For a Few Demons More(80)

Scanning the quiet, parklike grounds, I wiped my mouth of the last of the frosting. The feel of my fingers across my lips brought Ivy to mind for obvious reasons, and I warmed. God, I should have done something, But no-o-o-o-o, I stood there like an idiot, too surprised to move. I hadn’t reacted, and now I was going to have to think about how to handle this instead of settling it right then. Stupid-ass witch.

“You okay?” Jenks asked, and I pulled my hand down.

“Peachy,” I said sourly, and he laughed.

“You’re thinking of Ivy,” he needled, and my flush deepened.

“Well, duh,” I said, stumbling on a marker set even with the ground. “You have your roommate kiss you, and you see if you can just forget it.”

“Hell,” Jenks said, flying just out of my reach with a grin on his face, “if one of you kissed me, I wouldn’t have to think. Matalina would kill me. Relax. It was only a kiss.”

I plodded over the grounds, following the sound of radios. This was just what I needed. As if an insane demon tearing apart my church weren’t enough, I now had a four-inch man telling me to lighten up, go with the flow, live life—don’t analyze it.

Jenks’s wing clatter softened, and he lit on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Rache,” he said, his voice unusually solemn. “You’re you, and Ivy is Ivy. Nothing has changed.”

“Yeah?” I muttered, not seeing it that clearly.

“Angle to the left,” he said cheerfully. “I can smell dead Were down there.”

“That’s nice,” I answered, continuing on past a marker and cutting a soft left. Downslope and through the trees were the flashing amber and blue lights of a multispecies ambulance. I’m not too late, I thought, arms swinging as we passed a huge stone marked WEIL. Beyond a row of cedars was an artificial pond, and between that and the evergreens was a cluster of people.

“Rache,” Jenks said, his voice introspective. “You think this has anything to do with—”

“The bushes have ears,” I warned.

“The thing I picked up for Matalina on our last vacation?” he amended, and my lips twitched in amusement. I had twisted a demon curse to move the curse in the focus to a knickknack. That it had slowly changed form to look like the original statue was just plain creepy.

Eyes on my feet, I murmured, “Mmmm-hmm. I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.”

“You think this is Trent looking for it?”

“I don’t think Trent knows it exists,” I said. “I’d be more inclined to think it’s Mr. Ray or Mrs. Sarong, and they’re killing each other as they try to find it.”

Jenks’s wings sent a cool breeze across my neck. “What about Piscary?”

“Maybe, but he wouldn’t be having this much trouble covering it up,” I said, glancing up when the men’s tone of voice shifted, indicating that I’d been seen. I slowed at the hushed mutter of my name, but since everyone was looking at me, I didn’t know who’d said it. There were two FIB vehicles, a black I.S. van, an I.S. cruiser, and an ambulance parked in the turnaround. Counting the third FIB vehicle at the cemetery’s back entrance, the FIB presence was stronger than the I.S.’s, and I wondered if Glenn was pushing his luck. It had been a Were suicide.

The cluster of men surrounded a dark shadow at the foot of the cedars and a tall tombstone, and a second group in FIB uniforms and suits waited like cubs at a lion’s kill. Glenn was with them, and while catching my eye he said a few words to the man next to him, touched the hilt of his weapon for reassurance, and headed over. People turned away, and I relaxed.

My feet scuffed the grass, and I cringed upon realizing I’d walked right on one of those markers set flush with the ground. Nervousness struck deep when a familiar bulk beside the tombstone straightened and Denon’s brown eyes met mine. He was wearing a suit today instead of his usual slacks and polo shirt, and I wondered if he was trying to keep up with Glenn, who looked great in his suit. I’m not afraid of Denon, I thought, then gave in and sneered at him.

Denon’s jaw clenched, ignoring the slight man in jeans and a lightweight short-sleeved shirt who had stepped forward to talk to him. I thought of my car and got worried. “Hey, Jenks,” I said, lips barely moving, “why don’t you flit around and see what you can overhear? Let me know if they find my car, huh?”

“You got it,” he said, and with a sparkling of pixy dust he was gone.

Trying to look as if I’d been doing a reconnaissance of the surrounding area instead of hiking my way in, I angled to meet Glenn. He looked frustrated. The FIB was probably being pushed out of the investigation. I knew how bad that felt but had little sympathy, since he’d been the one pushing me out last time.