Kim Harrison - Ever After

How many nasty little men do you need, love? Isn’t Trenton enough? Al thought, clearly distracted. You can’t have him. Ku’Sox would put too high a price just because it’s you. Cut him loose. He’s toad shit.

My jaw dropped. Hovering across from me, Jenks’s wings dropped in pitch as he reflected my shock, not knowing why. “You know Ku’Sox has Nick?” I said, warming. “And you don’t care? You didn’t tell me?”

Of course I know. And no, I don’t care. His thought was distant, as if I was only getting half his attention, and I wondered what he was doing. Why do you? If all you’re after is abuse, I can give it to you far more deliciously than a human.

I frowned at the wave of titillation he’d put in his words. “Do you have any idea what he’s capable of?”

Ku’Sox?

“No, Nick!” I pressed my fingers more firmly into the glass. He was losing interest.

Oh, for the two worlds colliding, Al thought, clearly bothered. Can this wait?

“No!” I said, and Jenks crossed his arms over his chest to mirror my distress. “How did Ku’Sox get Nick? The two of them couldn’t have met before.”

That I knew for a fact. The timing was off. I waited, shoving needlelike thoughts of impatience at Al’s mind, threatening him until he found out for me. Sure enough, he made a huge mental sigh, thinking, Hold on a sec.

I took a breath to complain, but he was gone. I shuddered—it felt as if I suddenly lost half my mind when the thousand half-realized musings that go on in the back of our awareness abruptly vanished. I hadn’t lost my mind, of course, but Al and I had been sharing mental space by way of the scrying mirror, and I felt the loss of his background noise when he left.

“He’s checking,” I said, then jumped as my focus blurred briefly as Al came drifting back into my head.

Ah. Here it is, the demon muttered, and I pressed my fingers against the scrying mirror to improve the connection. Ku’Sox won him in a bet. One concerning you, actually.

I put my free hand to my forehead and massaged it. Jenks landed on the table beside me, his tiny features drawn up in concern. It was as I’d feared. Ku’Sox on his own was bad enough, but add in a thieving, magic-using human who didn’t mind getting dirty, and we were in trouble. Won him, eh? I thought derisively. This omnipotent crap you guys think of yourself is going to get you all killed. Nick is devious. Ku’Sox is worse. Together, they’re really bad.

Al’s spark of amusement darted through me, alien and at odds with myself. He belongs to Ku’Sox. That should be some consolation. Abject humiliation . . . blah, blah, blah. He somehow gave the impression of leafing through papers. It’s all perfectly legal.

“I doubt abject humiliation is what’s going on. Nick is over here in reality,” I said, and Jenks smirked. Frowning, I turned back to the mirror, seeing a very faint reflection of him in its reddish depths. I thought it interesting that the pixy showed up better than me. “Did you know Nick is stealing Rosewood babies?” I said shortly, and Jenks’s dust pooling on the mirror shifted to a sick-looking blue. “Thriving Rosewood babies? Nick knows the enzyme to keep them alive. Stole it from Trent. He’s injecting it into them, prolonging their lives, then stealing them. Eight so far.”

Al’s amusement only ticked me off. Ah. You think Ku’Sox is making little yous? I don’t blame him, seeing as you don’t like him. Long-term planning. Good for him. It will keep the freak busy for a few decades. First thing the brat has done right since he got out of a test tube. I’m proud.

Al’s thoughts were going distant, and I pressed my hand harder into the glass until it ached with the thrum of energy running through it. “He’s not doing this for the greater demon good,” I said sharply. “In ten years, he’s going to have a bunch of preadolescent, very powerful day-walking demons who look to him for everything right down to their continued existence. Nick knows the enzyme, not the cure. The moment they don’t get the enzyme, they die. You think that little fact is going to escape Ku’Sox?”

Breath held, I felt Al consider that. A hint of worry colored his usual confidence. If he were actually next to me, I probably wouldn’t have been able to detect it, but here, with our consciousness twined together, it was harder to hide. And just as I knew he was concerned, he knew I was deadly serious. Mmmm, he finally thought. Is that coffee I smell in your thoughts? With an abruptness that told me he was taking me seriously, he snapped our connection.

I sucked in my breath and jerked my head up, shocked. “Damn,” I whispered, curling my shaking fingers under into a fist. The lingering energy swirled, hurting until it was reabsorbed. “I hate it when he leaves that fast. He’s coming over.” Fingers aching, I slid the mirror onto the table and stood, rubbing my hands together to try to rid myself of the lingering prickles of magic. “Scrying mirrors are like party lines. This is a good thing.” I think. “You staying?”

Jenks casually cleaned his sword on a torn corner of napkin and nodded.

I smiled, carefully setting my scrying mirror beside my cooling coffee. “Thanks. He’s easier to deal with when he thinks people trust him.”

“Trust?” The pixy held the blade up to the light and squinted at its shine. “I trust him all right. Trust him to get away with whatever he can.”

As if on cue, there was the barest tug on my awareness as Al gently misted into existence without even the hint of a shift in the air. Appearing in the threshold, he sniffed, his eyes going to the steaming pot of coffee. The demon was taller than me, his overdone buckled boots giving him an advantage. He was wearing his usual crushed green velvet frock coat with the lace at his throat and cuffs, having gone on to add a matching top hat, a scarf to protect against the night’s mist, a cane he didn’t need, and his usual round blue-tinted glasses. They did little to hide his red goat-slitted eyes, and I knew he didn’t need them to see with. Al was all about show, and he liked the image of a bygone British nobleman.

“Rache-e-el,” he drawled, eyeing me over his glasses as he loosened his scarf and came in, boots grinding leftover circle-salt into the linoleum. “Sweats at your trial, gowns in your kitchen. You simply must learn how to dress yourself properly. Or did you go all out for me?” His expression souring, he gave Jenks a disparaging glance.

Jenks wrinkled his nose in disgust at the rank smell of burnt amber now permeating the air. “Sweet ever-loving Tink,” he said, rising up and holding his nose dramatically. “Haven’t you learned how to take a shower yet? You smell like a burning tire.”

“Stop it,” I said, knowing Al couldn’t help it. The ever-after stank like burnt amber, and it rubbed off on you. I still noticed it, but it didn’t seem to have the same impact anymore, which bothered me for some reason.

“I didn’t get dressed up for you,” I said, hoping the pixies stayed out. “I haven’t had time to change from my, ah, date is all.”

Al pulled his bared-teeth smile from Jenks, mellowing as he turned to me. “Is that so?”

Wanting to improve his mood, I went to get him a coffee. Al propped his cane in the corner and sat in Ivy’s chair by the door, knowing it was the throne of the room. Settling himself with a pompous air, he shook out his sleeves and took a deep breath to speak.

I spun when six pixies came burst in, shouting about something or other. Jenks rose up, but as soon as they saw Al, they flew out screaming. Jenks shrugged, and Al grinned to show me his flat, blocky teeth. “You do have an interesting life,” he said, fluffing the lace at his cuffs. “Now, about Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos. Stealing Rosewood babies? How sure are you that he’s not collaborating with Trent?”