Ким Харрисон - For a Few Demons More

I glanced at my keys and Nick's apartment key. Nick had said he'd paid rent through August, and I was willing to bet the place was empty. "To Nick's. I can't take him home," I said, lips barely moving. "Everyone knows that's where I'd take him."

I snuck a glance at Kisten, his eyes swollen shut as he mumbled, "I shouldn't have put in the light display. I should have left the kitchen menu alone."

Jenks was silent. Then in a very small, panicked voice, he said, "I have to go home."

My breath caught, and I exhaled in understanding. Matalina was there alone. If someone showed up at the church looking for Kisten, Jenks's family might be in danger. "Go," I said.

"I can't leave you."

Twisting, I grabbed my bag from the back and fumbled until I had my splat gun on my lap. Eyeing Jenks's expression, torn with indecision, I pulled to the curb and hit the brakes. Kisten weakly braced himself as he shifted forward and back. Horns blew, and I ignored them.

"Get your little pixy ass out of the car and get home," I said, voice even and level as I rolled the window down. "Take care of your family."

"But you're my family, too," he said.

My throat tightened. Every time I screwed up big time, Jenks was gone. "I'll be fine."

"Rache-"

"I'll be fine!" I shouted, frustrated, and Kisten turned to us, squinting and breathing hard. "I'm a witch, damn it! I'm not helpless. I can handle this. Go!"

Jenks lifted into the air. "Call me if you need me. I'll have my phone on."

I managed a smile. "Deal."

He nodded, his face looking old and young all at the same time, and I froze when he flew close, his wings brushing my cheek for an instant. "Thank you," he said.

And then he was gone.

As expected, I had found Nick's place empty. I didn't think anyone had noticed me helping Kisten inside and up the steps to the one-bedroom apartment. Kisten had revived somewhat on the way, and he had gotten himself into a warm tub of water without my help. There was no shower curtain, and I thought a soak would be better anyway. He was still in there, and if I didn't hear some water draining soon, I was going to go check on him.

The sound of the street noise coming through the open windows was nice. It had smelled musty when I hesitantly opened the door to find empty walls and barren carpet. Clearly, Nick had packed up everything on the solstice, leaving very little to return to if he ever found himself in Cincy again. Where all his stuff was now, I didn't know or care. His mom's, maybe?

I couldn't help but feel betrayed all over again, though there was nothing here to trigger the memories but worn carpet and empty shelves. I tried not to feel bitter as I drank the coffee Nick had left along with a sleeping bag, three cans of stew, and the pan to heat it up in. There was one plate, one bowl, and one set of silverware—nothing he would miss if he never came back, but there if he found himself on the run and needed somewhere to hide for a night or two.

"Bastard," I mumbled, not putting much emotion behind it. If he had just been a thief, I might have been able to see past it, what with my new and improved outlook on life , but he had been buying demon favors from Al with pieces of me. Innocent things, he'd said, worthless. But if they were worthless, why had Al agreed to it?

So I sat at the metal and Formica table that came with the apartment, drinking stale coffee and staring at the stains on the matted carpet. The traffic sounds were both soothing and unfamiliar. Nick's apartment wasn't in a residential area but what passed for downtown Hollows. There was no scent of Nick in the air, yet I could almost feel the stale magic.

I looked at the scratched linoleum for the circle Nick had said was there, scribed with a black-light marker. The memory of standing in Nick's closet to summon Al lifted through me. God, I should've walked away right then, even if calling up Al for information had been my idea. But I hadn't thought anyone who claimed to love me could willingly betray me like that.

The water in the bathroom sloshed, and as the gurgle as it left the tub intruded into my thoughts, I sat up. Feeling bitter and stupid, I scooted my chair back and went to warm up a can of stew. The can opener was one of those cheap, flimsy things, and I was still fighting it when a soft breath and hesitant steps turned me around.

I smiled when I saw Kisten, wearing a towel, his hair damp. He had his torn and scuffed clothes in his hands, as if he didn't want to put them back on. Ugly bruises brought out by the warm water splotched his torso, and his eye was swollen bigger than before. Red-rimmed scratches marked his arms and face. His hair had been washed, and despite his beating, he still looked good—standing there in the kitchen wrapped in a towel, the definition of his muscles all damp and glistening——-

"Rachel," he said, looking relieved as he set his wad of clothes on a vacant chair, "you're still here. Um, don't take this the wrong way, but where are we?"

"Nick's old apartment." The can's finally popped lid off. Angst spiked though me at Jenks's warning, but I had to trust Kisten. Otherwise what was the point of loving him?

Kisten's blue eyes widened, and I licked a spot of cold gravy off my thumb. "Your old boyfriend's?" he said, turning to the empty living room with only the curtains moving in the slight breeze. "Kind of spartan with the decorating, wasn't he?"

Snorting, I dumped the stew into the pot and set the dial to warm. "I'm guessing he hasn't been here since the solstice, but he's paid up to August and I had a key, so here we are. No one knows but Jenks. You're safe," I said hesitantly. For the moment .

Exhaling, Kisten sat and put an elbow on the table. "Thank you," he said fervently. "I have to get out of Cincinnati."

I had my back to him as I stirred the stew, and a shiver rose through me. "Maybe not." The soft hush of the cotton towel as he straightened brought me around, and, seeing his wonder, I said, "I'm going to give Piscary the focus to put into hiding, if he will leave me alone and keep anyone else from knocking me or you off."

Kisten's lips parted, and I wished his towel would slip a little more. God! What was wrong with me? We were both teetering on death, and I was looking at his legs?

"You want to buy protection from Piscary?" Kisten said in disbelief. "After what he did to me? He gave my last blood to someone outside the camarilla! Do you know what that means? He's abandoning me, Rachel! It's not so much the dying I'm worried about, but being shunned. No one will risk his anger to make me undead now except maybe Ivy, and if she's his scion, that's not going to happen."

He was scared. I didn't like seeing him like that. Taking a miserable breath, I leaned against the stove and crossed my arms. "It's going to be okay. No one is going to kill you, so you'll be fine. Besides, I've been getting protection from him by way of Ivy," I said, thinking I would cheerfully be a hypocrite if it meant we both would survive. "This is just making it more official. I'm going to ask that he leave you alone, too. Take you back. It will be okay."

Hope lit his blue eyes, then died. "He won't," he said in a flat tone.

"Sure he will," I coaxed, coming to sit beside him.

"No he won't." Kisten looked worse for having seen hope for an instant. "He can't. It's done. You'd have to make arrangements with whoever he gave me to, and I don't know who that is. I won't until they show up. It's part of the mind game."

His eyes darted nervously, and I drew back. It wasn't that cut and dried. I knew how vamps worked. Until the coffin was nailed shut, there were options. "Then I'll find out who he gave you to," I said.

Kisten took my hands, his eyebrows furrowing over lost chances. "Rachel… it's too late."