The Outlaw Demon Wails (38 page)

Dropping the box with a surprising thump, she sank onto the open chair, utterly miserable. “I worry so much about you,” she whispered, nearly breaking my heart. Her eyes started to well, and she quickly wiped them.
God, this is hard.

“Mom, it's going to be okay.”

“I hope you're right, sweetheart,” she said, leaning to take me into another hug. “It's your dad and Mr. Kalamack all over again, only this time, it's you.” Whispering in my ear as she held me, she added, “I can't lose you. I can't.”

Breathing in lilac and redwood, I held her. Her shoulders were thin
and I could feel every shift of her weight as she reined in her emotions. “It's going to be all right,” I said. “Besides, Dad didn't die from going into the ever-after. He died trying to get rid of the vampire virus. This is different. It's not the same thing.”

She pulled back, nodding to tell me she had known how he had died all along. I could almost see another brick in her psyche being remortared into place, making her stronger. “True, but Piscary never would have bitten him if he hadn't tried to help Mr. Kalamack,” she said. “Just like you're helping Trent.”

“Piscary is dead,” I said, and her breath came in slowly.

“He is, isn't he.”

“And I wouldn't go into the ever-after unless I had a guaranteed way out,” I added. “And I'm not doing this to help Trent. I'm doing this to save my ass.”

At that, she laughed. “That
is
different, isn't it,” she said, needing hope.

I nodded, having to believe it was. “It is. It's going to be okay.”
Please let it be okay.
“I can do this. I have good friends.”

She turned, and I followed her gaze to Ivy and Jenks in the graveyard, both looking helpless as Ceri directed everyone to their places. We were alone, everyone slowly milling around that weird angel statue in the graveyard and the slab of reddish cement fixing it to the ground. “They do love you,” she said, giving my hand a light squeeze. “You know, I never understood why your dad always told you to work alone. He had friends, too. Friends that would have risked their lives for him. Though in the end, it didn't matter.”

I shook my head, embarrassed about the love comment. But my mom only smiled. “Here,” she said, nudging the cardboard box with her toe. “I should have given these to you before. But seeing how much trouble you got into with the first few I gave you, it was probably just as well I waited.”

First few?
I thought when my fingers touched the dusty cardboard and a faint tingle of power cramped my joints. I quickly undid a flap and looked inside, and the scent of burnt amber was almost a slap. “Mom!” I hissed, seeing the dark leather and dog-eared pages. “Where did you get these?”

She wouldn't meet my gaze, her brow furrowing as if refusing to look guilty. “They're your dad's,” she muttered. “You didn't seem to mind the first ones,” she said defensively as I stared at her, aghast. “And not all of them are demon texts. Some are straight from the university's bookstore.”

Understanding crashed over me, and I closed the box up. “You were the one who put the books—”

“In the belfry, yes,” she finished, standing up and drawing me to my feet. Ceri was done and we had to move. “I wasn't about to hand them over to an unfamiliar vampire to give to you, and the door was open. I knew you'd find them eventually, seeking out high, lonely spots the way you do. You lost everything when the I.S. cursed your apartment, and what was I supposed to do? Drive over here and give you a demon-text library?” Her green eyes were glinting in amusement. “You would have locked me up.”

Oh, my God! My dad had called demons?

Trent came out the back door with Quen, and I felt a wash of panic. “Mom,” I pleaded, my pulse racing. “Tell me he never used these. Tell me he was a collector of books. Please?”

She smiled and patted my hand. “He was a collector of books. For you.”

My brief relief died, and I froze as she stood to pull out of my grip. My dad had known that I'd be able to kindle demon magic. He had collected a demon library for me. He had told me to work alone.
What in hell had Trent's dad done to me?!

“Come on, Rachel,” my mom said, standing over me and touching my shoulder. “They're ready for you.”

I stood, wobbling. A small cluster of people waited at the warrior angel: Ceri, Keasley, Trent, Quen, Marshal, Jenks, and Ivy—the people who impacted my life the most. With my mom at my side, I started walking as she chatted on about nothing. It was a defense mechanism that I saw through to the fear she was struggling to come to grips with.

David's coat enfolded me in the rich, complicated scent of Were, a distant show of support. For all his strength, he'd known he could do nothing and so had given me what he could and vanished in the way of
Weres. I shrugged it closer as the hem hissed against the long grass. It needed to be cut, and the dew-wet tips turned the hem a darker brown.

Everyone turned as I approached, and my mom gave me a last hug before falling back to stand with Marshal in the grass. Ceri and Trent were already on the red slab with three concentric circles sketched on it, and eyeing the man's new outfit, I joined them. Trent had put on some sort of black jumpsuit with pockets, and if not for his fair hair poking out from under a close fabric cap, I wouldn't have known it was him at first glance.

“You look like the military guy from a B movie,” I said, and he frowned. “You know…the token human who gets eaten first?”

“Is that what you're wearing?” he shot back. “You look like a wannabe private eye.”

“It's cold over there,” I said defensively. “And leather will keep me from getting scraped up if I have to fall down. And if I get hit by a potion, it can't get through.”
If I get hit by a demon curse, I'll be dead.
“I can't afford Kevlar and spell-resistant fabric.”

Trent gave me an up-and-down look and turned away, miffed. Ivy stepped forward to hand me the satchel that had all my stuff. “I put the map Ceri sketched in there,” she said, her pupils fully dilated with worry. “I don't know how helpful it's going to be, but at least you know what direction to go.”

“Thanks,” I said as I took the light bag. In it was my splat-ball gun with a dozen sleepy-time paint balls, three warmth amulets from Marshal, a scent charm from David I'd loaned him a while back, a small bag of salt, a piece of magnetic chalk, and a couple of other things from my dad's old stash of ley line stuff. Nothing much. Just what I needed to force my summoning name onto Al and take his in return. Soon as I had the sample, I was going to use it.

“And some bottled water,” she added. “A few energy bars. And some cream for your neck.”

“Thank you,” I said softly.

Her attention flicked to mine and away. “Keasley put in a few pain amulets, and I found a finger stick in your bathroom drawer.”

“That will help.”

“Flashlight. Extra batteries,” she added.

There wasn't anything that would help us if we were caught, but I knew why she was doing this. Trent shifted impatiently, and I frowned. “Hat,” I said suddenly as I looked down at the long brown duster. “I need a hat.”

Ivy smiled. “It's in there.”

Curious, I dropped the bag and unzipped it, digging past Ivy's colored markers that I wouldn't need and Jenks's old toolkit from this spring, when he'd been big. I pulled out an unfamiliar black leather hat and snugged it over my curls. It fit me perfectly, and I wondered when she had bought it for me. “Thank you,” I said as I tucked my hair up and out of my face.

Ceri was staring at the horizon. The sun was down, and I knew she wanted to get on with it. “Rachel?” she prompted, and my heart thumped. I almost hoped Trent wouldn't be able to make good on his deal to pay my way and I could bow out of this without looking like a coward. But then I'd be fighting for my life every time someone called Al.

Ivy touched my shoulder, and not caring what anyone thought, I dropped the satchel and took her in a tight hug. Vampire incense filled my senses, and as my eyes closed to keep a tear from leaking out, I breathed it in, feeling not a twinge upon my scars. Misery took me, heartache that this might be good-bye forever. “I'll see you about sunrise,” I said, and nodding, she let go.

I couldn't look at anyone, and my throat was tight as I picked up my bag and stepped onto the cement slab. My gaze flicked to Trent. His expression was carefully empty. What in hell did I care what he thought?

Ceri stepped into the first circle, and my eyebrows rose. “I can hold Minias's circle,” I said, then swallowed. “Unless you think Newt will show up.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, clearly wanting to put herself on hallowed ground, but just as clearly planning to stay where she was. “Minias will follow you if I don't circle him and keep him here until sunrise.” Her narrow jaw clenched. “Walk fast.”

I looked briefly at my mother as I remembered the mental torture Al had put her through when she had done the same. “Ceri…”

“I can do this,” she said, fear in her eyes, and I touched her arm. There was nothing this side of the lines that would keep Minias from tattling on us if he knew what we were doing. “Thank you,” I said, and she smiled fearfully.

“If spending a night talking to a demon is all I have to endure to keep you alive and help mend the damage the demons did to my species, then it's thirteen hours well spent.”

“Thank you all the same,” I said, worried.

“I'll close the outermost circle,” she said, starting to babble in her nervousness. “That way, no one can interfere. And because Trent will be doing the summoning and bargaining, he will make the inner one to hold Minias. I'll set the middle circle to hold Minias here and keep him from following you once you leave.”

“Trent!” I exclaimed, my gaze shooting to him in his cute little jumpsuit, and he flushed. “I can make a stronger circle with one arm tied behind my back.”

Ceri shook her head. “Trenton is the one bargaining for the jumps, so he will be the one holding the circle,” she said, her smooth features wrinkling as I found fault with her plan. “Keep your mouth shut while he talks or Minias will use it against you.”

Ticked, I pressed my lips tight.

“Keep your mouth shut!” Ceri said in a burst of anger, then gestured for Trent to come closer. Sighing, Trent tightened his grip on his backpack and stepped over the outermost chalk line to join us. Ceri pointed for him to stand next to me, and looking nervous, he edged closer yet. I wondered how much of Ceri's temper was actually worry. She was terrified of Newt, and Minias was only a small step from the insane female demon.

Quicker than thought, a shimmering sheet of black ever-after rose up around us along the outermost circle permanently etched out in the reddish cement. There had been a tug on my thoughts when Ceri had tapped the nearby line, and I worked to keep the huge spindle of ever-after I had gathered earlier from unwinding. Trent didn't look happy as Ceri trapped him with the same witch who had turned him in for mur
der and might just as easily give him to a demon to get rid of one of her own demon marks.
Trust
, I thought suddenly. He trusted me—to some extent anyway.

I took a steadying breath as I looked at the other two circles at my feet. They would make an airlock of sorts. Trent would set the inner circle to hold Minias, but when we left, it would fall. The middle circle, set by Ceri, would hold the demon at that point.

Ceri glanced at Trent and nodded. “Just as we practiced,” she said, and Trent set his backpack down and came forward. He glanced once at Quen, then closed his eyes. His lips moved, and I felt an uncomfortable sensation as he slowly tapped a line and set the circle. It was the difference between a sharp tug to remove a splinter and a methodical, painful digging, and I could tell it was bothering Ceri, too. Quen must have been making him practice, since he didn't need candles to set a circle anymore.

“Bartholomew's balls,” Ceri muttered. “Can he do this any slower?”

My lips quirked, but my satisfaction at Trent's lesser skills died in a wash of self-pity when his sheet of ever-after rose up. His aura was clean and pure, the bright gold shot through with the sparkles of seeking. Mine would look like a crap-smeared wall next to his.

Jenks
, I thought.
Where in hell is Jenks?

“Ivy?” I said, worried. “Where's Jenks?”

She waved a hand. “He said he was going to make sure his family was safe,” she said, and my gaze went over the pixy-empty garden. From the steeple, a pair of unfamiliar red eyes glowed, and my pulse jumped until I realized it was Bis. I felt miserable. Jenks didn't want to say good-bye. I understood that.

Ceri handed Trent my scrying mirror, and I saw his expression close off in the gathering dusk. Damn, the thing was beautiful out here in the gloomy light, the wine-colored glass etched with crystalline lines in the shape of the calling pentagram with all its little figures and symbols. I couldn't tell if Trent thought it beautiful or foul, and I wondered if that was why Ceri insisted he summon Minias. She might be trying to convince him neither she nor I was immoral for what we did, just incredibly stupid.

Swallowing hard, Trent knelt on the red pavement. He set the glass
carefully in front of him, and he put a shaky hand on the mirror. My nose tickled, then faded, and when a queer feeling of falling inside out flipped through me, I wasn't surprised when Trent blinked fast several times.

“Trent Kalamack,” he said softly, clearly talking to Minias. “I ask for your attention in a matter of traveling the lines and am prepared to pay. I won't pay for you coming over here to discuss it, though. That is your choice, not my request.”