Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            Cassie got up, her gaze fixed to the hazy images on the bed. “Did it work? I can’t see.”

            We were in a muffling cocoon, but the glare was fading, or maybe I was simply getting used to it. “Wait,” I said when she tried to touch the barrier. “Is it safe, Bis?”

            His eyes were shut, wings clamped as if he was breathing in acid. But he nodded, and with a little sigh, Trent broke his circle.

            More mystics poured over us in a cascading of pinpricks. I slumped, squinting as I fumbled for the nightstand. Cassie surged forward, arms waving as if to feel her way to Kylie’s bed. I didn’t feel so good, breathing in magic, choking out power.

            “Rache?” Jenks said, voice high and squeaky.

            “She’s okay,” Bis said, hunched in pain as he sat on my shoulder.

            I wasn’t the only one having issues. Jenks looked as if he’d slammed three energy drinks, a silver dust spilling from him and his wings an invisible blur. Trent was hunched, standing bent over with his hands on his knees as if he’d run a three-minute mile. The nurses, too, were coughing, and the security guard was reciting the Lord’s Prayer as if he was about to die.

            “Hey, it’s over,” I said, pushing myself upright. “You’re all fine.”

            “Kylie? Kylie!” Cassie shouted, elated as she began to cry. “You’re okay! Look at me. Focus, man. I’m here. Oh, God, you’re going to be all right.”

            And though I still couldn’t stand up straight, I found I could smile. It had worked.

            Trent’s head lifted, and with a slow, pained motion, he gingerly pulled me closer as startling pinpricks of energy jumped between us. “You did it,” he said, pushing Bis off my shoulder as he gave me a careful hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, but even his breath was almost too much to bear in the highly charged air, and he reluctantly let go.

            The pounding started up at the door again, and the pinch to get moving pricked through me. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, wondering if it was getting easier to see. My hands shook, and I looked at the ring on my finger, wondering how something so small could control so much power.

            Bis had moved to the back of a chair, wings clamped and clearly miserable. “Why aren’t they leaving?”

            “They are.” Jenks finally alighted on a piece of machinery. “There’s only like one percent of them left. Damn, girl!” he said, his sparkles so white they could set the floor on fire. “We’d be dead if Trent hadn’t put us in a circle.”

            “Mmmm.” Trent glanced at the nurses. “Perhaps we should . . .”

            Nodding, I turned to them. “Hey, um, I’m sorry I spelled you. But Kylie was dying. I had to get you into a circle before I uncursed them, and you weren’t listening.”

            “Let us go,” the older nurse said, and having to trust that, I broke the stabils curse. Sagging, the guard and the nurse began to pick themselves up. Immediately the older nurse went to the last bed, and a smile found me again. Kylie was okay.

            “Cassie?” a raspy voice said. “What happened? My throat hurts. I can hardly move.”

            “You’ve been in a coma for the last three months,” Cassie said, her tears glittering like diamonds in the rarefied air. “Rachel got you out.”

            “Morgan?” Kylie rasped. “Pike’s boss?”

            Trent touched my arm before going to help the nurses. The mystics were finally clearing. Cassie was sitting on Kylie’s bed, hugging him, rocking him exuberantly, but as the other three began to wake, the elated woman went from one to the other, her voice high as she answered their questions and demanded the nurses get up and do their job.

            “We should go,” Trent said, his hand on my elbow as the security man began to complain, a wad of tissue at his nose. The youngest nurse was leading him to the door, a flash of fright finding her when she couldn’t open it.

            “You think?” I found my book-heavy bag and looped it over a shoulder. My hair was still in a halo, and as Trent whispered a word to unlock the door, Bis made the jump to my shoulder, fighting my staticky hair to carve out enough room for himself. Laughing, Jenks dusted my curls, but it didn’t help. Not enough product in the world, I thought, flashing back to the eighties when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. All I needed was some glittery suede shoes and a friendship pin.