For a Few Demons More

'He told me he did it!' I exclaimed. 'Why does no one believe me?'

Glenn leaned close, and I stiffened, using every ounce of will to not break his hold when he took my shoulder. 'Shut. Up,' he said tightly, so close I could smell the sweat under his aftershave. 'Everyone with a badge knows you hate Kalamack. I can't ask for a warrant to arrest him because you said he told you he did it.'

I made a scoffing noise, then yelped when he yanked me closer.

'I believe you, Rachel,' Glen said, almost whispering into my ear. 'That man is slime. And I'm going to look into it.'

'Look into it,' I taunted, then winced when Glenn pinched my shoulder.

'I said I'm going to look into it, and if I find something, I'll let you know.' He let go of me. 'Just hang tight. You're no help to me if you're in jail.'

Dropping back a step, I watched the ambulance crew bring Serena out. They had used a witch spell to trigger her return to her human shape. From what I could see, she looked like the women in the morgue, a trim outline showing under the stretcher's sheet, her long brown hair in disarray. David clearly had a preferred look to his women. Though she was unconscious, pain had drawn her face into lines.

'David didn't hurt her,' I whispered as the ambulance crew loaded her in the back.

'Then he'll be released when she regains consciousness and tells us that,' Glenn said.

I turned to Glenn, tears of frustration blurring my vision. 'If we lived in a perfect world.'

My nose tickled with the scent of incense, and I spun. Denon was behind me, clearly amused that he had startled me. He looked better, almost his old self and dressed in his usual polo shirt and slacks that showed off his narrow waist and his muscular legs. Obviously some dead vamp had been at him, giving a little back to boost his morale. It was in his attitude. My pulse quickened at the reminder of the I.S. officers bundling David into cuffs, and I backed up into Glenn. 'Denon,' I said stiffly, telling myself I wasn't afraid of him but of what he could do to me under the flag of I.S. justice.

'Morgan,' the big man said, his deep, beautiful voice sounding like chocolate milk given sound. His gaze slid to Glenn behind me. 'Officer Glenn.'

I shivered, his voice creeping up my spine with the subtlety of velvet. Damn, someone had been playing with him, all right. Glenn seemed to have noticed, too, for all he did was nod.

Denon smiled to show his flat teeth. 'Morgan, it gives me great pleasure to take you in for questioning in conjunction with the murder of Brett Markson.'

My breath caught when he reached for me, and I fell back into Glenn's solid weight. Flustered, I pulled myself straight. 'I have an alibi, Denon. Back off.'

People were watching, and Denon arched his eyebrows. 'The time of Markson's death was put at seven. You were asleep, and I know no one was with you. Seeing as both your boyfriend and your roommate were with Piscary at the time.' He leered.

I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't think about it. 'I was having an early-morning meeting with Mr. Kalamack,' I said, keeping my voice soft so he wouldn't hear it shake.

Denon's eyes widened, cracking his cocky attitude and giving me a measure of strength.

'You know how humans are,' I added, sliding sideways so if I had to move, I wouldn't bump Glenn, but Glenn shifted with me. 'The way they insist everyone keep to their time clock. No respect for other cultures.'

Brown eyes narrowing, Denon drew an obscenely thin cell phone out of a belt holster. His brown fingers hitting the buttons carefully, he appeared to scroll through a list of numbers. 'You won't mind if I verify that.'

I froze, not knowing if Trent would tell the truth. 'Be my guest,' I said boldly.

People were closing in around us. I could feel them. Glenn edged closer. 'Rachel…'

My gaze flicked to his, and I felt small between the two black men. 'Trent was with me,' I insisted. But will he admit to that? I thought, cringing when I remembered how we had parted. Probably not.

'Mr. Kalamack, please,' Denon said pleasantly, and I heard a woman's voice. 'Of course, ma'am. This is Officer Denon from the I.S.' Denon smiled at me as the call was put through. 'Mr. Kalamack,' he said cheerfully. 'I apologize for interrupting your afternoon. I know you're busy, and this will only take a moment. I need you to verify that you were with Ms. Rachel Morgan this morning between seven and seven-thirty.'

I swallowed hard, wanting my splat gun, tucked away in my bag. It was probably a good thing that Glenn had it.

Denon's eyes flicked to me. 'No, sir,' he said into the tiny phone. 'Yes, sir. Thank you. You have a good day, too.' Face empty of emotion, Denon snapped the phone shut.

'Well?' I asked. I was sweating. Even a human could see it.

'You act as if you don't know the answer,' he said smoothly.

From behind me Glenn shifted. 'Officer Denon, are you arresting Ms. Morgan or not?'

I held my breath. Denon's big hands clenched and released. 'Not today,' he said, forcing a smile. Exhaling, I tossed a strand of hair that had escaped Jenks's braid and tried to look confident.

'You're lucky, witch,' Denon said as he rocked back a graceful step. 'I don't know what star you're wishing on, but it's about to fall.' And with that, he spun and walked away.

'Yeah, and angels cry when good men die,' I said, wishing he would find a new book of cliches to memorize. Relieved, I reached for my shoulder bag, still in Glenn's possession. 'Give me that,' I said, yanking it to me.

The car Denon had gotten into drove away with a tiny squeak of tires.

Head down in thought, Glenn pointed me to an unmarked FIB car: big, black, and sporting blocky lines. 'I'll get you home,' he said, and I obediently headed for it.

'Trent told the truth,' I said, our steps matching perfectly. 'I don't get it. He could have gotten me in jail, then searched the church for the focus at his leisure.'

Glenn opened the door for me, and I slipped inside, enjoying the courtesy.

'Maybe he's worried someone saw him,' Glenn mused aloud, then shut my door.

'Maybe he was using Ceri and me as his alibi,' I muttered as Glenn went around the front and got in. I grimaced, thinking, How sick is that? Using meeting a beautiful woman like Ceri as an alibi while one of your peons was shoving someone into a Dumpster for you. Glenn started the car, and we waited for the ambulance to leave before us, the lights off and moving slow.

'David won't be taking the blame for this,' I said in determination, clutching my bag on my lap. Maybe Trent told the truth because he knew I had the focus with me, and if the I.S. got it, it would make his task to retrieve it a lot harder?

'I hope you're right.' Glenn's voice was distant as he looked both ways before pulling out. 'I really hope you're right. Because if Mr. Hue is officially charged with the murders, the I.S. is going to come after you for aiding and abetting, even with that alibi. David asking you for help looks really bad.'

Settling myself into the leather seats, I put an elbow on the open window and stared at nothing. 'Swell,' I whispered to no one. My life sucks.

Twenty-nine

My eyes fluttered open when Glenn eased to a stop at a stoplight. Blinking, I realized I was almost home, and I sat up from my slouch. The day had gotten warm, and apparently I'd nodded off. Clearly, being knocked out for eight hours wasn't the same as sleep. Embarrassed, I glanced at Glenn, flushing when he smiled at me, his teeth a startling white against his dark skin.

'Please tell me I wasn't snoring,' I muttered, never imagining I would have fallen asleep. I had only closed my eyes to gather my thoughts. Or maybe to escape from everything.

'You snore cute,' he said, giving his unused ashtray a tap. 'You two are funny.'

Jenks rose from it in a puff of gold glitters. 'I'm awake!' he exclaimed, tugging his clothes straight and looking charmingly wide-eyed as he arranged his shock of blond hair. He, at least, had an excuse, seeing as he was usually asleep this time of day.

The clock on the dash said it was a shade after two. After leaving David's, Glenn had first taken me to the FIB to make an official statement before the I.S. could choose the most inopportune time to get one from me. From