Ким Харрисон - The Outlaw Demon Wails

Ivy set a cup of coffee by my hand, and I pulled my head up to give her a grateful smile. Shrugging, she sat before her cracked computer, and together we faced Trent.

"I want to talk to you about Quen," he said, his dexterous fingers moving restlessly and his fair hair starting to float in the breeze from the open window. "Do you have a minute?"

I've got until the sun goes down, I thought. Then I'm going to step out onto unsanctified ground and try to kill a demon. But I took a sip of coffee and gave him a dry "Let's hear it."

The knock on our front door made me sigh out loud, and I wasn't surprised when I heard it open and recognized Ceri's soft steps as she hastened down the hall. My thoughts jerked back to her offer to help me with the curse herself. I wasn't sure if the offer was still open since we had argued about her making charms for Al. That's not why she was here, though, back from her all-night vigil at the basilica. She was here to learn if the man she loved had lived out the night.

"Rachel? Ivy? Jenks?" she called, and Ivy eased back into her chair. "It's me. Forgive me for walking in. Is Trenton here? His car is out front."

I turned to Trent, shocked at his stark fear. He had casually moved to put the counter between him and the door, and his alarm was hidden behind a professional smile. My mood went utterly black. He was afraid of her and her demon smut, too chicken to admit it openly.

"Back here, Ceri," I called, and the pretty elf breezed in, long white skirt flowing to a stop around her ankles when she saw Trent.

"Quen…," she breathed, her eyes fixed on him, the depth of her feelings painful to see. "Is Quen still alive? Please."

For the first time all day, my smile turned real. Seeing it, Ceri started to cry. Looking like a wronged angel, she wrapped her arms around herself as if letting go would cause her to fall apart. The tears flowed unchecked, making her more beautiful yet. "Thank you, God," she whispered, and Ivy leaned to hand her the tissue box.

My muscles protested as I rose, but Trent beat me to her, coming around the counter to touch her arm. Ceri's head jerked up, her tear-wet eyes a stunning green.

"Rachel saved him," he said, and I marveled at how good they looked together. Almost the same height, both had the same translucent hair and slim build. I glanced at Ivy for her opinion, and she shrugged, looking sour as she crossed her knees and leaned her chair back on two legs until it hit the wall.

Ceri pulled from him. The fear he was hiding hurt her more than an honest reaction would have. Her gaze flicked to me. "I knew Rachel would save him," she said, wiping her face and smiling.

Trent heard a rebuke whether it was there or not, and he stepped back. A thick animosity started to grow in me. Trent was scum. Absolutely pathetic. I didn't have time for him, and I wanted him out. I had too much to do. "You're welcome, Trent," I said bitterly. "Get out."

Trent balked. I knew he felt vulnerable without his lackeys, and I wondered why he had come alone. He backed up when Ivy rose to escort him out.

"Morgan, we need to talk," he said as he maneuvered out of Ivy's easy reach.

"We already talked," I said, the bitterness of frustration closing in. "I don't have time to talk again. I have to figure out how I'm going to keep every last person I care about alive through the night, and I only have six hours to do it. If you don't want to be demon fodder, I suggest you leave." I'm sorry, Marshal. I never should have said hello.

Ivy glanced at me for direction, and I shook my head. I didn't want her to touch him. Ivy had a lot of money, but Trent had better lawyers. Her lips pressed tightly, and she let her pupils widen to cow him into leaving. Trent rocked back a step, then gathered his courage, a dangerous look in his own expression.

Ignoring us, Ceri had gone to the stove to fill the kettle, as naturally as if there wasn't an argument going on. "You should trade names with Al," she said, knowing it would make Trent fear her all the more, but not seeming to care. She was proud of it, maybe.

"I tried that," I said, giving my scrying mirror another shove before I wrapped my hands around my warm coffee mug, enjoying how it felt on my fingers. "Al cut a deal. He's out on bail, and he'll kill me before his court date in the thirty-sixth. Year, that is."

Ceri's eyes were so vivid, so beautifully green behind her tears when she turned to me, glowing with the knowledge that Quen was still alive. Nothing could dampen her quiet joy. "You can still twist the curse," she said, a tightening of her jaw showing as she noticed Trent's horror that she could speak of such things so casually. "I told you I'd help you with it, and I will. All you need that you don't have is a focusing object from Al. The smut is almost nil. Nature doesn't give names, so it doesn't care if they are shifted."

I swallowed hard and gave her a grateful look. I hadn't known if she would still help me after I had condemned her for working for Al, and she smiled back, telling me that she was wise enough to set aside differences when real things were threatened. I had saved the man she loved, and she would help me save my family and friends.

Trent looked pale, and I gave him a steady look until his gaze dropped. Maybe now he understood why I did demon curses. No one else was going to save me, and I had to fight fire with fire. But then I went sober in the thought that maybe he had a reason for the things he did as well. Damn it, I was too busy to learn another freaking life lesson.

Ivy jerked into motion, startling all of us. Tense and fast, she pulled the trash out from under the sink and started rummaging.

"Uh, Ivy?" I said, embarrassed.

"Remember that hunk of hair you pulled out of Al?" she said, and I jumped up to elbow her out of the way.

"Rachel. Rachel, wait." Ceri pulled me to a stop. "That won't work. Al's hair isn't an accurate sample of his DNA. He's modified it from his original pattern."

Ivy shoved the can back under the sink, slamming the door with a loud bang. Her motions were tight with frustration as she put the taps on full and washed her hands. I fell back against the table, depressed. It would have been so easy. "I should have just killed him," I whispered, then jumped when Ceri touched my shoulder.

"You can't," she said, her voice diving to my core with a terrible certainty. "Newt is the only person who has ever managed to kill a demon, and it made her insane."

Sounds about right, I thought, pulling myself upright. Okay. Next option…

Ceri's grip on my shoulder tightened. "You can still do the curse," she said, bringing my head swinging around. "All you need is the sample, and I know where they keep them."

"What?" Ivy blurted.

Looking from me to Ivy, Ceri nodded. "There's a sample of Al's DNA in the archives. There's one for every demon and familiar. The only problem will be how to get it."

Trent's shoes ground into the salt on my floor, his face empty of emotion as he stood in my kitchen, ignored and about as wanted as a fifth wheel.

"Everyone is registered when they become a familiar," Ceri continued, oblivious to his sudden stillness. "They started the practice when Newt went insane and started killing demons. It was the only way to be sure who she really killed."

I looked at Ivy in the pixy-filled silence, hope flooding me. "Where?" I said. Sunset was going to get here really fast. "Where do they keep them?"

"On a patch of holy ground in the ever-after, to prevent them from being tampered with," she said. "I can draw you a map…."

They have holy ground in the ever-after? Pulse quickening, I looked to where I'd once kept my spell books, glad they were in the belfry where Trent couldn't see them. My gaze rose to my calling circle on the table. I had to talk to Minias.