For a Few Demons More(88)

“I didn’t mean to take your circle, okay?” I said. Uneasy, I touched the circle I hadn’t invoked, shivering when it broke and the energy someone else had tapped flowed through me and away. I was too distracted to unspindle the excess in my head, so I let it stay.

Tom swayed to catch his balance when the circle fell. He was clearly glad to be out of the circle, but he was still white under his brown hair.

“What did you want anyway?” I said, feeling Jenks’s weight light in my palm.

“I…” Hesitating, he took a deep breath. “You have experience in summoning demons,” he said, and I cringed. “My superiors would like me to extend an invitation to you.”

Disgusted, I let my bag fall from my shoulder. Catching the strap in my hand, I threw it into the backseat. He had said he wasn’t working under Denon, but I didn’t want to be contracted out to the Arcane either. Reaching for the door handle, I muttered, “I don’t work for the I.S. in any capacity, so forget it.”

“This isn’t from the I.S.—this is a private group.”

My fingers slipped from the handle, and I stood with my back to him—thinking. The sun was hot—it would probably melt the birthday candles still in my shoulder bag—and I turned to put Jenks in the shade. Hip cocked, I sent my eyes over Tom’s comfortable-looking shoes, his new jeans, his tucked-in dress shirt, and his hair drifting in the slight breeze. He was young, but not inexperienced. Powerful, but I had surprised him. He was working in the I.S. Arcane Division yet was speaking for someone else? That didn’t sound good.

“This is about summoning demons, isn’t it?” I said, and he nodded, too fresh-faced to look sage but trying for it anyway. I leaned against my car, amazed at how the brightest-looking people did the dumbest things. “Despite what you’ve heard, I don’t summon demons. They just show up to irritate the hell out of me. I don’t twist demon curses.” Anymore. “You couldn’t pay me enough to twist one for you. So whatever problem your friends have, you can take it somewhere else.”

“It’s not illegal to summon demons,” Tom said belligerently.

“No, but it’s stupid.” I reached for the door again, pulling when Tom stepped forward and put his hand on mine. I yanked out of his reach, ticked. Damn it, he was a demon practitioner.

“Rachel Morgan, wait. I can’t tell them you didn’t even listen.”

I wasn’t going to hit him again, but a yelling redhead could usually drive the most persistent person away. I took a breath, then hesitated. This wasn’t about the focus, was it?

Exhaling, I eyed him. My gaze fell to Jenks, my hand starting to ache from holding that same stiff position, then back to Tom. “Are you the ones killing the Weres?” I asked flat out.

Tom’s mouth dropped open in a surprise so genuine I had to believe it was real. “We thought you were,” he said, and I didn’t know which was more disturbing, that they thought I was capable of murder or that they thought I was capable of murder and wanted me to join them.

“Me?” I said, shifting my weight to my other foot. “What for? I’ve never killed anyone in my life!” Let a demon take them instead of me but never killed them. Ah, except for Peter. But he wanted to die. Feeling guilty, I searched the horizon.

The tips of Tom’s ears went red in embarrassment. “The inner circle has extended an invitation,” he said, struggling to regain my attention. “They request that you join them.”

I’ll just bet. “Excuse me,” I said angrily. “Get your hand off my car.”

Tom removed his hand, and I tugged the handle up. He backed up when I got in and settled into the sun-warmed leather seats. This was great. Just freaking great. A wacko fringe organization wanted me as a new recruit. Slamming the door shut, I held Jenks in my cupped palm and dug the box of tissues out of the console. I set it on my lap and carefully laid him in it. Seeing him there motionless, a feeling of panic slid through me and was gone. If he wasn’t okay, Matalina would be devastated, and I would be really pissed.

The powerful practitioner of black ley line magic in jeans and sunglasses who could probably turn my blood to sludge wanted me in his little group. Even worse, he seemed to be an underling. Anger cresting, I looked at Tom squinting in the sun, then with a small thought, willed my second sight into focus to check his aura. It was edged in a faint shimmer of black.

“Your aura is dirty,” I said, my motions sharp as I buckled myself in and let my second sight drop before I saw something I didn’t want to; I was in a graveyard.