The Outlaw Demon Wails (41 page)

“Jenks?” I called out when a new scrabbling started from the other side of the church. Shit, there were two out there now. “Can you hear a hard drive or anything? Ceri said they stored everything by computer. We need to do this fast.”

Face gray, Jenks rose up on a thin sparkle of gold that took on an amber tint. It was almost as if the red glow from outside was seeping in. “I'll look.”

He darted off, and hands sweating, I tracked the sound of that second set of nails as it traveled over the ceiling to where the first was digging. The first seven uglies through would be taking a nap, but unless they were cannibals and ate their dead, there were probably going to be a lot more surface demons coming at us than I had sleepy charms for.

The two scrabbling sounds joined, and I stiffened at a sharp crack followed by a thump. There was a cry, then the desperate raking of claws on stone and glass all the way to the ground. I listened, not moving or daring to breathe.
A gargoyle?
I thought. There were gargoyles here? They were fiercely loyal to their churches and would defend them against attack. It was the only explanation, unless both had fallen, but it had sounded as if it had only been one.

Trent sighed in relief, but I kept staring at the high windows, not trusting that it hadn't simply been two klutzy surface demons and that more wouldn't be coming. “I think we're okay,” he said, and I just looked at him in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

“Guys? Over here,” Jenks called out as he hovered before a white statue of Mother Mary. “There's an electronic whine coming from under it.”

Giving Trent a last look, I tucked my splat gun into my pants at the small of my back and left the altar to join Jenks. The pixy had sunk down to sit on the statue's shoulder, looking somehow right in between her heart and her halo. Trent had come with me, and before I could say anything, he stretched to put his hands on her knees, clearly planning to shove her over.

“No!” I exclaimed, not knowing why except she was the only thing in here on the ground floor not marked up and defiled.

But Trent scowled, and as I grasped his shoulder to jerk him back, he reached out.

Pain raced through my arm and into my chest, cramping my muscles like an electric shock. I heard Trent yelp, and I must have passed out because the next thing I knew, I was laying on the floor four feet back with Jenks hovering in front of me.

“Rachel!” he cried, and I put a hand to my aching head, my arm moving slower than it should have as I propped myself up. “Are you all right?”

I took a breath, then another. My roving gaze found Trent sitting cross-legged and holding his head. His nose was bleeding.

“Stupid-ass elf,” I muttered, feeling my heartbeat. “You stupid-ass elf!” I shouted, and Jenks flew backward, smiling in relief.

“You're okay,” he sighed, the sparkles sifting from him turning a clear silver.

“What in hell is wrong with you!” I yelled, my voice echoing against the distant ceiling. “You don't think it's protected?”

Trent looked up. “Jenks was sitting on it.”

“Jenks is a pixy!” I exclaimed to burn off some angst. “No one takes them into account because they don't know how dangerous they are, you dumb crap of a businessman. You are
completely
out of your element, so just sit there, okay? You got me here, now let the professionals work, or your insufferable smarter-than-thou attitude is going to get us killed! I said I'd protect you and get you home, but I need you to stop doing stupid stuff. Just…
sit there and do nothing
!”

The last was shouted, but I was really mad. “God help you!” I swore as I got up and shook the last of the cramping out of my hand. “Now I have a headache! Thanks a hell of a lot!”

Jenks was grinning, and my brow furrowed at my unprofessional show of anger. “'Bout time you put him in his place,” he said, and my frown deepened.

“Yeah,” I muttered as I creakily moved to the statue and stood before sweet Mother Mary and her smug smile with my fists on my hips. “But how are we going to get to the samples?”

Jenks's wings increased their pitch, and I looked at his expression of satisfaction. Immediately I felt my own expression ease. “You already have a way in?” I asked.

He nodded. “There's a crack in the base small enough for a mouse. I'll get them.”

My breath slipped from me in an audible sigh. The magic protecting the statue didn't recognize him. He didn't count. The thing was, he did count. He counted a lot, and he was going to save my butt again. “Thanks, Jenks,” I whispered.

“Hey, that's what I'm here for,” he said, then darted behind the statue and was gone.

I had a trip home. I really thought I might. Maybe.

The silence was loud as I turned to find Trent still messing with his nose. The scent of blood seemed to pull whispers from the shadows at the christening pool, and though I knew it was my imagination, it was freaking me out. Going to the limit of the holy ground, I sat on the top step, remembering standing here at Trent's wedding. Right before I arrested him. I could feel Trent's presence behind me but didn't turn. He was silent for about six heartbeats, and then I heard him rise. From outside at the base of the front doors came scratching, a soft digging sound that gave me the willies. It started and stopped as if afraid, but the door was a lot thicker than the glass windows.

I forced my breathing to stay even when Trent stopped five feet from me and just stared. Swinging my waist pack around, I took out my last water and downed it. My splat gun was next to it, and bringing it out, I sighted down it at the front door.

Trent looked me up and down. “Is that all you're going to do?”

My pulse quickened, and I gazed at the front of the basilica where the scratching was coming from. “I might have a snack later if nothing comes through those doors.”

Jenks's voice came echoing up, sounding hollow. “I found a terminal!” he shouted. “It's in a cement room with no doors. I squeezed in through the wiring. Tore my freaking wing. Tink's dildo, I'm leaking enough dust to be a lightning rod. It's going to take me some time to hack in and figure out their system, but I can do it.”

I pulled my satchel with my spelling stuff closer. If Jenks was using Tink's name in vain, he was okay. The sun would rise at seven and Minias would be free. If we weren't out of here by then, it was going to get a whole lot nastier, holy ground or not. A wooden door and a maybe-gargoyle wouldn't stop a real demon. Not by a long shot.

Trent sighed, easing himself down to sit on the stairs with his knees almost up to his chin.

And now we wait.

I flipped my splat gun out of my waistband, letting it spin like a gunslinger's pistol before aiming it at the distant door. The scratching there had quit hours ago, shortly after the sound of a large rock hitting the pavement shook the dust from the ceiling. Apparently, the gargoyles
were
still around. That had made me feel secure enough that I'd managed to grab a few winks a couple of hours ago while Trent stood guard.

The watch—on loan from Ivy—about my wrist said it was twenty minutes to sunrise. Twenty minutes before all hell was going to break loose, and here I was playing gunslinger. Trent would be able to pop out when things got rough with his freaking “magic word,” but I had a circle drawn beside the altar for Jenks and me to hide in if worse came to worst. It ought to hold until Newt showed. My spelling supplies to take Al's name were in it, just waiting for the focusing object. I was going to work the curse as soon as Jenks found the demon's DNA. If I didn't survive, at least everyone I cared about would be safe.
Hurry up, Jenks.

“Bang,” I whispered, then pulled the gun back to me and tucked it in at the small of my back. I was dying to go out and see what had hit the street before the front door. Tired, I glanced at the statue, then Trent sitting
slumped with his back against the defiled altar. He had nodded off for a few hours around midnight, trusting I'd keep him safe.

This was taking it right to the wire—and that was assuming I had a ride home. Crap, I was tired of this. The theoretical charm shop Jenks sometimes mocked me with was looking mighty good right now. Sure, I had been all spit and indignant righteousness when I told Trent that Jenks hadn't used my ride home to get to the ever-after, but the last few hours before sunrise were dragging deep across my soul, and I feared that I was living in a fairy tale if I expected Minias to accept that Jenks was a hair scrunchy and deserved a free ride.

Trent felt me looking at him and woke up. His eyes were puffy from the grit and tired, and his face showed his strain. I looked away and stretched for my hat, dropping it onto my head and pulling it low so I couldn't see him. Exhaling, I forced the tension out. Maybe I could figure ley line traveling out if there weren't demons breathing down my neck like the last time. Until Jenks came up with Al's cellular sample, there was nothing else to do. I'd been trying to piece it together all night.

My eyes shut and I made my muscles relax. If Jenks was right, ley lines were what kept the ever-after connected to reality. All I had to do was learn how to use them, and Jenks and I would be home free.
Sure. Easy stuff.

Like I had a hundred times already tonight, I reached a thought out to the nearest line but didn't tap it, afraid a demon would sense me doing it. I lingered there, feeling the energy rush past my consciousness like a red-sheened, silver ribbon. It suddenly occurred to me that the energy was flowing one-way, into our reality. Was the ever-after shrinking? Its substance flowing into our reality like water is drawn to puddle up from a small drop into a larger one? Maybe that was why the ever-after was all broken up.

Tension filtered back, tightening my muscles one by one as I tried to remember what it had felt like when I'd been carried along the lines of energy. The thought of Ivy had brought me home once.

My face warmed. Newt had said I loved Ivy more than the church. I wasn't going to deny it, but there were all kinds of love, and how shallow
would I be if my anchor to reality was a hunk of real estate? It was the people who were there that made it mean something.

The flush cooled as I remembered the feeling of my soul breaking apart and how Newt had held my consciousness until I had a body again. Had the shift between realities fractured my soul or just my body?

I moved my knees to feel they'd stiffened. My eyes opened, and I stared at the new rings of dust under the chandeliers. I couldn't even smell the burnt amber on me anymore, and that bothered me. I jumped when Trent sat down beside me. I had forgotten he was here. Pulse pounding, I shifted down an inch or two, wondering what he wanted. Getting antsy, was he?

“I, uh, want to thank you,” he said, when it was obvious I wasn't going to break the awkward silence.

Surprised, I glanced at Ivy's watch.
Tickity-tock, Jenks.
“You're welcome.”

He pulled his knees up, which made him look odd in his black jumpsuit. “Don't you want to know what for?”

Expression neutral to maintain the facade that everything was going according to plan, I gestured at the broken cathedral. “For keeping you alive on this magic carpet ride?”

He looked at the shattered room. “For stopping my wedding.”

Blinking, I cautiously offered, “You didn't love her.”

His gaze had dulled, and his hair was white with dust. “I didn't have the chance to find out.”

Trent wants to love someone. Curious.
“Ceri—”

“Ceri wants nothing to do with me,” he stated. He let his knees fall to stretch his legs down the stairs, his usually collected features scrunched up. “Why do I need to marry someone anyway? It's politics, that's all.”

I stared, seeing him as a young man in a position of power being asked to marry, have children, live a nice quiet life of hidden intrigue and public showmanship.
Poor, poor Mr. Trent.
“That didn't stop you with Ellasbeth,” I said, pushing for more.

“I don't respect Ellasbeth.”

Don't respect or don't fear her?
I ran my gaze up from his boots to his
cap. “You're welcome,” I said. “But I arrested you to put you in jail, not to save you from Ellasbeth.” Jenks had helped Quen steal the evidence that Trent had murdered the Weres, and the FIB had to let him go. And yet Trent was taking the last ride out of the ever-after instead of sticking around and helping us bargain for two more trips. Ah, well. It really wasn't his problem, was it.

A faint smile quirked his lips. “Don't tell Quen, but the jail time was worth it.”

My smile grew to match his, then faded. “Thank you for bringing Jenks home,” I said, then added, “And my shoes. Those are my favorite pair.”

Looking askance at me, he almost smiled. “No problem.”

“But I don't appreciate you putting my future kids on the demon radar,” I said, and his expression became questioning. God, he didn't even know he had done it. I don't know if that made it better or worse. Jaw tight, I added, “Telling Minias my kids will be healthy and possibly able to kindle demon magic?”

His jaw dropped and I clasped my knees to my chest. “Idiot,” I muttered. He hadn't even known what he had done.

My gaze slid to my watch, then the foam-covered windows. The light outside would be growing red and sickly, the wind rising. The gargoyles might have been able to keep us safe in here at night, but as soon as the sun rose, they would be dormant. Even worse, not only was I not going to have time to do the spell, I was likely not even going to get the sample. I had a bad feeling Minias would show up the moment he was free.
Come on, Jenks.

Trent's boots scraped the decayed carpeting to show the wood underneath. “Sorry.”

Yeah. That makes it all better.

“If there's only one trip out, I'll try to get you back,” he said suddenly.

Surprise washed through me, almost a hurt, and I jerked my head up. “Excuse me?”

He was staring at the front door, looking as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “We couldn't have done this without Jenks. If Minias considers him a person, I'll try to arrange two more trips out. If I can.”

I took a breath, having forgotten to breathe. “Why? You don't owe us anything.”

His lips parted and closed, and he shrugged. “I want to be more than…this,” he said, gesturing to himself.

What in
hell
was going on?

“Don't get me wrong,” he said, glancing furtively at me and away. “If it comes to sending you home and being a hero, or being a bastard by sending myself home and saving my species, I'm going to be a bastard. But I'll try to get you home. If I can.”

My breath came and went, and I tried to wrap my thoughts around what had changed in him. It had to be Ceri. The woman's complete disdain for Trent was starting to get to him; she didn't excuse his actions and saw right through his surface attempts at making up for his past—thinking the attempts made him worse, not better. Her soul was black, her past filthy with unimaginable deeds, but she carried herself with a noble strength, knowing that though she broke the law with impunity, she was loyal to those she owed allegiance to and loved. And perhaps Trent was seeing it for the first time as a strength, not a weakness.

“She's not going to ever love you,” I said, and his eyes closed.

“I know, but someone might.”

“You're still a murdering bastard.”

His eyes opened, a spot of green in the dusty gray surrounding us. “That's not going to change.”

That I could believe. Needing to move, I rose and went to stand before the statue. “Jenks?” I shouted. “We're running out of moonlight!” It was too late to do the curse. We were down to snatch and run.

“You aren't so lily white yourself,” Trent said. “Stop throwing stones.”

Stiffening, I spun. “I got my demon smut trying to save my butt. Nothing died.”

With a soft huff, Trent pulled his knees to himself and turned on the top stair to face me. “Such a nice friendly witch, helping the FIB and little old ladies find their familiars. How many bodies are at your feet, Rachel?”

Heat hit me, and my breath caught.
Oh. That.
There were bodies in my past. I lived with a vampire who had probably killed people and I willingly accepted that. Kisten's hands hadn't been clean either. Jenks had killed to keep his children alive, and would do so again without thought. I had intentionally killed Peter, though he had wanted to die.

“Peter doesn't count,” I said, hip cocked, and Trent shook his head as if I were a child. “You murder people outright,” I said indignantly. “You killed three Weres for
business
last summer and were going to let my friend take the blame. Brett only wanted to belong to something.” That it still hurt surprised me.

“We are exactly the same, Rachel. We're both prepared to kill to protect what we care for. It simply comes up a lot more often with me. You murdered a living vampire to protect your way of life. That he wanted to die was simply a pretty bow around it.”

“We are nothing alike,” I said. “You kill for business and profit. I did what I had to do to keep the balance between the vamps and the Weres.” Full of indignant anger, I looked down at him as he sat on the stairs. “Are you saying I shouldn't have?”

Smiling beatifically, Trent said, “No. You did the right thing. Exactly what I would have done. What I'm saying is that the rest of us would appreciate it if you would stop working against the system and start working in it.”

“With you?” I said caustically, and he shrugged.

“Your talents, my contacts. I'm going to change the world. You can have a say in it.”

Disgusted, I turned my back on him, arms crossed over my chest. Demons were about to chew our noses off, and he was still trying to woo me into working for him. But here I was, doing just that. God, I was such an idiot. “I already have a say in it,” I muttered.

“Rache?” came a warbling call from the statue, and my heart jumped. “I got Al's.”

I backed up a step, pulse fast when Jenks burst from behind the statue trailing a thin ribbon of gold dust. “I looked for your sample,” he said, dropping a pinky-nail-size ampoule of black sludge into my grip. “But
you don't have one. I guess you weren't Al's familiar long enough. If Al ever tries to reverse the curse, he's going to have to get a sample from you.”

“Thank you,” I said, dizzy as I looked at the little drop of nothing in my hand that was Al. I'd risked my life for this. Heart pounding, I looked at Ivy's watch—ten minutes to sunup. I was going to use it now.

“Get Trent's sample,” I said, lurching to the circle already scribed out on the wooden floor where the carpet had been burned away. I wasn't going to tap a line and set it unless we were interrupted. At that point, it wouldn't matter if I rang the damned bell.

Trent followed, and I almost smacked into him as he tried to get a look at Al's blood. “That's it?” he said, and I pulled back from his reaching hand. “It's over five thousand years old. It can't be any good.”

Jenks's wings snapped aggressively. “It's magic, you big cookie fart. If you can read a DNA sample off a nasty mummified elf corpse, then Rachel can use a five-thousand-year-old drop of blood for a demon curse.”

I dropped to my knees inside the circle and set the precious vial aside to brush the dirt from a swath of burned oak.

“What about my sample?” Trent asked, his voice tense, as if we might betray him in the last hour. His eyes were very green, and I watched the emotion pass behind them.

“I haven't been able to find one.” Jenks dropped an inch in altitude. “I can't just type in ancient, pre-curse elf. It would help if I had a name.”

Trent glanced at me, his face tight with sudden nerves. “Try searching for Kallasea,” he said, and I slowed.
Kallasea? An older version of Kalamack, perhaps?

“Give me a sec,” Jenks said, and darted away.

Nervous as much from what I was doing as from Trent watching me do it, I sent my gaze over my stuff. White candle to serve as my hearth fire—check. Ugly big-ass knife—check. Two candles representing Al and me—check. Bag of sea salt—check. Ungodly expensive piece of magnetic chalk that I wasn't going to use—check. Little five-sided pyramid made out of copper—check. Ceri's written instructions and phonetically spelled Latin curse—rolled up like a scroll and shoved in the bottom of my bag—
didn't need it. I had memorized everything while sitting on the steps of the basilica's altar.