Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Not without killing someone,” I said sourly. “It’s failed ancient-elven war research, twisted on a Möbius strip.” I sighed at the bad blood between the elves and demons. “I’m hoping if I can get into Hodin’s room, I might find out how to invoke the cure half.”

            Jenks smirked. “Hence you not spending the night at Trent’s.” His back was to Getty, but his wings were an odd color, and I knew he was dying to take a closer look at her paper cutout.

            “Hence me not spending the night at Trent’s,” I agreed, tired. Behind Jenks, Getty held up a six-inch-long ribbon of black paper. She’d painted silver lines on it to mimic pinstripes, and I hoped Jenks would wear it at least once. I wanted to see this.

            “And Trent is still cool with you taking the girls tomorrow?” Jenks asked. “You saw how hot that mage was to get the ring back, right?”

            “He’s fine with it,” I said, nervous now for an entirely new reason. “Hey, ah, don’t let me forget to make a reservation for the pony rides. They don’t take them early. I have to do it when they open.”

            “Pony rides. Got it.”

            My attention went to a tiny movement at the top of the hall leading to the kitchen. It was Constance, her little furry ass on the old wood floor and her tail arched beautifully over her back. A diamond ring hung around her throat like a necklace, and her ears glittered with tiny studs. The scarf that Getty had given her was draped over her narrow shoulders like a shawl to make her look like a character from a children’s book. “Who pierced your ears?” I said, and Jenks spun, darting up in surprise.

            “You!” he shouted, his hand going to the hilt of his garden sword. “I have a right to know where you have been parking your dead carcass. It’s my property. You’re in the garden, right?”

            Constance’s black eyes went darker yet, the vampiric mouse bristling as she started in with a squeaking harangue, wobbling on two hind feet as she came forward.

            “Pearls. Right.” I stood, and Jenks’s dust went a hot red. “Wait here. I’ll get them.”

            The little mouse pulled up short, looking vulnerable as she sat on her haunches in the middle of the sanctuary. Her squeaking ended with a tiny chirp of a huff, and her little white paws tugged her new scarf back up her almost nonexistent shoulders.

            “It looks great on you,” Getty said. “Very chic.”

            “Squeak, squeak,” Constance said, her pink nose in the air and her fangs catching the light.

            I eyed the mouse, then the ring on the table. With a casual slowness, I dragged the ring across the smooth slate and dropped it into my pocket again. “Be right back.” I inched out past the low table, careful to move slow and not bump anything. I knew what it was like to be that small, and it wasn’t very fun. Which begged the question as to why she was still a mouse in my garden. I had been careful, but it wasn’t that hard to find a vat of salt water. She doesn’t actually like it here, does she?

            I headed for the foyer, surprised when Getty was suddenly in front of me, flying backward as I’d seen Jenks do. “Can I talk to you?” she said, her tiny features pinched, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that the mouse had crept closer to the low table and was looking up at Jenks, sharp fangs bared.

            “Sure.” Jenks would be okay. He’d fought full-size vampires before, and I watched the pixy take to the air when Constance climbed to the top of the table. “It’s going to be a great costume, Getty,” I said loudly as we hit the dark foyer. “I can’t wait to see it.”

            “It’s not that.” Getty’s glow lit the handle to the stairway as I reached for it. “I mean, I hope he likes it, but . . .”

            Her words faltered into silence as I went up the stairs to my room and flicked on the light. My blinds were open, and as Getty settled herself on the marble-top dresser, I made the rounds to close them. The antique monstrosity had been here when we’d moved in and was too cumbersome to even think about taking down the narrow stairs. Besides, I needed somewhere to stash my socks.

            “What’s up?” I prompted as I pulled one of the tiny top drawers open and the loose pearls rattled from the back to the front. I’d broken the strand to use one of the pearls to spell Rex into not clawing the furniture. It was no loss to me. The necklace had once belonged to Constance. I wasn’t about to wear it even as spoils of war, seeing as I’d found it draped around Nash’s neck, stained red with his blood in some perverted mental game of hers. That the elf had died protecting Zack still bothered me.