For a Few Demons More

'My superiors would like me to extend an invitation to you.'

Disgusted, I let my bag fall from my shoulder. Catching the strap in my hand, I threw it into the backseat. He had said he wasn't working under Denon, but I didn't want to be contracted out to the Arcane either. Reaching for the doorhandle, I muttered, 'I don't work for the I.S. in any capacity, so forget it.'

'This isn't from the I.S.—this is a private group.'

My fingers slipped from the handle, and I stood with my back to him—thinking. The sun was hot—it would probably melt the birthday candles still in my shoulder bag—and I turned to put Jenks in the shade. Hip cocked, I sent my eyes over Tom's comfortable-looking shoes, his new jeans, his tucked-in dress shirt, and his hair drifting in the slight breeze. He was young, but not inexperienced. Powerful, but I had surprised him. He was working in the I.S. Arcane Division yet was speaking for someone else? That didn't sound good.

'This is about summoning demons, isn't it?' I said, and he nodded, too fresh-faced to look sage but trying for it anyway. I leaned against my car, amazed at how the brightest-looking people did the dumbest things. 'Despite what you've heard, I don't summon demons. They just show up to irritate the hell out of me. I don't twist demon curses.'

Anymore. 'You couldn't pay me enough to twist one for you. So whatever problem your friends have, you can take it somewhere else.'

'It's not illegal to summon demons,' Tom said belligerently.

'No, but it's stupid.' I reached for the door again, pulling when Tom stepped forward and put his hand on mine. I yanked out of his reach, ticked. Damn it, he was a demon practitioner.

'Rachel Morgan, wait. I can't tell them you didn't even listen.'

I wasn't going to hit him again, but a yelling redhead could usually drive the most persistent person away. I took a breath, then hesitated. This wasn't about the focus, was it?

Exhaling, I eyed him. My gaze fell to Jenks, my hand starting to ache from holding that same stiff position, then back to Tom. 'Are you the ones killing the Weres?' I asked flat out.

Tom's mouth dropped open in a surprise so genuine I had to believe it was real. 'We thought you were,' he said, and I didn't know which was more disturbing, that they thought I was capable of murder or that they thought I was capable of murder and wanted me to join them.

'Me?' I said, shifting my weight to my other foot. 'What for? I've never killed anyone in my life!' Let a demon take them instead of me but never killed them. Ah, except for Peter. But he wanted to die. Feeling guilty, I searched the horizon.

The tips of Tom's ears went red in embarrassment. 'The inner circle has extended an invitation,' he said, struggling to regain my attention. 'They request that you join them.'

I'll just bet. 'Excuse me,' I said angrily. 'Get your hand off my car.'

Tom removed his hand, and I tugged the handle up. He backed when I got in and settled into the sun- warmed leather seats. This was great. Just freaking great. A wacko fringe organization wanted me as a new recruit. Slamming the door shut, I held Jenks in my cupped palm and dug the box of tissues out of the console. I set it on my lap and carefully laid him in it. Seeing him there motionless, a feeling of panic slid through me and was gone. If he wasn't okay, Matalina would be devastated, and I would be really pissed.

The powerful practitioner of black ley line magic in jeans and sunglasses who could probably turn my blood to sludge wanted me in his little group. Even worse, he seemed to be an underling. Anger cresting, I looked at Tom squinting in the sun, then with a small thought, willed my second sight into focus to check his aura. It was edged in a faint shimmer of black.

'Your aura is dirty,' I said, my motions sharp as I buckled myself in and let my second sight drop before I saw something I didn't want to; I was in a graveyard.

Face red, he boldly said, 'My position in the I.S. prohibits me from working with demons as much as I'd like. But I'm committed to the cause and am contributing in other ways.'

Oh, my God. He's apologizing for not having more smut on his soul?

Tom misread my expression, his smooth brow tightening in anger. 'My cloak may be light, but it serves a purpose. I can move unseen where those more versed in the dark arts can't.' He stepped closer. 'That's why we want you, Rachel Morgan. You openly consort with demons. Your cloak is as black as anyone's in the inner circle, and yet you're not afraid to walk proud and unrepentant. Even the I.S. can't touch you.'

Stretching, I reached between the seats and got my bag. Right. And that's why I don't have a license? 'And because of that, your little club thinks I'm worthy of them?' I said, digging for my keys. My fingers touched my splat gun, and I toyed with the idea of plugging him with a few defunct earth charms just to see him run away.

'It's not a club,' Tom said, clearly insulted. 'It's a tradition of witches that stretches back to the beginning of the crossing of the ley lines. A glorious lineage of secrecy and power, pushing the frontiers of our existence.'

Yada-yada-yada … It had taken on the cadence of empty rhetoric. Wondering if the I.S. knew they had a cultist on their payroll, I jammed the key into the ignition. 'You summon demons?'

Tom's stance became defensive. 'We explore options that other witches are too timid to venture. And we think you are—'

'Let me guess. I've been found worthy to join your cause and be privy to the inner-sanctum secrets that have been passed down from master to student for two millennia.'

Okay, maybe that had been a little sarcastic, but Jenks wasn't moving, and I was worried. Tom was trying to come up with something, and I started my car. The engine rumbled to life under me, the sound of security. Hot, I fiddled with the air conditioner though the top was open. The breeze from the vents turned cool, and I relished the tickling of the curls against my face.

Done with him, I jammed the car into first. Tom put his hand on the car, his fingers going white in their grip as his words stumbled over themselves. 'Rachel Morgan, you have done great things, survived multiple demon attacks, but no one gives you your due. With us you can find the honor and respect you have earned.'

His flattery meant nothing, and I angled a vent until Jenks's hair shifted. 'I survived by luck and my friends. I shouldn't be honored. I ought to be committed for uncommon idiocy.'

I reached for the gearshift, and he pressed closer. 'You took my circle,' he stated.

'Because I stepped into it while it was forming! It was a one-in-a-million shot of timing!' Worry pinched his eyes that I was leaving, and I hesitated. 'Do yourself and your mother a favor,' I said. 'Run away. Tell your boss that I put a spell on you to make you unable to continue your great work. Forget you ever heard of them, or me, and run as fast and far away as you can, because if you play with demons, they will either kill you or take you as their familiar, and believe me, you want the former. And get your hands off my car!'

Tom took his hand away, but there was a new determination in his eyes. 'You won't survive on your own,' he warned. 'Don't be greedy. Share what you've learned along with sharing the danger of summoning them. It takes a quorum of witches to control a demon.'

'Then it's a good thing I'm not trying to.'

'Rachel Morgan…'

A sound of exasperation came from me. 'No!' I shouted. 'And stop calling me Rachel Morgan. I'm Rachel, or Ms. Morgan. Only demons use every single damned name that a person is known by. My answer is no. No lifelines, no calling my best friend. That's my final answer. I do not deal with demons. I do not want to deal with demons. Go back and tell your architect that I am flattered for the offer but that I work alone.'

His eyes slid to Jenks in my lap, and I scowled. 'Jenks is family,' I said darkly. 'And if you ever hurt my family again, you and your little sorry-ass circle will find out there are worse things than demons to piss off.'

'The I.S. won't help you,' he said, backing up when I revved the engine and threatened to run over his foot. 'They're a vamp-run institution controlled by self-minded individuals, not those seeking to elevate a closed mind.'

Pulse pounding, I said, 'For once we agree, but I wasn't talking about the I.S. I was talking about me.' Foot letting up on the clutch, I pulled forward. I wanted to tear out of there like Ivy's last blind date, but in respect for the dead, I had to be content with a slow, careful crawl. I glanced at Jenks to be sure the jostling hadn't shifted him to snap a wing with his body weight.