For a Few Demons More

The hair on my arms prickled, and I turned to see Quen already out of the gleaming Jaguar. He was dressed in his usual black pants and shirt, a pair of soft shoes on his feet. A leather belt with a silver buckle was his only decoration. I wondered if it was charmed. The pox-scarred man raised his eyebrows at me in greeting, and I decided it probably was.

Quen was headed for Trent's door, but before he could get there, Trent had opened it himself. Blinking in the strong afternoon sun, he gazed at the sky, his eyes moving as he traced the lines of the front tower outlined against it. His jeans fit him nicely, properly faded and hitting his boots just right. A silk shirt of a deep green that matched Ellasbeth's ribbons gave him some flash, going well with his tan and fair hair. He looked good, but not happy.

Seeing the five elves together, I wondered at the differences. Ellasbeth's mother had Trent's same wispy hair, but her father's was closer to Ellasbeth's—rougher, almost looking like a poor attempt to match it. Beside them, Quen's dark features and ebony hair looked like the other side of the coin, but no less elven.

Ellasbeth brought her gaze from the scrollwork above the big doors when Trent and Quen approached. Her gaze lit upon me, and her expression froze. I smiled as she realized we had our hair up in the same way. Her face under her perfect makeup went stiff.

'Hello, Ellasbeth,' I said, having been introduced to her by her first name the night she'd walked in on me soaking in her tub. Long story, but innocent enough.

'Ms. Morgan,' she said, extending a pale hand. 'How are you?'

'Fine, thank you.' I took her hand in mine, surprised that it was warm. 'I'm honored to be in the wedding party. Have you decided which dress yet?'

The woman's expression went even stiffer behind her shades. 'Mother? Father?' she said, not answering me. 'This is the woman Trenton arranged to work additional security.'

As if they can't tell I'm not one of her friends? I thought, taking their hands as they were offered. 'Pleasure to meet you,' I said to each of them in turn. 'This is Jenks, my partner. He'll be working the perimeter and communication.'

Jenks's wings clattered to life, but before he could charm them with his sparkling personality, Ellasbeth's mother gasped. 'He's real!' she stammered. 'I thought he was a decoration on your earring.'

Ellasbeth's father tensed. 'A pixy?' he said, taking a wary step back. 'Trent-'

A burst of dust spilled from Jenks to light my shoulder, and I all but snapped, 'This is my team. I may be bringing on a vamp if I think it necessary. If you have a complaint, take it up with Trent. My backup can keep his mouth shut about your precious secret identities, but if you show up for the wedding dressed like extras for some ridiculous movie, it won't be my fault if someone figures it out.'

Ellasbeth's mother was staring at Jenks in fascination, and the pixy had noticed. Red-faced, he zipped from one side of me to the next in agitation, finally landing on a shoulder. Clearly the pixy paranoia went from coast to coast, and she hadn't seen one in a while.

'I can't keep your butts above the grass without him,' I continued, darting increasingly nervous glances at Ellasbeth's mom, whose green eyes were bright and captivated. 'And this overdone media circus is likely going to bring the weirdos out of the woodwork.'

I stopped, seeing as no one was listening. Mrs. Withon had blushed to look ten years younger, one hand on her husband's shoulder as she failed to hide her desire to talk to Jenks.

'Oh, the hell with it,' I muttered under my breath. Then, louder, 'Jenks, why don't you escort the ladies into the church where it's safer.'

'Rache,' he whined.

Mr. Withon pulled himself straighter. 'Ellie,' he warned, and I reddened.

Trent cleared his throat. Stepping forward, he took my elbow in restraint, disguising it as a companionable motion. 'Ms. Morgan's commitment to her job is as obvious and up-front as her opinions,' he said dryly. 'I've used her in the past, and I trust her and her partners implicitly in sensitive matters.'

Used me. That's about right.

'I can keep a secret,' Jenks muttered, his fitfully moving wings shifting my hair.

Mrs. Elf beamed at him, and again I wondered at the possible species relationship elves and pixies might have had, broken when the elves went underground. Jenks's kids loved Ceri. Course, they loved Glenn, too, and I knew he was a human.

Ellasbeth caught her father's wary look, her red lips compressing at her mother's charmed smile. 'Trenton, dear,' the nasty woman said, looping her arm back into her mother's. 'I'm going to show my parents the interior of the cathedral while you instruct the help on their duties. It's such a quaint little church. I honestly didn't know they made cathedrals this size.'

I bit back my ire, proud of the Hollows' basilica. And I wasn't the 'help.' I was the person who was going to keep the rabble from taking potshots at them as they paraded their rich elf asses down main street.

'That sounds equitable, love,' Trent said from beside me. 'I'll meet you inside.'

Ellasbeth leaned to give him a peck on the cheek, and though he trailed a hand along her cheek as she moved away, he didn't kiss her back.

Heels clacking on the sidewalk, she led her parents to the side door, since the front was clearly locked. 'Send Caroline in when she arrives?' she said over her shoulder, effectively telling us to stay outside until the maid of honor got here. That was fine with me.

'I'll do that,' Trent called after them, and the three elves turned the corner, Ellasbeth loudly telling her mother about the lovely little baptism pool. Her father was bent in conversation with her mother, clearly berating her for her interest in Jenks. She wasn't listening, almost walking sideways in her attempt to get a last look at Jenks.

Jenks was silent, clearly embarrassed. I though it odd, since he charmed humans all the time. Why was it different when an elf liked him?

'Hey, uh, Rachel,' he said, the hum of his wings loud as he lifted to hover before my eyes, 'I'm going to take a look around. Back in five.'

'Thanks, Jenks.' But he was already gone, his tiny body a speck darting over the spires.

I brought my eyes back to find Quen waiting for me. 'You expect me to believe a pixy is an effective backup?' he asked, eyebrows high. 'Why do you have him out here? Are you trying to make the situation difficult?'

Somehow Quen's attitude didn't surprise me. Stifling my pique, I headed to the side parking lot. 'He'll have the lowdown on the entire block in thirty seconds. I told you you're doing yourself a disservice by keeping pixies out of your garden. You should be begging for a clan to move in, not lacing sticky web in your canopy. They're better sentries than geese.'

The older elf's wrinkles slid into each other as he frowned. He had come up on my left, and with Trent on my right I felt surrounded. 'And you trust Jenks?' Quen asked.

I think it was the first time Quen had called Jenks by his name, and I glanced at him as we rounded the corner and the traffic noise dulled. 'Implicitly.'

No one said anything, and, embarrassed, I blurted, 'I can't protect you if you aren't together. Or is this just a way to have someone pretty on your arm when you walk into a room?'

'No, Ms. Morgan,' Trent said softly, his bangs drifting in the slight breeze. 'But seeing as the sun is up, how much danger can we be in from a demon? I don't expect Lee to show, and if he does, it won't be until after dark.' He hesitated. 'With a demon pulling his strings.'

We couldn't very well go in after Ellasbeth had told us to stay out, and I wasn't eager to spend more time than I had to with her. It seemed Trent wasn't either, so we drifted to a stop by the side stairs and the less- imposing secondary entrance off the parking lot. My sandals scuffed against the white lines of the painted-on basketball court, but Quen was silent in his soft shoes. I wanted a pair despite that they would leave me that much shorter.

'You… ah, trust me in sensitive matters?' I said to Trent. 'What does that mean?'

Trent tracked a flock of pigeons, blinking as they crossed the sun. 'It means I trust you to keep your mouth shut but not to keep your fingers out of my desk.'

Quen shifted to stand almost out of my sight. I turned to keep him in it. 'That bothered you, didn't it? That I could sneak into your office?' I asked.

Ears reddening, Trent glanced at me. 'Yes.'

Pleased, I shifted my shoulders. Casual looked good on him, and I wondered what he'd look like in a burger