Pale Demon th-9 Page 30

  The toasting fork was warm in my hand. “You can’t pinpoint it, or you can’t fix it?” I asked, thinking that was an important distinction.

  Newt didn’t say anything, kneeling on the hearth and running her fingers through the fire as if it were a kitten’s fur. Al’s slippers shifted a hair’s breadth, and I realized he was more than a little nervous. At the sound of the soft scuffing, Newt glanced at him, a sly look on her face as she smiled with her black eyes. My gut hurt as a second haze of ever-after sifted over her, leaving her looking as she had when she slid into Al’s library and sucker-kicked me. “You’re sweet,” she said as her intent expression turned to me and I shivered. “Don’t you want your marshmallow?”

  “I just want to go back,” I said, and then I stiffened when she got to her feet with a boneless grace, coming to sit on the couch, angling herself so her knees almost touched mine.

  “And back you will go,” she said, her hand touching my hair.

  “If the ever-after is shrinking, maybe she should stay here,” Al said, and I stiffened. Newt saw my anger, and my hair slipped from her hand.

  “I proved I can hold my own against Ku’Sox,” I said. “Besides, Pierce is there in case I do something really stupid. You owe me this chance. If I can’t survive the next twenty-four hours, then I’ll never survive here.”

  Newt’s thin eyebrows were raised in question. She saw my scrying mirror, and I stiffened when she took it from me. “Such a pretty little triangle,” she said as she gazed at her hazy reflection in my mirror, then shifted her appearance to look like me. “Al wants to kill Pierce,” she said, tucking a strand of her now curly red hair behind an ear, making me shudder. “But he can’t leave Rachel alone and vulnerable in the sun. And Pierce”—she handed my mirror to me—“well, he is going to destroy you whether he wants to or not. Scheming, scheming. Such little men’s desires flow around you.”

  It was more than a bit disturbing to see myself dressed in Newt’s clothes. This was one of her bad days, I think. “Pierce doesn’t want to kill me,” I said, my thoughts flashing back to our night under the earth, then his sullen temper when I’d saved Al. Maybe he’d forgive me if I told him I’d almost killed Al, too. “He had a moment of pique, is all. He’ll get over it.”

  She was nodding, looking like me as she sat on the couch. “They all get over it, don’t they? And then he’ll destroy your hope, kill your soul. He won’t even know what he’s doing until it’s too late. I can tell the future because my days are always the same.” I stiffened as she touched my hair again, head cocked as she studied it, feeling it between her fingers that looked like mine, right down to the wooden pinkie ring and the chipped red nail polish. “Between you and me, you’d be better off with both of them dead,” she finished.

  Al cleared his throat. Newt’s gaze shifted to him and she made a soft noise. “Al, you are a fool,” she said as a sheet of black ever-after coated her and she turned back into her usual androgynous self. “You might have more than two curses to rub together if you didn’t allow both your familiar and your student to run about in the sun, plotting against you.”

  “Then she should stay, yes?” he said, and she threw her head back and laughed.

  “No. Rachel goes back,” she said, and I sagged a little in relief. “There’s more than one bet to be settled tomorrow, and they made me the referee again. They never let me bet anymore. Not since I won Minias. Where is he, anyway? Oh, that’s right.” She eyed me speculatively. “I killed him.”

  Great. Newt was a demon bookie on top of everything else. “What are my odds of getting my shunning permanently revoked?” I asked, having to know.

  Newt smiled and handed me my scrying mirror. “You’re going to lose because of Pierce. Didn’t you hear me? Or do you forget things, too?”

  I couldn’t answer, trying to find enough air to breathe. Do I have a shot at this or not?

  “That’s my girl,” she said, her eyes holding a shared pain as she saw my confusion. “Al, where are you going to put her? Not in your room. She’d pull a line through you and kill you when you hog the blankets. I’ll take the waif in. I promise I’ll bring this one up properly.”

  Newt patted the six-inch space beside her thigh, and my face became cold. Oh God. Anything but that.

  Al stood, tugging the tie on his robe tighter. “I have everything under control.”

  Newt waved a thin hand in dismissal. “And that’s why she was arcing a line through you, yes?” she said, then vanished. The seat cushion rose slowly, and the fire flared as new air was sucked down the chimney to replace her mass.

  I forced my teeth to unclench, and I shifted my grip on my mirror. “Now, Al?” I prompted, and Al slumped back in his chair again.

  “Al?” I said again, louder, and he glanced at me, his fingers searching the chair cushion until he found a little tin of his Brimstone. Opening it, he sniffed a pinch up each nostril, his head going back as he closed his eyes and sighed. Great, now I was going to set the Brimstone dogs off at the coven’s meeting tomorrow.

  “You do like doing things the hard way,” he said, eyes still closed.

  “You said you’d send me back,” I warned him, and his head came down, his eyes looking a little redder than usual.

  “I am, I am,” he said, but he was just sitting there, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did that only when I really screwed up. Like the time I used foxglove instead of peppermint, and the curse I was working on turned his ink into stone. “I don’t know if I should hope you win your bet or lose,” he finally said.

  “Huh,” I said. “I thought you wanted me to lose.”

  “I do,” he said, “but if you’re in reality, it will take longer for anyone to figure out that you were the one who made the hole in the fabric of time. Nice going, Rachel.”

  Worry clenched my chest, and I set my mirror across my knees. “Why are you assuming it was me? Maybe it was Ku’Sox. He did make the arch fall down. I didn’t do anything that you didn’t do when you made a ley line.”

  But Al was shaking his head. Sighing heavily, he let go of his nose. “I made my ley line while jumping from the ever-after to reality. You made yours jumping from reality to reality. It’s leaking.”

  I licked my lips. “I guess the collective is going to be pissed, huh?”

  His bark of laughter startled me, and I tried to hide my jump. “Yes, the collective is going to be pissed. I just hope I can find out how to fix it before they listen to Newt and realize she’s right.”

  “U-uh…,” I stammered, and Al frowned at me.

  “U-uh…,” he mocked, then reached beneath his chair to the bundle that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Here. You’re going to need this for your hanging tomorrow.”

  I caught the cloth-wrapped package he threw at me, scrambling so as not to lose my hold on the mirror. “What is it?” I asked, thinking it was too heavy to be someone’s head.

  His red eyes landed on me, seeing me scared, cold, and disheveled. “You are a mess. Wear it. I’m not picking you up tomorrow in rags.”

  “Hey! I have a chance here, you know. This is supposed to be a formality!”

  He grinned at me with his blocky teeth. “You don’t have a rainbow’s chance in hell to get your shunning revoked,” he said, fingering a marshmallow before dropping it back into the bowl. “You just traipsed across the continent, black magic spilling in your wake, freeing demons and destroying a national monument. You knocked out a coven member. Kidnapped her. Let her watch you use demon magic to fight off said freed demon. Twice. Hell, girl, you burned down Margaritaville!” His smile widened. “You are so screwed,” he said, hitting his Brit accent hard.

  “Shut up!” I shouted, holding my scrying mirror close between me and the package. A puff of burnt amber wafted up, and I winced. Whatever he had given me was going to need to be dry cleaned.

  “All right, all right,” Al said as he sat up and rubbed his hands together. “You can go home. Or to your pathetic little hotel room.
Whatever,” he added when I made a noise of protest. “I’m going to have a busy day today, and you’ll just muddle it up if you’re whining about here. I’ve got to make reservations at Dalliance. It’s a little tight, but if I drop your name, something will open up. And there are your quarters to arrange.” He looked up at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to be roomies? You can have the soft pillow.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to find strength. “Please don’t start.” I had a chance, didn’t I?

  “Go, go, go…,” Al said quickly. “And here. Sorry for being so rough. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  My eyes opened, and I saw him make a tiny ley-line gesture just before the ley line took me. Warm and tasting of salt, it slipped into me, dissolving me into nothing but memory. I tried to listen to the line like Bis said he could, or sense an auratic color, but nothing could get through my protective circle. Al even took the smut for the trip, which I thought was odd, and with very little disorientation, I caught my balance as the curse touched my thoughts and rebuilt myself from my memory. My jeans still stunk of ever-after, but my aching muscles, sore back, and pulped knee felt perfect. That small gesture Al had made before sending me home must have been a healing curse, because traveling the lines wouldn’t do that to a person. I’d tried.

  The walls of Trent’s penthouse suite shimmered into existence, and the soft sounds of music. Apparently Pierce had figured out the MP3 player. My dusty boots pressed into the carpet, and I shivered as I suddenly had a body again and the cool, dry, air-conditioned air hit me.

  Pierce was standing at the windows, watching the light of the unseen sunrise spill over the bay. His stance was worried, and he clearly didn’t know I was back. The fog had lifted, and Alcatraz was visible. I took a breath, and he turned.

  “You’re back,” he said, his voice giving me no clue to his mood, but his features…It was all there to see. His blue eyes held thick worry, anxiety, and relief, all mixed up. He didn’t move toward me, and I didn’t know where we stood anymore. Obviously he was glad I was back, but not enough to touch me. He wasn’t confident enough of the future to cross the room and tell me today was going to be okay, that I was going to see midnight come and go—and be better for it.

  “I’m back.” Not looking at him, I carefully set the scrying mirror down and dropped the package on the coffee table behind me. God, I stank. I didn’t think the hotel soap was going to cut it. A fifty-five-gallon drum of tomato juice might.

  Pierce hesitated, then went to the chair by the window, taking up his long, heavy cotton coat and shrugging into it. “What took so long? Kalamack giving you trouble?”

  Why did I care what he thought? “Al was messing with me,” I said shortly, not wanting to get into it.

  Pierce hesitated in his motion to adjust his collar, and he looked at me from under his shaggy bangs. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, and he turned away, watching his reflection in the mirror as he arranged his sleeves. “Where are you going?” I asked, as it was obvious he was leaving.

  His eyes met mine in the reflection. “To converse with Vivian.”

  About me? “Pierce…,” I started, remembering what Newt had said about my odds. Having a shunned witch speaking for me wouldn’t help.

  “Not about you,” he said as he took his hat from the stand beside the door and arranged it on his head. “I’m wanting her opinion concerning me trying to reclaim my spot before they fill it. It will give you another positive voice.”

  My lips parted. “But you were dead!” I said, and he turned to me, his dark eyes smiling.

  “I was,” he said, inclining his head, almost hiding his face behind his hat. “That’s a tricky word, ‘was.’ Once a coven member, it’s for life, and I’m alive.” His smile deepened as his gaze became unfocused. “Wouldn’t that beat all creation? A coven member who is also a demon’s familiar? It would make you look rather…tame.” Gaze sharpening, he took a step to the door and stopped. “Do you have your phone? Call me if you have trouble.”

  I bobbed my head. He was going to try to reclaim his spot in the coven. I bet that would shift the odds in the ever-after if anyone knew.

  “Good then,” Pierce said, and I did nothing, completely shocked when he leaned into me and gave me a quick, almost-not-there kiss. On my mouth. And then he was gone before I could even find the scent of redwood in my soul.

  “Wish me the luck of the dead,” he said, half in the hall, half in my life.

  “Good luck,” I whispered, and the door shut. He had kissed me?

  He had kissed me, and like an idiot, I’d done nothing. It wasn’t as if he’d never kissed me before, but clearly something had changed in his thoughts between my taking Trent to Seattle and now. When I’d left, he had been cold and broody—angry with me for having foiled his attempt to kill Al, and rightly so. I’d done nothing to apologize, and he knew I’d do it again in a heartbeat. And yet he had kissed me and left to claim his old position to help me?

  I wanted to mistrust this. I wanted to believe that it was a trap to further his own standing and perhaps find a way out of his servitude with Al, because with mistrust came distance, and my heart would be safe. But a small, wiser part of me knew that for all his dark power, for all the crap he had made of my life, Pierce was true to his beliefs and wouldn’t stoop that low. If he was trying to help, it was genuine. He had set his own desires aside to further mine, and the knowledge of that was scary. His sacrifice made it far too easy for me to put him in the position of hero, inviting me to turn a blind eye to the darker side of his psyche so I could feel the rush of falling in love again.

  Not this time, I vowed, my hands in fists as I wiped off the lingering taste of redwood from my lips. He was a black witch who would use forbidden magic to kill those who threatened his life or the lives of those he cared about.

  So was I, but that didn’t mean I had to love him for it.

  Eighteen

  I’d already used the glass-and-tile shower in the front bathroom, scrubbing my scalp until it hurt as I worked to get the last vestiges of the burnt-amber stink from my hair. The hotel shampoo smelled far too masculine for me, and I thought it irksome that the management assumed only men would be renting the top floor. But then again, they probably hadn’t expected Trent to blow into town with two women. Fortunately I had some of my own shampoo and detangler, and I was again smelling like strawberries and oranges.

  I smiled, settling myself deeper into the bubbles. Yes, I had already showered, but there was nothing like a long soak to prepare oneself for a lynching. Especially when you could watch TV while doing it.

  Clicking from the Weather Channel to the news, I set the remote next to my plate of crackers. A half-empty bottle of water stood beside it. The scent of coffee slipped in under the door, telling me that Ivy was up. I felt like a prisoner, even after having been a guest at Alcatraz and knowing what true incarceration felt like. Never again, I thought as I adjusted the towel wrapped around my hair. If I couldn’t beat this, I’d go live with Al.

  But I didn’t want to.

  My gaze drifted to my heavy-magic detector, the disk a flickering, sickly green. It wasn’t working well, and I couldn’t trust it. I felt like Jenks at five thousand feet. Ley-line magic, too, was messed up because of the ley lines, fractured and broken by the seismic activity. This was why the coven had their convention here. Unless you lived here, you were at a disadvantage and didn’t dare use your magic in a pique of anger or implied insult. Demon magic worked, though, I thought bittersweetly as I extended an arm up and looked at the lack of bruises. That curse Al had given me before sending me back had rubbed out every ache.

  The TV detailed California’s latest wildfire, and I stretched out all of my five foot four in the water with room to spare. Fires, mudslides, earthquakes, smog, broken ley lines…Why did anyone live here?

  I breathed deeply, my eyes flicking to the short dress that Al had given me. I could still detect a whisper of burnt amber drifting fro
m it as it hung on a wooden hanger on the back of the door, and I was hoping that the moist air might help. Apart from the purple scarf, it was all-white leather from the cap to the boots, supple like butter and having a luster that would show off my curves. I knew without trying it on that it would fit. I didn’t want to know how Al knew my size. Apart from the color, I’d look like Cat-woman. Me-ow.

  My first reaction when I had shaken it from the paper wrapping had been “Is he kidding?” No one wears white leather, especially not head to toe. But now, after I’d been looking at it for over an hour, I thought why the hell not? Skimpy as it was, leather did have a small resistance to thrown potions.

  There wasn’t a clock in here, but the ticker on the bottom of the news said it was getting late, and I sat up. The water fell from me, creating bubbles, and I stood and reached for a fluffy towel. It felt good not to hurt, and I dried myself off, going over every inch of my smooth, unblemished skin that should be aching and purple from fighting first Ku’Sox and then Al. Demon curses. Better than Band-Aids, and they didn’t wash off in the tub, either.

  The TV switched to an on-the-scene reporter, yelling as she tried to be heard over the fire trucks. It was a small warehouse fire on the docks of Seattle. Jenks? I wondered. God, I missed him, and I hoped he was okay. They were supposed to be back by midnight, but I doubted they’d make it. So much for Trent’s promises. I was sure he’d have a pixy dust of an excuse.

  Wrapped in a white robe embroidered with the hotel’s initials, I undid my hair and tried to go through it again. I could see the TV in the mirror. The woman was going on and on about numerous minor problems all over Seattle, from an elevator becoming stuck in the needle, to a catfight at the international cat show Seattle was hosting, to hundreds of fender benders that seemed to happen simultaneously across the Seattle area. She was asking everyone to be patient. Apparently the 911 system had been scheduled for maintenance, and the load of calls had crashed the backup.