I wished he’d stop using all my names. “Look,” I said, seeing Edden relax now that the demon was sitting. “I know what the focus is, what it does, and that it works. I’ve got it, and I won’t give it away for nothing.” My gaze slid to Trent’s. “And money doesn’t keep me alive.”
“I can keep you alive,” he said, his gray voice confident, though Edden stood behind him to cart him off to a cell if he couldn’t make bail. “You underestimate me if you think I can’t.”
I grimaced as I remembered him offering me an island to get me out of the city and under his thumb. I still didn’t know why. Maybe because he’d known that my blood could kindle demon magic? But he was afraid of black magic. It didn’t add up.
“Thanks, but no,” I said tightly. “I’d rather deal with the undead.” Mrs. Sarong was looking at my shoulder bag as if she might snatch it, and I pulled it closer. “The focus will cause more turmoil than the Turn. I can’t destroy it without twisting demon magic, and despite what you all think, I avoid it when I can.” I took a deep breath, turning to Piscary. “I’m assuming you will keep it hidden and on this side of the lines so the Weres don’t overthrow vampire superiority?” I asked, and he nodded, the light glistening on his shaven scalp.
“They are not superior to us!” Mr. Ray bellowed, and Mrs. Sarong edged her chair away in a show of distancing herself from him, clearly tired of his lack of grace.
“And that’s why you want it so bad?” I said sharply. “Without the focus you’re second, maybe third, on the food chain. Deal with it. Everyone else does.”
Tension had pulled all my muscles tight. I was losing control. Edden had a weapon, but there were two predators and one elven warrior in here, all deadly on their own.
Piscary alone looked confident. “You’re afraid,” he breathed, the rim of brown about his eyes starting to disappear. “You smell…so good.”
Adrenaline dove through me, followed by the memory of him pinning me to the floor of his apartment, licking the blood from my elbow on his way to my neck. “And you stink like three-day-old carrion under your pheromones and witch charms. Do we have a deal or not?”
“Perhaps,” he said shortly. “But you ask for too much. I’m going to have my hands full trying to keep that fluffy ball of damnation under control,” he said, glancing at Al, as his smile grew to show his fangs. “That’s why they let me out. I must do my civic duty.”
Behind him Skimmer shifted uneasily, and glanced nervously at her. “You mean Al?” I questioned when the demon leaned back and put his shiny dress shoes on the table in satisfaction. “No problem. I’ll have him back in the ever-after as soon as I make an interdimensional phone call.”
I wasn’t a demon practitioner. I wasn’t.
“You little canicula!” Al swore, his feet hitting the tile as he stood. His glasses slipped, and he fumbled for them. “You can’t! You don’t know anyone’s summoning name but mine!”
Edden moved, drawing his weapon. The safety clicked off, and Al stumbled to a halt, remembering he had a body now that couldn’t go misty. Quen was tense, and Trent was stiff in his chair. I was the nearest to him, but he knew I wouldn’t protect his lame elf ass. Besides, he was looking at me as if I had sprouted black wings with matching tail and horns.
Piscary, though, was as cool and calm as ever, Skimmer behind him looking scared at last, and Ivy blinking, the faintest worry lines showing upon her forehead. Compared to Piscary, Al was weak now, trapped in a witch’s body and capable of doing only what Lee could. “You can’t banish him,” the undead vampire said coolly. “Not with him possessing another.”
I lifted one shoulder in a nervous shrug. “Someone in the ever-after owes me a favor. Al’s over here hiding from trouble. If I blow the whistle, someone will pick him up.”
“You bitch!” Al howled, jerking when Edden aimed his weapon. “You don’t know anyone but Newt, and Newt doesn’t have a summoning name. Who gave you their name?”
“He’s back into the ever-after?” Piscary said, smiling again to show his fangs.
“And out of your territory.” My fingers trembled, and I glanced at Trent, bothered by his look of horror. “Territories,” I added to make it plural, not liking that Trent thought I dealt in demons. “I’ll do that for you for free, Trent.”
Trent shook his head, his fair hair floating in the breeze of the building’s air. “You consort with demons,” he whispered, then turned to Quen, looking betrayed. Everyone he thought was untainted was not. Seemed like Trent had his own problems.