Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Guys?” I flipped through the theme book as Lee’s phone clicked. The handwritten notes were all about Stef, and I set it aside to give to her later. “Can we focus? I’m looking for a really old spell book or anything that will link the chakra curse to the mage.”

            Lee looked up from helping Trent shift the bed back into place. “Who’s the mage?”

            Jenks came out from under the cot, hands slapping the cobwebs from his jacket. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out, dust for brains.”

            “Hodin’s former student.” Trent teased a palm-size book out from under Hodin’s pillow. It was old, leather-bound, and falling apart—and my interest grew. “We think he’s working with the incoming alpha pack to try to take control of Cincy’s Weres,” he added.

            Or was, I thought, appreciating Trent’s tact. I wasn’t supposed to know Walter was dead. Trent, either, but like I wasn’t going to tell him?

            Bis immediately dropped his large book, shocking Trent from his study when his wings opened and he half flew, half jumped to the elf’s shoulder. The kid gave him a wing-rising shrug, then leaned to study the tattered book Trent had splayed open in his hands. My eyebrows rose. The pages were glowing.

            “Rachel? Take a look at this,” Trent said, his head down as he came closer. “I’m pretty sure it’s the last curse Hodin did before you put him in a tulpa. The pentagram on the hearth is the one pictured here.”

            “You can’t put people in a tulpa,” Lee said.

            Bis smiled, his black teeth catching the chancy light. “Rachel can.”

            My shoulder bumped Trent’s, and with Bis’s head between us, I studied the unfamiliar script. “I don’t recognize that language,” I said, my fingers covering Trent’s to turn the book over to see the cover and spine. There was no title, which would, by logic, make it demon. But as the faint warning tingle in my hand began to hint at stabs of pain, I wasn’t sure. My almost hold on the book was kindling an as-yet-uninvoked spell, and I pulled away as the glow shifted to red. The book didn’t like me.

            But it likes Trent, I mused as the pages resumed a welcoming, pure white. “Is it elven?”

            “Ancient elven,” Trent said, and Lee quit taking pictures and came to look. “It’s hard to read, but I’m thinking . . .” Trent carefully shifted a tattered page, his focus going from a pentagram to the one on the floor. “Well, it’s the right book,” he said, now focused on a line of text. “This is the invocation phrase you gave the hospital. Al was right.” Guilt pinched his brow. “The chakra curse is elven. I didn’t want to believe him.”

            As if the book glowing at his touch isn’t enough of a clue? “Does it have the cure phrase?” Impatient, I reached for the book, yelping when a dart of mystic-powered energy shot through me. My globe of light on the bench went out with a pop. Bis chuckled in the sudden darkness, the gravelly, low rumble sending a shiver through me.

            “Way to hold the line, Carrots,” Lee muttered . . . and then three globes of light burst into existence: mine, Trent’s, and Lee’s.

            “You need to grow up,” Trent said, and Bis’s white-tufted ears went flat in annoyance.

            Flustered, I let my new light go out. “Turn to the end of the curse,” I said, ignoring Lee. If I could wake Cassie’s people, Vivian might cut me some slack.

            Trent eased the old page over, and I held my breath as I studied the hand-drawn pictures of a complicated-looking lens and a Möbius strip. I couldn’t tell if it was a continuation of the curse or we had moved on to the cure, and Bis leaned precariously lower to study them.

            Again I reached for the book, drawing away when it shot a warning zap of blue-tinted sparkles at me. “Is that the cure?” I asked, my fisted hand behind my back.

            “Give me a minute.” Trent’s brow furrowed as he struggled through the unfamiliar text.

            The book clearly did not like me this close. Then again, it might be responding to Lee, seeing as he was tight to Trent’s other shoulder, hand reaching. “Lee, perhaps—” Trent started, and then Lee yelped when a bolt of mystic-blue energy darted from the book and struck him.

            Lee’s light went out with a pop to leave only Trent’s. Jenks darted up, clearly startled. Bis, though, steadfastly held position on Trent’s shoulder, his red eyes hard as he glared at Lee. The man had backed up and was rubbing his fingers against his thumb, clearly smarting.