For a Few Demons More

by the time I changed into something dry, the water would be hot.

As I rattled around to get the kettle going, my thoughts kept returning to Piscary. I was in big trouble. I didn't think he had forgiven me for walloping him into unconsciousness with a chair leg, and I had an ugly feeling I was still alive so he could use me to bring Ivy in line when the timing was right. Even worse was my growing belief that he and Al were working together. This all was simply too convenient.

From what Al had said, I didn't think it was possible to summon and hold a demon in a circle if he was possessing someone. So Piscary had taken the credit for ridding Cincy of its newest Inderlander in what was probably a prearranged agreement. For services rendered, the master vampire had been pardoned for murdering those ley line witches last year. It was aeon. The entire thing was aeon. My only question now was who had helped arranged it, 'cause Piscary couldn't safely summon a demon in prison. Someone had helped him set it up.

It just wasn't fair.

The biting scent of sulfur rose as I lit a match and got the burner going. I held my breath as the smoke dissipated, thinking. If I didn't do something soon, I was going to be dead. Either Cincy would run me out on a rail for having dinner with Al and then letting him incinerate bouncers and toss six witches into the ever-after, or Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong would band together and kill me for the focus, or there was the yet-undiscovered faction still trying to find out who had the thing, according to Al. I had to get rid of it. I didn't know how vampires had kept it quiet for so long. Hell, they'd hidden it for half of forever before Nick found it.

My face blanked, and my motions slowed as I set the kettle on the flame. Vampires. Piscary. I needed protection from everyone and his brother, protection Piscary specialized in. What if I gave the focus to Piscary in return for his freaking protection? Sure, Al and Piscary worked together, but vampire politics came before personal power plays. And even if Al did find out, so what? Al was hiding over here. Once the focus was safe, I could call Minias and rat out Al to get rid of him. I could turn in my favor for that, right? Then I'd be free of Al and Piscary both, and the damned focus would again be safely hidden.

I stood in my kitchen staring at nothing, elation and angst trickling through me. I'd have to trust Piscary to keep it in hiding. Not to mention giving up his desire to kill me. But he thought in terms of centuries, and I wasn't going to last that long. Vampires didn't want the status quo to change. Piscary had everything to gain if I gave it to him, and the only thing he had to lose was revenge.

Hell, if I did this right, I could get Lee free and Trent would owe me big time.

'Oh,' I whispered, my knees feeling funny, 'I like this…'

The front doorbell bonged, and I jerked. Rex was sitting in the kitchen's threshold—staring at me—and I brushed past her. If I was lucky, it was Ceri. I had tea already going.

'Rache!' Jenks said, zipping in from who knew where, his voice excited as I paced barefoot through the sanctuary. 'You'll never guess who's on the front steps.'

Ivy? I thought, my heart leaping, but she would have just walked in. I hesitated, drawing my hand back from the door, but Jenks looked wound up, glowing in the smothering darkness of the foyer with excitement, not fear. 'Jenks,' I said in exasperation, 'cut the twenty questions and tell me who's out there.'

'Open it!' he said, eyes bright and dust spilling from him. 'You're clear. Tink's a Disney whore, this is great! I'm going to get Matalina. Hell, I'm getting my kids.'

Rex had followed us—pulled by Jenks, not me—and with images of news cameras and vans, I reached for the locking bar, sliding it up and away. Nervous, I looked down at myself, fully aware of the disastrous image I made, with my salt-stained dripping hair, a pixy by my side, and a cat at my bare feet. God, I lived in a church!

But it wasn't a news crew on my front steps blinking at me in the sun; it was Trent.

Twenty-six

Surprise flickered over Trent, then vanished under the cool confidence of his six-hundred-dollar suit and hundred-dollar haircut. Quen stood on the walk below like a chaperone. There was a fist-size, pale blue package in Trent's hands, the lid fastened with a matching bow lined in gold. 'Is this a bad time, Ms. Morgan?' Trent said, green eyes flicking from my bare feet to Rex, then back up to me.

It was friggin' seven o'clock. I should be in bed right now, and he knew it. Painfully conscious of my damp, rumpled state, I shook my stringy curls out of my eyes. My thoughts zinged back to my idea to get Lee free of Al, but he was here for Ceri. I had almost forgotten.

'Please tell me that's not for me?' I said, gaze dropping to the gift, and he flushed.

'It's for Ceri,' he said, his gray-edged voice melting into the humid morning. 'I wanted to give her something as a visible display of how pleased I am to find her.'

Visible display… God, Trent had a crush on her before even meeting her. Lips pressed tight, I crossed my arms over my chest, but my tough-chick image was being ruined by Rex twining about my feet. She didn't fool me—I was a convenient rubbing post, that's all—and when she realized I was wet, she gave me an insulted look and stalked away. 'You didn't find Ceri,' I said tartly. 'I did.'

'Can I come in?' he asked wearily.

He took a step forward, but I didn't move and he stopped. My attention flicked behind him to Quen in his black outfit and shades. They had brought the Beemer instead of the limo. Good call; Ceri would be impressed. 'Look,' I said, not wanting him in my church unless there was a reason, 'I didn't think you were coming, so I didn't say anything to her. This really isn't the best time.' Not with her crying the way she was. 'I'm usually asleep right now. Why are you here so early? I said four o'clock.'

Trent took another step, and I stiffened, almost falling into a defensive stance. Quen twitched, and Trent rocked back. He glanced behind him, then rounded on me. 'Damn it, Rachel, stop screwing with me,' he said, jaw clenched. 'I want to meet this woman. Call her.'

My eyes widened. Ooooooh, pushed a button did I? My gaze rose to Jenks sitting out of sight on the lintel inside, and he shrugged. 'Jenks, you want to see if she can come over?'

He nodded, and surprise showed on both Trent and Quen when he dropped down. 'You bet. She'll probably want a minute to get her hair brushed.'

And her face washed, and put on a dress that doesn't have graveyard dirt on it.

'Quen,' Trent ordered, and my warning flags went up.

'Just Jenks,' I said, and Quen's soft-soled shoes scuffed to a halt on the damp sidewalk. The dark elf looked to Trent for direction, and I added, 'Quen, park your little butt right here or nothing's happening.' I didn't want Quen over there. Keasley would never speak to me again.

Jenks hovered, waiting, and Trent's eyebrows bunched, weighing his options.

'Oh, please, test me,' I mocked, and Trent grimaced.

'Do it her way,' he said softly, and Jenks darted off, gone in a flash of transparent wings.

'See?' I said, beaming. 'That wasn't so hard.' From behind me came a chorus of high-pitched giggles, and Trent blanched. Seeing him nervous, I stepped aside. 'You want to come in? She might be a while. You know how those thousand-year-old princesses are.'

Trent glanced past the dark foyer, abruptly reluctant. Quen took the steps two at a time, brushing past me in a whiff of oak leaves and aftershave.

'Hey!' I snapped, following him in. Trent pushed into motion and came in on my heels. He didn't shut the door, probably for a quick getaway, and as Trent drew to a halt in the middle of the sanctuary, I ducked back into the foyer and yanked the door shut.

Pixies squealed from the rafters, and Trent and Quen warily watched them. I plucked at my salt-stained shirt and tried to find an air of nonchalance as I prepared to introduce His Most Holy Pain in the Ass to Miss Elf Princess.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I strolled past Quen and flopped into my rolling chair, parked beside my desk. 'Have a seat,' I said, shifting back and forth and gesturing to Ivy's furniture, still arranged in the inner corner of the church. 'You're in luck. We usually don't have our living room out here, but we're doing some remodeling.'