Ким Харрисон - The Outlaw Demon Wails

"Maybe," Al said, "they don't care if we kill each other. You hit me with that, and I won't kill you when I get out, but just play with you. Until you die screaming."

My hand shook just a little, and I strained to see in the dark.

"Just because you can't see doesn't mean I can't," Al said. "It won't land at this distance, witch, but by all means, waste them. It will make it far easier to beat you into submission when I get in there."

He wasn't getting out, but I put the safety back on and tucked the gun away at the small of my back. I wasn't enough of a fool to think the demons had put me here without knowing I had viable charms on me. They'd taken everything I could use to escape but left me a way to protect myself. Was it a test, or just their twisted version of reality TV? I slumped and leaned my head against the wall. Most likely it was a matter of letting us settle this demon to witch, and if I beat him, Newt would have a better legal shot at me.

The light band of silver around my wrist felt heavier than any chain. I didn't even try to tap a line and figure out how to jump out of here. I was caught, and it looked like I wasn't going to get out of it this time.

"Almost sundown," Al said from the darkness, his voice eager. "A few moments and I'll be free. You were a fool thinking you could pin me in the ever-after by taking my summoning name. No one has ever gotten past that bitch of a statue. No one ever will."

Sundown. He seemed pretty sure someone would summon him out. When they didn't, he was going to be royally ticked, and I scooted back even farther.

A quiver in the middle of my chi started. I froze, my hand to my lower gut. I'd never felt anything like this hollow ache before. And it was growing worse. "I don't feel so good," I whispered to Trent, but it wasn't like he cared.

Al made a harsh bark of laughter. "You shouldn't have drunk that water. It had been exposed to the sun."

"I'm fine," Trent said, his soft voice darker than the warm air that surrounded us.

"You're an elf," Al said with disdain. "Elves are little more than animals. They can eat anything."

I groaned, pressing a hand to my stomach. "No," I said breathily, looking downward. "I really don't feel good." Oh, God. I'm going to spew in front of Trent.

But every muscle in my body shook as a sneeze ripped through me instead.

Minias? I thought as I wiped an arm under my nose. But there was nothing in my mind but my own thoughts.

"Bless you," Trent said sarcastically.

I sneezed again, and the ache in my middle grew. My eyes widened and I flung a hand out to smack against the floor for balance. I felt like I was falling. My insides were falling. Panicking, I reached out to grip Trent. "Something's wrong," I rasped. "Trent, something's really wrong. Are we falling? Tell me you feel like you're falling." I was going to throw up. That's all there was to it.

From across the unseen hall came a roar of anger. "Damned mother of us all!" Al swore, then he swore again as he hit his head, by the sound of it. "You little whore! You stinking ashed little whore! Come here. Come here where I can reach you!"

Struggling to focus on nothing, I shrank from the sound of him hitting the bars and his fingers scrabbling for me. Every move I made seemed to be made a moment after I willed it, the neurons not firing as fast as they should.

"How did you get past the statue!" Al raged, his voice hurting my ears. "It's not possible!"

"What's wrong with me…," I panted, and Trent made an ugly noise, trying to get my grip off his arm.

"You're being summoned out, you little bitch," Al spat. "You've got my summoning name. And it's being used. How did you get my name! You've been unconscious all day!"

I felt like my middle was gone and I was only a shell. I tried to see my hand, but there was nothing. And then my face went utterly cold. "This can't happen. Minias said it couldn't happen. I'm not a demon. It shouldn't work for me! I'm not a demon!"

"Apparently," Al said, slamming into the bars in time with his words, "you're so damn close, it doesn't matter!" There was another grunt, then he shouted, "Someone get me out of here!"

Pain pulled me double and my hair pooled on my knees. Oh, God, it was going to kill me. I felt like I was going to be split in two. No wonder demons were pissed when they were summoned.

"Rachel," Trent was saying, his hand on my back, leaning over me as I gasped for air. "Promise me you'll get my people whole. Promise me you'll use the sample! I'll die content if you promise me you'll use the sample!"

Sample? I don't even have the sample. I pulled my head up, not seeing him, then seized as my aura seemed to soak inward to my core, pulling my flesh along with it. Agony burned through my mind, and whimpering, I stopped fighting it. I wanted to leave, didn't I?

It made all the difference in the world.

The pain vanished. A silver thread of intent pulled through me, and before I could marvel at the heavenly absence of pain, I was whole, my lungs trying to work but not quite managing it yet. I was on my front, facedown. Or at least I would be when my aura finished rising through me, putting the idea of flesh around my soul again. I panted when my lungs formed, and I stared at the shadowy plywood floor two inches before my face. I could see. And it smelled like…bleach?

There was a soft murmur of incantation, and the scent of ash and candle mixed with the reek of burnt amber flowing from me. I looked at my hand in front of my face, seeing the bright glow of my aura. I could see it. I shouldn't have been able to.

I took another breath and the haze of gold faded to nothing. The incantation dissolved into a collective gathering of breath. I was in someone's basement. I had been summoned out under Al's name. It wasn't possible. This was so wrong. Confused, I looked up past the stringy length of my damp curls to see a cluster of black-robed figures safe on the other side of a glowing-hot sheet of ever-after.

"Lord demon," a young, masculine voice said, and my head jerked up as I recognized it. "Are you…well?"

"You!" I raged, my confusion vanishing as I saw the youthful, clean-cut features of the I.S. officer standing before the long conference table in Betty's basement.

Angry, I gathered myself and stood, hunched until I knew I wasn't going to hit the green-tinted ever-after over my head. I was on that low stage, standing in the middle of a large circle filling the cave of a pentagram. Greenish white candles marked the corners, which were hazy as they existed both here and in the ever-after. A tarry black sludge marked the limit of my cell. Horror trickled through me as I realized they had used blood to draw the circle, not salt. Damn it, I'm at the center of a black circle.

My gaze went to the crack in the wall, and I felt the assembled people draw back. There were six of them, including Tom Bansen. Music thumped in through the ceiling, a low bass that sounded like a heartbeat, and I thought I recognized it. The stench of bleach and mold told me Betty had been cleaning, but it didn't begin to push out the reek of ever-after I had brought with me. God, I needed a shower in the worst way.

Tom's eyes were wide as they took me in: my long duster white with ash and dried salt, my hair a tangled mess, and the dust and grit from the ever-after coating me. There were five men in front of him, all in those hokey black robes. Their hoods made them look like a joke, but these people had been intentionally summoning Al and letting him go, knowing he was going to try to kill me.

Furious, I took three steps, almost running into the arc of ever-after I was trapped behind. Claustrophobia clenched my heart and I took a sharp breath. "Let me out!" I yelled in frustration, feeling the energy cramp the muscles of my hand when I got too close. That had never happened before, even when I had been in someone else's circle. God help me, what had Trent's father done to me? I'd kill him. I'd freaking kill Trent for this.