Page 21 of Demon's Bluff
“Their roots are in the ever-after,” Al said, his slightly supercilious voice still holding a remnant of his affected proper British accent. “It’s warmer there. At the mo-o-oment.”
My attention rose at the drawn-out word, expecting him to be dressed in his crushed green velvet frock coat with the long tails, lace at his cuffs and throat, or perhaps his ornate spelling robes with bells on the sash and an odd, flat-topped hat. But apart from his boots, he was going twentieth-century businessman casual today, and I gave the tall demon a nod of appreciation at his black slacks, vivid red silk shirt, and elaborately embellished vest. No hat, but he had stuck his blue-tinted glasses on his hawkish nose, either to hide his red, goat-slitted eyes or, more likely, to peer over at me when I was being, in his words, “uncommonly stupid.”
“Well, thanks for the extra protection,” I said as I returned to shuffling around in the box. “If the coven was going to do anything, they would’ve done it while I was standing in their offices. I might need it later, though.”
Jenks grinned, his young face brightening as he touched the hilt of his sword. “Let’s hope they are that stupid.”
“Mmmm.” Al inched closer, his stylish boots skirting the body-size pentagram burned in the old oak flooring. I hadn’t made it, and Al wasn’t the only one who refused to walk over it. I knew I’d seen Vivian’s visage appear from it, and seeing as she had died there…
Al settled in behind me. A short cane I was sure held a purchased spell or two thumped in accusation, and he peered over my shoulder. “You are wasting your time. The mirror is not in there.”
His low voice rumbled about my thoughts, and I stifled a shiver. “Doesn’t hurt to look,” I said, then jumped, startled when he took the black glass globe I was scrutinizing right out of my hand.
“Look, no. But touching might,” he said as he tucked the orb into a pocket. “That shouldn’t have been left in there for you. It can burn you to ash where you stand when startled.”
Whatever.I scooted closer to the box, wondering why he was here. Asking wouldn’t convince him to tell me, but if I pretended indifference, he might spill—if only because I was ignoring him. “This is the last box, isn’t it?” I said, frowning when he stuffed the silk scarf that I had wanted into his sleeve. “The coven thinks that Newt had the only Atlantean mirror.”
“She is the only one of us who both recognized and utilized it,” he said, enunciating every syllable with a biting precision. He leaned forward to put his attention more deeply in the box. “You shouldn’t have this, either,” he added, plucking a silver-coated bowl engraved with Latin from the mess. “Too dangerous.”
Jenks’s wings hummed. “She’s madder than a jilted troll that Elyse tricked her.”
I sat back with a huff as Al began pawing through the box, taking an interest in things now that I was threatening to do the same. “I showed them the curse I used on Brad in exchange for seeing their spell that Elyse said would return the undead.”
“And will it?” Al squinted through a flat stone with a hole in it.
“I don’t know. It was in ancient elven. I can’t read ancient elven.”
Al eyed me over his glasses as he slid the stone into a tiny vest pocket. “Your dealmaking is usually so tight,” he said sourly, having been on the wrong side of it a few times. “Did you take a picture?”
“They wouldn’t let me.”
A smile, almost proud, quirked the corners of his lips. “They? You met with all of them? Four coven members against my itchy witch. Your reputation is serving you well.”
“Yeah, well, it’s five now. They pulled some old guy out of retirement. I’m going in tonight to get my book. I’ll take a picture of the spell to bring back the undead then.”
“You left your book with them?” Al said dramatically, and I glared at Jenks. The pixy beat a hasty, dust-ridden retreat to the kitchen, but it was probably better that Al had heard it first from Jenks. I pushed deeper into the couch, planting my arches on the table and crossing my arms over my chest.
“Yes, I let themkeepmy book,” I said, peeved, as Al continued to sort and sift. “I left before I did something stupid, like blow a hole through Trent’s building. I’ll get it tonight.”
“This is all junk,” he said as he straightened. “You may keep what’s left.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered as he primly sat on the couch across from me.
“About the curse to recover the undead,” he started, and my focus sharpened on him.
“You already know it?” I blurted, angry that he hadn’t told me, and he shook his head.
“One hears rumors,” he said lightly. “I suspect Elyse is either lying or it will not work as you wish it to.” Al settled himself, reclining indolently along the length of the couch to gaze at the heavy beams at the ceiling. “Still, as much as I would appreciate someone coming between you and your…mmmm…understandable infatuation with elf flesh—”
“That’s not why I’m doing this,” I interrupted, and his gaze darted to mine.
“As you say,” he mocked, then turned back to the old-oak beams. “Let’s assume the curse is bastardized from the one you used to bring Pierce’ssoul from purgatory. True, he would have mass, mobility, and a sense of purpose. But you would have to perform the curse nightly because I am not going to provide him with a real body as I did with Pierce.” Al fussed with his collar as if to try to convince me that he really didn’t care how far up shit creek I was. “I only did so with Pierce because I needed a skilled familiar.” His eyes met mine mockingly. “And I doubt you will perform the needed curse yourself as it requires you to outright kill someone for a body. Not if you are bending yourself into knots to avoid the coven’s wrath.”
“I’m not hiding in the ever-after,” I started, and Al huffed, interrupting me.
“Let’s agree that Kisten’s nightly ghost will be solid enough to serve as master of the city. True, it would solve the problem of Constance, but have you considered the carnal pull—”
“I’m not trying to bring my old boyfriend back,” I said, face warming.