Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            But there was no sparkle of pixy dust or rasping of wings, and David wasn’t cooperative, brow furrowed as Walter finally got control of Cassie. Her hits were beginning to take their toll, though, and David made a satisfied sound when she broke free again.

            Walter had clearly had enough. He wiped his bleeding face as he cut his losses and began stalking away. Cassie, though, wasn’t done, and howling in anger, the tiny woman ran at him, jumping on his back and gouging his eyes. His expression murderously angry, Walter tried to pluck Cassie off, failing. Maybe if she hadn’t lied to me, I might have felt inclined to do something.

            “Oh, thank God,” David rasped, and I stiffened. “Doyle is here.”

            My gaze lifted, and I fought with the twin feelings of relief and annoyance as I.S. agents swarmed in, some from the upper balcony, but others from who knew where, shouting and waving red-sheened flashlights that didn’t ruin their night vision. But seeing as everyone except Walter had fled, the I.S. agents were yelling mostly at Ivy and Glenn, both of them now with their hands high and unmoving.

            Snarling, Walter slammed his back against a machine to dislodge Cassie. The tenacious woman lost her grip and fell, gasping for air. Free, Walter ran for the darkness.

            “Stabils!” I shouted, funneling the line energy through my free hand. Breath held, I watched the curse fly, my smile of victory quirking my lips.

            Until Cassie flung herself at him again, snagging his heel and bringing Walter down.

            “Damn it, Cassie!” I yelled as my curse went spinning into the darkness.

            Walter stared at me from the cold floor, then kicked at Cassie until she let go.

            “No-o-o-o!” Cassie howled, furious as he scrambled up and was gone.

            I knew how she felt, and after easing David to the floor, I found my splat gun and slipped it into my bag before the I.S. confiscated it as spoils of war. “Jenks!” I called, then stared into the darkness. Unless Walter’s magic user had sprung for a scent charm, Jenks could identify his species by smell. “David, do you know who that spell caster was?”

            “No.” Head down, David held his ribs. “Everyone called him the mage.”

            That was no help at all. I jumped at a soul-shaking thump, and the basement was flooded with an eerie amber glow that slowly brightened as the bulbs warmed.

            “Top to bottom!” Doyle shouted from the center of the room. “Hey! Did we bring a witch? We need a general finding charm.”

            “Please tell me you have a pain amulet,” David whispered. “My head is exploding.” His gaze was on Cassie slumped against a machine. The small woman looked as if she’d been through a wringer, scraped and holding her ribs, a panicked expression on her narrow face. Clearly she was worried about David, and I watched her lips move as she answered the I.S. agent detaining her.

            “Yeah. Hang on a sec,” I said as I swung my shoulder bag around and opened it up. “Was Cassie present when they broke the curse?” I asked, fingers tingling as I drew it out. “If she heard the invocation and we got that ring, I might be able to uncurse her security.” It wasn’t the cure for Brad’s curse, but it might buy me a few days to produce it.

            David fumbled for the small wooden disk as I held it out, sighing in relief when his fingers clamped about the amulet. “I don’t know. You’ll have to talk to her,” he said pointedly.

            Great. I glanced over my shoulder as Doyle laughed. The large man was with Ivy and Glenn, watching as his men dragged Brad from the shadows. The confused vampire was trying to fight them off even with his broken wrist. Pike was right behind them, clearly angry as he tried to explain that Brad had no functioning memory from moment to moment and that they needed to stop scaring him.

            But it was the faint glow of pixy dust slipping from Ivy’s shoulder that I was truly searching for, and I made a sharp whistle. Immediately Jenks rose, his amber-green dust billowing about Ivy for a moment before he darted my way.

            “Can you walk?” I asked, and David took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving Cassie.

            “I’ll try,” he said, and I tucked my shoulder under his to help him stand.

            “Slow it is,” I said as we started, but immediately my gut tightened in worry; he couldn’t put any weight on his right foot. Walter was a sadist, but this was probably Parker’s work.