Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            Shit. It was a Möbius strip—it was a dull copper instead of the bright, sparkling silver that Vivian wore, but it was still a Möbius strip, the emblem of the coven of moral and ethical standards.

            “I’m the coven’s new plumber,” he said, and my gut twisted. “Seems after finding out witches were stunted demons, they wanted one in their club.”

            “N-no . . .” I stammered, cold as I remembered seeing him and Vivian at the spell shop and the directive tone she had with him. It was true. He was coven.

            “Now you understand,” Lee said, his low voice almost gleeful. “And as coven, what I say counts more than what you can twist to your advantage. Better yet, I can do whatever I need to bring you in. The coven has wanted you dead for a long time. I bring you in, and I’m set for life.”

            Suddenly plan B had a new appeal. Lee was allowed to do illicit magic to uphold the law. He would frame me with the ease of erasing one answer and scratching in a new one. There’d never be an analysis done on the magic etched into my floorboards. No one questioned the coven. Lee would be listened to, believed. And with me in Alcatraz and Trent fighting whatever claims were made against him, Lee would champion Trent’s legal woes, leaving Trent a pauper and everyone who trusted me in the lurch. I’d had one shot with Vivian, and I blew it because I was afraid to trust her.

            Well, no more, I thought, my resolve strengthening. “Yeah, okay,” I said, and his expression hesitated, surprised at my reaction. “But I let you beat me the last time we fought.”

            Face twisting, Lee shouted a word of Latin and threw a spell. I deflected it with a word, and it went spinning into a corner. “You did not let me win!” he said, his cheeks reddening. “I beat you to a sniveling pulp. Left you crying over your dead father!”

            “Sure, I cried,” I admitted, chin high. “But I let you beat me. I didn’t want to be Al’s familiar, and why would he take me, a sorry-ass milksop crying over her dad, when he could have you? Big, strong, powerful witch with demon blood. How did that go, anyway?”

            Furious, Lee lobbed three spells at me. Moving like a dancer, I evaded the first, blocked the second, and then caught the third, holding it hissing in my grip as my aura slowly absorbed his, making the curse mine. The books in my bag seemed to glow, and I took strength in it.

            Suddenly unsure, Lee retreated a step.

            “You might have fooled everyone, Stinklee,” I mocked, using the insulting moniker Jasmine had saddled him with. “You might have the law in your pocket and Trent scrambling. But you forget one thing.”

            Lee traced a circle with his toe, rightfully concerned I was going to throw his own magic at him. “What’s that?”

            I tossed his spell from hand to hand, hearing it sizzle, watching it shift as it left my aura and then returned. “I’m not just a witch with demon blood. I fought them. I bargained with them. I flew on the hunt with them, watched them destroy their deranged son, Ku’Sox. I caught the demon Hodin, who sold them out to the elves. You think a witch can do that? I am a demon, Lee, the only one welcome on both sides of the ley lines, and I’m going to prove you twisted that curse. It will be you in Alcatraz, not me.” Smirking, I absorbed the spell in my hand, stifling a shudder as the foul thing untwisted in me and raced back to the ley lines as pure energy. “Now, if you will excuse me.” I picked up the books he had left on Kisten’s pool table and put them in with the rest. I could replace everything that had been in my bug-out bag with a quick stop. “I have to find Trent. He owes me a coffee.”

            “Good luck with that.”

            Lee’s words brought me up short. He was smiling bitterly.

            Ice dropped through me. Lee knew where he was. And he wasn’t going to tell me. I glanced at my ring, pulse hammering. The pearl was white. And yet . . .

            Anger flooded me. Ticked, I dropped my book-heavy bag on the table with a thump. Lee’s confident expression faltered, then vanished when I pulled on the ley line, inhaling power as if it was a drug. “Where is he?”

            “He wanted to be somewhere safe, so I put him where no one will find him. It’s cold up there this time of year, though. Rains a lot. He’s going to—”

            I’d had enough. “Voulden!” I shouted, throwing the curse at him. It hit Lee’s fast-implemented protection circle, popping and hissing before it spent itself.