Page 54 of Demon's Bluff

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I stood with my toesedging the yellow line before the counter, trying to look reasonable, not annoyed. The not-annoyed part was getting harder. My red, sequined shirt and bejeweled jeans were doing me no favors, and I wished I’d found something else to wear. I didn’t look like a hooker trying to bail her friend out, but it was close.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Atakat,” the woman behind the plastic window said, clearly not sorry at all. “You can’t post bail on a Jane Doe.”

“But she’s not a Jane Doe,” I insisted. “She’s Elyse Atakat, my sister.” Elyse was wisely going with Jane Doe, and I thought it prudent I use my birth father’s name instead of my own—Donald Atakat, or as the world knew him, Takata. Not a big leap to figure out, but things were different back in the sixties when he took the stage name.

“If she independently confirms that that’s her name, I might be able to help you. Until then, she is retained.”

“For indecent exposure?” I said loudly, but there wasn’t a hint of play in the stony woman’s expression.

“For resisting arrest. She won’t be released for bail until we can verify her identity.”

“I told you who she is,” I complained. But I was getting nowhere. “Can I talk to her?”

“Check back later.” Done with me, the officer focused on her screen. “She has some paperwork.”

“Okay.” I dropped back, knowing I was only pissing her off now. Paperwork meant they had someone coming in to see her before they pawned her off on another city service—probably a mental health group, seeing as they found her half naked in the park claiming to be a member of the coven of moral and ethical standards. “Can I wait?” I added, and the officer glanced at the orange chairs lining one wall and nodded.

“Thank you.” My voice was listless, and I scuffed across the worn tile. I’d made a mistake in letting the I.S. take Elyse last night, putting my own safety before the greater probability that the woman was going to make matters worse. My first instinct that a night at the I.S. might bring the proud woman down a peg had been vanity on my part. It was far more likely that the I.S. would identify her even if she kept her mouth shut, and that they might be contacting Vivian this very moment had me antsy.

Cincy’s overnight bail office was on the ground floor in a corner of the I.S. building, giving it convenient below-street access to one of the city jails. A wide plate-glass window looked out onto the sidewalk, just starting to brighten up with the first hints of morning. Traffic was almost nil, and at six in the morning, the awkwardly small short-time parking lot across the street was empty but for a single dusty compact.

I felt the early hour all the way to my bones as I sat down and set my bag on my lap. Crap on toast, I was sitting in the orange chairs, and I closed my eyes and let my head thump back into the wall. Elyse was probably more comfortable than me, and I stretched my legs out, stiffening at the sound of pixy wings.

My eyes slitted, but it wasn’t Jenks, and I felt a moment of loss as I watched the winged four-year-old in a tattered smock hunt for sugar in the nearby trash can. Four years old and on her own. Life was hard for pixies in the city.

But at least I knew where Elyse was, and my pulse slowed as I relaxed. I hadn’t been sure, having detoured to a convenience store before coming here. My hair was still curly, but now it was blond, thanks to an amulet. That was the extent of my disguise. I would have done more, but I didn’tknow how much of a dent Elyse’s bail would put in my finances. I had no sleepy-time potions, no doppelganger charms. Nothing.

Except what I have at my fingertips,I thought as I pulled on the nearest ley line and a hint of power flickered about my fingers. I made a fist and the glow vanished. The place might seem deserted with its empty chairs, one attendant, and no spell checker, but there were cameras on the ceiling and only two doors: one leading to the street and one to the temporary holding cells. It took an ID card to open the latter. I was stuck.

My shoulders shifted in a sigh as I settled in to wait. Trent’s mom’s ring caught my attention, and I fiddled with it, spinning it until the red stone was hidden in my palm. I didn’t care if Newt offered me three wishes. She wasn’t getting this.

It usually didn’t take this long to bail someone out, but they probably hadn’t processed her yet. Elyse wasn’t drunk, and once they unspelled her and realized that, it would be down to indecent exposure and resisting. That, and her wild claim of covenship. They shouldn’t hold her for that. That she was underage was an issue, and I closed my eyes.

Immediately Kisten’s smile intruded. My eyes flashed open, and I stiffened, pulling my shoulder bag higher up my lap. If I had my days right, I would find Kisten at the curb outside of Piscary’s this afternoon, tossed out like last night’s garbage.

“I can’t stop this,” I said, feeling breathless and unreal. Kisten was going to die. I had seen it happen. I couldn’t change it.

Throat tight, I blinked fast and stared out the front window, gaze going to the flash of someone’s headlights as a car swung into the tiny parking lot. A tall man in a thin, fluttery overcoat got out, fumbling with the keys as he locked the door. Glancing both ways, he strode across the street, pace fast.

“Someone’s bad night is going to turn into a bad day,” I mused aloud, thinking the sixtyish man looked especially annoyed as he stiff-armed the door and strode in. There was a light stubble on his face, and his short black hair was flat as if he’d been sleeping on it.

Then I froze. Holy crap on toast.Scott?

I pulled my stretched-out legs back under me, the new soles hiccupping on the dirty floor. It was Scott. Coven member Scott. Not old, not young, but the exact age I saw him through the transposition charm.

Ahhh, mother pus bucket.

I glanced at the door to the holding cells, then Scott making a beeline to the attendant. She must have been waiting for him, because she was already on the phone, her intent expression clearly for Scott, not whoever she was talking with.

They must have gotten Elyse’s prints and connected the dots,I thought. Damn. I had to get her out. I’d thought I’d have more time.

“She’s on her way,” the woman said, and Scott bobbed his head, immediately taking his phone from his pocket and beginning to scroll.

I sat up, glad he hadn’t noticed me. Pulse fast, I slowly rose, pretending to stretch as I gently, ever so carefully pulled more strongly on the ley line, spindling it so he wouldn’t notice the draw.Corrumpo,I thought as I flicked a tiny wad of it at one of the cameras at the ceiling.

With a tiny puff of smoke, the little red light went out.