Pale Demon (38 page)

“Just so you know, I’ve trusted you since camp,” Trent said, then shouted dramatically,
“Facilis descensus Tartaros!”

His hand let go, and it was as if I was sucked into myself, yanked backward into nothing. The jagged disjointedness of the San Francisco lines took me, dissolving me to thoughts and memories, and dropping me into the infinity of time.

He trusts me?
I thought. Trust me, Trent had said. I wanted to. But to risk death to curse Ku’Sox? Why should I even bother?

The world had turned its back on me. I should turn my back on it.

S
liding, I hit the red soil face-first, eyes clenched shut and teeth together so I wouldn’t bite my tongue as I scraped against the ground for several feet before coming to an ungraceful stop. The shift here had been rough, almost as if no one had been assisting, the subtle calculations that brought one back into reality standing and stable completely absent.

My first breath was choking, and I sat up, babying my knees and wiping the dirt off my bare legs and trying to figure out where I was. Yes, I was in the ever-after, but where? This wasn’t Cincy. The ley lines were too jagged and the skyline wasn’t right.

It was dark, the moon unseen behind boiling red clouds, the surrounding buildings slowly melting, slumping into themselves and burning as they collapsed. The thing was, they never seemed to fall completely. The best way I could describe it was that it looked like the world when you’ve been on a merry-go-round for too long—everything a jumping mess.

Knees throbbing, I tried to find the moon or some gravestones to fix on. If it was like Cincy, then they would be solid, free of the nauseating red sheen on everything. But there was no moon, and if there were any graves, they were unmarked. Not only was I two thousand miles from home with my knees busted again, but I was on the wrong side of reality. At least I had gotten rid of the charmed silver, though, and I rubbed my wrist, glad I could tap a line again, even if they were nasty, broken things.

On a whim, I tapped a line, wincing at the ugly taste of it but holding on all the same. Al could usually feel it when I tapped a line in the ever-after and would come and fetch me; otherwise, I don’t know how he’d know I was here.

“Stupid elf,” I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself and shivering in the same, nerve-grating wind. God! I hoped I wasn’t being more stupid than usual. Had I really sat there and let him curse me? Because I
tru-u-u-u-usted
him?

The earth shook with one of the West Coast’s frequent tremors, and the building across the street collapsed. And collapsed. And collapsed again. For an instant, I saw a flash of black sky with stars, and a hint of peaceful gray water, and then it was gone and the red-sheened glow was back. Shivering violently, I took a step toward the fleeting image as a breath of salt-laden air pushed aside the burnt-amber stink for the briefest of instances. Did heaven lay just underneath the hell surrounding me, visible only on the farthest arcs of the pendulum swing?

A rock fell behind me, and I turned, my welcoming snarl freezing. It wasn’t Al. Heart pounding, I licked my lips and squinted in the reddish glow at the top of a small slump of rubble. “Oh, hey. Hi,” I muttered, seeing the thin, raggedy figure standing belligerently above me, a bent stick in his grip. His bare foot moved, and another rock rolled clunking to where I was sitting.

“Yeah, I see you,” I said as I painfully got to my feet, and then I yelped, ducking when he threw his stick at me.

“Holy mother pus bucket!” I yelled, dancing back as the surface demon jumped from the rubble to land ten feet in front of me. The slump of debris behind him slowly melted into dust and blew away, and a park bench took its place, only to crack and crumble as the demon inched closer.

“Look, home slice, I got no beef with you,” I said as I hobbled backward, tugging my dress down. “I’m simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Give me a minute, and I’ll be out of your hair. Off your turf. Outta your…crib.”

He snarled at me. Honest, what had I ever done to him? But when he picked up his stick and his black-eyed stare went behind me, I had to look.

“Swell, you got brothers,” I said, rising out of my crouch and putting my hands in the air as if giving up.

Bad decision. One of them threw a rock, and I ducked, pulling heavily on the ley line and wincing as a lame-ass circle wobbled into existence. The chunk of concrete hit my bubble inches from my head and slid down, and the surrounding surface demons edged closer. There wasn’t any salt water around to interfere with my magic, but the more heavily I pulled on the broken ley lines, the harder they were to work with, until it felt as if I were trying to hold a cat going boneless and slipping out of my grip.

The surface demons were wincing even as they crept closer, and I wondered if they felt the line I was trying to hold. It was giving me a headache, too. “Let’s all be friends, okay?” I said as I backed up. “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to.”

I jerked when two more rocks hit the bubble behind me, but a third one got through, and I gasped when my circle fell and the rock hit my shoulder. “Hey!” I exclaimed, popping my circle back into existence as I rubbed my arm. “Look, I’m not a demon, okay? Well, maybe I am, but I’m not like the rest of them. I can walk under the sun.” Wincing, I added, “At least, I used to be able to. Maybe we can come to a mutual understanding. I help you, and you don’t stone me to death.”

The first surface demon raised his stick, yelling, and they ran at me.

“Maybe not,” I whispered, wide-eyed, and I pulled harder on the ley line, shoring my wobbly circle up. “Al!” I shouted, wondering where he was. I hadn’t wanted to admit defeat, but hell’s bells, I needed some help.

The surface demons barreling toward me suddenly skidded to a stop, their black eyes wide as they tasted the night. “Now you’re going to get it,” I said, guessing Al was coming when the ones in the back scattered. “You should have been nice.”

With a weird cry, the closest surface demon fell back, but it was too late. A flash of red light exploded overhead, smashing the buildings away as if I were at the center of an atomic explosion. The surface demons scattered like brown leaves, the remnants of their clothes and auras fluttering. It was Al, and he burst into existence in a grand mood, an old-fashioned lantern in his hand and a walking cane at his side.

“Rachel Mariana Morgan!” he shouted enthusiastically, raising the lantern high, and I painfully rose from my crouch, breaking my bubble with a small thought. “I’ve come to save you, love!”

I winced, even as I was glad to see him. He’d won, and with a cheerfulness that made me sick, he strode over the rubble between us, kicking rock and rebar out of the way. I couldn’t help but notice that the buildings he had destroyed with his entrance were back again. This was unreal. No wonder the surface demons were crazy.

“Done already?” he said, his mood expansive. “From witch to demon in less than an hour. It must be a record. And what are you doing in the badlands? They’re somewhat…unnerving, are they not? Especially now.”

I was scanning the edges of the ragged horizon, looking for heads, sticks, rocks, whatever. “Yes. I’m done. You were right. Oliver lied. Pierce is an idiot. They should all eat toads and die. Can we go home?”

Oh God. The ever-after was my home.

Al blinked, tucking his cane under an arm and a white-gloved hand turning my chin to him as he peered into my eyes. “Rachel, love, what did they do to you?”

I blinked, shocked to find that tears suddenly threatened. “Nothing.”

“They cursed you…,” he whispered, flinging his walking cane at a surface demon. The creature squealed, and a putrid puff of green smoke was torn apart by the gritty wind. “It was that elf, wasn’t it?” Al said. “I smell the stink of wild magic on you. You can’t go back unless summoned.”

“No, I can’t,” I admitted, feeling stupid. “But Trent has a plan…” My words trailed off and I felt even more like an idiot. What was the point? I was here. Even if I cursed Ku’Sox, I was still shunned, a virtual exile.

“I told you to take that piece of elf crap firmly in hand,” Al said, pulling himself to his full height and frowning sternly at me. “Now look what he’s done. You were a day-walking demon, free to come and go as you please, and now you’re chained like the rest of us. What a waste. Stupid girl.”

I said nothing, and Al stepped back, his lantern making a hazy gold glow around us. “He has a plan, eh?” he mocked.

Bless it back to the Turn.
“Yeah,” I said, yanking a strand of hair out of my mouth where the wind had put it. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. Can we get out of here? It stinks, and my knees hurt.”

Shaking his head, Al tsk-tsked, making my face burn. I suddenly felt small beside him, and I shrugged out of his arm, trying to go companionably over my shoulder. “This is why we don’t live on the surface,” he said as he tried to cover up my rebuke by tugging his frock coat straight. “I’ve never seen it this bad, though. Usually the buildings don’t fall like this.” He sniffed and adjusted his smoked glasses. “Shall we go?”

Shivering, I hobbled up to him, feeling his warmth. I was starting to get depressed. I was never going to see the sun again. “Thank you for picking me up,” I said, and Al beamed.

“It’s what I live for, Rachel. I have a treat for you.”

“What?” I said, cringing at the idea of another one of his parties.

“Dalliance,” he said, dissolving me into a memory and pulling me into a line.
I’m taking you to Dalliance.

T
he transition was smoother this time as we crossed merely the ever-after, not realities, and my feet barely stumbled as the stink and grit of the surface echoed once and died, replaced by a heavy bass thump and the sound of clinking glasses. Laughter mocked me, and I looked up, numb as we misted into existence.
Damn it, Trent.
Trust me. He had said
trust me.
Did he have any idea of what he was asking?

“Right on the tick,” Al said jovially, his arm in mine as he checked his pocket watch. “Clean yourself up, Rachel. Dalliance is a respectable establishment.”

I didn’t know whether to cry or scream. I’d put my trust in a scheming elven drug lord. Al was right. How stupid could I be? I’d lost. I’d lost Jenks, Ivy, my church…everything, cursed to remain on this side of the lines unless summoned. If that didn’t make me a demon, what would?

A bar was to my left, full of demons in trendy clothes reaching over one another to get their drinks. The music was so loud that shouting replaced talking. In front of me was a much more refined restaurant, sedate but borrowing from the energy at the bar. The theme seemed to be Art Deco, with a lot of thick glass etched with circles and triangles. Gray-and-white-patterned carpet mixed with tile, again using the circles and triangles theme. It was modern, expensive, and looked mildly excessive. The smell of food made my stomach growl, which ticked me off. How could I be hungry?

A host wearing a tux was talking to the three people ahead of us, his goat-slitted eyes telling me that they used demons as workers here, not familiars. Trendy and expensive, indeed. The music thumped, and laughter broke out from the wide-spaced tables where waitstaff eased through like boats in the fog. The restaurant was only half full, and the host led the demon trio ahead of us to a table, their clothes and manners making them look like CEOs out for a night of schmoozing on the company’s account. Men. Everyone here was male. Behind the host’s mahogany desk,
DALLIANCE
floated in mist, sparkling like Jenks’s dust.

Jenks…

I blinked fast, my jaw clenched. A tingling at my shoulder pulled my attention to Al. He’d changed from his crushed green velvet coat and lace into a three-piece charcoal gray suit. A red handkerchief peeped from the breast pocket, and his hair was slicked back. He looked like a professional businessman, right down to the eight
P.M.
stubble.

“Cheer up, Rachel,” he said, shifting his shoulders as if fitting into a new suit. “This is Dalliance. You’re not still moaning about Pierce, are you? We’ll pick up your little pet tomorrow. Tonight is for celebration!”

“Where did you get that?” I asked, not caring about Pierce.

He looked at me, new lines in his face as he played the part. “My closet. You don’t think I am a one-trick pony, do you? Hold still. First thing tomorrow, I’m teaching you a brush-and-wash curse.”

I took a breath to complain, even as I felt a wave of his energy cascade over me, easing the pain in my knees if not the ache in my heart. Yes, I was depressed, and yes, I’d just lost everything, but I felt like a slob with the grit of the surface on me, and if it would clean me up, then all the better.

I shivered as the curse slipped away, looking up as Al took out a pair of modern wire glasses and perched them on his nose. They had a bifocal line, and I knew he didn’t need them. “Much better,” he said with a sniff. “No one takes you seriously if you’re in rags.”

I jerked when his energy flowed over me again, and my tight leather melted away into an uncomfortable gray business suit. A purple Gucci bag was in my hand, and a Palm Pilot on my hip. “Hey!” I exclaimed, my hand going to my hair to find that it was back in a bun. My shoes were so tight they hurt. “What was wrong with the leather dress? You picked it out for me.”

The host was coming back, and Al pulled me forward as if I was his arm candy. “This is Dalliance. If we don’t fit the theme, we can’t stay.”

The thought of Bis made my brow furrow. I should have called him when I had the chance. “I just lost everything in the world that means anything to me, and you’re taking me out to eat?” I protested.

Ignoring the host now looking at us, Al waited until I brought my gaze up to him before saying, “You just gained everything in two worlds, and I’m taking you to Dalliance. You don’t eat here, you network.”

My shoulders slumped. Networking. I was sick of demon networking/partying.

The host sniffed at us, and Al turned, his jaw a little heavier than he usually had it, his hair a little thinner.
What do you really look like?
I wondered, thinking of that black-skinned demon with the tail he’d scared his gargoyle with.

“Reservations for two. You’ll find it under Algaliarept,” Al said, hooking his shiny dress shoe behind my leg and pulling me forward.

The man looked at the folder open on his desk. “You’ve been declined,” he said distantly, his voice clear over the music thumping around us.

A growl escaped Al, and the skin around his eyes tightened. “There’s been a mistake.”

Looking Al straight in the eyes, the demon said, “Your credit sucks, sir.”

“Ah.” Al poked me in the ribs, making me jump and stick out my chest. “How long have you worked here…Calvin?”

Calvin closed the file. “Long enough to know that Dali is not your personal friend but your parole officer. No table.”

Dali? What did Dali have to do with this? Al was starting to look ticked. True, I didn’t want to be here, but I wanted to be at Al’s little four-room palace even less. “Al, I’m tired,” I said, wrinkling my nose as if I smelled something rank. “This slop will likely give me the runs. Can’t we just go home for a cheese sandwich?”

The host turned his attention to me, sneering. His expression became empty of emotion, and then I gasped when he reached across the desk, grabbed my arm, and yanked me closer. “You’re not a familiar,” he said, his face inches from mine. “You’re that—”

I yelped as I was jerked back, Al having taken my other arm and reclaimed me. “She’s not a
that,
she’s a
whom
. Hands off the lady.”

“Hey!” I said, my arms out like I was being crucified. “If you
both
don’t let go of me, you’re
both
going to be singing soprano!” Just because I was in heels and carrying a Gucci bag didn’t mean I didn’t know how to use them in new, creative ways.

The two men looked at each other and let go simultaneously. Regaining my balance, I snatched my bag from the floor and tugged my uncomfortable skirt straight. God, this suit made me look like a dullard.

A heavy, balding man in a tux strode from the kitchen looking bothered as he started for us. Eyes fixed on us, he gave a final bit of instruction to one of the waitstaff and continued forward. My eyes widened. I knew this demon. It was Dali, and suddenly the name of the place made sense. Demons could look like anything; why Dali wanted to be an older, over-weight civil servant who ran a restaurant was beyond me.

“You got her?” he said to Al, his bushy white eyebrows bunched as he took me in.

“She’s with me,” Al said as he beamed, taking my arm in warning.

Dali flicked his eyes over me. “And you’re sure she’s…”

Al’s smile grew even wider. “She is.”

I felt like a cow he’d traded a handful of magic beans for. “I’m what?” I asked, and Al inclined his head at me, his expression becoming decidedly—worriedly—fond.

“A demon,” Al said, and Calvin sniffed his disbelief. “We are here to celebrate, and this pile of crap won’t seat us.”

The host stood firm, and Dali looked at the list as if he didn’t care.

“Dali! She is!” Al protested. “I know it! They cursed her and everything!”

“Dali, she isn’t,” I muttered, and the older demon sighed, tapping the paper with a thick finger. Behind him, six tables sat empty.

“I suppose I could give you a table by the kitchen,” he finally offered.

“The kitchen?” Al echoed, appalled.

Dali let the folder hit the desk with a smack, and Calvin looked vindicated. “I’ve seen nothing from her that warrants anything better,” Dali said, and Al huffed. “Cursing her doesn’t make her a demon.”

“I’m telling you, she is!”

Leaning in, Dali said calmly, “You’re a scam artist on the skids—”

“I am a procurer and instructor of fine familiars for the discriminating palate,” Al interrupted. “You’ve bought from me yourself.”

“—and I’m not about to fall for one of your Henry Higgins cons,” Dali finished.

Affronted, my mouth dropped open. “Hey!”

Al lost some of his confidence, hunching slightly. “Dali…Give me this one thing. A table. That’s all I’m asking. How can I prove her birthright if no one
sees
her?”

The music shifted to a faster pace, and Dali frowned. “Sit them in the corner,” he finally said, and Al straightened, beaming.

“I’m not a demon,” I said as the host moved to show us to a table.

“That’s what I’m thinking, too,” Dali said, his head down as he scratched something in that folder of his.

Al pinched my elbow. “If you can’t say something nice, keep your mouth shut, Rachel. You are
not
helping.”

Mood ugly, I followed Al’s not-very-subtle push to go first. My feet hurt in the gray pumps, but at least my knees were okay. Beside and a little behind me, Al nodded to the demons we passed as if they were great friends, only to get a lackluster response. Unlike most of the places Al had taken me, there were no familiars, and I didn’t like being the only girl in the place.

“Al,” I whispered as he led us to the back. “I’m not a demon. I know I said I was, but that was for the coven because I was mad. I’m not really one.”

Smiling at someone, Al waved. “I believe you are, and the sooner you accept it, the sooner we can get out of a four-room apartment and into something more suitable.”

Okay, I was more than arm candy. I was his ticket to solvency. “Al…”

“Relax, itchy witch. Smile!”

“I have a name,” I grumped, my stomach pinching me harder.

“Yes, but it has no pizzazz.
Ra-a-a-a
-chel. Rach-
e-e-e-eel
,” he said, trying it out in different ways. “No one will tremble in terror at that. Oh my God!” he said in a high falsetto. “It’s Rachel! Run! Hide!”

I’d had boyfriends who might differ with him, but I was silent when the host stopped before a booth behind a pillar. Al smoothly pulled out a chair from the adjacent empty table. “Relax,” he said as he invited me to sit. “You’re the only female demon besides Newt, and she’s fucking crazy. Let them look at you.”

Uncomfortable, I sat, amazed when Al expertly scooted my chair in without a scuff on the carpet. “They’ve seen me. Can we go home now? I’ve had a hard day.”

Home.
His home, not mine. A pang hit me, making it hard to breathe. Ivy. Jenks. My mother. Trent better not have screwed this up. I was going to freaking kill him.

Al sat beside me, both our backs to the wall, and the host sniffed before he walked away. “A bite of supper is just the way to end a trying day,” Al said as he snapped out my napkin and draped the black cloth over my lap. “Don’t you think?”

Not saying anything, I settled back, trying to figure out what was going on. I mean, I knew I was at a restaurant and was on display, but Al wasn’t being lewd, lascivious, lustful, or any other nasty
l
word. I didn’t know where I stood, and that made me uncomfortable.

“Al,” I said suddenly as I looked over the table. “He didn’t leave us menus. How am I supposed to order if he didn’t leave menus?”

Al was fiddling with the lit candle, playing in the curl of heat like a five-year-old. “You eat what you’re given. It doesn’t get better than that.”

I frowned, not liking not knowing what I was eating. “No wine. No eggs. Nothing with a sulfur-based preservative. It gives me headaches.”

Sighing, Al looked at me over his new bifocals. “Rachel, Dali himself doesn’t get real eggs or wine. Chill and enjoy yourself, will you?”

Chill? Had he told me to chill?
Al looked funny, still himself, but older as he played the part of the successful businessman taking his main squeeze—that’d be me—out to eat.

One of the waitstaff set twin glasses of water before us, her aggressive “Welcome to Dalliance. Can I get you something to start with?” bringing my head up.

“Brooke!” I exclaimed, and the older woman snarled at me, her eyes tired and her hair slicked back in an unflattering cut close to her skull. “You sold her as a waitress?” I stammered at Al. She was coven quality, and they had her slinging orders and clearing tables?

Brooke’s grimace curved up into a weird semblance of a smile. She was wearing a tight gray uniform that went with the décor but didn’t look good on her, the starched white collar and the cut making it second-class subservient. Her Möbius-strip pin still decorated her lapel, but it looked like a joke now, spotted with something.
Spit?

“What would you like,
Madam Demon
?” she said, looking extremely pissed.

“See, even Brooke knows what you are,” Al said as he moved his empty glass. “Tell the piece of witch crap what you want to drink. Hurry before there’s a shift change.”

I stared, my heartbeat fast. “She’s a coven member, and they made her a waitress?”

Brooke waited, her face becoming red.

“What do you want me to do?” Al said, not looking at all embarrassed. “If I sold her as a skilled familiar, I’d get her back in a week. To tell you the truth, I’m a little disappointed.”

Brooke’s jaw clenched. “Can I interest you in the specials tonight?” she asked, the hatred in her voice coming in clear over the thumping of the music.

My head was shaking in disbelief. “Brooke, I’m so sorry. I tried. I really did.”