down to see it, but Jenks had a good feeling about the big-haired brunette who’d treated him like a person from the instant she beamed that wide-toothed smile and asked what he was looking for in a new property.

  David was actually the one who had tipped us off about the old shopfront. It wasn’t slated to be on the market for a few weeks, but that was exactly why Jenks and I had jumped on it. Everything was selling out from under us as Constance’s people came in.

  The narrow, two-story building faced a moderately busy downtown Hollows street. Even better, the downstairs was already zoned for business with living quarters for one upstairs—two if one of them was a pixy. Cars drove slowly past the big plate-glass window, and metered parking kept things moving. The building had old floors and painted metal tile on the ceiling, but I liked how the thick walls cut the noise, and the ornate, heavily carved moldings gave Jenks lots of places to perch. I’d done a quick look at the residual magic of the place the instant we’d crossed the threshold, and it was surprisingly clean, with only a rudimentary circle etched into the kitchen counter. A ley line wasn’t too far away, either.

  It was a “charmer,” in Sharron’s Realtor-ese, meaning small. It had “lots of character,” which meant the floor plan made little sense and the fixtures were old. It was also in an “up-and-coming” neighborhood, which Jenks said meant we’d be paying top dollar even though the shops to either side were kind of . . . well . . . dumpy.

  “Sharron! Will you turn this on for me? I want to check the water pressure,” Jenks shouted from the second floor, and the woman immediately headed for the stairs. He hadn’t come out of the downstairs bathroom, meaning he’d followed the piping up through the walls.

  “What do you think?” David drew back from the window as two I.S. vehicles tore by, sirens off but lights flashing. “You can’t beat the location,” he added, but I said nothing as I moved behind the oak display case and began opening drawers so old they had to be original. “Price is right for what you’re getting.”

  I struggled with the bottom drawer, finally giving up when I heard him cross the room, boots lightly scraping. “Street seems a little busy,” I said, rising up to see him moving with the confident grace of an alpha Were. Behind him, a FIB cruiser raced past, the human-run police force forever outclassed by their Inderland counterparts. Late to the party again.

  “Busy street, busy business,” he prompted as he leaned one elbow on the counter, his dark eyes on the street as the traffic resumed. There was a hint of gray around his temples, but it only made him look better, in my opinion. Pack life agreed with him. He was his best when taking care of someone, and his pack was growing. Fast. Sometimes I wondered what might have happened if I hadn’t abdicated my female alpha position.

  “You’d have a clear definition of public space and private with the living quarters upstairs,” David continued. “A door that locks between them. The church never did, and it always bothered me.”

  “Who is going to mess with the last living Tamwood heir?” I countered, tucking a stray curl of red hair behind an ear in a show of unease. But Ivy was still in DC trying to convince the long undead that it was a much better thing for her to hold the soul of her undead lover instead of letting it slip away, in essence allowing Nina to sip her own soul along with Ivy’s blood. It gave Ivy a smidgen of control in the traditionally one-sided scion/gnomon pair, and the old undead didn’t like it. At all. Even if Ivy had been in Cincy, she wouldn’t be living with me anymore. All good things, even if they hurt.

>   But even I had to admit that this was a great space. I could maybe turn the display counter into a coffee bar, put my desk behind it, make a good first impression. The downstairs storage room would make a serviceable small spelling lab. I could work and man the door at the same time, freeing Jenks to do what he needed to do. Add two chairs and a low table in front of the window for interviewing clients, and a rack of service brochures—maybe lawyers specializing in Inderland issues, morgues, state-licensed day quarters for the poor undead, that kind of thing.

  Leaving the church for good would be hard, though. It had been standing fallow for the last three months, repairs having abruptly halted when the construction crew saw the pentagrams etched on Kisten’s pool table. Apparently word had gotten around, and I couldn’t get a construction company to even take my calls anymore, much less set foot in the church.

  Jenks was ready to sell, which had surprised me until I put it all together: he’d lost his wife there, and with his kids scattered, there was nothing left for him but reasons to leave.

  My shoulders were almost to my ears and, not wanting David to know it bothered me to just . . . abandon the church, I forced them down, took a breath, and tugged my short leather jacket square as I came out from behind the counter. Yes, a locking door would be nice, but I’d have to pay someone to reroute the gas line under the floor to make an area where I could set an unbreakable circle. Not to mention that after the expanse of the church, and then having Piscary’s old restaurant/lair all to myself for the winter, the two tiny rooms, half kitchen, and upstairs cubby bath felt confining. Tight. There was no outside space at all, and trying to do my calisthenics anywhere within the walls was impossible. I’d have to go to the gym.

  Welcome to the real world, I thought as I leaned back against the counter beside David and watched the traffic as we waited for Jenks. But then I frowned, recognizing that same beat-up brown Volvo that I’d seen in the morning at the airport parking. I remembered it because I’d thought it odd that someone would be sitting in their car at the curb, risking the airport police yelling at them, instead of parking it where they were supposed to. A dark-haired living vamp was behind the wheel this time, his black glasses and scruff giving him a rough look. Two blonds dressed like him sat in the back, and a bad feeling crept out from between my soul and reason. I didn’t like it when vamps dressed the same, even if the leather was classy. Unified looks meant unified purpose, and that could be deadly when it came to vamps.

  “That’s the third time around for them,” David said softly.

  “Maybe they’re looking for an open meter.” My eyes went to the three substantial locks on the door. Only one was mundane, the others were spells. They had expired, but I could fix that, and as I gazed out at the world, I decided I could handle downtown Hollows just fine—even if I’d miss the church like the undead miss the sun.

  I forced a smile when Jenks’s wings rasped on the narrow stairs. Sharron was following, going almost sideways in her tall heels. “Roof looks okay,” he said as he alighted on the counter to brush the dust from his head-to-toe black silk. “It’s old and flat, so snow might be an issue. But it’s not leaking, and it gets sun for a good part of the day. We could put some boxes up there. Get something green growing.”

  Which would help take care of Jenks’s needs. It wouldn’t be a garden, but as a widower, he didn’t need much. He was right about the sun. It would be on the face of the building most of the afternoon, making it bright and pleasant.

  “It’s a good neighborhood,” David said, wincing when a fire truck roared past, honking to clear the nearby intersection. “I’ve got a few pack members a block down. They could hear you if you shouted.”

  Hence him knowing about this place, I thought, wondering how I’d become the deciding voice here.

  “Lots of restaurants, shops,” Jenks said, now on David’s shoulder to look right as rain among the man’s long, wavy hair. Distracted, Sharron gazed out the window, eyes following the emergency vehicles. “We’d have living quarters upstairs, and a public area downstairs.” His wings hummed. “New furniture that doesn’t smell like Ivy. With a few pictures on the wall and a rug, this could be a nice place. You could spell in that back room and still hear the door.” He hesitated, and then, as if he was only now checking, he added, “Ley line is pretty near.”

  Again I reached out a thought and found it, agreeing as a soft, welcoming warmth and tingle spread through me and a stray strand of red hair began to float. It was close. Not as close as the one we used to have in the church’s backyard, but not bad.

  But even as I considered it, a feeling of loss took me. Flowerpots and raised beds were not a garden. I’d have to buy everything I used to get for free. There was no view, no space, and the off-street parking that came with the place would hardly hold my tiny MINI. Being right in downtown Hollows might sound good on paper, but maybe I’d be too accessible, spending all my time tracking down straying familiars and telling people I didn’t make love charms instead of finding murder suspects and kicking ass.

  What concerned me most, though, was that my line of work wasn’t always conducive to being a good neighbor. The church was unlivable because of a misunderstanding with Cincy’s resident vamps, made worse when the elven goddess threw a tantrum in my front room. Not both at the same time, fortunately, but imagining that in downtown Hollows? The potential collateral damage was enough to give even Trent pause.

  Jenks’s hopeful expression, though, ate at my resistance. Constance would be in Cincy in two weeks and our rent-free situation in Piscary’s old digs would be over. We had to live somewhere, and the church needed a new kitchen before it could get an occupation permit. Without that, no one would even consider buying it.

  “Could you excuse us for a moment?” I said to Sharron, and Jenks rattled his wings in anticipation as Sharron beamed.

  “I’ll be outside,” she said, heels clicking as she headed for the sidewalk where her bright yellow, big-ass, four-door Cadillac waited at the curb. “This is a good one, Rachel. You could look for a year and not find anything better in your price range. It makes me glad all those others fell through. What did I tell you? Things happen for a reason.”

  David eased himself up to sit on the counter, knees wide in a classic manspread as the dusty door chime clunked and Sharron went outside. His scruff, so different from Trent’s always-smooth cheeks, held my eye. Must be a Were thing.

  “Well?” Jenks prompted as the street noise cut off. His expression was hopeful, and I quashed a rising worry. Jenks would have the funds from the church to cover his side of things, but my share would take everything I’d managed to scrape together. I had to trust myself that the money for the mortgage would come, but even more important, I could trust myself.

  Again I looked out the wide window. Is this the place? I wondered. I’d have a nice view of the river if I put a larger window in upstairs. Maybe the roof was better than I thought, and Jenks and I could make a potted paradise up there. “I like having off-street parking,” I said slowly, and Jenks rasped his wings in agreement.

  “The building is sound,” David encouraged, reaching for his phone when it dinged for his attention. “If you like it, you should take it. You can always sell it later if you change your mind. Downtown property moves pretty fast.”

  I took a breath. Held it. Exhaled. Jenks was right. It was time to let go. I needed a more professional image, and I hadn’t picked out the church in the first place. Ivy had, and the reason for having it—sanctified ground where the undead and demons couldn’t tread—was no longer an issue.

  “I like it,” I said, and Jenks inked a bright silver. “We should put in an offer.”

  “Great!” Jenks darted to hover by the door, waiting for one of us to open it. “I’ll tell Sharron. How much you want to start with?”

  My shoulders slumped as if having decided made everything easier. Gold lettering on the door. Ma
ybe a light over the window. Nice rug . . . “Anything less than the last place sounds good to me. Go for it, Jenks. You’ve got a good feel for our finances.”

  Smiling, David slipped from the counter and went to open the door a crack.

  “Good-bye, stinky pizza place, hello, downtown living. I’m a city pixy!” Jenks exclaimed, and then he was on the sidewalk, making circles around Sharron until she clapped her hands and gave me an enthusiastic smile.

  David lingered by the door as I took one last look to imagine the space with me and Jenks and all our stuff. “Thanks for bringing this to our attention,” I said as I found my phone and took a picture of the old counter, then another of the big front window to show Trent. “I can’t believe how fast property is going right now. This is, like, the seventh place we’ve almost bought.”

  “It’s a great building,” David said, louder since I’d gone to take a picture of the back room. “Nothing weird in the history apart from a lizard issue in the eighties. Still don’t know what that was about.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Trent to look at it.”

  “Trent?” I clicked off the light and came out. “And have the owner jack up the price?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Besides”—I stared at the ceiling, wondering if it was higher out here than in the back—“he and the girls left today for the West Coast with Ellasbeth to visit her mom. It’s her birthday, and apparently elves make a big deal about it when it’s got a zero attached to it.” Nose wrinkling, I waved at Jenks that I’d be right there. He’d plastered himself against the window like a highway casualty. Translation: I was killing him. “I would have gone, but I’ve got an appointment with Dali tomorrow.” Annoyed, I ushered Jenks off the window, and he darted back to Sharron.