Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

“Oh God, that’s good,” I said, and Mark backed into his uninvoked circle with a nervous smile. Trent was still at the door, and I told Jenks to stay with him with a twitch of my finger. Dali noticed, putting a hand on Newt’s arm to keep her silent when she took a breath to say something.

“The world will change,” I said, echoing Mica, setting my coffee down even as that first swallow buzzed through me. “See, I think that’s funny. It already has, and you missed it.”

Al’s scowl hesitated. Emboldened, I pushed from the counter to claim a spiral circle inlaid on the floor as my own.

“Why are you here?” Mica said, but he wasn’t moving. “You think the elves mean anything?” he added, goat-slitted eyes flicking to Trent. “They have no Sa’han. It’s the only reason you’ve been allowed your game of pretend. You’re doing us a big favor.”

Guilt was a quick stab, and I refused to look at Trent, knowing my feelings would give me away. “I’m not here for the elves, I’m here for the FIB,” I said flippantly. “Before you get yourself into more trouble, you need to know there are laws on the books now concerning demons, demon magic, and demon activity.”

They laughed, but there were more than twenty of them in here now, all but the original eight or so standing at the windows, listening. “We don’t recognize any law but our own,” Mica said, turning his back on me.

“It’s your choice. You sure it’s a good one?”

It wasn’t me who made him turn back around, it was the questioning faces at the window. At the corner booth, Dali squinted at me in warning. Warning me to be careful? To be quiet?

“I’m serious,” I said lightly, moving to keep their eyes on me. “You’ve been stuck in that stinky hole of forced existence for too long, and the world has changed. Al might be able to adapt, but most of you need help. I can do that.”

“You think we need help ?”

It had been Dali, and my pace bobbled at the flash of fear that lit through me and died. Damn it, they noticed.

“I don’t think you see what’s going on here,” the round, powerful demon said.

I could actually hear the soft hush of sliding fabric as everyone turned from him to me. Swallowing, I lifted my chin. “I see demons having coffee in a coffee shop. What do you see?”

Dali hesitated, looking at the deeper meaning past my simple statement. I’d gotten to know them pretty well in the last year or so, and I knew that this was what they wanted. They wanted acceptance. They wanted to be part of something alive again, something where their voices and actions meant more than a stale circle of parties and distractions. But their pride, I knew, would get in the way. They were all-friggin’ powerful. Blah, blah, blah. What did it really mean when all was said and done? Nothing. Nothing they did meant anything.

Feeling them waver, I shook my head. “It’s not the same world it was two thousand years ago. Hell, it’s changed in the last six months to make room for you, ” I said, words almost tripping over themselves as I tried to get it out before someone opened his mouth and ruined it. “They knew you were coming, and they made room for you.” Someone snickered, and I spun. “Hey!” I shouted, and Trent jumped, his hold on the line zinging through me. “They made room for you. Don’t you get it? They didn’t make weapons, or spells, or traps. They made room! ”

Arms crossed over his chest, Mica stared at me. “They’re scared and stupid.”

“It means you belong, damn it!” I shouted as a rumble of discussion rose. “Are they scared? Hell yes. Are there going to be people who will try to ruin it for you? Goad you into making decisions so that fear overflows and starts a war? Absolutely. They wouldn’t be people if they didn’t, but that doesn’t rub out the fact that they made room for you !”

“We thrive on war!” Mica exclaimed as the demons closest to him inched away.

I gave him a disparaging look until his eyes narrowed. “Right,” I scoffed. “And that’s why you can’t live on the ever-after’s surface anymore.”

Mica stood. Trent stiffened, and I moved. Arms swinging, I got in Mica’s face. The demon hesitated for the smallest instant as I stared up at him, expression cross. “Trent just spent almost a year getting legislation on the books for you. Lost his fortune doing it,” I barked at the demon. It seemed to be the right approach, as the tension defused with a soft chuckle from Dali.

“Ah, not all of it,” Trent said from the door.

“Ruined his reputation,” I continued, hands on my hips.

“Er . . . ,” Trent muttered.

“An elf did this,” I said loudly. “Not just any elf, but the same one whose father found a way for me to survive being a demon. He broke the curse, you idiot! What more do you want? I want this to work. I want all of you here with me in the sun. Don’t screw this up for my kids, Mica, or I swear I’ll take care of your family planning for you the hard way. Permanently and painfully,” I added just for the hell of it.

Oh God, I couldn’t back up without looking scared, so I stood there, praying someone would say something.

“Work in their system?” Al said, and I spun, both relieved and petrified at his next words. Of all the demons here, I feared his voice the most. “Settle down? Get a job? Pay taxes?”

I warmed at the titter, and I lifted my chin. Mica backed up, and I inched away from him as well. “Why not?” I said. “It’s better than starting a war that you’ll eventually die from. And that’s another thing. No more stealing people into slavery. It would be a nice gesture of goodwill if you freed your familiars.”

Trent winced, probably thinking I’d gone too far, but if I didn’t ask for more, they’d give me nothing. Sure enough, most laughed. I was losing them. Al knew it. They all did.

“Not going to happen, Rachel,” Al said, the thread of genuine sorrow sparking my hope. “We will not be taken again by elven trickery.” He looked at Dali and elegantly sipped from his paper cup. “A job,” he scoffed.

I stifled a shudder as Jenks hummed closer. “They’re not going for it,” he whispered.

My jaw clenched. This was my only chance, and I’d be damned if I let Al ruin it with his “poor me” attitude. “Hey!” I shouted, making Jenks ink a bright dust. “You will keep your mischief and misdeeds within the confines of the laws of this society, or I’ll sling each and every one of your asses back into the ever-after and Trent will curse you to remain there forever.”

“Ah, Rache?” Jenks whispered as Trent paled.

“You know we can do it,” I said, warming at the dubious looks. “We beat Ku’Sox.”

“Rachel!” Trent cried in fear, but I’d already felt the pull on the line and had spun, my word of invocation filling the circles I’d asked Mark to paint the floor with last year.

Demons cackled and guffawed as Mica’s shot was deflected into the ceiling by Trent’s cast charm before coming close to hitting my protection circle. Scared, I looked first at Trent, remembering to breathe when I saw him wreathed in his own protection, Jenks at his side.

My hand glowed with my power held in check, and I slowly spun to Mica. Fine. We could get the hard part over with first.

“That is enough!” Newt said as she stood, and the laughter slowly ebbed.

Trent came forward to join me, and I dropped my circle, loving his grace and bound anger—and that he was strong enough to stand beside me when my life got ugly. My God, he looked good, his feet barely seeming to touch the floor, and the tips of his hair floated, waving before his brilliant green eyes.