Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “It’s Lee,” Jenks said as he returned, his dust dull from the cold. The wind coming up from the river ripped away any heat that the streets might have held. This was not a good situation, but as I took a breath to say something, the pixy practically exploded. “God, woman!” he yelled, hands on his hips and dusting red. “I’ll find a light!”

            “Wait, Jenks?” I said as he darted off, and he came back, clearly frustrated. “Will you do something for me?” I asked, knowing he would risk his life if I didn’t get him to leave. “Will you find Doyle? He’s got to be out here. You own the church. You can request that he take a scraping of that wax pentagram. I want it tested against Lee’s aura on file.”

            Jenks’s angular face tightened. “You’re getting rid of me,” he muttered.

            “Bet your lily-white ass I am. Will you do it?”

            Hand on his sword hilt, Jenks scowled at Trent. “Keep her alive.”

            Trent lifted our laced fingers, and I stifled a shiver when our internal energy balances equalized. “With my last breath,” he said, and Jenks darted up, his dust an angry red.

            “Last breath?” I leaned to put my lips to his ear. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

            “He’s not happy,” Trent said as he tugged me protectively closer.

            “True, but he’ll be alive tomorrow.” Trent’s grip tightened as I went up on my toes, using him for balance as I tried to get a better view of the stage. Lee stood quietly beside the woman with the bullhorn. His coven regalia was impressive, the black robes fluttering about his ankles and a ribbon embroidered with a Möbius strip whipping about his neck. Four more people had taken to the stage, all dressed as he was. Brow furrowed, I dropped to my heels. The entire coven was here—well, apart from Vivian—and they were children.

            “Trent . . .” I said, worried, and then I stumbled, jostled by the crowd. Most coven members were born to the position, trained by their predecessors from an early age. I’d thought it odd that Vivian had asked Lee to be a coven member, but clearly the last few years of dealing with me, the demons, and Ku’Sox had taken their toll, and the members in waiting had been forced to step into vacant shoes—far too soon.

            Quen immediately stiff-armed the guy who’d knocked into me, staring at him until the man retreated, cowed by Quen’s toothy aggression. “They have yet to organize a circle,” Quen said, gesturing for us to put our backs against a large planter.

            “They will soon. The sun is almost down,” Trent said, but I wondered if that made any difference. It felt as if it might already be too late. The I.S. was at the outskirts, simply waiting. As soon as Finnis took control, they’d move. We had hours, maybe, and an entire city to convince I was not responsible for Vivian’s death.

            David’s focus was on the crowd as he lifted a hand to acknowledge someone. “You got this?” he asked. “I’m no good in a magic fight, but I can prep for a sudden mass exodus.”

            “Thank you. Go,” I said, and he gave me a quirky smile before striding off, two heavily tattooed men in torn jeans and Howler caps quickly converging on him. That fast, David was gone. Three still feels like too many. “You want to help him?” I offered to Quen, and the older elf grunted, amused I’d even asked. Trent’s eyes, too, had a decidedly mischievous slant.

            With one lurching step, Trent gracefully stepped up onto the planter, turning to extend a hand so I could join him. Torn, I took it, ignoring Quen’s pained expression as we were suddenly taller than anyone else.

            “Sa’han,” Quen coaxed. Yes, we were now obvious targets, but at least we could see the entirety of the large plaza. The tables and chairs had been stacked to the side, and the food wagons were gone apart from Good Grounds. Three news vans had set up beside the stage, and the fountain was off. Every now and then, some smart-ass would climb onto it to get a better view, falling into the crowd with a yelp and singed synapses from the fountain’s built-in security.

            There were too many people to see the huge inlaid circle, but as soon as Lee got everyone organized, it would be defined by the people themselves. It was large enough to need several well-versed practitioners to close, but any witch or elf who cared to participate in cursing the demons could partake as long as they were nearby. As much as I wished it was otherwise, there were too many people still afraid of demons.

            Perhaps they’re right, I mused, overwhelmed by the noise. My adopted kin hadn’t exactly been toeing the line since regaining the ability to come and go within reality at will.