Pale Demon

Trent ran a hand over his hair, leaving it attractively mussed. His eyes showed his mood, dark and irate, as he looked over the vacationing people who had nowhere to go for the rest of the night. His frustration peaked. “I need to be—”

“In Seattle by Sunday,” I said, interrupting him. “Yeah, I got that part.” I took a sip of my drink, which infuriated him for some reason. “Will you relax? Have a margarita or something. I told you I’d get you there, and I will. Trust me.” That last jab had been sarcastically bitter, but I was ticked. I mean, why ask me to protect him on his way out to the West Coast, then free a demon to do it?

Vivian was watching me, her intelligent eyes squinting in question. She knew something was up, just not what.

“Trust you.” Trent shifted in disapproval. “Seattle is fifteen thousand miles from here. Just getting to San Francisco will take us eight hours, even if we take 95.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vivian said loudly, and the couple in the next boat over looked at us. “Are you crazy? No one takes 95!”

“Which means we can go as fast as we want,” Trent said, his eyebrows bunching.

“We are not taking 95,” Vivian said fervently, and I tuned them out, watching Ivy and her blood buddy slip out the back. Jenks gave me a color flash of green, and I turned back to the table. “If you get on 95, you don’t stop!” Vivian finished intently.

Trent took a swig of his beer, looking normal. “I don’t plan on stopping.”

Vivian tossed a hand up in the air and pushed herself back into the cushions. “I’m coven, not one of God’s angels. It’s too dangerous.”

Maybe he’s relying on his demon friend, I thought bitterly. I didn’t think any big, bad uglies on 95 would be a problem, even if we had to stop. Hell, we’d already evaded elven assassins and one severely disturbed demon. A soul eater. Crap on toast, I had to talk to Trent. He’d better not have any idea of what he had unleashed, because if he did, and he’d done it intentionally, I might be pissed enough to just walk away from this completely.

Trent leaned toward Vivian. “I don’t see any other way of getting to Seattle in time other than taking 95,” he said softly, his anger just in check.

“I said I’d get you there,” I said, watching Pierce eye two women in shorts, his ears turning red. “Have some faith in the people you ask to protect you.”

Feeling a hint from my last words, Trent leaned back, giving Pierce a good view of the female vamps making out in the corner.

His back against the cushions, Trent unrolled his silverware and arranged it perfectly with stiff motions. “I’ve seen how you protect people. Telling me to have faith isn’t inspiring.”

Oh, but summoning day-walking, soul-eating demons is?

Pierce pulled his eyes from the vamps long enough to snort his agreement, and my face flamed. “Have I ever not come through?”

Trent fingered his knife. “No, but your collateral damage is generally more than I want to pay—Morgan.”

This from the man I had to save by going into a partnership with a demon? I frowned; Pierce looked happy for the first time since he’d gotten here. “And what’s on your mind, demon bait?” I snapped at him. “Enjoying the show?”

Immediately Pierce’s smile shifted to a frown. “I could have killed Al if not for you,” he said, and Vivian started.

“You almost killed a demon?” she asked, eyebrows going high in interest. Her attention flicked from the two women to me and back to him. “Her demon?”

“Aye,” he said, glancing at me darkly. “She stopped me.”

“Who’s going to protect me in the ever-after if not Al!” I said, fumbling my words as suddenly everyone at the table was looking at me like I’d killed Bambi’s mother. “Al is the only thing between me and Newt, or worse! You look at me and think I’ve got this all under control, and I don’t!”

Trent smiled as he moved his nearly empty glass of beer just so. “That’s not what I see when I look at you.”

“Me neither,” Pierce said under his breath, and may God strike me dead if the two men didn’t start to bond.

“What I meant,” I said patiently, feeling like the butt of a joke, “is you think that I’m safe with them, but I’m not. If Al dies, I’m up crap creek.”

Pierce spooned a piece of ice out of his drink. “Not my problem,” he said, teeth clattering against it.

My jaw dropped. “Hey! You were the one who went to him with some stupid idea to be his familiar just so you could kill him.”

“It’s a capital fine idea,” Pierce said indignantly, glaring at me from under his hat. “And it would have worked if not for you.”

Vivian leaned closer. “You tried to kill a demon?”

“I almost made a fist of it, yes,” Pierce said, his features still holding his anger at me. “It was the only reason I did tuck with them, and I opine that if the truth were known, then the coven might have to apologize for burying me alive, and they wouldn’t want to do that, would they?”

Expression becoming pinched, Vivian sank back into the seat. I said nothing. As far as I was concerned, he was a black witch. And it bothered me, probably because I thought I might be one, too. Maybe I was being too harsh. Maybe.

Pierce gave me an angry look. “I’d be free tonight if not for your misguided, ignorant stupidity.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, unable to look up at him. “It’s all my fault. And if you killed Al, where would I be? You can’t protect me from Newt. Like it or not, I need Al. Go kill someone else’s demon to make yourself a man, Mr. Black Magic User.”

Pierce became silent as the Were in one flip-flop finished his set and got down amid a too-enthusiastic round of cheers.

“To freedom,” Trent said, startling me. His glass was raised and, fingers fumbling, Pierce picked up his mostly empty glass and the two clinked.

Men. “Well, excuse me for trying to stay alive,” I said, elbows on the table. I didn’t like being here without Ivy or Jenks. “And I thought you didn’t like Trent.”

Pierce had taken a gulp, his eyes watering at the bubbles popping. “I can drink with a man and not like him,” he said, and Trent smiled that infuriating men’s-club smile.

“I bet you can,” I said, but I was busy looking over the moving heads for Ivy. Shouldn’t she be back by now? How long did it take to bite someone, anyway? Or was it the cleanup that took so long? I’d never been bitten where I wasn’t fighting for my life three seconds later. Must be I was doing it wrong.

“Excuse me,” Trent said suddenly, and my attention jerked to him as he rose and nearly pushed Vivian out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” I asked suspiciously.

Trent hesitated next to the table, and Vivian slipped back in. “The washroom.” His eyes went to his empty beer glass, then back to me. Slipping into the narrow path, he wove his way to the back of the restaurant, past the kitchens and the big sign proclaiming BUOYS and GULLS. Catchy.

My head started to hurt. This might be my only chance to talk to Trent alone. Sighing, I stood, saying, “Vivian, you got Pierce, okay?”

Vivian looked at me in bewilderment, letting go of the straw she was downing her soda with. “He needs watching? What’s he going to do?”

“I don’t need watching,” Pierce said indignantly, and I swung my legs over the edge of the boat the way Ivy had. She’d probably looked better doing it, though. Not answering Vivian, I pushed into motion to follow Trent, noticing that he was getting some appreciative glances from the surrounding patrons. He didn’t give any indication that he knew I was behind him as the noise of the restaurant was replaced by the clatter and steam of the kitchen, and then the muted noise of the back hallway.

“Trent,” I said as he reached the door to the restroom. Arm stiff, he pushed the door open and went in, not acknowledging that I was behind him.

I didn’t slow down, following him in with my breath held and my shoulders tight.