Ким Харрисон: The Outlaw Demon Wails

Tom smiled, and my mother squeezed my elbow. "You're welcome to come down to the I.S. and file a countercomplaint."

Nice. "I'll accept the damages." So much for the air conditioner fund. "Come on," I said, reaching for Minias. "Let's get out of here."

My hand passed right through him. I froze, but I didn't think anyone had noticed. Glancing at his irate face, I gestured sourly for him to go before me. "After you," I said, then hesitated. I wasn't going to do this at the coffeehouse two blocks away. Not with the I.S. buzzing like fairies around a sparrow nest. "My car is about five spots down. It's the red convertible, and you're riding in back."

Minias's eyebrows rose. "As you say…," he murmured, rocking into motion.

Looking proud and satisfied, my mother snatched my purchases up, linked her arm in mine, and like magic the crowd parted to show us the door.

"You okay, Jenks?" I questioned when the cool of the night hit us.

"Just get me in the car," he said, and I carefully wrapped my scarf about my neck once more to snuggle him in.

Coffee with my mom and a demon. Yeah, that was a good idea.

The coffeehouse was warm, smelling of biscotti and brewing beans. Jenks went to my mom's shoulder when I loosened my scarf, but I didn't take it off, not knowing if my neck showed Al's fingerprints or not. It sure hurt enough to. Al is out? How am I going to shut this down?

Gently rubbing my neck, I lingered at the door to watch Minias, Jenks, and my mother find their place in line. The heavy-charm detection alarm was glaring a harsh red—responding to Minias most likely—but no one in the crowded place was paying it any mind. It was three days before Halloween, and everyone was trying out their spells.

The demon looked tall beside my mother as she fidgeted. Her cream-colored leather clutch purse matched her shoes to perfection; I must have gotten my fashion sense from my dad. I knew I had gotten my height from him, putting me several inches taller than my mom and a shade shorter than Minias, even in my boots. And my athletic build had certainly come from my dad. Not that my mom was a slouch, but memories of afternoons at Eden Park and pictures from before he had died reassured me that I was as much my father's daughter as my mother's. It made me feel good, thinking that a part of him lived on though he'd been gone twelve years. He'd been a great dad, and I still missed him when my life got out of control. Which was more often than I liked to admit. Behind me, the irritating heavy-charm detector gave a final pulse and went dark.

Relieved, I eased up behind Minias, making his shoulders stiffen. He'd been markedly quiet in the car, giving me the creeps as he sat rigidly behind me while my mother sat sideways in her seat to watch him. She had disguised the scrutiny by trying to engage him in conversation while I called Ivy and left a message for her to run across the street and warn Ceri that Al was on the loose again. The demon's ex-familiar didn't have a phone, which was getting tiresome.

I was hoping my mother's light banter had been a ploy to ease the tension and not her usual out-of-touch-with-reality mentality. She and Minias were on a first-name basis now, which I thought was swell. Still, if he had wanted to cause problems, he could have done it half a dozen times between the charm shop and here. He was biding his time, and I felt like a bug on a pin.

My mother and Jenks edged out of line to ogle the pastries, and when the Were trio ahead of us finished ordering and moved off, Minias stepped forward, glancing indolently at the hanging menu. A man in a business suit behind us huffed impatiently, then went pale and backed up when the demon eyed him through his dark glasses.

Minias turned back to the counter attendant and smiled. "Latte grande, double espresso, Italian blend. Light on the froth, extra cinnamon. Use whole milk. Not two percent or half-and-half. Whole milk. Put it in porcelain."

"We can do that!" the kid behind the counter said enthusiastically, and I looked up. His voice sounded familiar. "And for you, ma'am?"

"Uh," I stumbled, "coffee. Black. That's it."

Minias looked askance at me, his surprise clear even through his dark glasses, and the kid behind the counter blinked. "What kind?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter." I shifted from foot to foot. "Mom, what do you want?"

My mother cheerfully hustled back to the counter with Jenks on her shoulder. "I'll have a Turkish espresso and a slice of that cheesecake if someone will share it with me."

"I will," Jenks sang out, startling the guy behind the register. He still had that paper clip sword with him, and it made me feel better.

My mom glanced at me, and when I nodded that I'd have some, too, she beamed. "I'll have that, then. With forks for all of us." She shyly looked to Minias, and the demon stepped back almost out of my peripheral vision.

The kid snuck glances at Jenks as he punched that in, announcing, "Fourteen eighty-five."

"We have one more person here," I said, trying not to frown, and Jenks landed on the counter with his hands on his hips. I hated it when people ignored him. And asking him to share simply because he wasn't going to eat much was patronizing.

"I want an espresso," he said proudly. "Black. But give me the domestic blend. That Turkish crap gives me the runs for a week."

"TMI, Jenks," I muttered while I yanked my shoulder bag forward. "Why don't you find a table? Maybe a corner without a lot of people?"

"With your back to the wall. You got it," he said, clearly doing better in the shop's moist, balmy climate. A sustained temp below forty would send him into hibernation, and though Cincinnati was regularly hitting that after dark, the stump he and his huge family lived in would retain enough heat to keep them warm until almost mid-November. I was already dreading his brood moving into the church Ivy and I lived in, but they would not hibernate and risk Matalina, his ailing wife, dying of the cold. Jenks was why I wore the scarf; it wasn't for my comfort.

Glad for the warmth of the shop myself, I unzipped my coat. I handed the kid a twenty, then dropped the change into the tip jar, making the businessman wait while I scribbled "client meeting" on the receipt and tucked it away.

Turning, I found my mother and Minias standing uneasily beside a table against the wall. Jenks was on the light fixture, the dust slipping from him rising in the bulb's heat. They were waiting for me to sit down before choosing their seats, so grabbing some napkins, I headed over.

"This looks great, Jenks," I said as I edged behind my mom to reach the chair against the wall. Immediately my mother sat to my left, and Minias chose the chair to my right, shifting it a foot back before sitting down. He was almost in the aisle; apparently we both wanted our space. I took the opportunity to remove my jacket, and my expression froze when the bracelet Kisten had given me slipped to my wrist. Pain hit, almost panic, and I didn't look at anyone as I tucked it behind the sleeve of my sweater.

I wore the bracelet because I had loved Kisten and still wasn't ready to let him go. The one time I'd taken it off, I found myself unable to tuck it away in my jewelry box next to the sharp vampire caps he'd given me. Maybe if I knew who had murdered him I could have moved on.

Ivy hadn't had much luck tracking down the vampire Piscary had given Kisten to as a legal blood gift. I had been sure that Sam, one of Piscary's lackeys, had known who it was, but he hadn't. The human polygraph test at the FIB, or Federal Inderland Bureau—the human-run version of the I.S.—was pretty good, but the witch charm I had around Sam's neck when Ivy "asked" him about it was better. That was the last time I helped her question anyone, however. The living vampire scared me when she was pissed.