Chapter Fifteen
"What, by the two worlds colliding, are you doing!" Al shouted, ruddy face ugly. Pierce flung himself back. A sheet of green-tinted ever-after rose between us, and I stood, my chair crashing to the floor.
"Al, wait!" I shouted, lurching clear when Al dove across the kitchen for Pierce, shoving the table aside. My splat gun and Pierce's hat hit the floor, victims of inertia. Al's white-gloved hand smacked into Pierces hastily raised protection circle with an audible crunch.
"Bloody hell!" the elegantly dressed demon howled in his proper English accent and crushed green velvet as he shook his fist and danced back. "You bloody hell sewer rat. I told you no teaching her!" Looking from his hand, his anger shifted to me. "Hello, Rachel."
Pierce's face was white as he stood ramrod straight behind a shimmering sheet of green-tinted ever-after. A flair of red washed through it, and was gone. His expression was both determined and frustrated. Clearly he wasn't happy about being caught teaching me lines.
Al backed up, his head bowed over his gloved hand until a shimmer of ever-after coated it. "Maybe I should blame you," the demon muttered, goat-slitted red eyes making me shiver. "Using your feminine wiles to lead my familiar astray. If all you want is dangerous sex, I can give that to you better than he can, and I won't break your heart afterward."
Insulted, I glared, ready to argue with a demon who could snuff me as fast as I could flip a switch - but wouldn't. "He was just teaching me the theory on line jumping. More than you ever did! And I'm not too happy about you sending him to watch me. All he does is order me around, and it's not even good advice. He's part of the problem!"
Al's eyes narrowed. I had taken three steps back before I even realized it, the small of my back hitting the counter. Sure, as his student - the only one worth teaching in the last five thousand years - keeping me in good health and not bent into a pretzel was a plus, but if I went too far he might not be opposed to being known as the one who killed their chance at a rebirth of demons. Trent could make more of me, and Al knew it. Bastard.
"Pierce watching you wasn't my idea," he said smoothly, his anger an icy thread in his voice. "You'll learn line jumping when I say so." He looked at Pierce over his glasses, and I shivered. "And not from some runt with delusions of grandeur. You need a gargoyle."
My anger hesitated, thoughts spinning back to last winter when he congratulated me on "having my own gargoyle" and asking him to come share mortar cakes with Treble... "Treble knows how to line jump?" I asked, and Al chuckled, the noise low and satisfied.
"Of course she does. She won't be teaching you, though." Spinning on a heel he turned to give Pierce a derisive look. "You're a mess. Get out of that circle. I won't kill you today. Brew me a coffee while Rachel and I talk."
His face white, Pierce let his circle drop. Al saw the direction of my gaze, and he shook his head at me. "You look even worse, itchy witch. You simply must take more care in your personal hygiene. I'll not have it said that I'm bringing you up poorly."
"I've been a little too preoccupied to worry about what I look like," I said.
"Pish posh. Appearance is all we have sometimes. Make it a priority." I stiffened when he stooped to pick up first my splat gun, then Pierce's hat, but he only handed me my weapon. "I smell pancakes," Al said as he jauntily smacked Pierce's hat back on the witch's head. "Did the runt make you breakfast?" Al said, leaning over the stove. "Quickest way to a woman's crotch is through her gullet, eh?" he said, leering at Pierce, who was now rinsing out the percolator. "Is it working? I'd be curious to know. I'd buy her a cake or something."
Pierce was silent, his lips pressed tight as he washed the coffeepot. I didn't know what to do with my splat gun, so I tucked it in the back of my waistband. "Al, I spent yesterday in Alcatraz," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "I want my name back. We had a deal."
Ignoring me, Al turned to the rest of the apartment, the tails of his frock coat furling. "Where are we?" he asked, flicking on lights as he passed into the living room. "Cincinnati," he said dryly, peeking through the blinds and gazing out the black windows, hands on his hips as he surveyed the street below as if he owned it. "It stinks of trains and that chili with the chocolate in it. Ooooh, books!" he exclaimed suddenly, making a beeline for the small library.
I shoved the table back where it belonged and Pierce picked up my chair, draping his coat and vest over it and taking off his hat. The man was subdued, his anger simmering. He wouldn't look at me, ticked perhaps that we'd attracted Al's attention. Watching Al coo over the books like they were puppies, I realized he'd never been here before, which begged the question of whom Nick was summoning. The raised circle in the corner wasn't for playing marbles.
"This isn't your home," Al said, pulling out a volume and laying it open across one thick hand. "Nothing smells like you." He gave me a questioning look over his round smoked glasses and snapped the book closed. Sliding it away, he reached over his head, not even looking where his hands were going as he found that ley-line knife resting out of his eyesight.
"Shiny!" the demon said, his lips parting to show his blocky teeth. "I haven't seen this since I stuck it in Amenhotep." The demon's eyes flicked to mine, his smile widening. "This is Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos's room," he said, and my breath caught. "Delightful, just delightfull What are you doing in Nicky's room, Rachel? Ooooh, he summoned you to the West Coast, didn't he? Did you kill him? Good for you for taking care of that little problem}. I should give you a bunny. Where is he? Stuffed in a closet?"
Pierce shut the cupboard door hard, and I jumped. "She should have killed him, but she doesn't listen to me," he muttered, and I gave him a dark look.
"Al, why are you here if it's not to give my name back?" I asked, and the demon sighed, breathing deeply of the knife's blade.
"It's after sundown. I'm assessing whether your worry is valid." Eyes closing in bliss, Al ran his tongue up the length of the blade, a soft sound escaping him as he licked the knife clean of nothing I could see. "I'm going to rub the little wizard's head from his skinny shoulders for summoning you. I'm the only one allowed to pull you about." He put the knife away, fingers reluctantly slipping from it. "Not that I ever have... "
"No, you just keep crashing my life. Look - " I said, and Al grunted.
"Here it comes," the demon muttered. "Listen. Listen to this, runt. She's going to have a list." And Pierce shrugged, carefully filling the pot with fresh water.
"Hey!" I snapped, not liking either of their attitudes. "If you're not going to make good on our deal, then you need to leave. And if you leave, you might better spend some time finding a good lawyer for breach of contract! I know people, you know."
"No need to get nasty," Al said, pouting. "With this nonsense about being summoned, I felt you slipping into a line and came to check. Apparently you've exaggerated your trouble."
"Excuse me?" I stood where I was, hands on my hips. "I'm not exaggerating anything. I was in Alcatraz. I want my name back. No one knows mine but my mom, Ivy, and Jenks!"
"And me." Al ran his finger across the front of the big-screen TV, har-rumphing at the dust. "You should just scare the hell out of them. Consider this your chance to practice."
"I don't need practice," I said through gritted teeth. "I need my name back. They're talking lobotomy. Sure would be a shame for your investment to end up dumber than a rock."
Coattails furling, Al strode to the pile of electronics, picking up a camera and opening the back to take the memory card and slip it into a pocket. "You are so cute when you squirm," he murmured, looking at me over his glasses and dropping the camera so it hit with a crack.
"Al - "
"I'm giving you the chance to grow," Al said as he sat on the couch, spreading his arms across the top. "I'd be a poor guardian if I fought all your battles for you. They're paltry witches. You're demon kin. What can they do to you?"
Frustrated, I held my arms out, hands in fists and palms up. "My knees are the size of grapefruits from dancing, maybe? And these shackle marks are from what?"
Al's red eyes slid past me to Pierce. "Play?" he said, his voice dripping interest. "Gordian Nathaniel Pierce's quirks are legendary. Why do you think I want the runt so badly? Size truly doesn't matter if you can do what he can."
I looked at Pierce - his softly curling hair hid his face, but his jaw was tight and his hands shook as he measured out the grounds and plugged in the percolator. Male witches' anatomy generally didn't measure up to a human's, but witch women always came back.
" 'Course it might all be propaganda," Al said as he pulled a watch from his fob pocket. His eyes met mine, and I shivered when he rose. "Let me guess...," he said as he started walking to me, each foot placed precisely. "The little wizard summoned you to the West Coast with my name knowing he would get you, then fled here to summon you out of their grasp, probably whining some poppycock bull about how he lo-o-o-oves you."
I retreated as Al advanced until my back hit the counter. "Nick is slime," I said, scared.
Al pressed close, far too close, and I held my breath, cringing. Not quite touching me, but almost, the lace at his throat shifted. "The question is," Al whispered, eying Pierce, "Nicky wouldn't know you had my name unless someone told him. Who told him, Rachel?"
"The coven." Al stank of burnt amber, and seeing me wince, he drew back, frowning. Knees shaking, I pushed from the counter.
"The coven," Al echoed, mocking me. "Yes. But who told them?"
I thought about Trent and dropped my eyes. "The problem isn't who told the coven your name," I said. "The problem is someone told them I can invoke demon magic. Maybe it was you trying to force me into the ever-after."
Al huffed, turning away. "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel... Such thoughts of paranoia. And you say you don't need a babysitter."
"I don't!"
He stood at the table, both elegant and derisive. "Then start acting like a demon, itchy witch."
"I'm not a demon," I said, glancing at the clock. Crap, it was after six. Nick
"You could have fooled me." Al's white glove vanished, and he examined his hand, the thick knuckles going white as he flexed his fingers. "This entire situation is so... banal" The glove misted back into existence, and his attention landed on me. "You must do better, love, if you expect anyone to take you seriously."
"Is there a point to this?" My arms were over my chest again, and I forced them down.
"I bloody well hope so," Pierce grumbled as he set a cup beside the chugging pot.
"The point is, you could excel if you would simply exert yourself!" Al complained.
My head shifted back and forth. "I don't want to be a demon. I just want my name back so my life can go back to chaotic and weird instead of chaotic and desperate."
Al took a breath to say something, and when he held it, head cocked, my face went cold. Dragonfly wings. A slow smile spread across Al's face as he locked gazes with me.
"Jax?" I called, not seeing him but knowing the pixy was here. "I didn't call him. I didn't call him, Jax! You've got to believe me!"
In a sprinkling of falling green dust, a pixy darted into the kitchen. Jax stared at us with his mouth hanging open. His hand was over his bi-cep, almost hiding a new tear in his shirt.
"I didn't call him," I pleaded, and the young pixy's wings hit a new high, his mouth moving, but nothing coming out. "Jax, tell Nick not to come in!"
Jax darted to whatever pixy hole he'd come through. But it was too late, and I heard the knob turn. "Nick! No!" I shouted, running for the door.
I gasped as I ran right into Al, suddenly before me. It was like running into a tree. "Nick!" I shouted. "Don't come in! Nick! Get out!"
But with a thump of furious music from downstairs and the smell of Chinese takeout, Nick came into the shadowy apartment. Jax was a streak of silver, his voice high and unrecognizable as he panicked. "Get out!" I shouted, stumbling when Al vanished, reappearing behind Nick in the open doorway. Oh God. Can this get any worse?
Al shoved the door shut with one foot. "Hi, Nicky."
Yup, it can.
Nick spun, eyes wide. Dropping the takeout boxes, he scrabbled frantically for the slab circle in the corner. He didn't have a chance.
Al reached a white-gloved hand out and snagged him like an errant kitten, holding him up by the scruff of his neck and giving him a shake. "Got you, you little wizard."
Nick choked, spinning slightly with his toes just touching the floor. "Little... bitch," he gagged, face red and long hair brushing Al's fingers. "You little bitch. I trusted you... "
"Jax! No!" I exclaimed, hands high as I got between Al and the pixy. He'd get himself killed. "Take the high ground and look for an opening. You can't take a demon by the front!"
Al looked at me in question from over his glasses, but the small pixy had withdrawn in frustration, and that's all I was after.