Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

“I still say I should be with the elven emissary and Dali in the woods wearing this rag,” a low, cultured voice with a hint of a British accent said, and I started, not having felt Al pop in. “My God, it still smells like wolf. You’re looking well, Ms. Tamwood.”

Ivy’s eyes slid to Al as the demon brushed at the wolf pelt he wore over his extravagant suit. It almost rivaled Takata’s in marks for “Look at me! I don’t care that you’re staring!” the fabric almost glowing from silver threads and dark dyes.

“And you look ridiculous,” Ivy said, making Jenks snort in agreement.

“It is the required uniform.” But still, he winced as he took off his hat and hunched, pleading with me. “Rachel, love, talk to Ray. Tell her this is undignified. It’s a wolf skin, and not a very big one. She said she’d turn my ears to snakes if I took it off.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have taught her that curse,” I said, remembering getting that call at three in the morning. It was the last sleepover Ray had been invited to. Mothers of fourteen-year-olds have no sense of humor.

“She listens to you!” Al protested, and Ivy let go of Red when the horse got a whiff of Brimstone and tossed her head.

“Al, just wear it,” I said. “And get your ass back out with the wedding party. You’re going to make them late coming in.”

“I will not,” he said stiffly, frowning as Ivy gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Quen has my steed. I have plenty of time to pop back. Listen, they haven’t even found her yet.”

It was true. The hounds still bayed, and I shivered. I’d asked Trent to forgo that part, but Ray had insisted. The dogs wouldn’t be allowed to follow them back to the glen, though.

“See you at the reception,” Ivy said, turning to stand right in front of Al until he moved out of her way.

“Damn cheeky vampires,” he grumbled as he moved. “Thinks she owns the world.”

I soothed Red before reaching for her bridle. “She’s in love,” I said softly. “She does own the world.”

Al was silent, and I turned to see him staring at me, the wolf pelt hanging half off his shoulders. “You took your hair down,” he said, his voice shifting, deeper and less flamboyant. “Is that for your elf?”

“No.” The pelt was slipping off his shoulder, and I stood before him and tugged it straight. “Jumoke’s kids took Ray’s cap, and I gave her mine.” He wasn’t jealous—not really.

“I suppose if you have stood with him this long against all the forces of nature opposing you that you’d be afraid to do anything . . . else?” Al said, his tone rising in question at the end.

Jenks’s wings clattered in warning that I was going to be late, but it was Al who grimaced. “I’m not afraid of anything except missing my cue,” I said. “Will you just wear the pelt?” I grumped as I adjusted it. “It’s only for an hour. Pretend that it’s a job. I’ve seen you wear worse.” A horn blew, and I frowned. Damn it, I was late.

“It’s undignified!” Al moaned, his usual mood restored.

Jenks’s wings shivered against my neck. I hadn’t even felt him land. “This coming from the demon who let a live Tyrannosaurus rex eat him so he could blow him up from the inside during the last ten minutes of the film?”

Al frowned. “I do my own stunts. It was in the script.”

Which was true. Al had five Oscars to his credit and had produced and directed movies that had earned twice that many. As he had said, Al did his own stunts, and the dinosaur had been real, reengineered from old DNA using sophisticated magic and some of Trent’s more illegal machines. The one they didn’t blow up was on loan to the San Diego Zoo.

“Can you get me tickets to the premiere of Mesozoic: In Time, No One Can Hear You Scream ?” I asked, and when he winced, I shook my head. “Wear it, big man, or I’ll change something other than your ears to snakes.”

He leered, making Red’s ears pin back. “How do you know someone hasn’t beaten you to it?”

“Al!” I shouted. “Wear. It.”

Sighing, he tugged it back into place. Jenks was laughing, his dust looking gray in the lamplight, and I hustled forward to adjust the pelt before Al could take it back off. “He looks like a Neanderthal in Armani,” Jenks said, laughing merrily.

“It’s not that bad!” I soothed, pulling Al down to kiss his cheek and make his ruddy complexion shift even redder. “You look like the big bad wolf. Now go. I have to meet Trent and Quen on the hill.”

“Quen is with the hunting party, and if it wasn’t for Ray, I’d never do it.”

“Then I have to meet Trent. And she loves you. Go!”

Grumbling, Al backed up, but he hesitated before he winked out, a familiar, crafty glint to his expression as he took a breath and his eyes opened wide.

“Tink loves a duck,” Jenks said loudly. “I think Brimstone breath just got an idea.”

“Yes!” Al exclaimed, and Red bobbed her head, agitated when the demon was suddenly coated in shimmery silver ever-after. “I have an idea!” he cried again, his voice distorted as the energy field fell away to show that Al’s silver-threaded overdone finery was gone, replaced by thick boots trimmed in fur and an elegant coat with shadings of tree and field. The wolf pelt worked with it, especially in the graying light and the smell of horse, and I smiled. “If I’m to be a huntsman, I will be a huntsman! They will tremble in fear, and that whiny Keric will think twice about stealing my beloved Ray!”

“Go get ’em, Al,” I said, weary as he jumped and his shiny afterimage fading to nothing.

Jenks snickered as he took to the air. “I think you might have just birthed the idea for his next film.”

“Just as long as he leaves me out of the credits. I got hate mail for three whole years the last time.”

The dogs’ song shifted, and I looked at the graying walls of the tent. I had to go. “Come on, Red,” I coaxed, and she obediently took the bit, noisily moving it around until it felt right.

“You’re late,” Jenks said, helping enormously, and I led the horse over to the mounting box. I normally didn’t need one, but I normally didn’t ride wearing twenty pounds of lace. Red didn’t like it, and she shied.

“Hold still,” I muttered as I swung my leg over. Red squealed, and I pulled her in tight, bashing my chest against her as I lurched on. We spun in a tight circle, and breathless, we came to a halt.

There in the flickering light of the gas lamps was Trent. He was sitting atop Tulpa, a bemused expression on his face as he took in my hair, the mane of it going everywhere. “I thought you were going to wear it up?” he said, and I flushed.

“Jumoke’s kids hid Ray’s cap, and I gave her mine,” I said, thinking he looked fantastic in his father-of-the-bride finery. My God, Ellasbeth would be kicking herself tonight.

“Quen decided to stick with Al to keep him from going out of bounds,” Trent said, gesturing for me to hurry up. “It’s just us on the hill, and you’re making us late.”

“So I heard,” I muttered, meaning about three different things. My pulse quickened as the horns sounded again, closer even as the dogs’ singing became faint. Tradition said the bride and groom were to come in with the groom’s parents and the bride’s protector. It was only after the vows were spoken that the bride’s parents joined them. I thought the ceremony uncannily like the pixy’s tradition of stealing the bride when there wasn’t enough dowry.

“I don’t think we can make the hill, but we can hide at the edges of the glen,” he said, and I nodded, bringing Red around and heading for the back door. My heart was pounding, and I thought it silly that he could still do this to me. He was a little wider across the shoulders with maturity, and the first hints of silver were in his hair, but you had to look close. The stress of maintaining his species-friendly industries was taking its toll, but he’d made his way back from almost nothing even with me beside him. It felt good.