Al lost some of his confidence, hunching slightly. "Dali...Give me this one thing. A table. That's all I'm asking. How can I prove her birthright if no one sees her?"
The music shifted to a faster pace, and Dali frowned. "Sit them in the corner," he finally said, and Al straightened, beaming.
"I'm not a demon," I said as the host moved to show us to a table.
"That's what I'm thinking, too," Dali said, his head down as he scratched something in that folder of his.
Al pinched my elbow. "If you can't say something nice, keep your mouth shut, Rachel. You are not helping."
Mood ugly, I followed Al's not-very-subtle push to go first. My feet hurt in the gray pumps, but at least my knees were okay. Beside and a little behind me, Al nodded to the demons we passed as if they were great friends, only to get a lackluster response. Unlike most of the places Al had taken me, there were no familiars, and I didn't like being the only girl in the place.
"Al," I whispered as he led us to the back. "I'm not a demon. I know I said I was, but that was for the coven because I was mad. I'm not really one."
Smiling at someone, Al waved. "I believe you are, and the sooner you accept it, the sooner we can get out of a four-room apartment and into something more suitable."
Okay, I was more than arm candy. I was his ticket to solvency. "Al..."
"Relax, itchy witch. Smile!"
"I have a name," I grumped, my stomach pinching me harder.
"Yes, but it has no pizzazz. Ra-a-a-a-chel. Rach-e-e-e-eel," he said, trying it out in different ways. "No one will tremble in terror at that. Oh my God!" he said in a high falsetto. "It's Rachel! Run! Hide!"
I'd had boyfriends who might differ with him, but I was silent when the host stopped before a booth behind a pillar. Al smoothly pulled out a chair from the adjacent empty table. "Relax," he said as he invited me to sit. "You're the only female demon besides Newt, and she's fucking crazy. Let them look at you."
Uncomfortable, I sat, amazed when Al expertly scooted my chair in without a scuff on the carpet. "They've seen me. Can we go home now? I've had a hard day."
Home. His home, not mine. A pang hit me, making it hard to breathe. Ivy. Jenks. My mother. Trent better not have screwed this up. I was going to freaking kill him.
Al sat beside me, both our backs to the wall, and the host sniffed before he walked away. "A bite of supper is just the way to end a trying day," Al said as he snapped out my napkin and draped the black cloth over my lap. "Don't you think?"
Not saying anything, I settled back, trying to figure out what was going on. I mean, I knew I was at a restaurant and was on display, but Al wasn't being lewd, lascivious, lustful, or any other nasty l word. I didn't know where I stood, and that made me uncomfortable.
"Al," I said suddenly as I looked over the table. "He didn't leave us menus. How am I supposed to order if he didn't leave menus?"
Al was fiddling with the lit candle, playing in the curl of heat like a five-year-old. "You eat what you're given. It doesn't get better than that."
I frowned, not liking not knowing what I was eating. "No wine. No eggs. Nothing with a sulfur-based preservative. It gives me headaches."
Sighing, Al looked at me over his new bifocals. "Rachel, Dali himself doesn't get real eggs or wine. Chill and enjoy yourself, will you?"
Chill? Had he told me to chill? Al looked funny, still himself, but older as he played the part of the successful businessman taking his main squeeze-that'd be me-out to eat.
One of the waitstaff set twin glasses of water before us, her aggressive "Welcome to Dalliance. Can I get you something to start with?" bringing my head up.
"Brooke!" I exclaimed, and the older woman snarled at me, her eyes tired and her hair slicked back in an unflattering cut close to her skull. "You sold her as a waitress?" I stammered at Al. She was coven quality, and they had her slinging orders and clearing tables?
Brooke's grimace curved up into a weird semblance of a smile. She was wearing a tight gray uniform that went with the decor but didn't look good on her, the starched white collar and the cut making it second-class subservient. Her Mobius-strip pin still decorated her lapel, but it looked like a joke now, spotted with something. Spit?
"What would you like, Madam Demon?" she said, looking extremely pissed.
"See, even Brooke knows what you are," Al said as he moved his empty glass. "Tell the piece of witch crap what you want to drink. Hurry before there's a shift change."
I stared, my heartbeat fast. "She's a coven member, and they made her a waitress?"
Brooke waited, her face becoming red.
"What do you want me to do?" Al said, not looking at all embarrassed. "If I sold her as a skilled familiar, I'd get her back in a week. To tell you the truth, I'm a little disappointed."
Brooke's jaw clenched. "Can I interest you in the specials tonight?" she asked, the hatred in her voice coming in clear over the thumping of the music.
My head was shaking in disbelief. "Brooke, I'm so sorry. I tried. I really did."
"Can I start you off with a drink?" she asked tersely. "The Brimstone Bomber comes highly recommended."
Al gestured flamboyantly and leaned back. "Two of those, yes. And whatever the chef suggests. Something sweet for the lady, and something earthy for me."
"As you will it," she said, and turned to leave, her pace slow and giving the surrounding demons a wide space. I saw why when one reached to grab her ass, laughing when she scooted to avoid him.
I felt sick. Why hadn't she listened to me? I'd told her not to summon Al. Hand to my middle, I looked away. "She's too expensive for me to buy back, isn't she?"
Al nodded, watching her walk away. "Very much so. Dali has wanted to bring familiars onto his waitstaff since he started dabbling in the entertainment field, but he hadn't found any able to handle the shifts. As I understand it, she's been good for business. Who wouldn't want to have their ass kissed by a coven member? Relax. Enjoy yourself."
That was the third time he'd told me to relax, and I was getting tired of it, but I froze when he took my hand, his usual white glove gone as he lifted my fingers to kiss them. Uncomfortable, I pulled away, ignoring his snort of amusement as I looked over the arriving people. The tables were starting to fill. Because of me?
My feet hurt, and I wanted to take off my shoes. Demons were looking at me, and I didn't like it. "Al, how old do gargoyles need to be before they bond with a, uh, witch?" I asked him, thinking of the little guy.
Al was making the "phone me" gesture to someone. "Several centuries. Why?" he asked, seeming uninterested. "Once bound, they live as long as we do."
I played with my silverware, feeling guilty. Several centuries. Bis couldn't be that old. He acted like a teenager, and I remembered him saying he was only fifty.
With a soft sound of linen, Al turned to me, his strong features bunched up in question. "I said why, Rachel. Is Bix getting clingy?"
Like falling asleep in my kitchen? "No," I lied. "And it's not Bix, it's Bis."
Al rubbed his hands together in delight. "I thought as much. They don't bond well until they can remain awake during the day. Bis is too young yet."
My expression went flat. Oh my God. It was happening-whether I wanted it to or not. Bis was going to tie himself to me, and then we would both be stuck here. No. I wouldn't allow it. "Hey, there's Newt," I said to change the subject, and as if my speaking her name caught her attention, her gracefully long neck turned our way.
"Don't look at her!" Al exclaimed. "Don't-" He groaned as the crazy demon smiled and changed her path to us. "Shit," he added, slumping. "She's coming over."
"What?" I said, uneasy, but seeing two empty places at our table. "She's the only person I know here besides you."
Al looked at the ceiling as if in pain as Newt made her way to us, her pace both provocative and flat, her motions feminine but her figure androgynous. She was wearing a man's business suit, and it changed to match mine as she approached.
"Well, that's an improvement," Al muttered as he brought his gaze from the ceiling. "See, Rachel, you're having a positive impact already." Pasting a smile on his face, he stood. "Newt! Love, I'm so surprised to see you here! Please join us!"
"Sit down, Gally," she said, turning her cheek so he could give it a perfunctory kiss. "I know you loathe me down to my mRNA."
My eyebrows rose, and I met his gaze glancing to me as he helped her with her chair.
"You seem unusually cognizant tonight," he muttered, taking the purse that appeared as she handed it to him.
Newt, now wearing a blond pageboy cut, sniffed. "It's amazing what one remembers given time." Hand long and thin, she gestured for Brooke to bring her a drink, then focused on me, black eyes wide and wondering. "Did you bring me my ruler, Rachel?"
My mouth opened, then shut. "Um, I forgot," I said. "Sorry."
"Newt, love." Al took her hand and gave it a kiss. "Let's not talk business. Not tonight."
Newt pulled her hand from him with a little tug, looking disgusted. "No, let's talk of the future. Did I not say I could see the future? I'd like to hear of your day, Rachel Mariana Morgan."
My gaze fell, and I remained silent. She saw the future, all right. But seeing that I had a pattern of being screwed over, it wasn't hard to predict.
Al cleared his throat as if bothered that I was unhappy, and Newt tried again.