The Outlaw Demon Wails

Twenty-eight

My head hurt. Actually, the entire right side of my face hurt, not just my head, a deep, throbbing ache that seemed to come from the bone and pulse in time with my heart. I was slumped facedown on something warm and softly yielding, like the mats at the gym. My eyes were closed, and words whispered at the edge of my awareness, fading into the hum of a distant fan when I concentrated on them.

I shifted my head to get up, slowing when my neck complained. I put a hand to it and pulled my legs under me to find an upright position. The sound of my leather pants scraping the floor was soft, the echoes nonexistent. My eyes opened, but I couldn't see a difference. One hand on my neck, one sort of propping myself up, I tugged David's coat out from under me and took a slow breath. I was wet—my hair damp and the taste of salt water on my lips. The cool certainty of charmed silver rested upon my wrist. Swell.

"Trent?" I whispered. "Are you here?"

There was a rough harrumph, chilling me.

"Good evening, Rachel Mariana Morgan."

It was Al. I froze in panic, trying to see. There was a click six feet in front of me, and I scuttled backward, crying out in surprise when my back hit a wall. Fear was a sharp goad. I tried to rise, and my head hit the ceiling a mere four feet up.

"Ow!" I yelped, falling down and moving like a crab until I found a corner. My pulse hammered, and I strained to see. Everything was black. It was as if my eyes were gone.

Al's low, mocking laugh grew in depth, then faded with a bitter sound. "Stupid witch."

"Stay away," I demanded, pulse hammering and my knees to my chin. I wiped the last of the salt water from my face and pushed my hair back. "You come near me, and I'll make sure you never engender any little demons. Ever."

"If I could touch you," Al said, his accent clear and precise, "you'd be dead. You're in jail, love. Want to be my shower buddy?"

I wiped my face again, slowly letting my knees fall from my chest. "How long?" I asked.

"Have you been here?" Al murmured lightly. "Same as me. All day. How long will you remain? Just until I get out, and then I'll be back. I'm looking forward to joining you in that tiny box of a cell you're in."

Fear slid through me, then was gone.

"Feeling better?" he almost purred. "Come over here by the bars, love, and I'll rub your aching head for you. Rub it right off your skinny little shoulders."

Hatred nearly dripped from his soothing voice, still so elegant and refined. Okay. I was in jail. I knew why I was in jail, but why was Al? Then I winced, wondering if I could have pissed the demon off any more. He'd warned me not to tell anyone I knew how to spindle line energy. And then I went and did it in front of Minias. They had caught Al in a lie of omission, and I didn't think he could put any kind of spin on it to make it look good.

Squinting to try to make the black haze take shape, I began to move with my hand outstretched, making a point of staying far from Al's voice. My ears strained to catch the echo of my breathing against the maybe-walls, but I heard nothing. A soft touch of fabric on my searching fingers jerked me to a stop, then I reached out. It was a warm body that smelled like blood and cinnamon. "Trent?" I whispered worriedly as I crouched closer and sent my hands over him. They had put us there together? "Oh, God. Are you all right?"

"For the moment," he said. "Do you mind not touching me?"

His very awake tone shocked me, and I jerked back. "You're all right!" I exclaimed as the warmth of embarrassment turned to a mild anger. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"What would be the point?"

I eased back and sat cross-legged as I heard him shift. I couldn't see, but I guessed he was leaning into the opposite corner. It was the best place in the cell, seeing as it was farthest from Al. I think.

A shiver rose through me, and I stifled it. Al was there. I was here. I wished I could see. "What are they going to do with us?" I asked Trent. "How long have you been awake?"

A faint exhalation gave evidence of a sigh. "Too long, and what do you think they're going to do with us?"

There was the slosh of water in a plastic bottle, and I grew ten times more thirsty.

"We were caught," Trent said, his gray voice empty of hope. "I woke up here."

Al cleared his throat dryly. "There's a small question being debated right now as to the legality of my claim on you," he said, and I wondered why he bothered, except that he was probably bored and didn't like being ignored. "You had to go and show them that you could spindle energy. They don't even care that I nullified the threat, deciding to drop me here and let me 'think about what I've done.' Soon as I'm summoned out, I'll pop back in, throttle you to death, then throw your dead carcass on Dali's floor and claim I was handling it and they owe me restitution for interfering."

He still didn't know I had his summoning name and couldn't be pulled across the lines, but my brief relief died. What did it matter? He'd find out soon enough. My thoughts flicked to Jenks, and my heart seemed to fall to my gut. We'd been so close. God, I hoped he was okay.

The jiggling of water against plastic drew my hand up, and fumbling, I found the container Trent was extending for me. I didn't bother wiping the top before I took a swig, and I grimaced at the unexpected taste of burnt amber. "Thank you," I said, then gave it back. "This is your water. From your pack. We have our stuff?" My eyes widened in the dark. "Do you have your light?"

I heard Trent shift his feet. "Broken. Yours, too. For the psychological effect, I'm sure, seeing as that's all they did, apart from putting the bands of charmed silver on us and dousing us in salt water."

"Yeah," I said, feeling wet and icky. "I figured that part out." Not bothering to search for my bag, I mentally catalogued what I had shoved into it. Nothing, really. And with the band of charmed silver around my wrist, I couldn't even light the candle. But then my eyebrows rose, and moving carefully, I felt the small of my back. My lips parted when I felt the cool plastic. They left me my splat gun? Pulse fast, I drew it, aiming where I had heard Al's voice. "Maybe," I said as I thumbed the safety off, "they don't think we're a threat."

"Maybe," Al said, "they don't care if we kill each other. You hit me with that, and I won't kill you when I get out, but just play with you. Until you die screaming."

My hand shook just a little, and I strained to see in the dark.

"Just because you can't see doesn't mean I can't," Al said. "It won't land at this distance, witch, but by all means, waste them. It will make it far easier to beat you into submission when I get in there."

He wasn't getting out, but I put the safety back on and tucked the gun away at the small of my back. I wasn't enough of a fool to think the demons had put me here without knowing I had viable charms on me. They'd taken everything I could use to escape but left me a way to protect myself. Was it a test, or just their twisted version of reality TV? I slumped and leaned my head against the wall. Most likely it was a matter of letting us settle this demon to witch, and if I beat him, Newt would have a better legal shot at me.

The light band of silver around my wrist felt heavier than any chain. I didn't even try to tap a line and figure out how to jump out of here. I was caught, and it looked like I wasn't going to get out of it this time.

"Almost sundown," Al said from the darkness, his voice eager. "A few moments and I'll be free. You were a fool thinking you could pin me in the ever-after by taking my summoning name. No one has ever gotten past that bitch of a statue. No one ever will."

Sundown. He seemed pretty sure someone would summon him out. When they didn't, he was going to be royally ticked, and I scooted back even farther.

A quiver in the middle of my chi started. I froze, my hand to my lower gut. I'd never felt anything like this hollow ache before. And it was growing worse. "I don't feel so good," I whispered to Trent, but it wasn't like he cared.

Al made a harsh bark of laughter. "You shouldn't have drunk that water. It had been exposed to the sun."

"I'm fine," Trent said, his soft voice darker than the warm air that surrounded us.

"You're an elf," Al said with disdain. "Elves are little more than animals. They can eat anything."

I groaned, pressing a hand to my stomach. "No," I said breathily, looking downward. "I really don't feel good." Oh, God. I'm going to spew in front of Trent.

But every muscle in my body shook as a sneeze ripped through me instead.

Minias? I thought as I wiped an arm under my nose. But there was nothing in my mind but my own thoughts.

"Bless you," Trent said sarcastically.

I sneezed again, and the ache in my middle grew. My eyes widened and I flung a hand out to smack against the floor for balance. I felt like I was falling. My insides were falling. Panicking, I reached out to grip Trent. "Something's wrong," I rasped. "Trent, something's really wrong. Are we falling? Tell me you feel like you're falling." I was going to throw up. That's all there was to it.

From across the unseen hall came a roar of anger. "Damned mother of us all!" Al swore, then he swore again as he hit his head, by the sound of it. "You little whore! You stinking ashed little whore! Come here. Come here where I can reach you!"

Struggling to focus on nothing, I shrank from the sound of him hitting the bars and his fingers scrabbling for me. Every move I made seemed to be made a moment after I willed it, the neurons not firing as fast as they should.

"How did you get past the statue!" Al raged, his voice hurting my ears. "It's not possible!"

"What's wrong with me…," I panted, and Trent made an ugly noise, trying to get my grip off his arm.

"You're being summoned out, you little bitch," Al spat. "You've got my summoning name. And it's being used. How did you get my name! You've been unconscious all day!"

I felt like my middle was gone and I was only a shell. I tried to see my hand, but there was nothing. And then my face went utterly cold. "This can't happen. Minias said it couldn't happen. I'm not a demon. It shouldn't work for me! I'm not a demon!"

"Apparently," Al said, slamming into the bars in time with his words, "you're so damn close, it doesn't matter!" There was another grunt, then he shouted, "Someone get me out of here!"

Pain pulled me double and my hair pooled on my knees. Oh, God, it was going to kill me. I felt like I was going to be split in two. No wonder demons were pissed when they were summoned.

"Rachel," Trent was saying, his hand on my back, leaning over me as I gasped for air. "Promise me you'll get my people whole. Promise me you'll use the sample! I'll die content if you promise me you'll use the sample!"

Sample? I don't even have the sample. I pulled my head up, not seeing him, then seized as my aura seemed to soak inward to my core, pulling my flesh along with it. Agony burned through my mind, and whimpering, I stopped fighting it. I wanted to leave, didn't I?

It made all the difference in the world.

The pain vanished. A silver thread of intent pulled through me, and before I could marvel at the heavenly absence of pain, I was whole, my lungs trying to work but not quite managing it yet. I was on my front, facedown. Or at least I would be when my aura finished rising through me, putting the idea of flesh around my soul again. I panted when my lungs formed, and I stared at the shadowy plywood floor two inches before my face. I could see. And it smelled like…bleach?

There was a soft murmur of incantation, and the scent of ash and candle mixed with the reek of burnt amber flowing from me. I looked at my hand in front of my face, seeing the bright glow of my aura. I could see it. I shouldn't have been able to.

I took another breath and the haze of gold faded to nothing. The incantation dissolved into a collective gathering of breath. I was in someone's basement. I had been summoned out under Al's name. It wasn't possible. This was so wrong. Confused, I looked up past the stringy length of my damp curls to see a cluster of black-robed figures safe on the other side of a glowing-hot sheet of ever-after.

"Lord demon," a young, masculine voice said, and my head jerked up as I recognized it. "Are you…well?"