Ким Харрисон: For a Few Demons More

Again my throat closed, and I set my drink down. "Nice pool table," I said miserably.

"I'm glad you like it." At my shoulder Ivy blinked fast but didn't look at me. "It's your birthday present from Jenks and me."

Jenks darted up with a clatter of wings. "Happy birthday, Rachel," he said with a forced brightness. "I was going to give you some color-changing nail polish, but Ivy thought you'd like this better."

Unshed tears made my vision swim, but I wasn't going to cry, damn it. I stretched out my hand and ran my fingers over the rough felt. It had stitches, just like me. "Thanks," I said.

"Damn it, Ivy!" Jenks said as he darted erratically from me to her. "I told you it was a bad idea. Look, she's crying."

I sniffed loudly, glancing up to see that only Keasley had noticed. "No," I said, my voice a shade too tight. "I love it. Thank you."

Ivy took a drink, maintaining a silent, companionable misery. I didn't need to say a word. I couldn't. Every time I had tried to comfort her the last two weeks, she'd fled. I'd learned it was better just to meet her eyes and look away with my mouth shut.

The pixy landed on her shoulder in silent support, and I saw her tension ease.

The pool table might be mine in name, but I think it meant more to Ivy. It was the only thing besides Kisten's ashes that she had taken. And the fact that she had given it to me was an affirmation that she understood that he'd been important to both of us, that my pain was as important as hers. God, I miss him .

The ice in my drink shifted to smack my nose when I took a sip. I wasn't going to cry. Not again. Edden wanted me to come in and talk to Ford about my memory, "for your own piece of mind, not the case," he had said. But I wasn't going to. I might have had my memory loss forced upon me, but now that it was gone, it could stay gone. It would only cause more pain. The FIB were bucking the system and trying to find out who had killed Kisten by way of who had made the deal between Piscary and Al to get him out, but that was a dead end.

The ringing of the doorbell cut through my mournful musings, and I started. "I'll get it," I said, pushing from the pool table and heading for the door. I had to do something, or I was going to make myself cry.

"It's probably Ceri," Jenks said from my shoulder. "You'd better hurry. Cake and rain don't go together very well."

I couldn't help my smile, but it froze and broke to nothing when I yanked open the door and found Quen standing there, his Beemer running at the curb. Anger rose at the reminder of the murdered Weres, I knew too many people in the morgue. I didn't want to live my life like that. Trent was a slimy, murdering bastard. Quen should be ashamed to work for him.

"Hi, Quen," I said, putting an arm up to block his entrance. "Who invited you?"

Quen took a step back, clearly shocked at seeing me. His gaze went behind me to the party, then returned. He cleared his throat, tapping the legal-size envelope he had against his hand. The rain seemed to glisten on his shoulders, but he was completely unaffected by it. "I didn't know you were having a get-together. If I can talk to Jenks a moment, I'll go," he said. His gaze lingered on my head, and when he smiled, I snatched Ceri's hat off.

"What, not going to hang around for cake?" I snapped, snatching at the envelope. I'd take his money. Then buy a lawyer to put him in jail with Trent, currently out on bail.

Quen jerked the envelope out of my reach, his face creasing in bother. "This isn't yours."

Pixy kids were starting to gather around the doorframe, and Jenks made an ear-piercing chirp. "Hi, Quen, is that mine?" he said as his kids scattered, laughing.

The elf nodded, and I cocked my hip, not believing this. "You're going to stiff me again?" I exclaimed.

"Mr. Kalamack isn't paying you for arresting him," Quen said stiffly.

"I kept him alive, didn't I?"

At that, Quen lost his ire, chuckling as he touched his chin and rocked back on his heels. "You have a lot of nerve, Morgan."

"It's what keeps me alive," I said sourly, starting when I found Rex at the foot of the belfry stairway, staring at me. God! Creepy little cat .

"Do tell." He hesitated, looking past me before he brought his attention back. "Jenks, I've got your paperwork." He went to hand the envelope to him, then hesitated again. I could see why. The envelope was three times Jenks's weight if it was an ounce.

"Just give it to Rache," Jenks said, landing on my shoulder, and I smugly held out my hand for it. "Ivy's got a safe we can put it into."

Quen sourly handed it over, and, curious, I opened it up. It wasn't money. It was a deed. It had our address on it. And Jenks's name.

"You bought the church?" I stammered, and the pixy darted off my shoulder, literally glowing. "Jenks, you bought the church ?"

Jenks grinned, the dust slipping from him a clear silver. "Yup," he said proudly. "After Piscary tried to evict us, I couldn't risk you two bankers losing it in a poker game or something."

I stared at the paper. Jenks owned the church ? "Where did you get the money?"

In a flash of vampire incense, Ivy was beside me. She pulled the paper from my slack fingers, eyes wide.

Quen shifted his weight, his shoes gently scuffing. "Good evening, Jenks," he said, his voice carrying a new respect. "Working with you was enlightening."

"Whoa, wait up," I demanded. "Where did you get the money for this?"

Jenks grinned. "Rent is due on the first, Rache. Not the second, or the third, or the first Friday of the month. And I expect you to pay to get it resanctified."

Quen slipped down the steps with hardly a sound. Ceri was coming up the walk, and the two passed with wary, cautious words. She had a covered plate in her hands; the cake, presumably. She glanced back once as she rose up the stairs, and I moved so she could come in. Ivy, though, was too struck to move.

"You outbid me?" Ivy shouted, and Ceri slipped between us and into the sanctuary, Rex twining around her feet. "That was you I was bidding against? I thought it was my mother!"

The click of Quen's car door opening was lost in the hush of rain, and Jenks still hadn't answered me. Quen glanced at me across the top of his car before he got in and drove away. "Damn it, pixy!" I shouted. "You'd better start talking! Where did you get the money?"

"I… uh, pulled a job with Quen," he said hesitantly.

The masculine murmur of Keasley and David rose, and I shut the door against the damp night. Jenks had said "job," not "run." There was a difference. "What kind of job?" I asked warily.

If a pixy could hover guiltily, Jenks was. "Nothing much," he said, darting past Ivy and me into the sanctuary. "Nothing that wouldn't have happened anyway."

My eyes narrowing, I followed him back to the party, setting Ceri's hat on the piano in passing. Ivy was right behind me. "What did you do, Jenks?"

"Nothing that wouldn't have happened on its own," he whined, shedding green sparkles onto the pool table. "I like where I live," he said, landing behind the side pocket in his best Peter Pan pose. "You two women are too flaky to put my family in your hands. Just ask anyone here. They'd agree with me!"

Ivy huffed and turned her back on him, muttering under her breath, but I could tell she was relieved her new landlord wasn't her mom.

"What did you do, Jenks?" I demanded.

Ivy's eyes narrowed in a sudden thought. Faster than I would have believed possible, she snatched up a pool cue and slammed it down inches from Jenks. The pixy shot up into the air, almost hitting the ceiling. "You little bug!" she exclaimed, and Ceri grabbed Keasley and the cake and headed toward the kitchen. "The paper says Trent's been released."

"What!" Appalled, I gazed at Jenks up near the ceiling. Keasley jerked to a brief halt in the hallway, then continued on. David had dropped his head into his hands, but I think he was trying not to laugh.