Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            A win-win, I thought, wincing as I held my bruised paw high. It took me a moment, but I awkwardly figured out the three-legged-dog walk as I went to the girls. Rising up, I put my face on the counter to reassure them that I was okay.

            “Aunt Rachel?” Lucy warbled, and I nosed her fingers when Mark set her on the counter.

            “It’s okay, short stack,” Jenks said as he alighted on the bananas. “Your aunt Rachel got ’em.”

            It was embarrassing, but I stood with one paw on the counter and wagged my tail. No wonder Ray was still pale. There had been snapping and barking and biting, and in a sudden need to reassure them, I dropped down. I needed my clothes, my voice, and a couple of arms to tell the girls that everything was okay.

            Non sum quails eram, I thought once I had my jeans and shirt, and with a tweak on my thoughts and a flash of pain in my gut, I was sitting on the coffee shop floor—utterly naked.

            “Aunt Rachel!” Ray cried out, as if only now sure it was me.

            “Hi, sweet pea.” Jeans held to my chest, I smiled up at her. Fortunately, unlike witch transformation spells, demon curses reset everything, and my crushed hand was again whole. Mark had averted his gaze, but as Jenks snickered, I snatched up my camisole.

            “Aunt Rachel, you’re naked,” Lucy said, and I felt myself warm. A crowd was growing outside. I had no idea where the rest of my clothes were, but relief filled me when I found the ring where I’d left it in my jeans pocket.

            “Um, are you okay?” Mark asked, his neck red as he sat both girls on the counter.

            “Yes, thanks,” I said as I held my clothes to myself.

            And then I stiffened when I felt a pull on the ley lines.

            “Where are my godchildren!” a cringeworthy, familiar voice boomed, and I spun to the jump-in/out circle Mark kept roped off. It was to give demons a safe place to arrive and depart, and I slumped when I saw Al standing there in black pants and a long-sleeved shirt, an exquisitely embroidered vest flashing with metallic silk.

            How? I wondered, but then my hope died when he tucked an amulet into his inner vest pocket, an embarrassed press to his lips. He’d bought a jump from someone. Dali, probably.

            “Streaker Saturday isn’t until tomorrow, love,” Al said, eyeing my hairy legs and bony feet from over his blue-smoked glasses. “You’re a day early.”

            “Hi, Al,” I said sourly, awkwardly leaning to drag a sock closer. He’d seen down to the bottom of my soul countless times, but it was still uncomfortable.

            “Uncle Al?” Ray warbled, and his attention snapped to the girls.

            “Excuse me,” I muttered, head high as I stood and pushed past the demon to find a sliver of privacy in the storeroom. I could hear people talking in the parking lot, and my face warmed. Underwear is optional, right? I thought as I tugged my jeans on. I was going to be rocking the orangutan look all morning. Yuck . . .

            “Why did you Were? Did you singe yourself trying to get into Hodin’s room?” Al asked, and I looked up from zipping my pants to see him holding both girls. Jenks sat above him on a broken light fixture, Parker’s NMZ amulet beside him.

            “No,” I said, my voice muffled as I pulled my camisole on. “Parker was after the ring or me dead, or both. The mage gave her an NMZ. You don’t happen to have a Nair curse, do you?”

            Al grinned like a fool, a girl on each hip. “I have always appreciated the natural look.”

            “TMI, Al.” I could stop at a spell shop on the way. It would take like five minutes.

            “Rache.” Jenks dropped down from the fixture to leave the NMZ amulet where it was. “Your phone is ringing. Want me to get it?”

            “Please,” I said, wondering how long it would take before the videos hit the internet.

            “I got it,” Mark said, his head down over my bag now on the counter. Jenks hovered over his shoulder as he found my phone and hit the connect icon. “Rachel’s phone,” Mark said in a professional voice, then added, “She’s nearly dressed. Hang on.”

            “Really?” I said as I padded barefoot out of the storeroom. “Nearly dressed?”