Pale Demon (40 page)

“Boohoo,” Newt said, a wiry arm rising delicately to the demon approaching behind her, an invitation to take it, I suppose.

Sure enough, the robe-bedecked, extravagant civil servant gone tent restaurateur elegantly touched his lips to her fingers before gesturing for more fruit and cheese. “Is everything to your liking?” Dali said, only the slightest hesitation hinting at his annoyance with Newt being here. Inside me, a feeling of warning coiled tighter. There were too many eyes on our table.

“As always, Dali,” Al answered, and the demon frowned at him.

“I was asking Newt.”

Newt beamed, fully aware that she wasn’t welcome and relishing the fact that they had to put up with her. “I can truly say I don’t remember a more perfect evening, Dali. As Algaliarept says, it’s as wonderful as always.”

A brief flash of teeth, and Dali turned to me, his veneer of pleasantry becoming transparent. “And you, Rachel? Enjoying Mesopotamia?”

“U-uh,” I stammered, not liking being put on the spot.
Crap, the demons watching us were pointing now.
“I can honestly say I’ve never had an evening quite like this.” Dali was hunched a little too close, his mood a little too aggressive, even for a demon. If everyone in the place hadn’t been watching us before, they were now.
Why is he over here?

Al seemed to be thinking the same thing as he set his cup down and pointedly looked at Dali. Newt, too, cocked her head, clearly waiting. “It’s not me, of course, but others,” Dali said, a thread of his eagerness to cause trouble coloring his voice. “Some of the clientele feel that a member of your party is not a demon and therefore should wait outside.”

“Rachel not a demon!” Al shouted dramatically, and I twitched. “Who dares?”

“I do!” exclaimed a strong voice, and my head turned to the tattered awning that now marked the entryway to the restaurant.

Shit, it was Ku’Sox.

F
rightened, I stood amid a smattering of exclamations. Some were against me, but most were protesting Ku’Sox’s presence. Clearly he wasn’t much liked, but there was far less anger than I’d expect from a demon they had imprisoned in the next reality over, even if the demons at the informal bar fire were enthusiastically exchanging bets. The drums had stopped, and loud conversation had taken its place. I was scared, but Newt was smiling deviously as she stood my bench upright from where it had been, pushed over when I’d found my feet.

In the flickering oil light, Dali took a dramatic step back, his sleeves dropping to his elbows when he held his hands up in placation. “Calm down, or I’ll sling all your asses out of here!” he bellowed, and the noise was cut by about half. “I agree that the question of her status should be settled.” He smiled cattily at Al. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Newt toasted me to show her support as Dali smiled at me with false benevolence. My eyes closed as I finally understood what was going on. My standing was in question and needed to be settled before a gathering of my peers. If I wasn’t a demon, I was a familiar. And if I was a familiar, I was in deep shit.

And there I’d been, saying I wasn’t a demon.

Ku’Sox shoved his way through the camels and bales of cloth until he stood with the rough-hewn table between us. His steel gray hair was slicked back and he was wearing a masculine reflection of my attire. Beads clicking, he looked me up and down, his expression one of disgust, not a flicker of concern that I’d almost burned him alive in Margaritaville. My pulse raced as I recognized the barely leashed hatred from both Al and Newt as Ku’Sox started in on a harsh harangue aimed at me. He wouldn’t be tucking me under his arm and popping out—unless he thought he could get away with it—so I was safe. Sort of. Demons were wimps, more inclined to take their rivals down with red tape than a physical approach. They only beat up people they knew couldn’t fight back.

Trent wanted me to curse him.
Why should I risk it?
I thought as Ku’Sox started demeaning Al’s reputation, bringing up events that had happened thousands of years ago and still made Al red with anger. Why should I curse Ku’Sox to be stuck in the same reality I was in now? But then I hesitated, tuning out Ku’Sox as I thought a little more deeply. If I shifted the curse to him, as Trent thought I could, then I wouldn’t be stuck here at all. I’d still be shunned in reality, but there were ways around that. Right? Right?

Regaining my ability to be in reality, even in snatches, was a small thing, but after having imagined living in the ever-after without ever seeing the sun, Jenks, or Ivy again, I fastened on it like a lifeline. My foot twitched, and Newt slid her black-eyed gaze to me, nodding at the look of desperate thought I must now be wearing. Everyone else was focused on Ku’Sox, raving about purity and half-breeds polluting the genetic pool.

My eyes fell from Newt to the hard-packed earth, and I lightly tapped a line, glad my oiled hair wouldn’t float and give me away. The barest hint of ever-after seeped into me, not enough to be noticed by anyone, but I was sure Newt felt it. She was jiggling her bejeweled foot, black eyes edged in kohl sliding from me to Ku’Sox, the barest hint of a wicked smile replacing her anger.

My knees were wobbling, and an odd feeling was sifting through me, almost a ringing in my ears or soul. Slowly I searched my theoretical self, surprised when I could feel the curse Trent had put on me. It hadn’t been with me very long, and the alien, greasy feel of the elven aftertaste made it easy to sense, like a faint ache. Even odder was that the curse seemed as if it lay in my chi like shavings of iron, all of them aligning themselves to orient on Ku’Sox, like a flower to the sun. It had been created for him, like the focus had been created for the Weres. It wanted to go back to him.

Damn, I might be able to do this.

My shoulders stiffened, and I scrambled to remember the words Trent had used to tap into the communal collective and set the curse. One phrase to transfer it, one to sever the bond and prevent it from coming back. Something about deserving punishment?

Newt was watching me as Ku’Sox grandstanded, gesturing as he maligned my mother, my father, and Al all in the same breath. I gathered the curse together in my chi—every last bit—and held it in my fist, the pressure of it aching and throbbing like I was holding an exploded bomb.

Si peccabas, poenam meres
. That was the invocation phrase. I knew it. I could do this!

“That is not a demon!” Ku’Sox shouted as if in finale, spinning in a flamboyant circle, making his purple robe furl. “And it should be destroyed!”

“Prove it!” I shouted, lunging. The curse glowed like black fire in my hand, and I jumped at him, right across the table.

Newt grabbed the plate of cheese and yanked it to safety. Al’s wineglass wasn’t so lucky, and the wine spilled like blood over the rough wood. The candle flared, and I hit the hanging lamp, sending flaming oil splattering on the watching demons. A cry of alarm went up and the sound of sliding benches and the sudden pulls on ley lines spun through me like threads of glass.

Ku’Sox’s eyes widened, and then I had him, my hand around his throat as we crashed to the floor.

Si peccabas, poenam meres!
I thought desperately, seeing my freedom in Ku’Sox’s shocked expression.

Elation filled me as I felt the painful sensation of pinpricks in reverse as the curse left me. It was working, and I writhed as the curse soaked into Ku’Sox while he screamed.

“Get her off!” Ku’Sox shouted, and someone grabbed the back of my shirt, pulling me away. “Get her off me!”

“No!” I howled. I wasn’t done yet. I hadn’t fixed it into him!
Facilis descensus Tartaros!
I thought frantically, and my eyes widened as I felt the curse stretch between us like a rubber band. But with a snap that made Newt jump, it pulled from Ku’Sox, even as it had wanted to stay, cleaving to me instead. I’d done something wrong. It hadn’t worked!

“No, no, no!” I raged as the rising imbalance ebbed to nothing and the surrounding demons laughed, thinking I was simply trying to scratch Ku’Sox’s eyes out. “Let me go, you idiots!” I’d done it wrong! I’d done something wrong or it would have worked and I would have had him!

Al had an arm around my middle, physically holding me against him as my feet slipped on the reed mats while I struggled for purchase. “No fighting in Dalliance, Rachel,” he crooned, and I shoved his hand off me as soon as I got my weight over my feet again.

“You see me!” I shouted at Ku’Sox, glad I’d finally gotten rid of that headdress thing, now broken on the floor. “If you
ever
touch me again, I’ll
lay you out
!” I threatened him, almost spitting in frustration.

They only laughed. Except for Al, standing nervously beside me, and Newt, who had felt what I had tried to do. Dali was at the outskirts, knowing something had happened but not what. And Ku’Sox, of course, who was sallow faced, clearly knowing how close it had been. Why hadn’t it worked?

Slowly Ku’Sox regained his pompous air as he shook off the good-natured offers of assistance, but he would meet my eyes only in quick glances, equal amounts of caution and loathing in him. But I’d seen him screaming like a little girl, and I knew he’d been terrified.

He ought to be afraid. I’d almost had the perv. Now it would be harder. He was warned, and I’d lost my easy chance. “You dare to call me less of a demon than you?” I exclaimed, pissed as I shook in anger with nothing between us but air. “
I’m
not the one doing the bidding of a lame-ass elf!” I said, pointing at him. “You owe your freedom to an elf! One that I let go!”

The surrounding jeers and calls from the watching demons rose high, and Ku’Sox frowned as the helping hands fell away. In the distance, I heard a fox bark, and the puddle of light grew when someone stilled the wildly swinging lamp and relit it with a tweak on a line.

“An elf?” Dali was leaning casually against a support pole. “Ku’Sox, you owe your freedom to Rachel’s castoffs?”

It wasn’t the angle I’d been going for, but it made Ku’Sox angry, his eyes squinting as he bent to beat the dust from his robes. “That
thing
is a witch,” he said, pointing at me. “A stunted double X that Algaliarept is dressing up like a demon to further his pathetic attempt at familiar procurement.”

“Pathetic?” Al drawled as he sat down, leaving me standing alone. “You’ve been gone too long, you little zit pus. I’m more of a snag artist than you’ll ever be, and I know talent when I see it. Rachel may be born from a witch, but she
is
a demon as much as you are a pain in the ass with the social skills of a dog. Still eating souls, Ku’Sox? That’s like eating God’s shit.”

“You know nothing!” Ku’Sox shouted, red faced as the surrounding demons laughed. “I’m stronger than all of you! I can take this world and destroy it! Open a hole to reality and drain this world to nothing until you’re bumping around in a universe the size of a closet and you
all
get sucked into oblivion!”

The conversations stilled, and Dali cleared his throat in the sudden silence. Ku’Sox stopped, the hem of his robe swinging as he dared anyone to comment, his chin high and a defiant gleam in his blue, goat-slitted eyes. Every demon in the place wore hatred and fear on his shadowed, candlelit, ruddy face. And that, of course, was why they didn’t kill him. If they tried and failed, he might destroy the ever-after, laughing all the way to the sunny side of reality and his survival. Their prodigal son was fucking insane.

“You’re not stronger than me,” Newt said into the quiet, and Ku’Sox’s eyes narrowed.

“Aren’t you dead yet, you old hag?” he grumbled.

The demons started to whisper, and Dali’s slippers were a soft hush on the reeds as he came forward. He was looking at me with speculation, and now I knew why.
Is she the one? Is it her?
What he meant was, am I a demon? Can I kill Ku’Sox?

“Test-tube brat,” Al said as he stood his empty wineglass upright with a thump. “DNA degenerate. Magical mistake. You’re picking on Rachel because she might be a better demon than you.”

“Her?” Ku’Sox exclaimed, and Al simpered at him. “
I’m
the way back to our rebirth, and you will respect that! Me! Not her! She’s born from a witch. A stunted, damaged witch!”

Newt shifted coyly on her cushion, the only one who hadn’t left her seat throughout the entire scene. “No, poor boy, you are a mistake we loved too much to put down. I still think you would have turned out fine if Dali hadn’t dropped you when you were but a blastocyst.”

“You are deluding yourselves,” Ku’Sox said, frowning. “I am your rebirth.”

“My dame’s ashes,” Al muttered. “The poor boy is going to go off now to brood about world domination.”

A few of the demons sliding back to their tables laughed, and Ku’Sox flushed in anger.

“Something is wrong with you, my lovely little boy,” Newt continued, the silver goblet of wine in her hand as demons drifted away and the tension eased. “In your head. Even demons do not eat souls. Is it because you’re worried that you don’t have one?”

“I have a soul,” Ku’Sox said with a scowl, but I wondered.

“Of course you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have an aura,” Newt said brightly. “Come sit with us.”

Oh, there’s a good idea,
I thought, sitting down between Al and Newt, leaving Ku’Sox to stand by himself.

“That,” he said, pointing at me again, “isn’t a demon. I need proof. We all do.” He looked over the assembled demons. There were more people now than there were tables. They must have been coming in all this time, filling the Mesopotamian darkness with soft mutters and speculation. “It takes more than being able to invoke demon magic to be one,” Ku’Sox said. “Do something demonic.”

This last had been aimed at me, and my hands clenched in my lap. “Like rip your heart out? Come a little closer.”

“Rachel…,” Al said as he reached across the table and patted my shoulder a little too hard. God, I felt like I was one of two little kids on a playground.

From her cushion, Newt cleared her throat. “Rachel should make us a new memory.”

The surrounding demons exhaled, the sound rising like a sigh of excitement. I turned to her, surprised.
You want me to do what?

“Be reasonable, Newt,” Al protested, his face suddenly pale. “She’s only a few hours old. I haven’t had time to teach her anything yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Newt said as she ate a grape with an odd precision. “If she’s a demon, she can do it.”

Al looked deathly worried, and I watched Dali energetically stride to the jukebox and press his hands to it, invoking who knew what as it glowed a hazed black. “Splendid idea,” he was muttering. “Rachel, what do you want to call it?”

“Call it?” At a loss, I looked around the table, seeing worry on Al’s face and satisfaction on Ku’Sox’s. “Call what?”

“Give us a memory,” Newt prompted, the beads in her hair clicking. “Only a demon has the mental fortitude to channel enough energy to make a tulpa construct this size. One that anyone can share.”

Oh. My. God.
I looked at the fake restaurant, the fire, the stars, the smells. “You want me to make something like this?” I squeaked. “Are you nuts? I don’t know how to do that!”

“She admits she’s not a demon,” Ku’Sox proclaimed, and Al’s grip on his wineglass became white-knuckled as he hunched against the raised voices around us.

“Lacking a skill doesn’t translate into a lack of ability,” he growled, but the demons were rearranging the tables, making an open space of sorts, wanting me to try.

Newt’s eyes narrowed. “Only a demoness can make a free-existing tulpa, and only a male demon can fix it into reality. I say it’s a fair test. Al, put your money where your mouth is. Or should I say where your student is.”