The Outlaw Demon Wails (The Hollows #6)

The Outlaw Demon Wails (The Hollows #6) Page 23

The cool chill of sunset seeped in around David's borrowed leather coat, and the smell of grilling burgers made my stomach hurt. I was too worried to eat. Too worried and too tired. Dressed in my working leathers, I sat alone in a folding chair under a tree in the dying autumn garden as everyone pretended everything was normal, clustered at the picnic table to eat their hot dogs before we called a demon into the graveyard.

My fingers played with the charm about my neck, and I felt the soft scar on my lower lip with my tongue. I don't know why I was worried about becoming bound to a vamp. I wasn't likely to live past tonight.

Depressed, I took off the high-magic detection charm. What was the point? My gaze drifted past the swirl of silk and laughter of Jenks's kids to the square of blasphemed ground in the graveyard before that weird warrior angel statue. It was peaceful now, but as soon as the sun set, it was going to feel the touch of demons. I could have called Minias in the kitchen, but I liked the security of hallowed ground close enough to dive into. There was a reason that patch of unsanctified ground existed, and I was going to use it. Besides, trying to cram three elves, three witches, one frightened vampire, a pixy family, and an angry demon into my kitchen was a really bad idea.

Thanks to Glenn, I had a small breathing space. The FIB detective had dug up something from Betty's past, and though I thought an illegal puppy farm was a thin excuse, the animal protection people had been more than happy to authorize a raid on her house after I signed a paper stating I'd seen her kick her dog. The distraction would keep them too busy to summon Al, so unless someone else summoned him - a prospect not likely the day after Halloween - I had until sunset tomorrow. Telling my mom she didn't need to hide on hallowed ground tonight had been the high point of my day.

David had stopped by earlier to wish me well and loan me his long leather duster. He had left when Quen showed up, looking ill but determined to try to change Trent's mind. I think the Were was rightly concerned that the perceptive elf would see the focus within him.

At any rate, after a hushed argument, Quen agreed to Trent's plan, then spent the next half hour trying to convince Trent to return with him to his compound and prepare. I figured Quen was trying to get him home where he could lock him in a box. Trent must have figured the same thing since he refused to leave and had Jonathan bring over the items on Quen's wish list. Hence the general weirdness of elves eating hot dogs in my backyard.

Quen wasn't happy. I wasn't either. I was going into the ever-after to steal a demon's DNA with a freaking tourist for backup. Just peachy damn keen.

Sensing my frustration, Ivy turned to me from the distant picnic table. I shrugged, and she went back to whatever Jenks was saying. The pixy had been questioning Ceri all day, and I couldn't help but notice that Trent, way on the other side of the table, had been listening with rapt attention. Seeing them there in a noisy bunch trying to pretend everything was normal, I was reminded of my mother's occasional family reunions. Here I was again, watching from the outskirts. It always seemed to be that way. Maybe they had known I was a bastard child.

I smoothed my brow and straightened when Marshal headed my way with a plate of food. He'd shown up a few hours ago trying to fit in, and doing a damn fine job of it after his initial stammering reaction to finding Trent in my backyard. He had taken over the grilling to stay out of the way yet be in the thick of things. I wasn't quite sure what to think. I wasn't going to repeat old patterns and let this slide into something simply because he was nice looking, fun to be with, and somewhat interested. Especially if Jenks was right and he was here with a white-knight complex and thought he could save me.

"Hungry?" he said, smiling as he put the paper plate on the rickety table beside me and sat in the folding chair beside mine.

His almost-there eyebrows pinched, and I forced a smile. "Thanks." My gut clenched at the smell of the food, but I dutifully pulled the plate onto my lap. It was the first time today we'd been alone. I knew he wanted to talk, and my blood pressure spiked when he took a deep breath. "Don't start," I said, and his brows arched in surprise.

"You're a psychic, too?" he said with a little laugh, and I crunched through a chip. The salt hit my tongue, and my hunger woke up.

"No," I said, seeing Jenks past him. The pixy was watching us with his hands on his hips. "But I've heard this argument before." I crossed my legs and sighed when Marshal took a breath. Here it comes.

"The ever-after?" he asked. "Isn't there someone else who can do this? My God, the man has enough money to hire anyone to gather samples for his genetic mapping program."

I stared at my plate because of fatigue, not because of the lie we had told Marshal to hide that Trent was an elf and wanted the sample to revitalize his species. "No," I said softly. "There isn't. This is what I do. Seemingly stupid stuff that most people die doing." I tucked a strand of hair as my frustration grew. "You don't think I know this is one of the most risky things I've ever done? I appreciate your concern, Marshal, but I need that demon sample, and Trent can get me there and back. If you're going to be the voice of common sense and tell me that I'm likely not going to survive, then you need to leave."

My voice had risen, and I exhaled. I knew Jenks and Ivy could hear if they tried. Marshal looked hurt, and I slumped. "Look," I said, lowering my eyes in guilt. "I'm sorry. I really am. You simply knowing me has put you in danger." I thought of Kisten, dying to protect me, and I bit my lip. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't even know why you're here."

His face took on a severe cast, and he leaned to block my view of the picnic table. "I'm here because I thought I could talk some sense into you," he said tightly, and my gaze jerked to his at the frustration in his voice. "It's hard to watch someone do something this incredibly stupid, especially when there isn't a damn thing you can do to help them." His fingers found my hands. "Rachel, don't do this."

His fingers, twined in mine, were warm, and I slowly pulled away. This is so not what I need. "I'm doing this," I said, starting to get mad.

Marshal's brow pinched. "I can't help you."

I jerked my fingers from him. "I never asked you to help me." Damn it, Jenks. Couldn't you be wrong once in a while?

Taking my silence for indecision, Marshal stood. The dry clatter of dragonfly wings intruded, and I stared at Jenks, wondering how he could see people so clearly and I could be so dense.

"Hey, Marsh-man," Jenks quipped lightly. "Ivy wants another burger."

Marshal gave me a faintly sour sideways look. "I was just heading that way."

"It's going to be okay," I said almost belligerently, and he hesitated. "I can do this."

"No," he said with Jenks hovering uncertainly beside him. "It won't. This is bad. Even if you do come back, you're going to be really messed up."

He turned and headed to the grill, his shoulders hunched and his steps slow. Jenks didn't seem to know what to do with his wings as he rose and fell in indecision. "He doesn't know you very well, does he," the pixy said nervously. "You're going to come out of this better than when you went in. I know you, Rache, and it's going to be okay."

"No, he's right," I breathed, my hair moving in my exhaled breath. "This is a bad idea." Hiding in my church for the rest of my life was a bad idea, too, and if Trent was going to pay for my trip in and out of the ever-after, why shouldn't I take him up on it?

Jenks darted away, clearly upset. My gaze landed first on Ivy - who was watching Jenks vanish into the graveyard, which was hazy with dusk - then moved to Quen and Trent arguing. Trent made a sharp motion, and Quen dropped back. The older man's face was dark with emotion, and showing his anger and fatigue, he walked away, hand to his face as he stifled a ragged cough. Trent blew out his breath in relief, then stiffened when he realized I'd seen it. I gave him a sarcastic bunny-eared kiss-kiss, and he frowned. Looked like we were still on for our date.

Quen found his own solitude on my back porch steps, sitting slumped with his knees bent. He looked tired, but nowhere near like he'd been dying last night. Three pixy bucks dropped down a respectful distance beside him, and he started. A faint smile curved over my face as I watched the older man's mood shift from frustrated anger to fascinated relaxation. Yes, something was there. This was more than the usual enthrallment I'd seen humans exhibit when they talked to pixies.

Ivy was watching Quen, too, and when Marshal brought her a burger, she ignored it, getting up and drifting over to the still-recovering elf. The pixies scattered at a sharp word from her, and she sank down beside him. Quen eyed her, taking the beer she handed him but not drinking it. I thought the two of them looked odd together, very unalike, almost adversaries, yet finding common ground in their unusual helplessness.

Pixies were starting to show themselves with sporadic flashes of light hovering close to the ground in the chill, and I followed the low, sleek shadow of Rex padding out from the long grass to make a beeline to Ivy. It wasn't often that the vampire was on her level, and I sighed when Ivy casually picked the cat up and set it on her lap, all the while talking to Quen. It wasn't hard to figure out what their topic of conversation was. They kept looking at Trent and me.

The sun had almost set, and I shrugged David's leather duster closer and dug my toes into the soles of my boots. I was tired. Really tired. Exhaustion had brought me down for a nap earlier, but that hadn't touched my mental weariness. Catching Ceri's eyes, I moved her attention to the setting sun. The woman nodded in acknowledgment, bowing her head as if praying. In a moment, she straightened. There was a new determination to her, a tightening of her jaw and a hint of fear. She didn't want me doing this, but she'd help.

Silence fell at the table when she picked up her five-pound bag of salt and started across the grounds to the blasphemed spot of earth surrounded by God's grace. In a breath, everyone was moving, and I watched in amusement as Quen tried to help Ivy rise, getting an insulted look from her for his trouble. Trent went inside to change, and Marshal grabbed another beer and sat beside Keasley at the picnic table.

I looked up at an unfamiliar wing-clatter and got an eyeful of pixy dust. It was little Josephine, one of Jenks's youngest, with three of her brothers serving as babysitters/guards close behind. She was too young to be alone, but so eager to help maintain the garden and their security that it was easier to watch her from a distance.

"Ms. Morgan," the pretty little pixy said breathlessly as she landed lightly on my offered hand and I blinked her dust away. "A blue car is at the curb, and a lady who smells like you and fake lilac is coming up the front walk. Do you want me to pix her?"

Mom? What's she doing here? Ivy was watching me, wanting to know if we had trouble, and I shifted my finger to tell her we were fine. The exchange was noticed by Quen, which kind of irritated me.

"It's my mom," I said, and the pixy girl's wings drooped in disappointment. "You can pix the next magazine salesman, though," I added, and she perked up, her tiny hands clapping. God, please let me survive to see Josephine pix a salesman.

"Thanks, Ms. Morgan!" she chimed out. "I'll show her in." Then she darted over the church to leave a fading sunbeam of sparkles. Her brothers were in hot pursuit, and I couldn't help my smile. It slowly faded as I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees. Time enough to say good-bye to my mom, I thought when the back door opened, and my mother clattered down the back porch steps with a box on her hip. I'd told her what I was doing tonight, and I should have expected she might come over. Quen stood to murmur a greeting to her before he went inside after Trent, and I stifled a surge of annoyance. I didn't like the two of them in my house. Using my bathroom. Sniffing my shampoo.

My mom was wearing jeans and a flowery top, looking younger with her short hair frizzing out all over, only somewhat contained with a ribbon that matched her shirt. Eyes bright, she took in the preparations in the middle of my graveyard with a worried cast to her.

"Rachel. Good. I got here before you left," she said as she waved a distant hello to everyone and headed to me. "I wanted to talk to you. The Turn take it, Trenton has finished baking up to be quite the young man. I saw him in the hall. I'm glad to see you've gotten over your little childhood tiff."

Relief was a warm wash through me when I saw her, her thoughts clearly back together. When I'd left her this morning, she'd been distraught, half out of her mind, but I'd seen her bounce back like this before. Takata clearly knew the right words to say, and I wondered, now that the truth was out, if we had seen the last of her breakdowns. If breakdowns were what they truly were. Living a lie tore at one's being and leaked out in the oddest of places.

My thoughts went to Takata, then my dad. I couldn't be angry at her for loving two men and finding a child to love where she could, and as I stood to give her a hug, an unexpected feeling of peace took root. I was my dad's daughter, but now I knew where I got my ugly feet, my tall height...and my nose.

"Hi, Mom," I said as she took me into a hug, but her attention was on Marshal at the picnic table.

"Marshal is here?" she asked as I sat down, her expression wondering.

I nodded, not looking at him. "He's trying to talk me out of it. Bad case of the white-knight syndrome." She said nothing, and alarmed, I looked up. Her green eyes were wide and panic swirled in them. Not her, too. "It's okay, Mom," I blurted. "Really."

Dropping the box with a surprising thump, she sank onto the open chair, utterly miserable. "I worry so much about you," she whispered, nearly breaking my heart. Her eyes started to well, and she quickly wiped them. God, this is hard.

"Mom, it's going to be okay."

"I hope you're right, sweetheart," she said, leaning to take me into another hug. "It's your dad and Mr. Kalamack all over again, only this time, it's you." Whispering in my ear as she held me, she added, "I can't lose you. I can't."

Breathing in lilac and redwood, I held her. Her shoulders were thin and I could feel every shift of her weight as she reined in her emotions. "It's going to be all right," I said. "Besides, Dad didn't die from going into the ever-after. He died trying to get rid of the vampire virus. This is different. It's not the same thing."

She pulled back, nodding to tell me she had known how he had died all along. I could almost see another brick in her psyche being remortared into place, making her stronger. "True, but Piscary never would have bitten him if he hadn't tried to help Mr. Kalamack," she said. "Just like you're helping Trent."

"Piscary is dead," I said, and her breath came in slowly.

"He is, isn't he."

"And I wouldn't go into the ever-after unless I had a guaranteed way out," I added. "And I'm not doing this to help Trent. I'm doing this to save my ass."

At that, she laughed. "That is different, isn't it," she said, needing hope.

I nodded, having to believe it was. "It is. It's going to be okay." Please let it be okay. "I can do this. I have good friends."

She turned, and I followed her gaze to Ivy and Jenks in the graveyard, both looking helpless as Ceri directed everyone to their places. We were alone, everyone slowly milling around that weird angel statue in the graveyard and the slab of reddish cement fixing it to the ground. "They do love you," she said, giving my hand a light squeeze. "You know, I never understood why your dad always told you to work alone. He had friends, too. Friends that would have risked their lives for him. Though in the end, it didn't matter."

I shook my head, embarrassed about the love comment. But my mom only smiled. "Here," she said, nudging the cardboard box with her toe. "I should have given these to you before. But seeing how much trouble you got into with the first few I gave you, it was probably just as well I waited."

First few? I thought when my fingers touched the dusty cardboard and a faint tingle of power cramped my joints. I quickly undid a flap and looked inside, and the scent of burnt amber was almost a slap. "Mom!" I hissed, seeing the dark leather and dog-eared pages. "Where did you get these?"

She wouldn't meet my gaze, her brow furrowing as if refusing to look guilty. "They're your dad's," she muttered. "You didn't seem to mind the first ones," she said defensively as I stared at her, aghast. "And not all of them are demon texts. Some are straight from the university's bookstore."

Understanding crashed over me, and I closed the box up. "You were the one who put the books - "

"In the belfry, yes," she finished, standing up and drawing me to my feet. Ceri was done and we had to move. "I wasn't about to hand them over to an unfamiliar vampire to give to you, and the door was open. I knew you'd find them eventually, seeking out high, lonely spots the way you do. You lost everything when the I.S. cursed your apartment, and what was I supposed to do? Drive over here and give you a demon-text library?" Her green eyes were glinting in amusement. "You would have locked me up."

Oh, my God! My dad had called demons?

Trent came out the back door with Quen, and I felt a wash of panic. "Mom," I pleaded, my pulse racing. "Tell me he never used these. Tell me he was a collector of books. Please?"

She smiled and patted my hand. "He was a collector of books. For you."

My brief relief died, and I froze as she stood to pull out of my grip. My dad had known that I'd be able to kindle demon magic. He had collected a demon library for me. He had told me to work alone. What in hell had Trent's dad done to me?!

"Come on, Rachel," my mom said, standing over me and touching my shoulder. "They're ready for you."

I stood, wobbling. A small cluster of people waited at the warrior angel: Ceri, Keasley, Trent, Quen, Marshal, Jenks, and Ivy - the people who impacted my life the most. With my mom at my side, I started walking as she chatted on about nothing. It was a defense mechanism that I saw through to the fear she was struggling to come to grips with.

David's coat enfolded me in the rich, complicated scent of Were, a distant show of support. For all his strength, he'd known he could do nothing and so had given me what he could and vanished in the way of Weres. I shrugged it closer as the hem hissed against the long grass. It needed to be cut, and the dew-wet tips turned the hem a darker brown.

Everyone turned as I approached, and my mom gave me a last hug before falling back to stand with Marshal in the grass. Ceri and Trent were already on the red slab with three concentric circles sketched on it, and eyeing the man's new outfit, I joined them. Trent had put on some sort of black jumpsuit with pockets, and if not for his fair hair poking out from under a close fabric cap, I wouldn't have known it was him at first glance.

"You look like the military guy from a B movie," I said, and he frowned. "You know...the token human who gets eaten first?"

"Is that what you're wearing?" he shot back. "You look like a wannabe private eye."

"It's cold over there," I said defensively. "And leather will keep me from getting scraped up if I have to fall down. And if I get hit by a potion, it can't get through." If I get hit by a demon curse, I'll be dead. "I can't afford Kevlar and spell-resistant fabric."

Trent gave me an up-and-down look and turned away, miffed. Ivy stepped forward to hand me the satchel that had all my stuff. "I put the map Ceri sketched in there," she said, her pupils fully dilated with worry. "I don't know how helpful it's going to be, but at least you know what direction to go."

"Thanks," I said as I took the light bag. In it was my splat-ball gun with a dozen sleepy-time paint balls, three warmth amulets from Marshal, a scent charm from David I'd loaned him a while back, a small bag of salt, a piece of magnetic chalk, and a couple of other things from my dad's old stash of ley line stuff. Nothing much. Just what I needed to force my summoning name onto Al and take his in return. Soon as I had the sample, I was going to use it.

"And some bottled water," she added. "A few energy bars. And some cream for your neck."

"Thank you," I said softly.

Her attention flicked to mine and away. "Keasley put in a few pain amulets, and I found a finger stick in your bathroom drawer."

"That will help."

"Flashlight. Extra batteries," she added.

There wasn't anything that would help us if we were caught, but I knew why she was doing this. Trent shifted impatiently, and I frowned. "Hat," I said suddenly as I looked down at the long brown duster. "I need a hat."

Ivy smiled. "It's in there."

Curious, I dropped the bag and unzipped it, digging past Ivy's colored markers that I wouldn't need and Jenks's old toolkit from this spring, when he'd been big. I pulled out an unfamiliar black leather hat and snugged it over my curls. It fit me perfectly, and I wondered when she had bought it for me. "Thank you," I said as I tucked my hair up and out of my face.

Ceri was staring at the horizon. The sun was down, and I knew she wanted to get on with it. "Rachel?" she prompted, and my heart thumped. I almost hoped Trent wouldn't be able to make good on his deal to pay my way and I could bow out of this without looking like a coward. But then I'd be fighting for my life every time someone called Al.

Ivy touched my shoulder, and not caring what anyone thought, I dropped the satchel and took her in a tight hug. Vampire incense filled my senses, and as my eyes closed to keep a tear from leaking out, I breathed it in, feeling not a twinge upon my scars. Misery took me, heartache that this might be good-bye forever. "I'll see you about sunrise," I said, and nodding, she let go.

I couldn't look at anyone, and my throat was tight as I picked up my bag and stepped onto the cement slab. My gaze flicked to Trent. His expression was carefully empty. What in hell did I care what he thought?

Ceri stepped into the first circle, and my eyebrows rose. "I can hold Minias's circle," I said, then swallowed. "Unless you think Newt will show up."

She wrapped her arms around herself, clearly wanting to put herself on hallowed ground, but just as clearly planning to stay where she was. "Minias will follow you if I don't circle him and keep him here until sunrise." Her narrow jaw clenched. "Walk fast."

I looked briefly at my mother as I remembered the mental torture Al had put her through when she had done the same. "Ceri..."

"I can do this," she said, fear in her eyes, and I touched her arm. There was nothing this side of the lines that would keep Minias from tattling on us if he knew what we were doing. "Thank you," I said, and she smiled fearfully.

"If spending a night talking to a demon is all I have to endure to keep you alive and help mend the damage the demons did to my species, then it's thirteen hours well spent."

"Thank you all the same," I said, worried.

"I'll close the outermost circle," she said, starting to babble in her nervousness. "That way, no one can interfere. And because Trent will be doing the summoning and bargaining, he will make the inner one to hold Minias. I'll set the middle circle to hold Minias here and keep him from following you once you leave."

"Trent!" I exclaimed, my gaze shooting to him in his cute little jumpsuit, and he flushed. "I can make a stronger circle with one arm tied behind my back."

Ceri shook her head. "Trenton is the one bargaining for the jumps, so he will be the one holding the circle," she said, her smooth features wrinkling as I found fault with her plan. "Keep your mouth shut while he talks or Minias will use it against you."

Ticked, I pressed my lips tight.

"Keep your mouth shut!" Ceri said in a burst of anger, then gestured for Trent to come closer. Sighing, Trent tightened his grip on his backpack and stepped over the outermost chalk line to join us. Ceri pointed for him to stand next to me, and looking nervous, he edged closer yet. I wondered how much of Ceri's temper was actually worry. She was terrified of Newt, and Minias was only a small step from the insane female demon.

Quicker than thought, a shimmering sheet of black ever-after rose up around us along the outermost circle permanently etched out in the reddish cement. There had been a tug on my thoughts when Ceri had tapped the nearby line, and I worked to keep the huge spindle of ever-after I had gathered earlier from unwinding. Trent didn't look happy as Ceri trapped him with the same witch who had turned him in for murder and might just as easily give him to a demon to get rid of one of her own demon marks. Trust, I thought suddenly. He trusted me - to some extent anyway.

I took a steadying breath as I looked at the other two circles at my feet. They would make an airlock of sorts. Trent would set the inner circle to hold Minias, but when we left, it would fall. The middle circle, set by Ceri, would hold the demon at that point.

Ceri glanced at Trent and nodded. "Just as we practiced," she said, and Trent set his backpack down and came forward. He glanced once at Quen, then closed his eyes. His lips moved, and I felt an uncomfortable sensation as he slowly tapped a line and set the circle. It was the difference between a sharp tug to remove a splinter and a methodical, painful digging, and I could tell it was bothering Ceri, too. Quen must have been making him practice, since he didn't need candles to set a circle anymore.

"Bartholomew's balls," Ceri muttered. "Can he do this any slower?"

My lips quirked, but my satisfaction at Trent's lesser skills died in a wash of self-pity when his sheet of ever-after rose up. His aura was clean and pure, the bright gold shot through with the sparkles of seeking. Mine would look like a crap-smeared wall next to his.

Jenks, I thought. Where in hell is Jenks?

"Ivy?" I said, worried. "Where's Jenks?"

She waved a hand. "He said he was going to make sure his family was safe," she said, and my gaze went over the pixy-empty garden. From the steeple, a pair of unfamiliar red eyes glowed, and my pulse jumped until I realized it was Bis. I felt miserable. Jenks didn't want to say good-bye. I understood that.

Ceri handed Trent my scrying mirror, and I saw his expression close off in the gathering dusk. Damn, the thing was beautiful out here in the gloomy light, the wine-colored glass etched with crystalline lines in the shape of the calling pentagram with all its little figures and symbols. I couldn't tell if Trent thought it beautiful or foul, and I wondered if that was why Ceri insisted he summon Minias. She might be trying to convince him neither she nor I was immoral for what we did, just incredibly stupid.

Swallowing hard, Trent knelt on the red pavement. He set the glass carefully in front of him, and he put a shaky hand on the mirror. My nose tickled, then faded, and when a queer feeling of falling inside out flipped through me, I wasn't surprised when Trent blinked fast several times.

"Trent Kalamack," he said softly, clearly talking to Minias. "I ask for your attention in a matter of traveling the lines and am prepared to pay. I won't pay for you coming over here to discuss it, though. That is your choice, not my request."

Trent blanched at Minias's unheard response. "I'm using Morgan's calling circle," he said as if answering a question, then followed it up with "Standing beside me."

A sudden pop of air pressure hurt my eardrums, and I jumped.

Minias had blinked into this side of reality within Trent's circle. A thin hand held his yellow cap onto his head, and his beautiful green-trimmed robe looked loose and undone. His curly hair was in disarray, and with him was the scent of burnt amber and bread hot from the oven.

The demon had his back to me, but I could see his shock when he realized where he was and spun. "By the two worlds colliding," he swore softly as he looked me up and down. "After sunset and still alive? How did you manage that?"

I shrugged one shoulder as Trent took his hand from the mirror and stood. Her back hunched, Ceri whisked it away.

"You kick your dog one too many times, someone's going to call the animal protection agency," I said, not liking the servile attitude Ceri had adopted in Minias's presence. "Now that's an organization you don't want to piss off."

Minias's gaze went to my friends clustered together on holy ground, then Trent - who was trying to look calm - then finally back to me. "An audience?"

I shrugged again. "My friends."

Trent cleared his throat. "This is nice, but we do have a deadline."

My lips pressed. "Which you just blabbed to him, Trent. Way to go."

Trent reddened, and Ceri made a telling face. Minias, though, tugged his yellow robe tightly closed and smiled wickedly at the elf.

"I want to bargain with you," Trent said, casually clasping his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. "I don't want to know your name; I've asked for your presence, not summoned you; and I'm never going to call you again."

Minias reached behind himself for the ornate wire-and-cushion chair that had appeared, tugging it closer until he could sit. "I'll believe that when I see it." His goat-slitted eyes shifted to me, and I forgot to breathe. "Curiosity brought me here. I thought it might have been someone else." His attention landed on Ceri, then slid away. "What could you possibly want, and why in heaven and hell do you think I will help you? A putrid little elf?"

Without hesitation, Trent said, "I want passage in and out of the ever-after for two people, and asylum while we're there. You don't touch us or tell anyone we're there."

Minias's eyebrows rose, and he blinked slowly. "You're going to try to kill Al?" he said softly, and I refused to look away or change my expression. There were ways to solve problems other than killing someone, but if that's what he thought we were doing, then no one would be watching the archive. Right?

In a smooth motion, the demon leaned forward. "I can get you there, but nothing will buy my silence. Two trips in and out," he said speculatively. "You and Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate?"

Trent shook his head, then did a double take to look at Ceri. "You're a Dulciate?" he stammered, and she flushed.

"It means little now," she murmured, her attention down. Minias cleared his throat, and Trent dragged his gaze from her.

"Me and the witch," Trent said, still glancing at Ceri.

"I suppose asking for your soul is out of the question?" the demon said, and I looked at the first of the stars starting to show. We could be here all night. But Trent seemed to have found a cavalier attitude and he turned sideways, as if not really caring whether Minias went along with this or not.

"Stanley Saladin has purchased multiple trips from a demon," he said, his voice carrying an indolent confidence. "Four trips through the lines is not worth my soul, and you know it."

"Stanley Saladin bought line passages from someone trying to lull him into servitude," Minias said. "It was an investment, and I'm not looking for a familiar. Even if I was, I'd buy one, not bother raising one up from scratch. And what makes you think your soul is worth anything?"

Trent said nothing, calmly indifferent until Minias asked, "What do you have that's worth your soul, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack?"

A confident smile curved over Trent. I was shocked at his attitude - he was slipping into this demon-bargaining mode far too easily - but Ceri didn't seem surprised. A businessman is a businessman.

"Good." Trent patted his front for a nonexistent pen. "I'm glad we can talk. I'd like to finish this cleanly, without any marks to be settled at a future date."

Minias's eyes narrowed, and I blanched. "No," he said firmly. "I want a mark. I like the idea of you owing me."

Trent's face went tight. "I can give you the secret of Morgan's parentage - "

My breath hissed in. "You son of a bitch!" I shouted, leaping for him.

"Rachel!" Ceri cried, and I smacked into a front fall when she tripped me.

I scrambled up. My respect for her, not her small hand on my arm, held me back. "That's mine!" I shouted. "You can't buy a trip into the ever-after with my secrets!"

Minias glanced between us. "Add a minor demon mark, and you have your curses."

"Make it settled at my discretion, not yours," Trent haggled, and I jerked from Ceri's grip.

"You son of a bitch!" I yelled, getting in his face. The man had the gall to make an innocent face at me, and losing it, I shoved him into Ceri's outer circle.

He stumbled back, hitting it as if it were a wall. There was a shout of protest, and Quen's toes were suddenly edging near the salt ring. He was ticked, and Ivy was behind him, her lips pressed into a thin line, ready to take Quen down if he somehow got through the sheet of ever-after.

"You sorry little pissant!" I shouted, standing over Trent in his little black jumpsuit with my borrowed duster edging his legs. "You pay for my trip with information about me? I could have done that myself! I only agreed to protect you because you were paying my way!"

"Rachel." Ceri was trying to soothe me, but I'd have none of it. I reached to grab his lapels, and he rolled to his feet. It was fast, and I tried to hide my surprise.

"I'll accept that deal," Minias said, and I almost screamed.

"Done!" Trent shouted, and Minias grinned. "Back off, Morgan, or I'm taking Ceri with me instead, and you get nothing!"

Seething, I glanced at Ceri. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't dare ask Ceri to go. I saw her fear, hating Trent all the more for threatening her like that. She'd go if I didn't, if only to try to help her species. "You are foul, Trent," I said as I backed from him. "This isn't over. When we're done here, we're going to talk."

"Don't threaten me," he said, and my blood seemed to burn under my skin. I looked at my mother, shocked to see her being held back by Keasley. Her color was high and she looked one hundred percent pissed. If I didn't make it back, she would make sure Trent would be sorry he had ever put me, and now Takata, in danger. If Trent talked, demons would be coming after him, too.

"Interesting," Minias said, and I spun back to him. "Rachel Mariana Morgan protecting Trenton Aloysius Kalamack? Trenton Aloysius Kalamack paying Rachel Mariana Morgan's way? This isn't a suicide run to kill Al. What, by the two worlds, are you doing?"

I pulled back to the edge of the circle until it buzzed a harsh warning. Shit, I hadn't realized I had telegraphed so much of our intent. Jaw clenched, I glared at Trent. "Get your cookie-ass in there and get your mark so we can get out of here," I demanded, and Trent blanched. A moment of satisfaction colored my anger, and I made an ugly face. "Yeah," I said bitterly. "You're going to wear his mark, and you're going to have to trust that he doesn't just change his mind and cart you off once you're in there with him."

Ceri frowned. "That's rude, Rachel," she said. "He's bound by law to leave Trenton alone for the duration."

"Just like Al's not supposed to hurt me or my family," I muttered as I backed away from Minias. My legs were shaking from adrenaline as I gestured to Trent to cross over the middle, uninvoked circle and get on with it. The elf got up, brushed himself off, and, with his thin lips pressed tightly, walked over the chalked line with his chin high.

Ceri knelt to touch the line, and a circle of black rose between us and Minias. For a moment, there were three circles, Ceri holding the outer two and Trent holding the innermost one. Then Trent touched his and it fell to put himself and Minias breathing the same air.

Minias smiled, and Trent went ashen. My own heart pounded in the memory of Al doing the same thing to me. Crap, was I trying to feel better about myself by dragging those I envied down to where I was?

"Where do you want it?" the demon asked, and I wondered why, unless it was more degrading to look at it every day knowing you asked for it, rather than have it forced on you. I felt the raised circle on the inside of my wrist, thinking I had to get rid of one of these soon.

His eyes never leaving Minias's, Trent shoved his sleeve up to show a lightly muscled arm, toned and sun-darkened. Minias grabbed his wrist, and Trent flinched at the knife the demon suddenly held, jerking only once as he scribed a circle bisected with a single line into him. I thought I smelled the acidic scent of blood and the rich aroma of cinnamon. I glanced at Ivy - her pupils were dilating as Quen looked at her in disgust.

"Tell me of Rachel's father," Minias said, his hand still around Trent's wrist. The mark had stopped bleeding, and Trent was staring at it, shocked that it looked old and long healed.

"Give me the way to cross the lines," he said, his gaze jerking up to Minias's.

The demon's eye twitched. "It's in your head," he said. "Just say the words of invocation, and you and whoever is with you will cross the lines. Now tell me of Rachel's sire. If I don't think it worth the imbalance of four trips through the lines, I'll simply upgrade your mark and give you a second slash."

I fidgeted, and my mother shook off Marshal's restraint. Damn it, Takata. I'm sorry. Trent was a bastard. I was going to get him for this.

"The man who raised her was human," he said, staring at Minias. "I found out when he came to my father asking for a cure. I have Morgan's father's medical records, but there's no name on them. I don't know who he is."

Keasley and Marshal looked shocked that my dad wasn't a witch, but my lips parted in wonder. Trent had...lied? My mother was sagging in relief, and I reached behind me until I touched the wall of ever-after, leaning my hand against it for support. He hadn't told. He hadn't told Minias. Trent had lied.

Minias's attention flicked to me and back again. His grip on Trent tightened. "Who's her birth father?" he asked, and Trent's gaze grew wild.

"Ask her," he said, and my heart seemed to start beating again. "She knows."

"Not enough," Minias said, knowing he was lying. "Tell me...or you're mine."

My fear redoubled. Did he expect me to save his ass by blurting it out?

"The man is alive," Trent said, that same wild glint in his eye. "He's alive, and Rachel's mother is alive. Morgan's children will survive carrying the ability to kindle demon magic. And I can make more like her." His smile grew ugly. "Let go of me."

Minias's gaze flicked to me. With a shove, he let go of Trent and took a step back. "The mark stands as it is."

Ceri was crying silently, tears trickling down her face as she stood and watched Trent find his composure. Had Trent just assured him that in a few generations they'd have a crop of highly desirable witch familiars available? Ones that could invoke their curses so they wouldn't have to? God help me, he was slime. Utter slime. He had put demon hit-marks on my potential children before they were even born.

I stood where I was and fought to keep from throttling him. He had spared Takata only because he had found a way to hurt me worse. "Can we go now?" I said, hating him.

Minias nodded, and Trent stepped back. The elf set the inner circle to trap him, and when Ceri dropped hers, he retreated to stand beside us. The scent of burnt amber caught at my throat, and Trent reeked. Knowing Trent's circle would fall when we left, Ceri reinstated the second circle about Minias.

The rising and falling bands of power were making me ill. Minias smiled from behind the two different arcs of reality as if he didn't care that he was going to be trapped in a small circle for thirteen hours until the rising sun freed him. Trent's words must have pleased him to no end.

I picked up my satchel and stood ready. My eyes flicked from Ivy to my mom, and my heart pounded. It was going to be over one way or the other really soon. Afterward, Trent and I were going to chat.

"Be careful," my mother said, and I nodded, gripping the straps of my bag tighter.

And then Trent tapped a line and said a word of Latin.

The breath was pushed out of my lungs, and I felt myself fall. The curse seemed to shred me into thoughts held together by my soul. A tingling washed through me, and my lungs rebounded, filling with a harsh gritty air.

I gasped, my hands and knees slamming into the grass-covered ground and my hat falling off. Beside me I could hear Trent retching.

Stumbling to my feet, I swallowed the last of my nausea and looked past my blowing curls to the red-stained sky and long grass. I wanted to give Trent a swift kick for putting my future kids on the demon's radar, but figured I could wait until I knew I had a future.

"Welcome to the homeland, Trent," I muttered, praying we all got back to where we belonged before sunup.