Pale Demon (43 page)

I heard the creak of his chair as he sat back down. “After you didn’t wake up the first day, yes, I asked her a few questions. Can you tap a line?”

I looked up at the worry in his voice, feeling something shift. “Yes. Thank you. For watching me.”

“I had to force her to leave,” he said, eyes everywhere but on mine. “She said I couldn’t care for you. Bitch. I made sure you ate. Ran a brush-and-wash curse on you when you crapped yourself. Waited. Kept everything out until your aura recovered.”

My aura?
“Al?” I said, really scared as I firmly tapped the line to find no headache, no pain. I was okay. “You’re kidding, right?”

His wandering eyes settled on me. “You’d rather I let you sit in your crap for three days?”

“No. I meant…Uh. Thank you. Just…Thank you.” Holy fairy farts, I hadn’t know making a construct would be so far-reaching.

Standing, Al pushed his chair back. “Damn lazy of you.”

I could tell he was relieved as he stacked the plates and cups, sending them to the food kitchen all at once. He’d been watching me for three days? “Al. Thank you. I really mean it.”

Turning, he took a breath to say something, sneezing instead.

“Bless you,” I said, and he held up a hand in annoyance as he reached for his scrying mirror, tucked in among his books. Holding it out, he grimaced. “It’s for you.”

My eyebrows rose, and I stifled a shiver as the heavy, cold glass slipped onto my lap. “How do you know?”

“Because you touched a line, and they were waiting,” he said. “You’re going to have to make a new calling glyph. I’m not your bloody secretary.”

What are you then, Al?
“It wasn’t like the coven gave me time to get my luggage before they banished me,” I said, not wanting to put my hand on the more complex glyph that Al used. The lines practically glowed red, and the glass was so dark I couldn’t see any reflection at all.

“So I buy you a looking glass and you make a new one,” he said, and I smiled, glad to be back on familiar ground. “Answer it, will you?” he prompted, annoyed by my good humor.

Still smiling, I pulled my legs up to painfully sit cross-legged, resettling the heavy thing on my lap. “Couldn’t make it any bigger, could you?”

“The boy with the biggest toy wins, love,” he leered, and I looked down.

My hand was already placed, and I tentatively reached for a line, carefully tapping it until I was sure my head wouldn’t explode. The line slipped in with a gentle smoothness, and I found the collective with ease. At least my aura was okay. I hadn’t even known I’d damaged it.

Hello?
I ventured.
Al’s line.

Rachel!
boomed a thought in my head, and I cringed.
So glad I caught you and that you’re feeling well, love.

I glanced at Al, pretending to mess with the fire.
Yea-a-a-a-ah?
I hazarded.
Don’t call me love. I have a name. By the way, I don’t know yours.

Absolutely. Absolutely,
the demon fawned.
This is Strontanchaark. Two
a’
s and an
rk.
You may not have noticed, but I was at Dalliance last week. Red feathers…silver headdress?

Sorry, don’t remember you,
I thought, wondering if he was after a date. Not going to happen. No way. No how.

My call name is Tron,
he added, and I sighed.

“Look, Tron,” I said aloud so Al could hear some of it and maybe stop pretending to mess with the fire. “I’m kind of busy right now. Just woke up. Things to do, you know…”

Completely understandable,
he gushed, focusing hard to keep me from breaking the connection.
But if you could wedge in a little time for me this week, I could make it worth your while. Do you think you could make me a replica of Rynn Cormel’s pool?

I blinked, trying to switch gears. He didn’t want a date. He wanted a contractor. It made sense. They all had the same stuff they’d had for thousands of years, apart from what Newt could give them, and three days ago, I’d made a brand-new desert for them to play in.

“Rynn Cormel?” I stammered when Tron poked my thoughts to see if I was still there. “You’re kidding, right? He doesn’t even have a pool.”

He does. It’s in Washington,
Tron insisted.
In the sun. The construct has to be in the sun.

Feeling panicked, I waved for Al’s attention, and he turned to me, a soft, secretive smile on his face. “Uh, I’ve never been to the White House,” I stammered. And what was this about the sun? Didn’t they know I’d been cursed?

So get over there and look at it.

My eyes pinched; I didn’t like his attitude. “It’s not that easy,” I offered, not wanting to get the reputation of being a bitch on my first conscious day.

But you can do it,
Tron insisted, then hesitated.
How much?

His thoughts were flat, and I felt a quiver of excitement. A demon was asking me what I wanted. My eyes flicked to Al, and he shrugged. “What do you want?” he said softly, his voice making me shiver.

Home was probably out. The next best thing would be a place of my own so I wasn’t sleeping in Al’s bedroom. I shifted on the cushioned bench before the central fire, making sure my hand didn’t slip. There was no way I was ever going to see the White House pool in the sun, but maybe we could work something out. “How many extra rooms do you have?”

Rooms?
Tron yelped, and I winced.
Putrid ash mother corn shucker, you want rooms? As in plural?

Somehow his reaction emboldened me, and I gathered my courage, even as Al blinked at me in astonishment. “You don’t think I’m going to just
give
you the sun, do you? Out of the goodness of my little demon heart? You want a full-blown tulpa with accurate artifacts and the sun? I’m going to have to get to reality and sneak into the White House estate in the daytime. Evade FIB and I.S. agents both.”

Robbery! Highway robbery!
Tron was wailing into my thoughts.

“Supply and demand, buddy,” I said, preparing to break the connection. “Come on back when you’re serious.”

No, wait!
I heard him think.
How about the car? The one in the desert. I can give you a gently used familiar, well broken in and skilled, if you can duplicate that car for me.

You want my mom’s car?
I thought, then pulled my thoughts back to myself. “I live with Al,” I said, glancing at him. “If I want a familiar, I go to the professional and get one, I don’t take someone’s castoff. You want an ’89 Buick with leather seats and a tape player. I want a place to sleep. Call me back when you can give me a room. Unfurnished, if you don’t mind. I don’t like other people’s junk.”

Wait!
he called again, and I grinned at Al, stifling my excitement lest Tron pick up on it.
If you can make it red and promise me an exclusive, I can cut out a closet for you.

“A closet?” I exclaimed, and I felt Tron wince. “You think my mother’s car is worth a lousy closet?”

A large walk-in
, Tron added.
Thirty by fifteen by fifteen up. I can get the toys out of it, but the mess on the walls you’re going to have to deal with. I want an exclusive, though. You don’t make a car for anyone else.

“No exclusive,” I said aloud, watching Al for his opinion and seeing him shake his head and hold his hands out in a “bigger” gesture. He didn’t even know how large the offer was, and he thought I could get one bigger.

“Dude, if you want an exclusive, I want something twice as big as a lousy thirty by fifteen by fifteen. And the exclusive is only on that model.” Tron groaned, and I added, “And I want it attached to Al’s rooms.”

Okay, okay!
the demon said, and I got the feeling that he was agreeing before I added anything else.
It’s a deal.

“Done,” I said, and Al sprang to his feet and almost ran down the narrow stone steps to the cellar below. “I can work you in before the end of the week,” I said loudly so Al could still hear me. “I’m a little tired right now. Call back in about an hour.” Al came back upstairs with a bottle and twin goblets in his hands. “Ah, make that two hours,” I amended. “You can imagine that Al has me scheduled tightly with his tutorial,” I said, and Al guffawed. “Actually, why don’t you arrange the time with him for us to come over and put your car exactly where you want it. Soon as the room shows up and Al tells me it’s safe for storing my shoes in.”

Al?
Tron thought, sounding disappointed.
I thought I’d fix the tulpa.

“You?” I said, feeling a stab of alarm, having forgotten that little part. I’d wanted Al there as a buffer, but this was spiraling into something more complicated. “No, Al’s fixing it into reality, er, the ever-after, not you.”

I felt Tron sigh, making me wonder if half the reason he’d asked me to come over was for a chance to swim in my unconscious. Not happening, bud-
dy
. Al was opening the bottle with a soft pop, smiling. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Who knew what I’d find there?

I’ll have the room deeded to you in an hour,
Tron thought somewhat disappointedly, and I broke the connection.

“The White House pool,” I said with a snort, carefully setting Al’s mirror to the side. “Is he nuts?” He was going to be in my head again, but it would be worth it. Right? At least Al wouldn’t be sleeping in the library. I was embarrassed that I’d lost my ability to leave unless Ivy or Jenks summoned me, seeing as they knew my summoning name, but Al didn’t seem upset. Actually, he was in a grand mood as he handed me a tarnished silver goblet in the shape of a champagne flute.

“And you doubt you’re one of us,” he said softly, pride and more than a hint of relief in his voice. “Well done, Rachel.”

We clinked and I took a swallow, the unexpected honey-amber liquid flowing, feeling like heaven. “Wow!” I said when I came up for air. “I bet Rynn Cormel could get me the White House extended tour.” It wasn’t wine, but it was potent, and warmth tingled all the way to my toes. I had a room of my own, and a valuable service that no other demon besides Newt could provide. I was going to be okay.

I sobered at that. I was going to be okay. Just what did that mean—I was going to be okay? Was I going to be happy? And why wasn’t I trying to get out of here?

Al grunted, seeming to know why my excitement had left me. “I started getting the calls yesterday when they figured out your scrying mirror was in reality,” he said. “I had to put up a ‘She’s out’ post, but you saw how long it took for the calls to resume when you tapped a line. They were waiting for you. Seems like you have a lucrative place here after all.”

“With your help.” I stared at the small hearth fire visible under the new slate table and remembered waking up and finding Al sitting there looking like…something else. “I’m making a car for him,” I mused aloud. “And I’m getting a room out of it. You won’t have to sleep in the library.”

Al hesitated in his motion to top off my glass. “You’re giving the room to me?” he asked as the liquid poured in and settled.

My eyes jerked to his at the hint of a question in his voice. “Actually,” I said slowly, “I thought maybe I could have it so you could keep your room.”

He took a breath, holding it for a moment before slowly letting it out. Hand shaking slightly, he set the amber bottle down between us. “You will be in my room. The safeguards are chiseled into the stone. But I would appreciate the chance to update my own décor.” He took a sip, rocking on his feet. “I thought you would get that mark removed.”

My gaze darted to my last remaining demon mark, the one on my wrist that had started our association. “Uh, I forgot,” I stammered, embarrassed somehow. I sipped my drink, not knowing what it was but enjoying the mild buzz that was hitting me. “Al,” I said, my tongue markedly looser. “You just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it for you. I owe you big.”

He looked at me, emotions hidden behind his silence, for so long I wondered if I’d said something wrong. The fire snapped in the center pit behind me, and when I shivered, Al absently tossed a chunk of polished wood on it, probably gleaned from a broken building at the surface somewhere.

“Um, Al?” I questioned, feeling more than a little uncomfortable, the honey and amber filling my head with a shiny clarity. “I do appreciate you saving my ass. If there’s something I can do to show you that, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”

He turned to me, still no expression on his face. “I’m reasonably sure I had brown hair.”

Oh God. I think I’d insulted him. “Al—”

Finally a shimmer of emotion crossed him. “Drink,” he said as he tapped my glass with his. “It’s a day to celebrate. You have come home.”

I didn’t know about the home part, but I lifted my glass, a sneeze ripping through me as unexpectedly as a slamming door. My fingers shook, and a splat of liquid spotted Al’s pretty black floor. Horrified, I met Al’s demon-slitted red eyes, his first reaction of annoyance shifting to dread as he stared at me in what might be pity. I was sneezing, not him. And it didn’t feel like an incoming call. It felt like a summons. And it was noon?

Ivy? Jenks?

“Rachel?” Al asked as the first gut-wrenching pain blossomed and I pushed the glass back into his hand.

“It’s a summons,” I muttered, jaw clenched and the good feeling from whatever I’d been drinking dying.

“But it’s noon!” the demon exclaimed, gaze going to the clock to affirm it.

Ow.
I hunched in on myself as the pull grew stronger. “Maybe Trent only cursed me to need a summons to be able to cross. Apparently I can still walk…in the sun. Ow!” I looked up, wincing. “I gotta go.”
Day or night. Trent had said day or night.
Tron would be pleased. I could give him the White House pool in the sun after all.