Ким Харрисон: The Outlaw Demon Wails

That Ivy wasn't getting results was unusual. Her investigative skills were as good as my ability to get into trouble. Since the "Sam incident," we had agreed to let her handle our search, and I was getting impatient at her lack of progress, but my slamming vampires into a wall for information wasn't prudent. What made it worse was that the answer was buried somewhere in my unconsciousness. Maybe I should have talked to the FIB's psychologist to see if he could pull something to light? But Ford made me uneasy. He could sense emotions faster than Ivy could smell them.

Uncomfortable, I scanned the décor of the busy place. Behind my mother was one of those stupid pictures with babies dressed up as fruit or flowers or something. My lips parted and I looked at Jenks, then to the counter where the college-age kid managed the customers with a professional polish. This was it! I thought in a surge of recognition. This was the same coffeehouse where Ivy, Jenks, and I had agreed to quit the I.S. and work as independent runners! But Junior looked like he knew what he was doing now, sporting a manager tag on his red-and-white-striped apron and with several underlings to handle the nastier parts of running the place.

"Hey, Rache," Jenks said as he dropped down to dust my sweater with gold. "Isn't this the store we—"

"Yup," I interrupted him, not wanting Minias to be privy to more of my life than necessary. The demon was unfolding a paper napkin and meticulously settling it across a jeans-clad knee as if it were silk. Unease flowed through me as I remembered the night I decided to leave the I.S. Going clueless into an independent bounty hunter/escort service/jack-of-all-magical-trades runner service with a vamp had been one of the most stupid and best decisions of my life. It went along with Ivy and Jenks's opinion that I lived my life to find the edge of disaster so I could feel the rush of adrenaline.

Maybe I had once, but not anymore. Believing I had killed Jenks and Ivy with one of my stunts had cured me one hundred percent, and Kisten's death had slammed the lesson home, hard. And to prove it, I wasn't going to work with Minias no matter what he offered. I wouldn't repeat the past. I could change my patterns of behavior. I would. Starting here. Watch me.

"Coffee up!" the kid shouted, and Minias took his napkin from his lap as if he was going to rise.

"I'll get it," I said, wanting to minimize his interactions with everyone.

Minias eased down without a fuss. I gathered myself to stand, then frowned. I didn't want to leave him with my mother either.

"Oh, for God's sake," my mother said, standing to drop her purse loudly on the table. "I'll get it."

Minias touched her arm, and I bristled. "If you would, Alice, bring the cinnamon with you?" he asked, and my mother nodded, slowly pulling from his fingers. She was holding her arm when she walked away, and I leaned toward Minias.

"Don't touch my mother," I threatened, feeling better when Jenks took an aggressive stance on the table, his wings clattering menacingly.

"Someone needs to touch her," Minias said dryly. "She hasn't been touched in twelve years."

"She doesn't need to be touched by you." I leaned back with my arms crossed over my middle. My gaze went to my mother, who was flirting in an old-lady way with the counter kid, and I paused. She hadn't remarried when Dad died, hadn't even dated. I knew she intentionally dressed herself to look older than she was to keep men at a distance. With the right haircut and dress, we could pass as big sister, little sister. As a witch, her life span was a good hundred and sixty years, and while most witches waited until they were sixty before starting a family, she had had Robbie and me very early in her life, giving up a promising career to raise us first. Maybe we were accidents. Passion babies.

That brought a smile to my face, and I forced it away when I noticed Minias watching me. I straightened as my mom approached with a canister of cinnamon and her plate of cheesecake; the kid behind the counter was following with the rest. "Thank you, Mark," she said as he placed everything on the table and backed up a step. "You're a sweet boy."

I smiled at Mark's sigh. Clearly he wasn't happy with the title. He glanced at me, then Jenks, his eyes brightening. "Hey," he said as he tucked the tray under his arm. "I think I've seen you somewhere…."

I cringed. Most times people recognized me, it was from the news clip of me being dragged on my ass down the street by a demon. The local news had incorporated it into their front credits. Sort of like that guy on skis pinwheeling over the finish line in the agony of defeat.

"No," I said, unable to look at him as I pulled the lid off my cup of coffee. Ah, coffee.

"Yes," he insisted, weight on one foot. "You've got that escort service. In the Hollows?"

I didn't know if that was better or not, and I looked tiredly up at him. I'd done escort service before, not that kind of escort service, but real stuff, dangerous stuff. I had a boat blow up around me once. "Yeah, that's me."

Minias looked up from shaking cinnamon on his coffee. Jenks snickered, and I bumped my knee on the underside of the table to make his espresso slop over. "Hey!" he shouted, rising up a few inches, then settled back down, still laughing.

The front door jingled, and the kid shot off his glad-to-have-you-here spiel and left. Minias was the only one listening.

My coffee was steaming, and I hunched over it while I watched the demon. His long fingers were interlaced about the white soup-bowl mug as if relishing its warmth, and though I couldn't tell for sure because of the sunglasses, I think his eyes closed as he took the first sip. A look of bliss so deep it couldn't have been faked slipped over him, easing his features and turning him into a vision of relaxed pleasure.

"I'm listening," I said, and a mask of nothing fell between us.

My mother quietly ate her cheesecake, her eyes flicking uneasily between us. I had the distinct impression she thought I was being rude.

"And I'm not happy," I added, making her lips press tightly. "You told me Al was contained." I lifted my coffee and blew across the top. "What are you going to do about him breaking his word and coming after me? What do you think will happen when this gets out?" I took a sip, forgetting for a moment where I was when it slipped down, easing my slight headache and relaxing my muscles. Jenks cleared his throat, bringing me back.

"You won't have a chance of luring anyone into any agreements again," I said as my focus cleared. "No more familiars. Won't that be nice?" I finished with a simpering smile.

His eyes on the delights of that fruit-baby picture, Minias sipped his drink with his elbows on the table and his mug propped up at mouth height. "This is much better this side of the lines," he said softly.

"Yeah," Jenks said. His espresso cup came up to his waist. "That burnt amber really sticks in your throat, doesn't it?"

A flicker of annoyance flashed across Minias, and a thread of tension entered his stance of relaxed idleness. I took a deep breath, smelling only coffee, cheesecake, and the characteristic redwood scent of a witch. I was sure my mom had slipped him a charm, and I wasn't looking forward to finding the cost of such an expensive amulet tacked on to the losses from the store. But if it kept him from smelling like a demon and causing a panic, I couldn't complain.

"Well, what do you want?" I said, setting my cup down. "I don't have all night."

My mom frowned, but Minias took it in stride, easing back in his stiff chair and setting his giant mug aside. "Al is being summoned out of confinement—"

"We figured that part out," Jenks said snottily.

"Jenks…," I murmured, and the pixy walked across the table with his makeshift sword to the cheesecake.