Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “We’ll play it tight, then,” I said, my tension rising when I realized Lee was watching us, his wallet open as he bought a bag of cookies.

            “Hi, Jenks,” the witch said cautiously. “I didn’t know you were here.”

            “That means I’m doing my job,” Jenks said as he hummed into the air. “Excuse me. I’m going to go sit on a lamp. Let me know before you leave, and I’ll sweep the stairs.”

            “Thanks, Jenks,” I said, and then he darted away.

            “You’re going to share those, right?” Trent said as Lee opened the cookie bag, took one out, and rolled it back down again.

            “Wasn’t planning on it,” Lee said, and when Trent huffed, Lee’s thin lips curved up into a smile as he extended the bag to me. “Rachel?” Lee offered, and I took one, giving half to Trent when Lee predictably did not offer it to Trent in turn.

            “Always ganging up on me,” Lee said with a sigh, and I laughed.

            “Only when you were trying to make my and Jamie’s life hell.”

            “Jamie?” Lee’s brow furrowed, and Trent looked up from the tea vendor. “Oh, Jasmine!”

            “That’s her name,” I said, embarrassed. “I can never remember it when I want to.”

            Lee’s head bobbed. “Whatever happened to her, anyway?”

            “I don’t know,” Trent said, his face sort of empty. “My father’s records are often full of gaps.”

            That she’d died seemed more than likely, and Lee’s lip twitched before he forced a smile. “So, Rachel. I saw you on the news. I guess the countercurse you found worked.”

            I practically choked on the cookie, eyes watering as I took the little tasting cup of coffee that Trent shoved at me. Lavender? Who puts lavender in their coffee? Yuck!

            “Yes. Vivian wants to see everything, and then I’m giving the ring to Al,” I said, not wanting to tell him the ring was in my pocket. I wasn’t sure why, other than that misdirection was better than any protection curse invented.

            Lee’s eyebrows rose. “Not the book, too? Or are you giving that to Trent? It is elven.”

            “It’s also not my book.” Trent’s hand found mine, and we started in a slow amble down the center of the aisle. “Besides, who is going to steal from Cincinnati’s resident demon?”

            I grinned. “That would be me.”

            “I suppose,” Lee said, chuckling. “Sooo, you’re keeping the book?”

            “I’ll probably give it to Al, too. For safekeeping.” I looked past Trent at Lee, wondering what his game was. “You saw what it takes to twist. That thing is elven nasty and has no place this side of the ley lines. What, you think I’m going to save it to give to my children?”

            “Elven nasty?” Trent questioned.

            “You know what I mean,” I said, then halted, surprised at Lee’s empty expression.

            “Would you excuse me,” Lee said distantly. “Too much coffee.”

            Trent nodded, his eyes holding sympathy. “Want me to hold your bag?”

            Lee hesitated, then handed it over. “I’ll be right back.”

            “Take your time,” Trent said, and Lee took two toe-to-heel steps before turning and striding to the far end of the hall. His posture was hunched as he vanished around the floor-to-ceiling partition that separated the ballroom from the small rear lobby that serviced the restrooms—and then he was gone.

            “That was weird,” I said, seeing as his departure had been rather abrupt, and then I winced, getting it. His daughter. He had no one to pass his legacy on to and probably never would. “Oh, man. I suck,” I said softly.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Trent said. “You want to do some shopping?” he suggested, but I was focused on two plainclothes pushing their way through the ballroom. Their faces were grim, and I stiffened when they stepped around the partition. Lee was back there.