Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            Jenks grinned as he sat on Mark’s shoulder. “It’s Glenn.”

            “I hate social media,” I said as I took the phone. Where are my shoes? And yet, even as Mark hustled to the door to put up the closed sign before the first of the gawkers began to inch closer, I felt invigorated. There was something fulfilling about kicking ass when in fur. That is, until I saw Al with the girls. He had set them both atop a table, brow furrowed in sympathy as he listened to their tearful testimony. Trent wasn’t going to be happy. Hell, I wasn’t happy.

            Worry pinched my brow as I wedged a shoe on. I had no idea where the other one was. “How on earth did you find out so fast?” I said to Glenn as Jenks hovered close to listen in.

            “Fast?” Glenn’s voice was tight in confusion. “He’s been in the hospital all morning.”

            “Who?” A flash of panic took me as I looked at my pinky ring, but the pearl was a pristine white. Trent was okay. Relax, Rachel. He just left you.

            “Walter,” Glenn said, and I parted my lips in understanding. “A jogger found him under Twin Lakes Bridge this morning.”

            “Parker,” Jenks said, and I nodded. That bitch doesn’t fool around.

            “Let me guess.” Phone to my ear, I went to stand under the busted light. Jenks shoved the NMZ amulet off, and it landed in my hand with a soft pop. “Multiple bites and bruises?” I said, my hold on the ley lines faltering as I fingered the silver amulet. God, I hate these things. . . .

            “Mauled within an inch of his life,” Glenn said. “If it had been anyone else, I don’t think he would have survived. It’s still touch and go.”

            “Mmmm.” Tired, I hooked my foot on a chair leg and pulled the seat out. “That explains why I just slugged it out with Parker,” I said as I sat down.

            “Ahhh. Aggressive takeover.” Glenn hesitated, then, “Oh. There you are,” he said, clearly having pulled it up online. I could hear faint shouts and engines revving, and Glenn added, “Damn, girl! You fight naked?”

            Al smiled to show his flat, blocky teeth. I put a hand to my forehead, eyes closed as I gathered my strength. I should probably text my mom. . . . “I didn’t want to tear my jeans,” I said. “Hey, I appreciate the update on Walter, but I have the girls and I need to call Trent before he freaks.”

            “Go,” Glenn said. “I wanted to let you know that David is on his way in to question Walter. You want me to have him ask how to work the ring?”

            A sudden need to be somewhere else hit me. Constance’s claim that I was forcing my friends to do my job was tight behind. With the strength of the focus, David could compel Walter to talk. Of course I wanted to be there, but the girls came first. “How to work the ring, if the mage figured out how to switch it back to curse mode, and who the mage is,” I said. “Could you text me if you get anything? I’ve got the girls until noon.” I was not about to take them to the hospital. They were upset enough as it was.

            “Will do,” Glenn said, and then the connection ended.

            Jenks was dusting heavily over my other shoe, and I shuffled over to it as I dropped my phone into my pocket, where I’d feel it vibrate. The need to question Walter dug at me, but as I saw the girls with Al, I knew there was no way. Constance, you suck. Me not killing people is not putting my friends in danger.

            “Rachel, you want another coffee? To go?” Mark said pointedly, and I nodded.

            “Me too,” Jenks said loudly. “Someone spilled mine.”

            Lips crooked, I went to sit with Lucy and Ray, taking the first girl who reached for me. “That bad wolf bit you,” Lucy said, her little fingers carefully playing over my curse-fixed hand as I sat her on my lap. Ray abandoned Al, and I suddenly had them both.

            “She did, but turning back fixed it,” I said, feeling their weight and trust. “I’d never let anything hurt you. You know that, right?”

            Both girls bobbed their heads, and I let them slide to the floor, where I tugged their clothes straight, one at a time. “Go pick out a juice box for the cider mill,” I said to distract them. Al had listened and reassured them, but I could see their fear. Trent had taken great pains to hide the ugly side of their security even as he made sure they knew that steps were being taken. He was not going to be happy that they’d witnessed this, but I’d always felt that seeing a threat resolved was less traumatic than the threat your mind could invent and magnify.