Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Ron is waiting for you,” Pike said, his voice throaty. “And Jessica. And if you’re still hungry after that, Abbie and Chuck.”

            “Four?” Constance made a rude scoff. “You misjudge me, Welroe. Acquire a fifth.”

            “Can you find your way out?” Ivy said, her own eyes edging toward a dangerous black. “Sundown isn’t for a few hours, but Finnis won’t be able to fly until then. If we’re lucky, we can ground his plane before it leaves DC.”

            David pushed from the wall, his stance tight with tension. “I have a car. Ivy, my people will be looking out for you. They’ll get you where you need to go, but I’d stick to the surface streets. The expressway has too few outs.”

            She nodded, but her hands were shaking. “Go. None of you can stay here.”

            David immediately went to the door. Trent and Quen were quick behind him, Jenks’s wings a tight hum in the tense air. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked Ivy, and she glanced at Constance sitting in one of the rickety chairs as if it was a throne. “Did we make a mistake?”

            “No, but you need to leave. We’ll take care of Finnis. You finish off Lee.”

            “Morgan, we are moving!” Quen exclaimed from the tunnel, and I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. I wouldn’t give her a hug with her eyes that black.

            “Gotta go,” I said, walking backward. “So, where is Lee?” I asked, and Quen exhaled loudly, clearly glad when I shut the door and it cycled to locked from the inside.

            “Hiding in some back office,” Quen said. “But come sundown, he’ll be at Fountain Square to help close the circle and curse all demons to remain in the ever-after. You want to grab something to eat in the meantime?”

            Trent took my hand, and my worry eased as his strength tingled against mine.

            “Food sounds good,” I said, my stomach rumbling.





CHAPTER


            29

            Jenks dusted a contented gold as he sat on the rearview mirror and cleaned a spot of ketchup from one of his wings as we made our way to Fountain Square. Dinner had been fries and paper-wrapped burgers out of brown bags, the five of us sprawled on a sagging queen-size bed as we watched the local news on bad cable. Trent had sulked at the delay, but I was firmly of the opinion that full bellies and informed decisions would serve us better than driving all over Cincy to find Lee. Especially when we only had to wait for sundown for him to show. Trent’s mood could have been because there hadn’t been enough ketchup for his fries, though.

            Even better, I had taken a long, hot shower, rinsing the scent of damp cement and woodsmoke from me before slipping into the same worn jeans and sweater. The hotel shampoo hadn’t come close to taming my hair, but Jenks and David had gone out for some hair charms and shoes so I wouldn’t have to kick coven ass in a second-rate braid and soggy slippers. David, I wasn’t surprised, had very good taste in footwear, and I tapped my new ankle-high, stylish boot against the car’s door to release some tension.

            My focus blurred on the passing city as I slumped deeper into the cab’s stiff cushions and curled a strand of clean hair around a finger, wishing I had my bag and my splat gun. The front windows were cracked open, but not enough, and I gave Trent’s knee a squeeze. The sun still had yet to slip below the horizon, and the reflected light made the clouds pink and blue. Bis would join us after sundown to bring our number to six.

            Five too many, I thought, worried. Everyone but Jenks was stressed, and there was more than a hint of excited Were and the familiar tang of snickerdoodles and good wine. Quen was up front with David, giving us three magic users, a Were, a pixy, and an adolescent gargoyle against the entire coven—now supported by who knew how many of Cincy’s resident witches after Lee’s afternoon of propaganda. Witches were the largest minority demographic, and whereas they tended to keep a low profile, getting them riled enough to curse the demons into exile wouldn’t be difficult if the coven was behind it. Spelling with the coven of moral and ethical standards was on everyone’s bucket list.

            The streets had been suspiciously clear at the city outskirts where we had spent the afternoon, but here, downtown, it was curb-to-corner cars and excited people. With only a few blocks left to go, getting out and walking was an option, but it felt dangerous even with the fading light. Overly casual I.S. agents and bright-eyed vigilantes were on every corner. Trent and I were both wanted, and though we could handle ourselves, there was a time issue. Magical fights were often fast but seldom discreet.