Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            Trent’s breath seemed to catch. “Why? What have you heard?”

            But my words stayed unsaid as Jenks darted in, a bright red dust spilling from him. “Rache!” the pixy sputtered, clearly angry. “I told him he can’t stay, but he won’t leave.”

            Alarm tightened my gut. “Who?”

            “Al,” Jenks practically snarled, and my worry turned to confusion. “That Tink-blasted troll gigolo of a moss wipe parked his van between the Davaros plot and Pierce’s pylon.”

            “This is a joke, right?” I said as Trent and I peered out the window. Sure enough, Al’s huge, brightly colored wooden van was there amid the dead grass and tombstones, a dark figure moving about in the moonlight as if settling in. “What the devil?” I whispered.

            Trent made a soft, regretful sound. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked to use his kitchen again.”

            “This is not happening.” Grabbing a handful of chocolate, I headed for the porch, skidding to halt when I realized Trent wasn’t with me. “Aren’t you coming?”

            Trent shrugged, appearing unusually helpless. “I . . . I tried,” he said. “He . . .”

            “You need to fix this,” I demanded, and he cringed, wincing when Jenks made a rude snort. “Chicken,” I added as I pushed onto the porch and stomped down the stairs.

            It was cold, and I focused on Jenks as he flew along beside me. “I told him he couldn’t stay,” the pixy said. “He laughed at me. Rache, I can’t make him leave. He’s a demon!”

            “I can.” But I wasn’t sure how, and my pace slowed as I stepped over the low wall and into the graveyard. Al must have known I was there, but he didn’t even glance up from arranging his rock ring as I closed the distance. He had dropped his van next to Pierce’s tombstone, right where the ley line ran. The van was potentially here or in the ever-after at will. And if I had my way, it wouldn’t be here.

            “What are you doing?” I said as I halted before him.

            Al pushed back onto his heels from where he was kneeling on the cold, matted-grass earth, his red eyes glinting in the faint moonlight. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, then rose to his feet to dust his dark slacks and vest clean. “I’m renting the graveyard from your pixy. Your fairies are in Mexico, and Jenks can’t string lines in the snow.”

            Jenks rasped his wings in frustration. “I never said that,” he blurted. “Rache, I never said he could move in. The graveyard isn’t zoned for an RV. I gots standards!”

            I raised a hand for patience, then took a slow breath. “Trent doesn’t want to be in the ever-after any more than you want him there,” I said, and Al made a rude sound. “Give him a few more days. You can’t stay here.”

            “I have given him a week.” Lip curled, Al leaned against Pierce’s stone. With a sudden snap, the tall, cracked stone broke to send two shards to the blasphemed earth. “This is a paranormal shelter, is it not?” he said as he shoved one toward the fire with his foot. “I am sheltering.”

            Not believing this, I gestured to the sky. “From who?”

            Al gave Pierce’s gravestone a second nudge into place. He was going to use it as a fireside seat. “From your elf,” he said. “He is driving me crazy. Him and those sweet, charming, noisy girls of his. Up at the crack of dawn. As long as he is there, I am here.”

            “See?” Jenks said, then he spun to the church, his dust going thin. “Someone is at the front door.”

            “It’s trick-or-treaters,” I said, but Jenks had risen straight up to check. “Al.” I turned to see him hunched before the fire pit. I had no idea what he thought he was going to burn. They had firewood at Home Depot, didn’t they?

            “It’s the coven,” Al said, and a pang of angst raced through me.

            “On Halloween?” Nervous, I handed him all but one of the candies.

            Jenks dropped down, his dust a pale hint. “Rache, it’s Elyse.”

            “Told you.” Beaming, Al unwrapped a chocolate and bit it in two. “Mmmm, cheap chocolate. Nothing better. Would you like me to come in? Smile at her, perhaps?”