Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            That worried feeling in my gut began to grow stronger. “Come on, Al,” I coaxed. “You can put up with us for a few days. It’s the weekend.”

            Trent was stripping off his shirt, eagerly taking the packaged shower-in-a-bag that Quen handed him. “Tal Sa’han?” Quen said, somewhat snarky as he extended one to me as well, and I shook my head.

            “I’ll wait to get back to the church.”

            “That would be ill-advised,” Quen said, and Trent’s motions hesitated, his damp, bare chest gleaming in the firelight.

            “Oh no,” I whispered. “Did they burn it down? Did Lee burn down my church?”

            “The church is fine.” Quen’s expression was a severe nothing, and yet my worry tightened. “Your assets have been frozen, Sa’han, pending the results of an I.S. investigation into your genetic endeavors and, ah, Brimstone trade. The investigation into accusations of practicing illicit magic are a deeper concern.”

            Trent set the cloth aside, shuffled into a new shirt, and unzipped his pants as he moved to the shadow of the wagon. “Lee will drop the accusations. It will pass.”

            “Not this time, Sa’han.” Quen frowned at me as if it was my fault. “Rachel, you have been implicated as well. I hope you brought more than your books, because the church has been impounded.”

            From the creek, Al chuckled. “If they are the right books, that’s all she needs.”

            “Finnis is en route to Cincinnati,” Quen said, and I jerked.

            “Wait. What?” I interrupted. The undead vampire had already tried to take Cincinnati once. “Why?”

            Quen opened a second shower bag and handed the thick cloth to Trent. “Possibly as early as tonight. His people have taken possession of Piscary’s. With Finnis in charge of the I.S., I will not be able to quash the investigations no matter how much money we throw at it.” Quen became tight-lipped, still staring at me as if it was all my fault. It isn’t, is it?

            “Please tell me Constance is still a mouse,” I said, and from behind the wagon, I heard a zipper go up.

            “I have not heard either way,” Quen said. “Word on the street says Ivy, Nina, and Pike have made it to a safe harbor thanks to Piscary’s children. It’s unraveling, Tal Sa’han.”

            He had said the last with a bitter accusation, and I felt myself cringe. Tal Sa’han, as in most trusted advisor to Trent. And look where that got Trent. “David? Cassie?” I asked as Trent came from the shadow, his hair spiky and sticking up from a probable towel rub.

            Quen began unhitching Tulpa. “Hiding. The streets are surprisingly quiet. Everyone is waiting to see what you will do.”

            “As are we all, itchy witch,” Al said, then congratulated Ray for having set her floating leaf on fire.

            “But Vivian,” I said, at a loss. “She had Lee pinned down. She will fix this. Make it right. There is no way that Lee can best her, even if he used demon magic.”

            Quen stood before me, Tulpa’s harness in hand. “Vivian is dead. Lee tricked her into making a second chakra ring last night. You’re wanted for her murder.”

            Wait. What? Stunned, I turned to Trent, but he seemed as shocked as I was. “No, you’re wrong,” I said. “I don’t know who Lee tricked into making that ring, but it wasn’t Vivian. I texted her this afternoon. She texted me back. I saw her not more than a few hours ago.”

            But Quen shook his head, his gaze on Tulpa as the horse eagerly ambled into the dark to graze. “If she texted you, it was probably Lee. I’m sorry. I know she was a friend. Jenks says Getty witnessed the entire thing. Tried to stop it. Lee told Vivian that you wanted to meet her at the church last night to show her everything. When you weren’t there, he set the curse up and convinced her the only way to know if it was illicit or not was to do it. All he had to do was get Vivian to stand in the right spot and say the invocation phrase. It’s unfortunate that Getty’s statements are inadmissible in court.”

            “But I saw her,” I said, not believing this. “So did Lee.”

            And he had been terrified. As if seeing a ghost.

            I felt sick, and I sat down hard on the low stone before the fire. Jenks had tried to tell me, but I had been in too much of a hurry to listen. “I saw her,” I whispered. “She said . . .” My words faltered, and I looked at the chakra rings on my finger, my hand shaking as I recalled the fiery sensation cramping my gut when I had touched the pentagram. Had Vivian died there, leaving enough of an imprint in the fabric of time and space that she had lingered? My God. Had she become a ghost to warn me? She had been covered in mystics, almost floating over the floor. And how would she know what Jasmine had said if she hadn’t talked to her? Jasmine is a ghost?