Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            His dust brightened as I turned the conversation to something less . . . Getty. “Yeah, Trent told me,” he said. “Sticky apple juice and wasps. I’m in. What time?”

            “Early,” I said with a sigh. “I’m picking them up at Junior’s about eight thirty. It’s supposed to be sunny, but I’ll put a heat block in my purse. Any issues last night?”

            “No,” he said, touching the hilt of his garden sword, ever on his hip. “Not with the Were scouts that Cassie put at six points around the church.”

            “Excuse me?” I blurted, and the pixy’s angular features eased into a laugh.

            “Yeah, but they’re like two blocks off because she knew you’d be ticked.”

            “Why? Walter is after David, not me.” But as soon as I said it, I scrunched deeper into the cushions in a sudden doubt. I can’t fight her and Hue’s influence both. . . . The magic user’s words resonated in my memory, and it was true. I protected David’s position, and he protected mine. With one of us gone, the other was vulnerable. My subrosa position was a true balancing act, and I wasn’t good at being political.

            “Cassie knows you can take care of yourself,” Jenks said. “But David counts you as one of his pack, the most vulnerable because you insist on being a loner.”

            “I’m a demon,” I reminded him, eyebrows high.

            “One who has to stand in a ley line to get to the ever-after,” he practically snarked.

            I set the open book down, my hand going to touch the back of my neck where my pack tattoo had once been. Grimacing, I curved my fingers into a fist. Last night hadn’t done much for my confidence. “Are they still there?”

            Jenks nodded. “Last I looked.”

            My feet hit the floor, and I stood as my free morning vanished. Cassie wasn’t the only one who felt responsible for the pack. “Would you do me a favor and ask them to come in? I’m going to make them pancakes before I send them home.” Pancakes. Pick up some blank finding amulets. Visit Cassie and David at the hospital. Prime the amulets. Find Walter. Kick his ass. Sing happy birthday to Trent. Not all necessarily in that order.

            “Sure.” Jenks rose up on a column of sparkles. “Save me some syrup. I’m going to need it to convince Getty we need to put the hollyhocks somewhere else. The woman has no idea how the sun changes from spring to summer to fall.”

            “She’s never had a garden,” I reminded him, and nodding, Jenks flew out and up.

            “Weres,” I mused fondly as I went into the kitchen, taking the time to open all the windows so the fresh, crisp air moved through the room as if I was cooking outside. Six Weres would eat about two full batches, and I went to get the flour out of the pantry. The stack of books that Trent and I had perused last night to find something to balance David’s chakras had been shuffled about, and I wondered if it had been Stef. The smart woman was bored out of her mind as she hunted for work, filling her days by studying for her witch exam. For real this time.

            “Salt, soda, buttermilk. Do I have buttermilk?” I wondered aloud as I moved competently about the kitchen. The contractor who had rebuilt the back had put in enough burners and ovens to feed a small army, the likes of which I wouldn’t have normally sprung for except that we had been feeding a small army at the time. The church was a designated paranormal shelter, and I hadn’t had a chance to use all the toys yet.

            The griddle went down over the burners with a clang, and I turned at a scuff in the doorway. It was Stef, her cotton robe rumpled and her hazel eyes blinking sleep from her.

            “Hi,” she said as she shuffled to the coffee maker, her hands outstretched as if she was a zombie out for brains. “I thought I heard the shower. You’re up early.”

            “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you,” I said as she poured herself a mug and leaned against the counter, deathly still until she downed her first gulp. “Ah, I’ve got a half dozen hungry Weres coming over for pancakes. You want some?”

            The curvaceous woman glanced up over her mug, smiling. “Pancakes, no. Weres?” Her grin became randy. “Maybe. Can I help?”

            “Nah, I got it.”

            The griddle was beginning to warm, and I set my biggest cooking bowl on the counter. But my lips parted in disgust as I looked inside it. Mouse droppings.