Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Ah, I can carry that bag,” I said, and Trent tugged me closer.

            “Stop being my security. I like you better as my girlfriend. No one is going to bother us.”

            Unsure, I eyed the press of people. They were not scary or threatening, but there was nowhere to go if there was a problem. Sardines had more exit opportunities. How long does it take to check out an attic?

            “At the bar. As expected,” Trent said. He raised a hand in greeting, and I followed his line of sight to Lee, one foot on the rail, a glass of something in his hand. He had the air of a secret service agent in his black slacks and matching jacket. Shaken, not stirred.

            Trent’s pace increased, and I smiled, remembering how attractive Lee had been in a tux, teaching me how to shoot craps. And then Kisten blew up his boat and I pulled Trent to safety. At the time, I hadn’t even remembered Lee from camp. It was complicated.

            “Lee!” Trent called as we closed the gap, beaming as he smacked the man on the back a shade too hard. “What do you think of the coffee festival?”

            Lee tore his gaze from my hastily woven braid. “It’s, ah . . .” He hesitated, his attention on my hair again. “It’s nice.”

            Nice? “Hi, Lee.” I leaned in to give him a professional hug, pulling away when our internal energies tried to equalize. He was holding a lot of power, and I drew in an additional load from the nearest ley line to match it. My braid snapped and popped, a veritable halo of escaped hairs rising as I ran a hand over it apologetically. “It’s not Seattle,” I agreed, having heard a slight in his hesitation. “But we do what we can.”

            “It’s really to bring in funds to keep the water clean,” Trent added. “And have some fun.”

            “And try new coffees and teas,” I added, overly cheerful, not sure why we were both trying to prove to him that we weren’t a hick town on the edge of a river. But then all thoughts seemed to vanish when I saw the Breadsmith booth. A round of their pull-apart bread and some chili would make a hellacious dinner.

            I started, shaken from my thoughts of Skyline chili and hot cider when I realized Lee was staring at me. Or my hair, rather.

            “I’m sorry?” I said, deciding he had asked me something.

            Lee chuckled, and I felt myself warm. “I said, have you seen Trent’s new flat? He took me on a tour yesterday.”

            “Oh!” My flush deepened. I was in the same clothes I’d been wearing yesterday when he got past Hodin’s warded door, clean, if a little wrinkled. Trent, too. Lee must have noticed. “Yes. Last night. It’s going to be amazing.”

            Lee lifted his drink, drained it, then set the small cup on the bar with a click. “If you ask me, he’s overcompensating for something.”

            Trent chuckled, drawing me closer. “As a matter of fact, I am trying to outdo my almost-wife’s skill at upper-class snobbery.”

            The conversation was going in a dangerous direction, and smiling at them both, I looped my free arm in Lee’s and moved to stand between them. It felt as if I’d been there a long time. “Shall we sample Cincy’s brewhouses?”

            “Lead on,” Lee said, and we stepped out as one. I glanced behind us once to spot Lee’s security, but it seemed as if he didn’t have any. Nevertheless, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching us.

            “You have to try one of these, Lee,” Trent said, angling us to a busy vendor. “These are the people who are doing the Halloween cookies for the party. I’m glad you decided to come this year. It’s the last at the estate, and we have an amazing lineup of entertainment.”

            I tuned them out, my initial scrutiny of the friendly, talkative people behind the counter lifting to the rest of the room. I was sensing tension at the outskirts that couldn’t all be blamed on Trent’s unexpected presence. As Jenks had said, there seemed to be a lot of Weres leaning against the walls, holding empty tasting cups.

            It was too tight in here, and I jumped when Jenks practically fell out of the air to hover in front of me. “Whoa, Jenks!” I exclaimed, but my surprise shifted to worry at the sickly green dust spilling from him. “You okay?”

            “The attic isn’t heated,” he muttered, clearly cold, and I shifted my hair so he could land on my shoulder instead of my big hoop earring. Icy wings pressed my neck, and I heard him sigh as he began to warm up. “It’s also empty, but this place is so packed it would take an entire garden of pixies to patrol it.”