Kim Harrison

“Trent was positively smug. Showing me his back, he rifled through a rack of earth charms and watched his hair shift color. “And whereas I might otherwise object—” “Bairn did the investigation on your parents’ deaths,” I interrupted, thoughts scrambling. “And my dad’s.” Bairn is supposed to be dead. Why is he across the road pretending to be a kind old man named Keasley? And how did Trent know who he was? His hair now an authoritative gray, Trent frowned. “And whereas I might otherwise object,” he tried again, “Quen assures me that between Bairn and two pixies—” “Two!” I blurted. “Jih took a husband?”“Damn it, Rachel, will you shut up!”

“And while seeing Trent in his tighty-whities would make my decade, I’d found out long ago that I couldn’t stay mad at a man wearing nothing but underwear. They looked so charmingly vulnerable.”

“Oh, God, I’m going to be a hundred and sixty with a flower on my ass.”

“Ivy, however, just wanted to get in David’s pants.”

“Demon summoning wasn’t illegal, but my foot in their gut a couple of times might convince them it was a really bad idea.”

“My fingers tightened on my waxed paper cup, sure now I knew why Minias was sitting at a table sipping coffee with me. I had a password. I had a reason to trade. I had a major problem.”

“My coffee was steaming, and I hunched over it while I watched the demon. His long fingers were interlaced about the white soup-bowl mug as if relishing its warmth, and though I couldn’t tell for sure because of the sunglasses, I think his eyes closed as he took the first sip. A look of bliss so deep it couldn’t have been faked slipped over him, easing his features and turning him into a vision of relaxed pleasure.”

“My eyes narrowed. He wanted me to lie for him? Minias leaned so close to the barrier of ever-after that it buzzed a harsh warning. “If you don’t, I’ll give the public what they expect.” His eyes went to the people clustered at the window. “Proof that you deal in demons ought to do wonders for your…sterling reputation.” Mmmm. There is that. ”

“They weren’t idiots, but I attracted trouble that just begged me to beat it into submission.”

“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.”

“Ivy?” I called as I went belowdecks, fear winding between my soul and reason when she didn’t answer. The silence ate away at my hope like bitter acid, drop by drop, breath by breath.”

“Get your hand off me,” I exclaimed, voice loud with misplaced anger as I yanked away from his grip. “I’m a professional, not some distraught girlfriend.” Well, I was that too, but I knew how to act at a crime scene.”

“I felt sick. Buying Kisten’s and my safety from Piscary was so wrong. But it was either that or deal with a demon, and I’d rather keep my soul clean and let my morals get dingy.”

“I thought this was the safest place to hammer out an agreement with Piscary,” I said meekly. “My office?” he barked. “Well…” I hedged. “Maybe a conference room?”

“Lately I’d begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints.”

“See, this was why I liked coffee. You couldn’t screw up making coffee. Even the bad stuff was good.”

“I am black,” she said, and a shudder rippled through me. “I am foul with a thousand years of demon curses. Don’t cross me or I will bring you and your house down. Rachel is the only clean thing I have, and you won’t sully her to further your high ideas.”

“Piscary killed people, but he didn’t have the concept of pity or remorse. It would be like telling a shark he was a bad fish and to stop eating people. But Trent? He knew he was doing wrong, and he did it anyway.”

“I plucked at my salt-stained shirt and tried to find an air of nonchalance as I prepared to introduce His Most Holy Pain in the Ass to Miss Elf Princess.”

“Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.”

“We all watched Al open the door. Turning, he waved to us, then passed the threshold. The door shut behind him. I waited for something to happen. Nothing did. “This isn’t good,” Quen said. I choked back my burst of laughter, knowing it would come out sounding hysterical.”

“Her smile turned wicked. “And I’m not a silly girl to be blinded by a tidy posterior and expansive landholdings.” Tidy posterior and expansive landholdings? Was that the Dark Ages equivalent of a tight ass and a lot of money?”

“You pompous little bitch!” the infuriated Were shouted, red-faced and with his thugs backing him. “What are you doing here?” Mrs. Sarong pushed past the men who had put themselves in front of her. “Arranging your removal,” she said, her voice sharp and her eyes glaring. Removal? As if he were an overgrown tree clogging the sewer line? The short businessman seemed to choke on his own breath, becoming choleric. Mouth gaping to look like one of his prize fish, he struggled to respond. “Like hell you are!” he finally managed. “That’s what I wanted to talk to her about!” From my shoulder came a small, “Holy crap, Rache. How did you become Cincy’s assassin of choice?”

“I didn’t kill Francis,” I said. “He managed that all by himself. And Lee was dragged off by a demon he summoned. Nick went over a bridge.” Mrs. Sarong’s smile widened, and she patted my hand again. “Very well done on the last one,” she said, glancing at her daughter. “Leaving an old boyfriend to clutter future relationships is investing in trouble.”

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, thinking my rusty host skills were going to get a workout this afternoon while dealing with a woman so clearly raised on etiquette and form.”

“From my ear Jenks snickered. “Awwww, you two are so sweet, I could fart fairy balls.”

“Ivy and I will deal with the uncomfortable situation like we always have…by ignoring it. It was something we were both good at.”

“Tell me where you want it,” I said. Minias drew back, his purple robes shifting about his ankles. “You’re asking me?” “Well, unless you want a big R on your forehead.”

“Minias smiled. Great. Another charming demon. I sort of prefer the insane ones.”

“I was sure there were demons more dangerous than Minias, but his owing me a favor sounded like the back door into trouble, not the front door out of the same.”

“And don’t try to sell me any crap about the kindly demon. I know three of you now, and you are all evil, insane, or just plain nasty.”

“Worried, I touched the jacket’s sleeve. “You think it’s too much?” I asked, working hard to keep my tone non-combative. I’d had this conversation with ex-roommates before.”

“Trent sighed, visibly bothered at my admittedly childish behavior, but I was hot, damn it, and needed money, and therefore I was vulnerable to his bribes and his air-conditioned car.”

“It was a nice bit of blackmail that kept him off my back, but he refused to take the message that I wasn’t going to work for him. ’Course, that might be my fault…since I seemed unable to say no when he waved enough money at me.”

“That was the extent of our relationship, but I knew he used me to keep Were women from insinuating themselves into his life. My gaze landed on the fat little black book beside his phone. Apparently that didn’t slow him down when it came to dating. Dang, he needed a rubber band to keep the thing shut.”

“The coat was a remnant from his stint at being people-size. I’d gotten his jacket, Ivy had gotten his silk robe, and we’d thrown out his two dozen toothbrushes.”

“Bye, Skimmer. Thanks for breakfast.” “You’re welcome.” Translation: Choke on it, bitch. ”

“Skimmer’s and my relationship was probably going to nosedive like a brick with wings.”

“Pixy dust thickened to make my eyes water, but after the loud complaints and muttered disappointment, the Disney nightmare subsided as quickly as it had come.”

“It wasn’t the bent, nasty, yellow laminated four-by-six card everyone else got but a real heavyweight plastic tag embossed with my name. Jenks had one, too, and he was obnoxiously proud of it even though I was the one wearing it, right under mine. It would get me into the morgue when nothing else would. Well, besides being dead.”

“CINCINNATI MORGUE, AN EQUAL-OPPORTUNITY SERVICE SINCE 1966.”

“Good Lord, I thought, squinting at the bright glare of a late-July morning. No wonder I slept through this. It was noisy with shrieking birds, and already hot.”

“(Jenks) “Tink’s a Disney whore,”

“Jenks snickered. “Yeah, Rache. Why bother? I mean, this could be good. Ivy could invite her mom over for a housewarming. We’ve been here a year, and the woman is dying to come over. Well, at least she would be if she were still alive.” Worried, I looked up from the phone book. Alarm sifted over Ivy. For a moment it was so quiet I could hear the clock above the sink, and then Ivy jerked, her speed edging into that eerie vamp quickness she took pains to hide. “Give me the phone,” she said, snatching it.”

“Do you have a finger stick?” she snapped. “No.” “Then let me cut your finger.” “You’re already bleeding,” I said. “Use your blood.”

“You think?” I snapped, jumping when Newt slammed a side kick into the barrier, her robes swirling dramatically. Great, she knew martial arts on top of everything else. Why not? She’d obviously been around a while.”

“Tension pulled my shoulders tight, and I prayed my conversation skills were better than my magic.”

“There was a sharp crack of splintering paneling, and Newt swore colorfully in Latin.”

“You are your father's daughter,' he said, the skin around his eyes tightening. 'Trent is his father's son. Apart, you are annoying. Together...you have the potential to be a problem.”

“And I can't read your mind either, just your face.”