For a Few Demons More (39 page)

Trent made a puff of noise and tugged his sleeves down. “Fine. Subdue her your way. Try not to leave any bruises. No traces mean no reason to dig for missing memories.”

Okay, not out of this yet…
Pulse fast, I fell into a fighting stance, searching for the sound of pixy wings. Quen came forward, his earlier indecision apparently having stemmed from using magic, not force, to
assert his right to dominate. Seemed if I couldn't best him physically, I deserved to be used and discarded.

“Quen, I don't want to have to do this,” I warned, remembering our last fight. He would have creamed me if my roommates hadn't interfered. “Get out or I'll—”

“You'll what?” Trent said, standing sideways by the piano with an infuriating smile on him. “Turn us into butterflies? You don't do black magic.”

Hands made into fists, I steadied myself.

“She doesn't,” came Ceri's voice from behind me in the hall, and Trent's gaze shot over my shoulder. “But I do.”

“Damn it,” Trent swore softly, his eyes on Ceri as Quen halted.

The air seemed to crackle, but then I realized it was Jenks's wings. The pixy hovered beside me, waiting for direction. I could feel Ceri behind me, but I couldn't take my eyes off Quen, standing with his lips parted and his arms slack at his sides in his black uniform.

Slowly I straightened from my crouch. Ceri came forward, smelling of soap, in a fresh dress of purple and gold that hid her bare feet when she stopped beside me. Her crucifix rested easy against her, and her confidence was absolute. As was her anger.

“Uh, Ceri,” I said, not knowing what else to do, “that man in the suit is Trenton Aloysius Kalamack, drug lord, murderer, and Fortune 20 member. That's Quen before him, his security officer. Trent, Quen, this is Cerdiwen Merriam Dulciate, originally from the Dark Ages of Europe.”
Let's get this party started!

Trent's face was white. “How long were you listening…?”

Ceri's narrow chin lifted. “Long enough.”

I blanched when I realized that the humming noise was coming from Ceri and the black haze edging her fingers with their little butterfly bandages was magic waiting for direction.
Oh, crap.

“Uh, Rachel…” Jenks said, his voice high.

A shiver took me at her proud anger. “Let's hang back, Jenks. This might get nasty.”

The warning slant to Trent's eyebrows told me he wanted to pretend nothing had happened so he could make Ceri's acquaintance without the ugly reality of his life intruding.
Ri-i-i-i-ight…

Multicolored sun coming in through the stained-glass windows added a surreal look to the standoff. Quen was by the piano, and when the older elf stepped to join Trent, Ceri calmly turned her gaze to him. Quen stopped. Seeing his acquiescence, the black surrounding her hands vanished.

My shoulders eased when I felt her drop the ley line. I knew she probably had enough ever-after spindled in her head to blow the roof off the church, but Trent and Quen didn't.

“Now that I've found you, I see that Rachel is right,” Ceri said as she gracefully took the middle of the room, her dress moving gently. “You're a demon.”

“I beg your pardon?” Trent's beautiful voice held more ire than confusion.

I didn't have a clue how this was going to end, but I was glad to be out of the line of fire. Ceri noticed Quen moving to mirror my position, and she stiffened, pale hair shifting as she cocked her head regally. “Did Rachel tell you I was a demon's familiar before she rescued me?” she said to Trent. Seeing his understanding, she continued, “I know demons very well. And that's what they do. They offer you something that
looks
out of your reach in exchange for something they want that
is
out of theirs. They're called businessmen here. You're very good.”

His face reddened. “This is not how I wanted to make your acquaintance.”

“I'll bet,” Ceri said. The modern phrase and the sarcasm with which she said it were shocking.

Proud and collected in his tailored suit, Trent fingered his gift and came closer, hiding his tension under a practiced calm learned in the boardroom. I couldn't help but be impressed with his determination to try to salvage something from this.

“I brought you a gift,” he said, extending the wrapped box. “A show of thanks for your cellular sample.”

Jenks landed on my shoulder. “The man has more balls than a prize bull,” he muttered, and the rims of Ceri's ears colored. She didn't take it, and Trent finally set it atop the piano.

Ignoring him, Ceri turned to Quen. “You hesitated to attack Rachel at first. Why?”

Quen blinked, clearly not expecting this. “Rachel's strongest defensive abilities are in her physical skills, not her magic,” he said, his gravelly voice blending beautifully with Ceri's smooth, perfect tones. “I'm proficient with both, and it wouldn't be honorable to defeat her using something she can't defend against when I can assert my will where she has a chance to meet me equally.”

From my shoulder came Jenks's loud comment, “Piss on my daisies, I knew there was something I liked about the little cookie maker.”

“That's important to you?” Ceri questioned regally, ignoring Jenks's comment.

Quen dropped his head, but his eyes were unrepentant from beneath his dark bangs. Trent shifted his feet. I knew it was a ploy to bring her attention to him, but Ceri smiled at Quen. “There is a spark of us left,” she said, then took a breath as if readying herself for a difficult task.

Outside, pixies plastered themselves against the glass, and I felt a stab of nervousness when Ceri returned her focus to Trent. Seeing them together, I was struck by how much they looked alike. Their hair was that same fine, almost-transparent blond, their features both had the same delicate yet firm cast. Slim without losing strength. Strength without sacrificing beauty.

“I've been watching you for some time,” Ceri said softly. “You're very confusing. Very confused. You have forgotten nothing, but you don't know how to use it.”

Trent's expression almost hid his anger. Almost. “Mal Sa'han—”

Ceri's breath hissed, and she dropped back a step, dress furling to show her bare feet. “Don't,” she said, complexion a delicate rose. “Not from you.”

Quen twitched when she reached for her waistband, and she froze him with a look as she pulled a swab in a torn cellophane package from it. I recognized it as one of mine. “I came to give you this,” she said, handing it to Trent. “But since I have your attention…”

Jenks's wings made spurts of cool wind on my neck, and the tension escalated. Ceri tapped a line, and her hair shifted in a breeze that touched only her. I thought I sensed a metallic taste on my tongue. My
face cold, I looked over the sanctuary as if expecting a demon to melt into existence, but then my gaze fell upon Ceri, and I blanched.

“Holy crap…” Jenks breathed, his wings going absolutely motionless.

Ceri had gone deathly still, gathering intent and power about her as if supplementing her damaged aura. Her undeniable beauty was like that of a fairy, savage and pale, face hollow, hard, and unyielding. Quen didn't move as she closed in on Trent, near enough that her hair mingled with his. Near enough that she could pull his aura into her as she breathed.

“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. Understand?”

A hard expression replaced Trent's shock, reminding me of who he was and what he was capable of. “You're not who I though you would be,” he said, and Ceri let a cruel smile curve the corners of her mouth.

“I'm your worst nightmare come to walk this side of the lines. I'm an elf, Trent, something you've forgotten how to be. You're scared of black magic. I can see fear shimmering under your aura like sweat. I live and breathe black magic. I'm so tainted with it that I will use it without thought, without guilt, and without hesitation.”

She stepped forward into his space, and Trent moved back. “Leave Rachel alone,” she said, the words soft as rain and as commanding as a god's.

Ceri reached to touch him, and in a blinding fast motion, Quen bolted forward.

I took a breath to shout a warning, but Ceri spun, hurling a black ball of ever-after.
“Finire!”

“Ceri!” I exclaimed, then cowered when it hit the circle Quen flung up and exploded into black sparkles.

Clearly ticked, Ceri strode to Quen, Latin spilling from her like black smoke.
“Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?”
she said wrathfully, then plunged a tiny white fist into his circle.

Quen stared in shock as his circle fell.

“Finire,”
Ceri said tightly, reaching for him, and when Quen grasped her wrist to do something, he froze, then dropped to the hardwood floor, out cold.

“Holy crap!” Jenks chirped from the rafters, and Ceri looked away from Quen. Anger made her pale beauty terrible.

“Ceri,” I coaxed, then stopped when she rounded on me.

“Shut up!” she said, long hair flying. “I'm angry at you, too. No one has ever shoved me before in my entire life.”

Mouth open, I looked at Trent. The shocked billionaire was backing to the door. “Excuse me,” he said. “This was a mistake. If you will release Quen, I'll leave.”

Ceri spun to him. “My apologies for keeping you from your next appointment. You're a very busy man,” she said caustically, then turned her attention to Quen, slumped on the floor. “Is he a good person?” she asked abruptly.

Trent paused, and the metallic stench tickling my nose grew stronger. “Yes.”

“You should listen to him more often,” she said, crouching before him, her dress pooled like water turned to silk. “That's why we have others around us.”

Jenks dropped down to me, and I wondered if Ceri thought of me like that. Sort of a servant with whom to talk things over.

Trent's eyes pinched in worry as Ceri muttered Latin, and a black shimmer of ever-after coated Quen. He snorted, the black splintering away to silver threads when his eyes opened. Scrambling up, he stood while Ceri found her feet with more grace. It was obvious by his chagrined expression that he was surprised and humbled. I couldn't help but feel bad for the man. Ceri was a handful, even when she wasn't pushing us around.

“Did you see what I did?” she asked him seriously, and Quen nodded, his green eyes fixed upon her as if seeing his salvation. “Can you do it?” she asked him next.

Glancing at Trent, he nodded. “I can now that I've seen you do it,” he said guiltily.

But Ceri smiled in delight. “He didn't know you practice the dark arts, did he?”

Quen looked down, then blinked when he realized she was barefoot. “No, Mal Sa'han,” he said softly, and Trent shifted uncomfortably.

Ceri laughed, the wonderful sound cascading over me like cool water. “Perhaps we are alive yet,” she said, touching the top of his hand as if they were old friends. “Keep him safe if you can. He's an idiot.”

Trent cleared his throat, but they were lost in each other's attention.

“It's what he was made into, Mal Sa'han,” Quen said, kissing the top of her hand, the gesture full of grace. “He had no choice.”

Ceri sniffed as she drew her hand from Quen. “Well, he does now,” she said saucily. “See if you can't remind him of who and what he is.”

With a respectful nod, Quen turned to me. I, too, was given that same head bob, but mine was accompanied by a smirk I couldn't decipher. Jenks sighed from my shoulder, and I found myself rocking back off the balls of my toes. It seemed to be over.

“Just a minute,” I said, jiggling on my feet. “Don't leave yet. Ceri, don't let them leave.”

Both men froze when Ceri smiled at them, and I jogged into my room. Snatching the two garment bags, I hustled back. I was alive—check. Still had the focus—check. Introduced Trent and Ceri—check.
I'm kind of hungry. Wonder what I've got in the fridge?
My eyes widened, now that I realized what that metallic stench was. Damn it, I had left the kettle over the flame, and it had gone dry.

“Here,” I said, dumping the two dresses into Trent's arms. “I'm not working your lame-ass wedding. I'd refund your money, but you haven't given me any.”

Trent's face was murderously furious, and he dropped them on the floor. Turning on a heel, he stiffly walked out the door, leaving it open behind him. I heard his feet on the sidewalk and the sound of a car door opening and shutting, then nothing.

Quen made an elegant bow to Ceri, who drew her dress up and curtsied back, shocking me. Hesitating, Quen bowed again to me, and I gave him a sloppy see-you-later salute. Like I could curtsy? His dark face smiling, Quen followed Trent out and quietly shut the door.

My exhaled breath seemed to be very loud.

“Holy crap,” Jenks said, leaving my shoulder to make circles around Ceri. “That was the damnedest thing I've ever seen!”

As if it had been a signal, the sanctuary was abruptly pixy-filled. My head started to hurt, and though I was obviously happy with how this had ended, I was worried, too. I had to get rid of the focus as soon as possible. “Ceri,” I said, waving pixy kids from my path as I flung the discarded dresses over the back of the couch and hotfooted it into the kitchen to turn off the burner, “just what am I to you anyway?”

She had followed me, and I was surprised to see Trent's gift in her hand when I glanced over my shoulder. “My friend,” she said simply.

The stink was awful in the kitchen, and I wedged the window higher. See, this was why I liked coffee. You couldn't screw up making coffee. Even the bad stuff was good.

Using a hot pad, I moved the black kettle to the sink, the pops of superheated water startling me when the kettle hit the damp porcelain. “You want some coffee?” I said, at a loss for what to do. I knew she'd rather have tea, but not made in something so dirty on the outside.

“I like him,” she said wistfully, and I spun, shocked at the shy tone.

“Quen?” I stammered, remembering him kissing her hand.

She was standing in the threshold to the kitchen, a dreamy look on her face where a powerful anger had just been. “No,” she said, as if mystified at my confusion. “Trent. He's so deliciously innocent. And with all that power.”

I stared at her as she took the lid off the gift box he had left and plucked an opal the size of a chicken's egg from it. Holding it up to the light, she sighed, “Trenton Aloysius Kalamack…”