Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            Parker went to the festival to get the ring and kill Lee with it, I thought. And whereas she had clearly gotten the ring, Trent and I had saved him before she could use it. The ring had probably been held by one of her people when she shifted—seeing as she hadn’t used it until her people recovered her in the undead emergency drop-off.

            My breath came and went, and I stared at my pinky ring, the pearl holding a steady white glow. Slowly I put my phone away. Jenks was right. I had to finish this first.

            David edged closer, his lips holding a hard derision as he stared at Parker, daring her to move. “Lee got one thing right. He has to take you both out at the same time. You’re too strong when you’re together.”

            “It’s been that way since you were twelve,” Al said, his gaze fixed on his white gloves.

            At camp, I thought, my focus blurring as I remembered how Trent and Lee’s relationship had changed when I had taken a liking to the bullied but powerful boy Trent had been, balanced even more finely than the rest of us between adolescence and death as his father struggled to repair his shattered genome and draw one more generation from the failing elven population. Lee’s bullying had been subtle from long practice, and Trent, desperate for a friend, overlooked it until I had rubbed it in his face and given him an alternative. What wonders would Trent and I have done already if Trent’s father hadn’t quashed our friendship in his war with the demons?

            “He hates you both,” Parker said, and my wandering thoughts snapped to her. “The mage can’t beat Trent with you in the way, because as strong as our alpha males are, they are nothing without us,” she added bitterly. “You know everything now. Let me go.”

            “You are not going anywhere but the I.S.,” David said, and my worry shifted. Handing Parker over to the I.S. would only give the woman free hospitalization and a chance to recruit people for her next attempt—best case. Worst would have her out in twenty-four hours. We knew what she had done, but all the I.S. had was our word and a really ugly alpha challenge. The I.S. didn’t like me, and they had ignored my findings before.

            Cassie’s grip on David’s arm was white-knuckled. “The I.S. won’t hold her forever, even if they do believe what we tell them. I’m not living my life looking over my shoulder.”

            “Agreed,” I said, and Parker’s jaw clenched. I couldn’t let her walk away. She had only told me the truth to avoid a fate she considered worse than death. As soon as she was able, she’d come in the night and kill what threatened her: me, David, Cassie, Jenks maybe. It was more than that, though. I was the city’s subrosa, and Parker had proven to be a clear and present threat. “I will give you a choice,” I added, refusing to believe that Constance was right in that only by killing could I remain in control. I didn’t have to kill Parker, just take her power. “Forever on four feet, or forever on two.”

            Jenks bobbed up and down in confusion as Parker’s breath rasped in, her remaining eye widening as she saw a way out. “I choose four,” she blurted, and the pixy went ashen.

            “Four,” I agreed, only half-aware of Cassie’s confusion as she whispered to David. My gaze was on Al, my eyebrows high in question, and when he nodded, a chill tightened my gut. I’d have to use a curse from the collective, one that couldn’t be broken by salt water. Lee might be the problem, but Parker was his sword—and I was going to break her.

            “I choose four,” Parker whispered again. Red streaked her face, but there was hope there, and gratitude, maybe. She lived in a world that fought her at every side, and this, though harsh, might be a gift.

            “Al?” I said, reaching out for him, and he put a hand on my shoulder. Eyes closing, I gathered his charred and burnt presence to myself and then dropped both of our thoughts into the demon collective. He’d know where the curse was.

            I jerked, almost flinging myself free as an unexpected pain raked over my mind. Al’s grip on my shoulder spasmed, and I scrambled to claim the pain as my own before he could pull away. It was because of his burnt synapses, the line’s energy trying to flow through blocked and twisted channels. I was feeling his pain, but with both of us taking it, it was halved and tolerable for each of us.

            Al? I thought, hearing his breath shake in his lungs. Some of this is mine. Don’t take it all.

            None of this pain is yours, he thought. A moment, he added, and then, to open the vault, Reserare, Algaliarept.

            My breath sucked in as I felt my mind drop into what had to be the demon’s weapons vault. With the sudden shock akin to finding a missed step, my thoughts expanded, and not in a pleasant way. I cowered beside Al’s pain-racked presence. Whispers of long-dead demons rose to tug at me, luring me to taste their power . . . curses twisted in anger and fear. They demanded my attention when I tried to ignore them, pulling at me when I said no.