Chapter Twenty-Six
The dry hush of sliding coals woke me, and I jerked, clutching to me a black blanket smelling of Brimstone. I didn't sit up since I was warm and comfortable, a hazy lassitude still heavy on me as I lay against the gently curving bench surrounding the central fire in Al's kitchen. I'd fallen asleep here before, but this felt different.
A dim light glowed on a new honey-colored slate table set before the smaller hearth. Al sat before it, his back to me as he chanted. At least I thought it was Al. It didn't look like him, but it didn't look like Pierce, either.
Al had been in my head. He'd made my thoughts real. He'd seen me down to my soul, and I'd seen nothing of his...and he's...humming?
The masculine figure was taller than Al by quite a bit but narrower, lacking the wide shoulders that I was familiar with. Short red hair pretty much covered him in a curly pelt where it showed past a lightweight black shirt and trousers. Muscles were well defined, with a long strength rather than heavy bulk. A shiny ebony hardness just above his ears might have been horns, and by God, I think he had that same prehensile tail I'd seen before when he'd threatened Treble.
"Al?" I croaked, putting a hand to my throat when the sound came out rusty.
The gravelly chantlike words cut off, and he spun, a ley-line doodad clattering until it fell off the table and he caught it with a long-fingered, double-jointed hand. A wash of black ever-after coated him, falling away to reveal the more familiar vision of Al, though he still wore that pair of casual jammies and had a surprised look in his red, goat-slitted eyes. The mirror he'd been looking into he slammed to the table, facedown, covering up the pentagram and glyphs he had scribed on the new slate table.
"You're awake!" he said, and I cowered when his voice seemed to boom inside my head.
"Yeah," I gasped, hands over my ears. I cracked an eyelid, seeing him muttering another curse and a new wash of ever-after falling from him. What is he doing in here while I'm sleeping? "I don't feel so good," I said as I sat up. "What are you doing in here?"
"Trying to remember what I look like," he muttered, his skin turning red from embarrassment, not a curse or a charm. He touched the mirror, and it vanished.
Grimacing, I looked over the candlelit room, missing the sun already. I felt like I'd been working out all day and gone to bed cold. It had to have been from making that construct. I hadn't taken the smut for it, and I wondered who had. Al? "You said I reset your DNA. Can't you just...plug and play?" I asked.
"Plug and play...," Al drawled, his wide back to me as he put the ley-line stuff in a tall cupboard and locked the door with a key, not a spell that could be tampered with. "Such a way with words you have. Yes, my DNA has been reset, but not all the genes a person has are expressed. I have to decide which ones to turn on."
Like the one with curly red hair. "Oh," I said simply, slumping where I sat. Jeez, I was tired, and I stretched my legs out from under the black blanket, feeling everything ache. I was still wearing the short-sleeved shirt and jeans Newt had put me in at the edge of the desert, but at least Al had taken my sneakers off-and only my sneakers.
I was silent, thinking about that curly red fur he had been covered with. And the tail. "I kinda like you the way you are right now," I said, feeling my muscles ache as I swung my feet to the floor and touched my toes to the cold floor. "Where's Pierce?"
"I don't know."
My next words vanished in surprise. He didn't know? The way he said it was more like he didn't care. It wasn't like Al to let profit slip from him, and I wondered what was up. Shifting my aching shoulders, I mumbled, "I don't like you in here when I'm sleeping. It gives me the creeps."
"Yes, well, it was easier for me to work quietly here than to move you to my room." He stood, a handful of ley-line charms in his thick hands. "Now that you're awake, you'll be moving in there."
My arms ached, and I rubbed them. Then I stopped. Moving in there? "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, waking up fast. "Okay, I let you in my head and everything, but that doesn't translate into me moving into your bed!" I stood, wobbling, and suddenly he was there, holding my elbow.
"Let go!" I yelled, yanking out of his grip and falling back into the soft warmth of the blanket. My heart pounded, and I felt weak, surprising me. "I may be a demon!" I exclaimed, feeling my eyes start to warm as it all sank in. "But I'm not your girlfriend, wife, or anything. Anything!" I shouted, shaking as I drew my feet up and held my shins to me. "I'm not sharing your room, your bed, or your life. I can sleep just fine right here!"
"Rachel, Rachel, Rachel," he said, very still and unmoving. "Always jumping to the wrong conclusion. You're like a frog, you know." Looking nothing like himself, Al retreated to the smaller hearth. Slowly my knees dropped from my chin, leaving me embarrassed. Sheesh, I'd huddled up like a scared little girl.
"Wrong conclusion," I said bitterly. "What's not to understand? Move into your room? Sounds plain enough to me."
Al spun his chair at the table to face me, his back to the smaller hearth. He sat, looking disheveled and rumpled until he made an effort to sit up straight. "You can't continue to sleep in the kitchen," he said, looking discomfited. "Before you yell at me again," he said as I took a breath, "I'll sleep in the library. You get the bedroom."
My held breath exploded out of me. Huh?
Al sent his gaze over the shadowy workroom. "It's not safe for you here. Too many things might get out." His goat-slitted eyes met mine, and I shivered, my skin prickling as I remembered the tapestry that seemed to move on its own and had bled and cried. Or the bottle of soul that had almost taken me over, just sitting on a shelf waiting to fall over and break.
"Or in," he added with a little shoulder lift, his eyes on the ceiling, and I held my blanket closer, my thoughts going to the dark spot on his pantry floor that seemed to pull at me every time I went down there alone-and only alone. "You don't have enough smut on your soul to hide you, and you're like a light, attracting things."
"Like moths?"
Al's eyes dropped from the ceiling, chilling me. "No. Ugly things in the dark attracted to power, and I'm not just talking about my associates. It didn't matter before, but..." Al winced. "I knew you were special, Rachel. And don't take this as me going soft or sentimental-"
"You didn't think I could do it." My heart was pounding, and I felt sick. I was a demon. Crap on toast, I was a demon, and there was no going back. Stuff had been turned on in my head, and it couldn't be turned off.
Head lowered, Al looked at his bare hands, folded in his lap. "I knew you could, otherwise I wouldn't have let you get into that position. But now everyone else knows it, too. I wasn't expecting how vulnerable you would be, and word gets around. It is too easy for..." He hesitated. "You're so damn helpless...," he tried again, his words cutting off once more. "How am I supposed to keep them off you now that they know?"
My stomach cramped, and I felt my expression go blank. Other demons. I had gone from a curiosity to a real demon. They might want to take by stealth what they couldn't buy now that I was one of them and not just a maybe. And Al didn't know if he could prevent it?
"Never mind," he growled, seeing my fear. "The bedroom has safeguards that you can't get here."
"Al?" I questioned, and he stood, showing me his back as he faced the fire.
"I'll stay in the library," he said, and I shifted uncomfortably. "I would have moved you to my room immediately, but I didn't want you waking up in a strange place." He turned, his eyebrows raised in familiar, mocking amusement. "Jumping to conclusions. Yelling at me. Breaking my things..."
I shivered, pulling my knees to my chin again and not caring if it made me look scared. I was. Vulnerable. He'd called me vulnerable. I had proved myself stronger, and therefore somehow become weaker. "You were in my head," I whispered, remembering how it had hurt-my soul stretched over the entire collective until he lifted me from it. "You separated the tulpa from my thoughts. Thank you."
He was back at the table before the fireplace, wiping out both the circle and the laundry list in Latin beside it with a red cloth. "You're welcome."
His reponse was guarded, and my tension rose. "You saw my thoughts. More than usual."
"Yes." Scrubbing, still scrubbing.
"I couldn't see yours."
Smiling, he turned, his eyes looking almost normal in the dim light. His teeth glinted. "That's the nature of it, yes."
Uneasy, I counted the dirty dishes scattered around, making it look like a frat boy's dorm. It appeared as if he'd been here for days. Maybe he'd been hungry. I knew I was. "What did you see?" I asked, nervous.
The rag he'd used to clean the table went into the fire behind him. "I saw what you are," he said, "and I was ashamed. I saw what you expect from a person, and I'd call you a bitch except you demand it from yourself as well. I saw how you see me," he explained. "It wasn't anything I didn't already know, but it made me wonder at what I lack, what isn't there."
"Al," I interrupted, remembering that forced kiss and how it had felt.
But Al was shaking his head, looking ill. "I am not going to be the person who completes you," he said, glancing at me and turning away. "You are one messed-up bitch."
"Gee, thanks," I muttered as I held my cold toes, glad that he wasn't going to try to change our relationship now that I was stuck here.
Al's expression shifted, became ugly, angry with himself. "I saw what we had become. Soft, ineffective, laughable," he said, his hand forming a fist.
"You still scare the hell out of me," I interrupted.
"Accepting our exile and making it comfortable instead of finding a way to go home. We are a joke."
Oh, that. I rubbed my feet, trying to warm them. "Sorry."
Al shook out a silver scarf that hadn't been there a moment ago and turned back to the table, running it lightly over the new slate as if erasing any electronic charge left behind. "I don't need your pity."
No, you need a good psychiatrist. My eyes went to his feet as they scuffed. Slippers? "Where's Ku'Sox?" I asked, wishing I could wake up again and start over. Having swum in my soul might have given Al the feeling that he could be casual with me, but it made me nervous. I had no idea what he was going to do next.
His shoulders moving slow and steady, Al wiped down the table again until even the last hints of what he'd written were gone. "Don't worry about Ku'Sox. You proved yourself." Becoming still, he looked at me, the candle and firelight making his eyes glow. "You have a place here."
Perhaps, but I didn't want it. I had things to do. I had to ask Trent what I'd done wrong with that curse. Then I had to find Ku'Sox to give it to him so I could at least go home without being summoned. Home... "What time is it?" I asked, depressed.
Seeming to appreciate the change of conversation as much as me, Al squinted at the clock on the mantel, the lights getting brighter. "Noon?"
Great, I'd been out for hours. Ivy and Jenks were probably worried sick. Maybe come sundown they could summon me back for a couple of hours and we could strategize until the sun came up. I had to get out of here for a while. Al was scaring me.
I flung the covers off, then hesitated, putting a hand to my middle when I wasn't sure I could stand up yet. Damn, I was dizzy. "I passed out," I said needlessly, and Al sat back down in his chair to stare at me, one hand on the clean table, the other in his lap.
"Rachel, you made a construct large enough to land a jet in. Yes, you passed out."
I licked my lips, uneasy. "Thank you for taking the smut."
He frowned, almost growling. "I didn't take the smut. Newt did, and I'd give a lot to know why."
Newt had taken it? Was that good or bad? "I think it was because she wanted to be a part of it," I said, remembering that she had cried.
"Newt?" Al barked, shifting in his chair, appearing nervous. "I doubt that she wanted to be part of that. She doesn't like making constructs anymore. She doesn't trust anyone to watch her while she recovers. That, and she doesn't want anyone in her head." Al touched his chin, a nervous tic I'd never seen before. "How do you feel?"
How do I feel? I feel like crap. Hand to my middle, I tried to stand again, changing my mind and huddling under the blanket instead with my back to the large fire. Had that nervous tic been real when he'd asked me how I felt, or was that statement about not wanting me for a girlfriend bull and he was trying to seduce me? He knew everything. What turned me on, what turned me off. What lowered my defenses. What made me vulnerable. It was enough to make someone crazy. "Hungry," I finally said. "I can't believe I was out for half a day."
"Half a day?" Al drawled. "Try the better part of three."
"What!" This time, I managed to get up, wobbling until Al stood and steadied me, his grip a shade too tight on my elbow. "Three days? I couldn't have been unconscious for three days!" Crap on toast, I'd missed my brother's wedding!
"Slow," he said as I sat back down to get his hand off me. "Newt said you might be dizzy for a while. That's why I didn't leave. Can you tap a line yet?"
Yet? Head between my knees, I concentrated on breathing. I carefully reached for a line, just enough to know I could, then pulled back. I was starting to see the sense in this. Females thought up the construct, and a male lifted it from his friend's psyche and protected her until she recovered-and I say friend because no way was I Al's lover. But three days? Jenks and Ivy would be sick with worry. "Newt was here?" I was able to sense the mild disturbance in the energy surrounding Al that she always left the demon with.
I heard the creak of his chair as he sat back down. "After you didn't wake up the first day, yes, I asked her a few questions. Can you tap a line?"
I looked up at the worry in his voice, feeling something shift. "Yes. Thank you. For watching me."
"I had to force her to leave," he said, eyes everywhere but on mine. "She said I couldn't care for you. Bitch. I made sure you ate. Ran a brush-and-wash curse on you when you crapped yourself. Waited. Kept everything out until your aura recovered."
My aura? "Al?" I said, really scared as I firmly tapped the line to find no headache, no pain. I was okay. "You're kidding, right?"
His wandering eyes settled on me. "You'd rather I let you sit in your crap for three days?"
"No. I meant...Uh. Thank you. Just...Thank you." Holy fairy farts, I hadn't know making a construct would be so far-reaching.
Standing, Al pushed his chair back. "Damn lazy of you."
I could tell he was relieved as he stacked the plates and cups, sending them to the food kitchen all at once. He'd been watching me for three days? "Al. Thank you. I really mean it."
Turning, he took a breath to say something, sneezing instead.
"Bless you," I said, and he held up a hand in annoyance as he reached for his scrying mirror, tucked in among his books. Holding it out, he grimaced. "It's for you."
My eyebrows rose, and I stifled a shiver as the heavy, cold glass slipped onto my lap. "How do you know?""Because you touched a line, and they were waiting," he said. "You're going to have to make a new calling glyph. I'm not your bloody secretary."
What are you then, Al? "It wasn't like the coven gave me time to get my luggage before they banished me," I said, not wanting to put my hand on the more complex glyph that Al used. The lines practically glowed red, and the glass was so dark I couldn't see any reflection at all.
"So I buy you a looking glass and you make a new one," he said, and I smiled, glad to be back on familiar ground. "Answer it, will you?" he prompted, annoyed by my good humor.
Still smiling, I pulled my legs up to painfully sit cross-legged, resettling the heavy thing on my lap. "Couldn't make it any bigger, could you?"
"The boy with the biggest toy wins, love," he leered, and I looked down.
My hand was already placed, and I tentatively reached for a line, carefully tapping it until I was sure my head wouldn't explode. The line slipped in with a gentle smoothness, and I found the collective with ease. At least my aura was okay. I hadn't even known I'd damaged it.
Hello? I ventured. Al's line.
Rachel! boomed a thought in my head, and I cringed. So glad I caught you and that you're feeling well, love.
I glanced at Al, pretending to mess with the fire. Yea-a-a-a-ah? I hazarded. Don't call me love. I have a name. By the way, I don't know yours.
Absolutely. Absolutely, the demon fawned. This is Strontanchaark. Two a's and an rk. You may not have noticed, but I was at Dalliance last week. Red feathers...silver headdress?
Sorry, don't remember you, I thought, wondering if he was after a date. Not going to happen. No way. No how.
My call name is Tron, he added, and I sighed.
"Look, Tron," I said aloud so Al could hear some of it and maybe stop pretending to mess with the fire. "I'm kind of busy right now. Just woke up. Things to do, you know..."
Completely understandable, he gushed, focusing hard to keep me from breaking the connection. But if you could wedge in a little time for me this week, I could make it worth your while. Do you think you could make me a replica of Rynn Cormel's pool?
I blinked, trying to switch gears. He didn't want a date. He wanted a contractor. It made sense. They all had the same stuff they'd had for thousands of years, apart from what Newt could give them, and three days ago, I'd made a brand-new desert for them to play in.
"Rynn Cormel?" I stammered when Tron poked my thoughts to see if I was still there. "You're kidding, right? He doesn't even have a pool."
He does. It's in Washington, Tron insisted. In the sun. The construct has to be in the sun.
Feeling panicked, I waved for Al's attention, and he turned to me, a soft, secretive smile on his face. "Uh, I've never been to the White House," I stammered. And what was this about the sun? Didn't they know I'd been cursed?
So get over there and look at it.
My eyes pinched; I didn't like his attitude. "It's not that easy," I offered, not wanting to get the reputation of being a bitch on my first conscious day.
But you can do it, Tron insisted, then hesitated. How much?
His thoughts were flat, and I felt a quiver of excitement. A demon was asking me what I wanted. My eyes flicked to Al, and he shrugged. "What do you want?" he said softly, his voice making me shiver.
Home was probably out. The next best thing would be a place of my own so I wasn't sleeping in Al's bedroom. I shifted on the cushioned bench before the central fire, making sure my hand didn't slip. There was no way I was ever going to see the White House pool in the sun, but maybe we could work something out. "How many extra rooms do you have?"
Rooms? Tron yelped, and I winced. Putrid ash mother corn shucker, you want rooms? As in plural?
Somehow his reaction emboldened me, and I gathered my courage, even as Al blinked at me in astonishment. "You don't think I'm going to just give you the sun, do you? Out of the goodness of my little demon heart? You want a full-blown tulpa with accurate artifacts and the sun? I'm going to have to get to reality and sneak into the White House estate in the daytime. Evade FIB and I.S. agents both."
Robbery! Highway robbery! Tron was wailing into my thoughts.
"Supply and demand, buddy," I said, preparing to break the connection. "Come on back when you're serious."
No, wait! I heard him think. How about the car? The one in the desert. I can give you a gently used familiar, well broken in and skilled, if you can duplicate that car for me.
You want my mom's car? I thought, then pulled my thoughts back to myself. "I live with Al," I said, glancing at him. "If I want a familiar, I go to the professional and get one, I don't take someone's castoff. You want an '89 Buick with leather seats and a tape player. I want a place to sleep. Call me back when you can give me a room. Unfurnished, if you don't mind. I don't like other people's junk."
Wait! he called again, and I grinned at Al, stifling my excitement lest Tron pick up on it. If you can make it red and promise me an exclusive, I can cut out a closet for you.
"A closet?" I exclaimed, and I felt Tron wince. "You think my mother's car is worth a lousy closet?"
A large walk-in, Tron added. Thirty by fifteen by fifteen up. I can get the toys out of it, but the mess on the walls you're going to have to deal with. I want an exclusive, though. You don't make a car for anyone else.
"No exclusive," I said aloud, watching Al for his opinion and seeing him shake his head and hold his hands out in a "bigger" gesture. He didn't even know how large the offer was, and he thought I could get one bigger.
"Dude, if you want an exclusive, I want something twice as big as a lousy thirty by fifteen by fifteen. And the exclusive is only on that model." Tron groaned, and I added, "And I want it attached to Al's rooms."
Okay, okay! the demon said, and I got the feeling that he was agreeing before I added anything else. It's a deal.
"Done," I said, and Al sprang to his feet and almost ran down the narrow stone steps to the cellar below. "I can work you in before the end of the week," I said loudly so Al could still hear me. "I'm a little tired right now. Call back in about an hour." Al came back upstairs with a bottle and twin goblets in his hands. "Ah, make that two hours," I amended. "You can imagine that Al has me scheduled tightly with his tutorial," I said, and Al guffawed. "Actually, why don't you arrange the time with him for us to come over and put your car exactly where you want it. Soon as the room shows up and Al tells me it's safe for storing my shoes in."
Al? Tron thought, sounding disappointed. I thought I'd fix the tulpa.
"You?" I said, feeling a stab of alarm, having forgotten that little part. I'd wanted Al there as a buffer, but this was spiraling into something more complicated. "No, Al's fixing it into reality, er, the ever-after, not you."
I felt Tron sigh, making me wonder if half the reason he'd asked me to come over was for a chance to swim in my unconscious. Not happening, bud-dy. Al was opening the bottle with a soft pop, smiling. I couldn't meet his eyes. Who knew what I'd find there?
I'll have the room deeded to you in an hour, Tron thought somewhat disappointedly, and I broke the connection.
"The White House pool," I said with a snort, carefully setting Al's mirror to the side. "Is he nuts?" He was going to be in my head again, but it would be worth it. Right? At least Al wouldn't be sleeping in the library. I was embarrassed that I'd lost my ability to leave unless Ivy or Jenks summoned me, seeing as they knew my summoning name, but Al didn't seem upset. Actually, he was in a grand mood as he handed me a tarnished silver goblet in the shape of a champagne flute.
"And you doubt you're one of us," he said softly, pride and more than a hint of relief in his voice. "Well done, Rachel."
We clinked and I took a swallow, the unexpected honey-amber liquid flowing, feeling like heaven. "Wow!" I said when I came up for air. "I bet Rynn Cormel could get me the White House extended tour." It wasn't wine, but it was potent, and warmth tingled all the way to my toes. I had a room of my own, and a valuable service that no other demon besides Newt could provide. I was going to be okay.
I sobered at that. I was going to be okay. Just what did that mean-I was going to be okay? Was I going to be happy? And why wasn't I trying to get out of here?
Al grunted, seeming to know why my excitement had left me. "I started getting the calls yesterday when they figured out your scrying mirror was in reality," he said. "I had to put up a 'She's out' post, but you saw how long it took for the calls to resume when you tapped a line. They were waiting for you. Seems like you have a lucrative place here after all."
"With your help." I stared at the small hearth fire visible under the new slate table and remembered waking up and finding Al sitting there looking like...something else. "I'm making a car for him," I mused aloud. "And I'm getting a room out of it. You won't have to sleep in the library."
Al hesitated in his motion to top off my glass. "You're giving the room to me?" he asked as the liquid poured in and settled.
My eyes jerked to his at the hint of a question in his voice. "Actually," I said slowly, "I thought maybe I could have it so you could keep your room."
He took a breath, holding it for a moment before slowly letting it out. Hand shaking slightly, he set the amber bottle down between us. "You will be in my room. The safeguards are chiseled into the stone. But I would appreciate the chance to update my own decor." He took a sip, rocking on his feet. "I thought you would get that mark removed."
My gaze darted to my last remaining demon mark, the one on my wrist that had started our association. "Uh, I forgot," I stammered, embarrassed somehow. I sipped my drink, not knowing what it was but enjoying the mild buzz that was hitting me. "Al," I said, my tongue markedly looser. "You just tell me what you want, and I'll make it for you. I owe you big."
He looked at me, emotions hidden behind his silence, for so long I wondered if I'd said something wrong. The fire snapped in the center pit behind me, and when I shivered, Al absently tossed a chunk of polished wood on it, probably gleaned from a broken building at the surface somewhere.
"Um, Al?" I questioned, feeling more than a little uncomfortable, the honey and amber filling my head with a shiny clarity. "I do appreciate you saving my ass. If there's something I can do to show you that, you'll tell me, won't you?"
He turned to me, still no expression on his face. "I'm reasonably sure I had brown hair."
Oh God. I think I'd insulted him. "Al-"
Finally a shimmer of emotion crossed him. "Drink," he said as he tapped my glass with his. "It's a day to celebrate. You have come home."
I didn't know about the home part, but I lifted my glass, a sneeze ripping through me as unexpectedly as a slamming door. My fingers shook, and a splat of liquid spotted Al's pretty black floor. Horrified, I met Al's demon-slitted red eyes, his first reaction of annoyance shifting to dread as he stared at me in what might be pity. I was sneezing, not him. And it didn't feel like an incoming call. It felt like a summons. And it was noon?
Ivy? Jenks?
"Rachel?" Al asked as the first gut-wrenching pain blossomed and I pushed the glass back into his hand.
"It's a summons," I muttered, jaw clenched and the good feeling from whatever I'd been drinking dying.
"But it's noon!" the demon exclaimed, gaze going to the clock to affirm it.
Ow. I hunched in on myself as the pull grew stronger. "Maybe Trent only cursed me to need a summons to be able to cross. Apparently I can still walk...in the sun. Ow!" I looked up, wincing. "I gotta go." Day or night. Trent had said day or night. Tron would be pleased. I could give him the White House pool in the sun after all.
I gasped as Al suddenly had my shirt front, yanking me up. "Who knows?" he snarled. "Who knows you can be summoned in the day?"
"Al, you're hurting me! It's probably just Ivy or my mom!"
His grip loosened, but he didn't let go. "I asked you, who knows your curse allows you to be summoned during day hours?" he demanded, and I pushed his hand off me, feeling the pain of an ignored summons.
"Everyone who was in the auditorium when Trent cursed me," I said. "Jeez Louise! I think you bruised me."
Al's eyes narrowed. "Trenton," he growled, thick hands clenching.
"If I'm lucky," I said, wondering if Trent even knew my summoning name. Probably. "I need to talk to him and get the Latin for sliding Ku'Sox's curse back onto him so I can walk free again. I did it wrong the last time."
I could almost see Al's understanding hit him when his expression went blank. "You tried to slide his original curse back onto him?" Al said in wonder. "At the restaurant? And I stopped you? Sweet mother pus bucket!" he exclaimed, and I swear, dust sifted from the ceiling. "Rachel, we have to work on this communication thing."
Hand around my middle, I bent almost double. "I gotta go," I panted. "Trent knows the curse. I have to talk to him. If I'm lucky, it's him."
Again Al touched me, but this time, his hand was gentle on my shoulder. "And if you're not, it's Ku'Sox. He knows you're too protected here, and you're a threat to him. He's summoning you. He's summoning you to where I can't follow. He's going to try to kill you!"
I panted, feeling my muscles shake as the pull worsened. God, I felt like I was being split in two. "Can't be him. He doesn't know my name."
"Trent does," Al said, his grip on me tightening into pain for an instant. "I told you to take that elf firmly in hand. Trent let Ku'Sox out. They're working together. They want you dead."
Holding my breath, I managed to look up, feeling a wash of betrayal. It couldn't be Trent. I'd just gotten the Latin wrong. Right? "I gotta go," I wheezed. "This is shitty, you know? How do you live like this?"
"Rachel!" he cried, but it was too late, and I let go of my hold on the world. The pain subsided, and the comforting gray of Al's kitchen vanished as I found myself yanked into the ley lines. Fear, hope, and anticipation rose high. If it was Ku'Sox, he was in for a nasty surprise. I was a self-pro-claimed demon, and I should start acting like it.
But even as I thought it, my throat closed, and I felt a pang of homesickness. Ivy. Jenks. What would I tell them? Pierce, how could I explain what had happened? Trent...how would I kill him if he had betrayed me?
Okay, so it might not be all bad.