Hollows 11 - Ever After (15 page)

Immediately I found my phone, scrolling until I got to Trent’s number. I ought to put him on speed-dial or something. Pixies were coming from everywhere, and I waved them off as I began walking to the church’s back door, my head bowed as I waited for someone to pick up. “Your dad is fine,” I said, glad when Jumoke chased most of them back to their sentry duty.

Three rings and a click, and my feet stopped when I heard Ray crying through my phone. It was a soft, heart-wrenching sob of loss that no ten-month-old should even be aware enough to make. Jenks was singing to her about blood-red daisies. “I’m back,” I said even before I knew if it really was Trent. “Don’t summon me.”

“Did you see them?” Trent asked, his voice shockingly stark. I took a breath to tell him, my throat closing when I couldn’t get the words out. My eyes welled up. For three heartbeats, neither of us said anything, and then softly, Trent added, “No, I guess you didn’t.”

“I think they’re okay,” I said, but it sounded like a thin hope even to me. My chest hurt, and I began to weave through the grave markers, one hand wrapped around my middle so it wouldn’t cave in. In a soft sound of wings and dust, Jumoke sat on my shoulder. “Ku’Sox has them. He’s going to use them to force you and me to do what he wants. Trent, give me some time to find a way to get them back. Ku’Sox can’t do this. Ceri is a freed familiar. All I have to do is file the right paperwork.”

“I don’t have time for paperwork,” he said bitterly, and then I heard him sigh as Ray finally stopped crying. I could hear her little-girl snuffles, and I figured he’d picked her up.

“Give me some time to talk to Dali then,” I said. “I need a chance to explain what’s going on to him, and then maybe he’ll help.”

“Why would a demon help me?” Trent said, and I looked up at the church, squinting to try to find Bis. There was another huge gargoyle up there, and I frowned.

“He’d be helping me, not you. And I’m not going to ask him to do it for free,” I said, then softened. “Give me a few hours. Can you bring Jenks home for me? And maybe my car? Say after midnight? I should be done by then and will have more information for you.”

“Midnight!” I heard Jenks shrill, then I frowned when Trent covered the phone. “Fine, midnight,” the pixy said sourly when I could hear again.

“Trent?” I said cautiously.

“I’ll see you at midnight,” Trent said, and then the phone went dead.

Startled but not surprised, I closed the phone and tucked it away. Arms wrapped around myself and my head down, I stomped up the back porch and wrestled the screen door open. This was going to take a lot of planning.

I should have called Ivy.

Chapter Nine

N
ervous, I wiped my fingertips off on a towel and tossed it on the counter. Almost before it hit, I was reaching for it again, carefully folding it to drape over the oven handle, right in the middle. Exhaling, I turned to look over my kitchen, dim with only the light from the living room across the hall and the small bulb over the sink. Demons and shadows seemed to go together, but they craved the sun like an undead vampire.

Ceri’s teapot sat between two chairs at Ivy’s farm table. The antique porcelain was warm with Earl Grey tea, two of Ceri’s best teacups beside it. A candle on the stove made it smell like a pine forest. If I was lucky, it might even overpower the burnt amber stench. Maybe. I had an hour before Trent brought Jenks home. I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d promised Trent results, and it was time to call the demon.

I turned to Bis atop the fridge. “Well?” I asked him. “Look okay to you?”

The cat-size teenager brought his wingtips up to touch over his head, his version of a shrug. “I guess,” he said, his pebbly skin flashing the entire range from gray, to white, to black, and back to gray again. He was anxious. So was I.

I spun to the sink and closed the blue curtains, not wanting Dali to see anything more than he absolutely had to. For starters, the leather outfit that I’d come home in was on a hanger, hanging from a limb and airing out. “Thanks for being here, Bis.”

“I’m not afraid of demons,” he said, his high but gravelly voice giving him away.

Smiling, I leaned my back against the sink. I didn’t like anyone with me when I contacted Al, much less an unknown like Dali, but Bis was involved up to his pointy ears, and when he’d refused to leave the kitchen upon hearing my plans, I’d let him stay.

“Demons aren’t that bad when you get to know them,” I said as I got a plate from the cupboard and arranged the store-bought petits fours around the pile of homemade gingersnaps in the shape of little stars. I didn’t know what Dali liked, and variety was nice.

The church felt empty with Ivy still gone and the pixies asleep or out in the garden. I’d been dogged by a growing feeling of unease since I’d gotten back from the ever-after, and not all of it could be lain at the feet of my current problems. Something was brewing with the vampires. Felix had asked after Ivy twice. And I knew Rynn Cormel, Ivy’s master vampire, did not like that Ivy had left the state, even temporarily. At least he wasn’t sending assassins this time.

“You sure you don’t want to wait until Jenks and Trent get here?” Bis said. “What’s to stop Dali from just snatching you?”

“Nothing. That’s why he won’t try. Besides, he knows I’m Al’s student. What would be the point? You sure you don’t want to wait in the garden? It’s okay.”

Bis shook his head, trying to hide his slight shiver.

If it had been Ku’Sox I was calling, I’d have used circles, traps, maybe waited for Trent. Dali, though, was like Al in that he got a kick out of those weaker than him trusting him to behave—as risky as it was.

“I hope he knows how to help you,” Bis almost whispered. “I don’t like demons.” His red eyes darted to mine. “I like you, just not them. I mean, if Dali knew how to get Ceri and Lucy back, wouldn’t he have done it already?”

I smiled faintly and nudged the teacups back from the edge. “No.” A sliver of unease slid into me. The demons couldn’t control Ku’Sox. If I couldn’t, then they’d give me to him as a bribe to save them. Yay, me.

Bis looked toward the curtained window, then me. Turning slightly lighter, he nodded, his clawed feet shifting. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Me too.” Nervous, I pulled out a chair and sat in it, reaching across the narrow space to where I kept my scrying mirror under the center counter. It felt cool on my knees, the glass seeming to sink into me. The ache at the back of my neck became more pronounced as I rested my fingers on the wine-stained glass. I really needed to make a smaller one I could carry in my shoulder bag, and I vowed if I ever got a weekend where I wasn’t saving the world, I would.

There was a faint, unusual tingling from my wrist, and I turned my hand over. The raised circle of scar tissue there tied me to Al, a visible mark that I owed him a favor for bringing me home the night we’d met. I’d never gotten around to settling it, and that it was tingling now was curious. Maybe it was responding to his ailment. Slowly my frown deepened. “Tell Ivy I’m sorry if this doesn’t go well,” I said as I placed my fingers on the proper glyphs.

“Roses on your grave. Right.” Bis dropped to the chair nearest me, his craggy feet denting the back as he caught his balance. He really was a good kid.

The coolness of the mirror ached into me, and a new, slight discord blossomed into an irritating whine at the back of my ears.
Dallkarackint?
I thought in my mind, avoiding saying the demon’s true calling name aloud. It wasn’t that I had a problem saying it, but Dali wouldn’t appreciate my speaking his name on this side of the lines, seeing as anyone who heard it would be able to summon him. Dali had taken great pains to keep his name secret.

Almost immediately the cloud of buzzing seemed to hesitate, part, and with a surprising suddenness, I had a second presence beside mine.

Rachel?

It was Dali, and I warmed in embarrassment. I didn’t often talk to demons through my scrying mirror apart from Al, and having Dali in my thoughts was unnerving. Whereas Al used bluster and show to hide his true self, Dali was like a steel pillar, everything seeming to slide off him. “Um, I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, my thoughts carrying through the mirror to him.

Irritation predictably joined my embarrassment in our shared thoughts.
I’m busy. Make an appointment with my secretary.

He was about to break the connection. I was kind of surprised I’d gotten him at all and not one of his subordinates. “Dali, wait. I have to talk to you, and Al is . . .”

I stopped, not knowing who might be listening in.

Al is what?
Dali asked, interest coloring his thought.

I hesitated, looking up at Bis’s drooping wings. “I’ve made some tea,” I started.

Outrage flooded me, and I almost yanked my hand from the mirror.
You’re summoning me!
Dali exploded, and I scrambled to assert myself before he drowned me.

“I made some tea!” I said, trying to match his anger, and Bis’s eyes grew round. “You want to come over here and drink it or not? It’s Earl Grey. I don’t particularly like it, but most men I know like bergamot. I don’t give a flying flip if we do this here or your office, but if I have to bring the cookies over, they’ll taste like burnt amber and I spent two hours on them!” I took a breath, feeling his anger subside. “I need to talk to you,” I said softly, my thought mirroring the pleading sound I had. “My kitchen isn’t much, but—”

My words cut off as I felt our connection shift, turning from the light, uppermost thoughts to a more enveloping, place-finding sensation. He was coming over, using the mirror to locate me. My eyes widened at the feeling, and a small noise of I-don’t-know-what slipped from me, part alarm, part surprise, part sexual titillation as he drew a small trace of ley line through me so he’d show up next to me and not in the garden’s ley line.

“He’s coming,” I said as I lifted my head, flushing because of that weird noise I’d made.

“Holy sweet seraph,” Bis swore as a swirl of red ever-after coalesced in the corner of the room beside the fridge. I didn’t have a formal circle to mark a spot to jump in at. Maybe I should remedy that if I survived the next couple of days.

“Earl Grey?” Dali’s Americana businessman accent drawled as he shook off the last of the black-tainted swirls, showing up in a gray suit and a red power tie instead of a toga—thank God. He looked like a slightly overweight mob boss with his expensive dress shoes, tailored pants, and graying, styled hair.

Uneasy, I stood. Bis shrank back, his red eyes going wide. He held his ground, though, trusting my judgment. “Thank you,” I said, wiping my palms on my jeans. Crap, I should have put on a dress, but it was my kitchen, and I’d have felt stupid wearing a gown—again.

Dali’s attention had been running over my kitchen, but at my whisper, it returned to me. “You are far too quick in assuming this is a good thing.” He glanced at his watch; then his red, goat-slitted eyes returned to the spell pots and the tea steaming on the table. “You don’t have any wards protecting your spelling area?”

“I don’t need it.” I looked away, used to dealing with egotistical, powerful people who got a kick out of my apparent total disregard for the danger they represented. “You want to sit down?” I said, looking at the chair kitty-corner to mine.

My brow furrowed as he stepped forward and eyed the hard-backed chair. “It’s probably more comfortable than it looks,” he said as he gingerly sat, crossing his knees and trying to appear dignified, but he looked even more out of place than Trent usually did in my kitchen.

A memory of Trent standing at my counter making cookies with me flashed through my thoughts. That hadn’t really happened. I’d been in a coma of sorts, and his mind had been trying to reach mine, but it had been real enough. So had the kiss that had followed.

Bis’s nervous giggle made Dali frown. This wasn’t going as well as I had hoped, but with the determination I might use on a badly begun blind date, I sat down and began pouring out the tea. “I’m only twenty-seven,” I said dryly. “I’ve not had the time to gather much in the way of luxury possessions.” It was starting to smell like burnt amber, and I wondered if I should’ve cracked the window and risked attracting the pixies on sentry detail.

Dali’s wandering attention came back to me. “Speaking of time . . .” he said sourly. “You’re rapidly running out of it. Or should I say, Newt is running out of room.” His expression became wicked as he took a gingersnap. “You’re going to make a pauper out of the ever-after’s wealthiest demon. Congratulations. You should rent yourself out by the hour.”

Not a good start.
“I’ve been out to the line,” I said, pouring out my tea now. “I have some ideas.” Seeing as he wasn’t taking his cup, I handed it to him. “This is Bis, my gargoyle.”

Dali took a sip, his eyes almost closing in apparent bliss he tried to hide. “Bis,” he said, nodding to him, and the gargoyle flashed an embarrassed black. “You’re younger than I thought. Your lack of skill is excused.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Bis said, and I was proud of him.

“I’m sure it is,” Dali said lightly, his attention on the cookies. “Are those petits fours?”

Silent, I pushed the plate toward him, and he took another gingersnap.

“Mmmm,” he said, eating the star in one bite. “Where is Al? He has put a do-not-disturb note on his mirror. Are you thinking of changing teachers . . . Rachel?” His voice was sly, cruel almost. “Think I can save your life? Think again. You’re not going to bankrupt me as well.”

“Good,” I said, trying to shift the conversation to where I wanted it. “You can go to your grave a rich demon. Al is busy renewing his aura,” I said, and Dali’s eyes widened in interest. “He burned it off while finding Ku’Sox’s signature on that purple sludge currently taking residence in my slightly imbalanced line.”

Dali took a third gingersnap, his stubby fingers sure and slow. “Al’s findings cannot be used in court,” he said, then bit the cookie in half. “He has too much to lose and isn’t a reliable witness. I doubt you can convince anyone else to confirm it if in the doing he burns his aura off.”

“I know that,” I said, letting my irritation show. “That’s why you’re here. I want to talk to you about the legality of Ku’Sox abducting Ceri. The paperwork hasn’t been filed, but she’s a freed familiar. Ku’Sox is using her as leverage, and I want her and Lucy back.”

His expression dry, Dali took another gingersnap. “Ku’Sox didn’t abduct Ceri. He abducted Lucy. Ceri volunteered to come with her. When the cookies are gone, so am I.”

“What!” I exclaimed, falling back in my chair in shock. I glanced at Bis, then back to Dali. My chest seemed to cave in as hope left me. It sounded exactly like something she’d do. Ceri wasn’t afraid of demons. She was afraid of being helpless before them, and with her soul back, she was not. “But Lucy is my godchild!” I said, scrambling. “Ku’Sox and I have an agreement that he leave me and mine alone. Lucy is mine.”

“File the paperwork for breach of contract, and I’ll see what I can do,” Dali said. It was like that, then.

“Ku’Sox is a touch . . . erratic. Newt and I are watching him.” Dali’s eyes rose from the plate of cookies. “We’ve known for some time that he was up to something. Hiding his plans from everyone else is the only thing postponing your death.”

I thought about Newt’s carefully worded question, becoming more frustrated. “Then why are you letting him get away with it?” I said, aghast. “You know I didn’t cause that line to start sucking away ever-after that fast. Why are you picking on me? Ku’Sox did it!”

Dali wouldn’t meet my eyes. “True,” he said, “but he used your unbalanced line to do so. It’s your responsibility. I’m confident that Ku’Sox knows how to control the leak. He’s trying to eliminate you, making us miserable and reminding us of his power all at the same time, the little prick.”

There were two gingersnaps left. I leaned forward, a ribbon of anxiety running through me. “Is that what you think?” I said, shoving my cup of tea away from me so hard that it sloshed. I hated bergamot. “You think he’s going to
save
you after you kill me?”

Silent, Dali took a cookie. “Ku’Sox has threatened us before, but he’s never gone through with it. He’s young and angry. You cursed his freedom from him.” Dali smiled, showing me his flat, blocky teeth. “Sibling rivalry. Maybe you should uncurse him.”

“Don’t think so,” I said quickly, wondering how I was going to convince Dali the threat was more than he thought. “Look, letting me die would be a mistake. I’m not trying to kill you. He is, and I don’t think that line
can
be shut down with that purple sludge in it, even if I am dead. And in case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t need you anymore. He has Nick, who stole the enzyme that keeps the Rosewood syndrome suppressed enough to survive it, and then you stood by and hid the fact that he circumvented my protection of Trent—the only one who can make the cure permanent and able to pass to the next generation. Ku’Sox doesn’t need you anymore. In ten years, he’s going to have a bunch of demon-magic-using kids to play with.”