Ким Харрисон - The Good, The Bad, And The Undead

My heart hammered as the dog lengthened and rose into its usual vision of a British gentleman. "Rachel Mariana Morgan," it said, hitting every accent with an elegant precession. "I must congratulate you, love, on finding that corpse. It was the sharpest bit of ley line magic I've seen in twelve years." It leaned close, and I smelled lavender. "You made quite a stir, you know," it whispered. "I was invited to all the parties. My witch's spell went to the city's square to chime the bells. Everyone got a taste, though not as much as I did." Eyes closing, the demon shuddered, its outlines wavering as its concentration lapsed.

I swallowed hard. "I'm not your witch," I said.

Nick's fingers on my elbow tightened. "Stay in that form," Nick said, his voice firm. "And stop bothering Rachel. I have questions, and I want to know the cost before I ask them."

"Your mistrust will kill you if your cheek doesn't." Algaliarept spun in a quick motion of furling coattails to return to the living room. From where I stood, I could see it open the glass-door cabinet to Nick's books. Its white-gloved fingers stretched and reached, pulling one out. "Oh, I wondered where this one had gotten to," it said, its back to us. "How splendid that you have it. We will read from this next time."

Nick glanced at me. "That's what we do, usually," he whispered. "He deciphers the Latin for me, letting all sorts of things slip."

"And you trust him?" I frowned, nervous. "Ask it."

Algaliarept had replaced the tome and taken out another, its mood lightening as it cooed and fussed as if having found an old friend.

"Algaliarept," Nick said, mouthing the word slowly, and the demon turned, the new book in its hand. "I'd like to know if you were the demon that attacked Trent Kalamack last spring."

It didn't look up from the open book cradled in his hands. I felt queasy as I realized it had lengthened its fingers to better support it. "That comes under our arrangement," it said, its voice preoccupied. "Seeing as Rachel Mariana Morgan has already guessed the answer." It looked up, its eyes over the smoked glasses orange and red. "Oh, yes, I tasted Trenton Aloysius Kalamack that night as well as you. I ought to have killed him directly, but the novelty of him was so fine, I tarried until he managed to circle me."

"Is that why I survived?" I asked. "You made a mistake?"

"Is that a question coming from you?"

I licked my lips. "No."

Algaliarept closed the book. "Your blood is common, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Tasty with subtle flavors I don't understand, but common. I didn't play with you; I tried to kill you. Had I known you could ring the tower bells, I might have handled things differently." A smile came over it, and I felt its gaze spill over me like oil. "Maybe not. I should have known you would be as your father. He rang the bells, too. Once. Before he died. Do hope it's not a premonition for you."

My stomach clenched, and Nick grabbed my arm before I could touch his circle. "You said you didn't know him," I said, anger making my voice harsh.

It simpered at me. "Another question?"

Heart pounding, I shook my head, hoping it would tell me more.

It put a finger to its nose. "Then Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos better ask another question before I'm called away by someone who is willing to pay for my services."

"You're nothing but a squealing informant, you know that?" I said, shaking.

Algaliarept's gaze resting on my neck pulled a memory of me on the basement floor with my life spilling from me. "Only on my bad days."

Nick straightened. "I want to know who summoned you to kill Rachel, and if he or she is now summoning you to kill ley line witches."

Moving almost out of my line of sight, Algaliarept murmured, "That is a very expensive set of questions, the two together far more than our agreement." It dropped its attention back to the book in its hands and turned a page.

Worry crashed over me as Nick took a breath. "No," I said. "It isn't worth it."

"What do you want for the answers?" Nick asked, ignoring me.

"Your soul?" it said lightly.

Nick shook his head. "Come up with something reasonable, or I'll send you back right now, and you won't be able to talk to Rachel anymore."

It beamed. "You're getting cocky, little wizard. You're halfway mine." It closed the book in its hand with a sharp snap. "Give me leave to take my book back across the line, and I'll tell you who sent me to kill Rachel Mariana Morgan. If they are the same person who is summoning me to kill Trenton Aloysius Kalamack's witches? That stays with me. Your soul isn't enough for that. Rachel Mariana Morgan's, perhaps. Pity when a young man's tastes are too expensive for his means, isn't it?"

I frowned, even as I realized it had admitted it was killing the witches. It must have been luck that kept Trent and me alive when every other witch had died under it. No, not luck. It had been Quen and Nick. "And why do you even want that book?" I asked it.

"I wrote it," it said, its hard voice seeming to wedge the words into the folds of my mind.

Not good. Not good, not good, not good. "Don't give it to him, Nick."

He turned in the tight confines, bumping me. "It's just a book."

"It's your book," I agreed, "and my question. I'll find out some other way."

Algaliarept laughed, a gloved finger shifting the curtain so he could see the street. "Before I'm sent again to kill you? You're quite the topic of conversation, both sides of the ley lines. You'd best ask quick. If I'm called away suddenly, you may want to settle your affairs."

Nick's eyes went round. "Rachel! You're next?"

"No," I protested, wanting to smack Algaliarept. "It's just saying that so you'll give him the book."

"You used ley lines to find Dan's body," Nick said shortly. "And now you're working for Trent? You're on the list, Rachel. Take your book, Al. Who sent you to kill Rachel?"

"Al?" The demon brightened. "Oh, I like that. Al. Yes, you can call me Al."

"Who sent you to kill Rachel?" Nick demanded.

Algaliarept beamed. "Ptah Ammon Fineas Horton Madison Parker Piscary."

My knees threatened to give way, and I gripped Nick's arm. "Piscary?" I whispered. Ivy's uncle was the witch hunter? And the man had seven names? Just how old was he?

"Algaliarept, leave to not bother us again this night," Nick said suddenly.

The demon's smile sent shivers through me. "No promises," it leered, then vanished. The book in its hand hit the carpet, followed by an unseen sliding thump from the bookshelves. I listened to my heart beat, shaken. What was I going to tell Ivy? How could I protect myself from Piscary? I'd hid in a church before. I didn't like it.

"Wait," Nick said, pulling me back before I could touch the circle. I followed his gaze to the pile of ash. "He's not gone yet."

I heard Algaliarept swear, then the ash vanished.

Nick sighed, then edged his toe past the circle to break it. "Now you can leave."

Maybe Nick was better at this than I thought.

Hunched and worried looking, he went to blow the candle out and sit on the edge of his couch with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "Piscary," he said to the flat carpet. "Why can't I have a normal girlfriend who only has to hide from her old prom date?"

"You're the one calling up demons," I said, my knees shaking. The night was suddenly a lot more threatening. The closet seemed bigger now that Nick wasn't in it, and I didn't want to get out. "I should go back to my church," I said, thinking I was going to set my old cot up in the sanctuary and sleep on the abandoned altar tonight. Right after I called Trent. He said he'd take care of it. Take care of it. I hoped that meant staking Piscary. Piscary didn't care about the law; why should I? I searched my conscience, not finding even a twinge.