For a Few Demons More (44 page)

I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled from him. Our lips parted, and I met his eyes, heavy with unshed tears. He didn't believe. I was going to make him believe. I was going to prove him wrong.

“I have to go,” I whispered, and his hands fell from mine reluctantly.

“Hurry back,” he pleaded, and I dropped my head, unable to look at him. “I love you,” he said as I opened the door. “Never forget that.”

Almost in tears, I blinked fast. “I can't. I won't. I love you, too,” I said, then fled, slipping through the door and into the hall before I changed my mind.

I hardly remembered going down the cool stairs, dark from old paint and faded carpet. I looked up before I got into my car, seeing
Kisten's shadowy silhouette hovering by the filmy curtains. A shiver went through me, rattling my keys when I didn't stifle it. I hadn't known that the depth of control the undead had on their underlings was so strong that they would willingly submit to planned murder, and I again thanked God that I had never let any vampires, even Ivy, bind me to them. Though he was seemingly independent and confident, Kisten's mental well-being hung upon the whim of someone who really didn't give a damn. And now he had nothing. Except my trying to keep a faceless vampire from killing him for sport.

Never,
I thought. I loved Kisten, but never would I let a vampire bind me. I'd die first.

The soothing scent of vampire and pixy sifted through the upper levels of my thoughts, skimming through the hazy dream state I was slowly pulling out of. I was warm and comfortable, and as my mind moved from sleep to awareness, I realized I was curled up in Ivy's chair in the sanctuary with Jenks's black silk shirt draped over me. I didn't care to analyze my motives for falling asleep in Ivy's chair. Maybe I just needed some comfort, knowing she was going through hell and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

Wait a moment. I'm sleeping in Ivy's chair? That would mean I was…

“Jenks!” I shouted, realizing what had happened and jerking upright. I'd come home to wash Kisten's clothes and had apparently fallen asleep, eight hours of spelled unconsciousness finally running thin. “Damn it, Jenks! Why didn't you wake me up!”

God help me—Kisten. I had left him alone, then fallen asleep.

I jumped up to call Kisten on his cell, jolting to a surprised halt when my body protested at the sudden movement, aching from having slept in a chair. It was chilly, and I glanced at the mantel clock atop the TV in passing as I slipped my arms into coolness of Jenks's shirt. My shoulders stretched painfully, hurting all the way to my lower back. I was fastening the first button as I entered the kitchen. It smelled like lilac in here, and candle wax, and the clock over the sink said the same thing.

Five-thirty?
How could I have just fallen asleep? I hadn't gotten much sleep yesterday, but zonking out for an entire night? I hadn't made any charms or anything. Damn it, I was going to kill somebody if Kisten wasn't all right.

“Jenks!” I shouted again as I found the phone and hit it to dial. There was no answer, and I hung up before I was dumped into voice mail. A pang of fear shot through me, and I tried to collect myself before I went and did something stupid.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to get my car keys, hesitating in confusion.
Where did I leave my bag?

“Jenks, where in hell are you!” I shouted, rubbing my aching upper arm. My wrist, too, was sore, and I shook it as I darted into the living room to see if my bag was in there, cataloging a myriad of aches and pains from my stiff neck to my aching foot.
Why am I limping? I'm not that old.
Unease went through me at the silence, and one hand was still holding my upper arm as I looked at the barren room in confusion.

“Rachel,” came Jenks's worried, muffled voice an instant before he zipped in through the chimney, a thin trail of silver marking his path. “You're awake.”

I stared at the vacant space, ticked—not because I had come in here searching for my bag and forgetting that the room was empty but because he looked scared. He ought to be. “Why didn't you wake me up?” I exclaimed, tucking my shirt in as he spilled dust coated with chimney soot. “Kisten was alone all night, and he's not answering his phone!”

“Are you okay?” he asked, coming too close, and I pulled back, my neck protesting.

“Apart from falling asleep in the middle of my bloody day and leaving Kisten alone, yeah,” I said sarcastically, weight on one foot. “Why didn't you wake me?”

Jenks's wings dropped in pitch, and he landed on the mantel. “He called. After you fell asleep. Said he was moving underground to lessen the chance that anyone would hurt you to get to him. You needed the sleep,” he said, sounding eerily relieved. “And besides, Piscary might not think the focus is worth you and Kisten both.” His features tightened, and he couldn't seem to keep his wings from moving.

My urge to race to Nick's apartment slid into a general worry, and I
focused on Jenks standing nervously on the fireplace.
Kisten went underground without telling me?
“He called before sundown?” I asked. I didn't want to feel guilty that my not being there forced him out into the open. Jenks shrugged, and I muttered, “Why didn't you wake me up?”

Jenks reached to clean the soot from his wings like a tiny cat. His distress clear, he said, “You needed the sleep. Kisten going underground was the best thing for everyone.”

“Yeah?” I shot back sourly. “If he's not careful, he's going to be permanently underground.” Frowning, I headed back to the kitchen and some coffee.
He went into hiding? In what? A towel and a smile?
And what was it with this human time clock I was on anyway?

Jenks took to the air to follow me. “Rache, Kisten was right. I wouldn't want you there either whenever whoever Piscary gave Kisten to finds him.”

“Why? Because I might save his ass?” I exclaimed, frustrated as I stood in the sun and dumped out yesterday's coffee. It was a painful reminder that Ivy was gone; she'd never let the coffee sit like that. My arm hurt, and I held it as I ran the water to rinse out the pot. “Damn it, Jenks! Letting a vampire drain someone to death as a thank-you is twisted and sick! Especially when the person being murdered thinks it's acceptable. Piscary is an animal! You think I like that he's the only one I can go to for protection? You think I like giving the focus to him? If I thought he'd do anything other than stick it into hiding, I'd give it to someone else. But I won't let Kisten die.”

Jenks's wings drooped as he landed beside Mr. Fish, the sun shining through them to make sparkles on my hands. Feeling like an ass for my outburst, I put cold water in the pot and wiped it dry with a hand towel. “Sorry,” I said, knowing that this
animal
was my best long-term insurance to stay alive.
How did I get here?
Depressed, I pushed the coffeepot away, not feeling up to making coffee anymore. “Kisten must think I'm a boob for falling asleep,” I muttered.

“He knew you were tired.” His brow was creased, and he sounded almost bitter. “Don't worry about him. Kisten probably has plans you don't even know about.” Jenks lifted into the air and gave himself a shake to sift the last of the soot into the sink. “Besides, I've got some news that's going to make you piss your pants.”

I didn't want to hear whatever gossip he had dug up, and I held my
upper arm and tried to remember where I had left my shoulder bag. I had to talk to Kisten. Damn it, this wasn't fair. He was running away like an old cat to die in the woods. That was the terrifying part—that he accepted his murder willingly. Like he deserved to be treated like a thing.

“Listen to me,” Jenks said with a false eagerness as he got in front of me. “You're not going to believe who called this morning.”

I felt funny, standing in my sun-drenched kitchen with Jenks hovering close—too close—while I tried to remember where I had left my bag. My hand had crept up to my neck, and I forced it down. I was getting the oddest feeling—like I should have a string around my finger or something. Confused, I focused on Jenks. “Kisten isn't answering his phone. Where is he?”

“Tink's titties, Rache!” he exclaimed, his wings clattering. “Get off it! Let the man be a man. Besides, if you call or go see him, they'll find him that much sooner.”

I slumped against the sink, stymied. There was that. My car was well known, and I wasn't about to take the bus and risk getting stranded somewhere. Giving up on finding my bag, I headed into the bathroom as a mildly pressing need grew worse. “Are you sure he's okay?” I asked, rubbing my arm through Jenks's shirt. That was the last time I was going to sleep in Ivy's chair. It was harder than it looked.

“Trust me.” Jenks followed me in with a soft, almost subliminal hum. “Going to see him won't help him at all. Make everything worse. Let it go, Rache.”

It was excellent advice—though not any I wanted to take—and I sourly stared at Jenks, standing on the washer lid with his feet spread and his hands on his hips. I had to use the bathroom, but he looked immovable. “Do you mind?” I said, and he sat down, his wings stilling.

I couldn't make him leave, and I wasn't going to use the can with him sitting there, so I grabbed my toothbrush. My mouth tasted like dead weeds, and I put an extra glop of minty toothpaste on the brush. “You know where he is, don't you?” I accused while I leaned over the sink to check out my perfect teeth, and when Jenks flushed, I continued, “He left without his clothes? He went to a girlfriend's house, didn't he? Someone who doesn't have any ties to Piscary.”

Jenks said nothing, avoiding my gaze—and looking really, really
guilty. I knew that Kisten had someone he was tapping for blood, and the fact that whoever it was might willingly defy Piscary if worse came to worst was a guilty relief. Besides, a vampire chick was probably tougher than me in a pitched fight. As long as she didn't hand him over.
If she does, I'm going to freaking kill her,
I thought in a pang of angst, then prayed I'd never have to make that decision.

“How long until you can get yourself cleaned up?” Jenks said, and I made a telling face.

“Ah 'ot 'icker if 'ou weren't in 'ere,” I said around the foam, ticked off that Jenks knew where Kisten was and I didn't. If I really pressed him, Jenks would tell me. Probably even come with me to keep my ass above the grass when the bad guys followed me to Kisten's hideout.
Crap on toast, I don't like feeling this helpless.

Jenks's wings blurred. “Glenn called,” he said, as if it were a great honor.

Whoop-deee-freaking-do
. “Mmmm?” I prompted around the toothbrush. My hair was down about my shoulders, and I frowned as I brushed my teeth. Jenks's kids' work usually had to be picked apart, but this braid was completely gone. I winced when my toothbrush hit my inner lip. Bending over the sink, I spit, eyes widening at the thread of pink in with the paste.

“What does Glenn want?” I asked as I leaned to the mirror and curled my lower lip down to see a red line.
When did I do that?
“More Tabasco sauce?”

“He's got a warrant,” Jenks said, hovering so close that I had to back up until there were twin images of a nervous pixy between me and my reflection. “Or he will soon.”

Okay. Now I was interested. “For who?” I rinsed and spit, glad there was no more blood.

Jenks grinned, looking relieved. “For Trent.”

My head jerked up. “What!” I shouted. “He did it? Glenn got a warrant? Why didn't you tell me!”

Silver dust slipped from Jenks, and he returned to the washer. “He has the verbal okay, and he's on his way to the FIB's headquarters in Detroit to get the original paperwork. That's why I let you sleep. He doesn't want you to do anything until he has the papers in his hand. Hours yet. You need any help in the kitchen?”

“Holy crap!” I exclaimed, pulse quickening. I looked at what I was wearing, then at the shower, fingers undoing a button. I had to get cleaned up. This was just too cool.

“It was you,” Jenks said, his features glowing with pride. “Thanks to your tip that Trent confessed to the murders, Glenn got approval to take another crack at Brett's body. He lifted a print off Brett's toenail before they moved him back to a person and destroyed it. It matched one they got from Trent from when you got him hauled in last year.”

“Hot damn!” I whispered, too excited to be disgusted that I had more than Trent's admission that he had abducted, tortured, and killed another person in the name of…whatever holy mission he thought he was on. “I've got to get dressed. I have to go to work.” I put a hand to my snarled hair and hesitated. “Uh, Glenn's going to let me bring him in, right?”

“Yup.” Jenks hovered an inch from the cool porcelain, wings faintly humming. “He said he's turning this over to you, seeing as you're…Just a minute, I want to get this right. He said you're not a detective person but a smack-them-up-and-bring-them-in person. All he wants is for you to wait until he has the paperwork in his hands. That's why he's going up there to get it himself. He's afraid it will get lost in the fax machine or something.”

I didn't blame him. Not for one glorious moment. Ecstatic, I headed to the kitchen to see if I needed to make anything. “I've got a warrant for Trent for murder,” I said, sliding the last yard or so in my socks to land in the threshold. “I'm going to tag him! I'm going to get him off my back for good! And I don't have to rescue a demon familiar to do it!”

Jenks was smiling at me. “You are so funny,” he said. “It's like Christmas for you.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling the blood thrum in me as I found the sun-bright kitchen. The window was open, but still, the faint scent of yew from the forget potion I'd been planning on making for Newt lingered. “Let me think. You going to be around this afternoon, Jenks? I'm going to need your help.”

“Like I would miss this?” He was grinning, looking happy and relaxed.

Beaming, I threw my charm cupboard open and ran my hands through my amulets. I had enough of everything except disguise am
ulets, but I wouldn't need them to bring in Cincy's favorite bad boy. “I have to take a shower,” I said, excited as I limped across the kitchen. “Are you sure Kisten's okay?”

Jenks landed on the spigot, his fitfully moving wings sending flashes of morning light everywhere. “I expect he's exactly the way he was when you left him.”

I had to trust that. And he'd be okay now until the sun went down. As Jenks had said, the I.S. was probably watching me and would relay my movements to whoever was looking for Kisten. Actually, that might make tagging Trent more difficult, unless…“Get yourself cleaned up,” I said to Jenks as I headed for the shower. “We have a wedding to go to.”

“What?” Jenks yelped as he followed. “You're going to arrest Trent at his wedding?”

“Why not?” I halted in the threshold to the bathroom. My hand was on the doorframe, but I didn't want to shut the door on him. “It's the only place I'll be able to tag him without him siccing Quen on me. Not to mention the I.S. bothering me. I
am
invited.” I felt my expression grow hard. “And Piscary, probably. I'd rather talk to him there than on his own turf.” This was going to work in so many ways. It was perfect.