The Demon's Covenant

with baleful eyes. Gerald glanced at him, shivered, and looked away.

Jamie moved a little closer to Gerald. He’d stepped forward before when Gerald spoke to him, and now he stood in a place almost exactly balanced between the two groups.

Gerald smiled at him and turned his gaze to Alan.

“You wanted to see me? Here I am,” he said. “In return, I wondered if you could do something for me.”

Alan held his gaze calmly. “What’s that?”

“I wanted to speak to you,” said Gerald. “Alone.”

Sudden shadow blotted out the sun. Mae threw back her head and looked at the sky, where storm clouds were being born, tendrils of darkness writhing and spreading across the expanse of deep blue.

The threads of cloud were already black as ink, as if someone were inscribing threats and promises on the sky in a strange language. Mae looked down and into shadow-dark eyes.

Nick whispered, “What do you want with my brother?”

“I would prefer to keep that between us,” Gerald said mildly. “I intend him no harm. Though you can drop that pretense of being an almighty protector right now, Nick. I know why you’re here.”

“Because you’re messing with Jamie,” said Nick.

“Exactly,” Gerald responded. “And you don’t want anyone else having a claim on him. Not when you have a use for him yourself.”

Nick frowned and popped his wrist sheath with what seemed to be sheer absentmindedness. A gleaming silver switchblade appeared between his fingers, the hilt carved with strange symbols Mae couldn’t make out. Nick fiddled with it without looking at it. He was still looking at Gerald.

“I wasn’t aware Jamie had a use.”

“Oh please,” Gerald said, a note in his voice that sounded genuinely incredulous. “We’re all perfectly aware of how handy a pet magician would be for a demon. And here he is, tailor-made for you. He’s young, he’s impressionable, he’s got real power, and he already owes you a debt. As soon as you had an excuse, you rushed down here to offer protection and friendship. It all fits.”

Nick gave a sharp bark of laughter. Jamie stood stricken.

He looked back over his shoulder at Nick, eyes wide and doubtful, and Mae could practically see the memory of yesterday passing through his mind as it was passing through hers.

Hey, Jamie. Want to be friends?

“No,” Jamie said slowly. “You’ve got it wrong, Gerald. Nick’s not like that.”

“Everyone’s like that, Jamie,” said Gerald, his voice gentle, as if he didn’t want to tell Jamie this harsh truth. “Everyone wants power.”

“I have enough,” Nick said. Then he smiled, sudden and wild. “Or do you want to try me?”

“I wouldn’t make any threats, demon,” Laura said. “Do you have enough to protect your human allies every moment of the day? Watch your tongue when you talk to our leader. Some night when you’re asleep we could come into your house and tear the human boy apart in his bed.”

The whole sky went black. The magicians went flying backward, Laura and the stranger hitting the wall so hard it was clear Nick did not care if they broke. Gerald hit the ground.

Nick was on his feet and towering over Gerald in one movement.

“You can’t do anything if I kill you all now,” Nick told him, his voice echoing and rolling like thunder.

He lifted a hand, and Gerald made a thin sound, as if Nick was wielding an invisible sword and slicing into him. He was pinned and struggling desperately on the earth. Nick laughed.

Jamie dived forward and caught Nick’s wrist. Nick whirled around, lifting Jamie off his feet for a moment.

“Whose side are you on?” he roared.

“The side of not wanting anybody to get hurt!” Jamie yelled back.

“So not mine,” snapped Nick. He shoved Jamie clear across the alley and into Mae.

Mae caught his weight, even though it made her stagger, and held on even though he struggled, her arm tight around his heaving ribs. Nick spun back to where Gerald lay, and the wind howled. The other two magicians were scrambling to their feet, Laura looking pale with pain, magic starting to shimmer between their palms. Over the wall Mae could see gray tombstones poking out of the earth like a leering mouth full of broken and decayed teeth. She could see Nick’s face in profile, the hungry swing of his eyes from face to face, like the swing of his sword when he was fighting. She didn’t know what he was going to do.

She had entirely forgotten that Alan was there. She remembered with a vengeance when he limped forward, grabbed a handful of thick black hair, and pulled Nick’s head back. A small, wicked knife glinted in the shadowed space between Nick’s shirt collar and throat.

Nick drew in a short, sharp breath and went still.

“Stop that,” Alan said in his ear. “They came here to talk to Jamie. How do you think Jamie will feel if you slaughter them all?”

Nick made a low snarl of protest that Mae guessed did not indicate deep concern about Jamie’s emotional state.

“She said—”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Alan. “Listen to me. Stop. Now.”