Ким Харрисон - The Outlaw Demon Wails

Trent turned from the forest, clearly angry. "That last remaining trip is mine. I'm not responsible for your backup's stupidity."

Oh, God. I was stuck in the ever-after.

"Hey, you stupid-ass elf," Jenks exclaimed, rising up in a burst of gold glitter.

There was a collective rustle from the shadowed trees, and I got to my feet. Neither Jenks nor Trent noticed, seeing as Jenks currently had a drawn sword pointed at Trent's eyeball.

"I am Rachel's backup," he continued, the glow from him making a spot of normal color on the scratched side door to the church. "I come with her and am included with her trip as much as her shoes and her hair scrunchy. Human law doesn't count our existence, so neither should demon. I'm an accessory, Mr. Elven Magic," he said bitterly. "So don't get your dancing tights in a twist. You think I'd endanger Rache's life by using her pass to get here if I wasn't sure we both had a way out?"

Please, please let him be right.

Jenks saw my fear, and his wings increased their pitch. "I don't count, damn it! I didn't use up one of your trips!"

Trent leaned forward to say something nasty, but a huge chunk of rock slid into the nearby street, interrupting him. All three of us froze, and Jenks dampened his glow.

"Back off, Jenks," I said, cursing myself. "If there's only one trip left, Trent gets it."

"Rache, he can bargain for more! He should have included me anyway—"

"I'm not going to ask Trent to bargain with anyone else. He gets it!" I said, fear bubbling through me, black and thick. "He made the deal. You changed it."

"Rache…" He was scared, and I held out a hand for him to land on it. Damn it all to hell and back.

"I'm glad you're here," I said softly, stifling a jerk at a rock plinking down. "Trent can have his lousy trip. He got us here, we can get ourselves back. That's what we do. And that's even if we need to. If Minias doesn't know you hitched a ride, we probably still have two jumps out."

Jenks's wings had turned a dismal blue. "Pixies don't count, Rachel. We never do."

But he counted to me.

"Can you get the lock?" I said to change the subject. "We have to get off the street."

The pixy made a smug noise and dropped to the corroded lock. "Tink's tampons!" he swore as he dug through the rust and slowly vanished inside, leaving a faint glow. "This is like crawling through a sand hill. Crap, Matalina's gonna kill me. The only thing worse than blood is rust."

I really hoped I'd get the chance to hear Matalina ream him out. I really did.

Worried, I put my back to the door and sent out a silent prayer that the surface demons would hold off a little longer. I couldn't set a circle or draw on a line, though I felt a strong one nearby, from across the dry river where Eden Park would be. If I tapped it, a demon would come to investigate. My gaze slid to Trent. I wasn't going to ask him to renegotiate for more trips out of here. But fear clenched my stomach. Damn it, Jenks.

Trent's hands twitched, and he looked worried. Why am I doing this again? "How's it coming, Jenks?" I muttered.

"Gimmie a minute," came a faint call back. "There's a lot of corrosion. And don't worry about the trip home, Rache. I saw how Minias did it."

Hope was a surge of adrenaline, and I met Trent's startled gaze. "Can you teach me?"

Jenks emerged from the lock, landing on the handle to shake the rust from himself in a burst of wing movement. "I don't know," he said, his voice stronger. "Maybe if elf-boy let me use the charm to go back and I could compare it to coming here."

"No," Trent said grimly. "I'm not renegotiating because your sidekick tagged along."

Anger made my face burn. "Jenks is not a sidekick!"

Jenks rose up to land on my shoulder. "Let it go, Rache. Trent couldn't buy a clue if he had a million bucks in a dollar store. I saw what happened when Minias shoved us through the lines. The ever-after is like a drop of time that got knocked out, sitting alone by itself with no past behind it to push it forward and no future to pull it along. It's hanging to us by the ley lines, sort of. Your circles aren't made up of differing realities, they're made up of the stretchy stuff that's holding us and the ever-after together, keeping the ever-after from vanishing like it should. But, ah, I hear things coming, so why don't we go in?"

A drop of time? I thought, pushing the door open to see a smothering blackness. The scent of dry paste met me, and when a guttural cry broke the wind's hush, fear slid all the way to the bottom of my soul and wrung every breath of courage from me. It had been distant, but there had been a definite echo of movement from all around us.

"Go," I hissed at Trent, and the elf dove in. I snatched up my pack and followed, moving as if the monster under the bed was ready to reach out and grab my ankle. Trent stopped in the middle of the doorway, and I plowed into him. We fell in the dim light coming through the door, and as Jenks swore and told us to shut it, I breathed in a heavy dust and tried to get up.

Trent managed it first, slamming the door and cutting off the moonlight. It was warmer inside, without the wind. I couldn't see at all, and I listened to his fingers scrabbling at the lock and his breath, loud and harsh in the blackness. Holy crap, we just made it. Frozen, I waited for a thump at the door, but it never came.

"You guys look stupid on the floor like that," Jenks said, shaking himself until he glowed. "I'm going to check the doors. If this really is the basilica, I know exactly where they are. Back in a sec."

The pure glow from him darted off to leave a fading ribbon of falling dust. God, I was so glad he was here.

A red haze from Trent's penlight eased into existence. His face was haggard and dust streaked, and his jumpsuit was filthy with a white, ash-like film. The light did little to illuminate anything else, and we got to our feet. Mr. Elf has a get-out-of-jail-free card, and I don't. Frankly, I'd rather have Jenks.

"I've got a brighter light," he offered. "You want to wait to use it until we hear back from…Jenks?"

My brow eased slightly, and I felt a little more charitable. "That is an excellent idea," I said, wishing he'd shine what light we did have around a little more. Especially upward. No one in the movies ever looks up until the saliva starts dripping down.

I was digging out my own light when the formidable sound of the power thunking on echoed through the church. Both Trent and I fell into a crouch when the glare of electric lights burst into existence. Blinking, we rose, our gazes traveling over the inside of the small cathedral.

Time, I thought again as my lips parted. The ever-after is a splash out of time? Held to us by the ley lines and being dragged along? So why is it so parallel?

I had no idea, but the basilica looked like the one I'd dragged Trent out of. Well, sort of. A dingy yellow foam covered the inside of the stained-glass windows to block any light from entering or escaping. The pews had been shoved to the back of the sanctuary in a pile of half-burnt varnished wood. Smoke and fire damage marked the walls and ceilings. The christening well…God save me. It was full of what looked like blackened bones and hair, utterly defiled. An ugly stain of black ringed it. Blood? I wasn't going over to look.

My eyes finally went up, and tears pricked. The beautiful woodwork was still there, and the chandeliers, faintly tinkling. A haze of white was slipping from them in a fog, the flow of electricity shaking loose the dust to sift down on the tiled floor gouged by a past fury.

Trent moved, and my gaze shot past him to the altar. It stood on a raised stage, and it, too, was covered in black stains. Something really ugly had happened. I felt my expression twist, and I shut my eyes. Either the sanctity had been broken or it had been defiled by witches or elves. If it was a different time, how far ahead were we?