“No,” he said shortly, seeming to relax as well. “But that might be because I’ve been hiding in your graveyard the last three months. Just over four hundred of us left, and they are all cowards. Give them an excuse to ignore a problem, and they will.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant he hid here under my protection because they wouldn’t risk ticking me off by routing him out, or that they were too lazy to do anything if he didn’t make himself a nuisance. Either way it wasn’t a compliment.
The pixies were slipping from their hiding spots one by one, and Jenks went to talk to them in hushed words too fast to understand. Seeing my questioning look, he nodded, confirming that the pixies had noticed something, even if it wasn’t a six-foot-eight, red-eyed demon in leather.
Relenting, I eased my grip on the line, startled when I felt the small sensation of pain Hodin had put in me slowly withdraw. It was an agony he hadn’t inflected, but could have if I had thrown my magic at him. It was a knife at my gut as I held a blade to his throat. Not so much of a pushover as Al wants me to believe, I thought grimly.
“It’s a good garden.” Hodin’s head cocked as he looked around with a forced casualness. “I might be persuaded to take it off your hands when you’re ready to let it go.”
“I’ll be sure to give you a call,” I said, and Jenks rasped his wings, seeming to be unsure who to go to: me or Stef, still cowering behind that stone.
“What are you trying to do?” he said, and I followed his gaze to the lily.
“It’s a joke curse,” I said, softening even more. He’d once spent an afternoon helping me develop a new curse. It was registered in the collective under my name, and the spell I’d just used had probably been paid for by the royalties from it, seeing as I hadn’t noticed any new smut layering over my aura. Nice. “But it’s stronger than I thought it would be. I need a way to contain it, or I’m going to stink myself out of the church.”
Why am I even talking to him? I asked myself, then aloud added, “I can’t hold a circle indefinitely.” Not to mention all Constance’s people would have to do is drive around town to find the source of the smell. Lilies don’t naturally bloom in March.
Hodin took a step forward, looking both charming and mundane as he added a piece of plywood to the fire, and awkwardly stood at the edge of the light. “Is this for your war with Constance? You could always—”
“I’m not at war with her,” I interrupted, and he inclined his head.
Jenks darted up from the watching pixies, facing Hodin until the demon frowned. “You been living here for three months? You owe me rent. What you got to contain that stink?”
Hodin eyed him, his gaze sliding to me, where it stayed until I shrugged for him to get on with it. Smirking, Hodin began gesturing with his hands, a soft mumble rising from him. Stef made a tiny noise, but I didn’t see anything happening. The woman looked ready to pass out, and I casually inched closer to her.
“I-Is that . . .” she stammered.
“A demon?” I finished. “Yes, but he’s rather harmless, having spent the elven war as a sex slave.”
Hodin’s mumbling cut off, and the rising thread of magic flowing through the garden hesitated.
“But even a demon well-versed in the pleasures of the flesh can kill you,” I added, attention going to the pixies now shrilling about something. Jenks rose, and my lips parted when shards of glass from the broken windows began lifting from the grass around the church, all of them headed our way, glittering in the moon- and firelight.
“Oh, wow, that’s beautiful,” Stef whispered, and Hodin pulled himself straighter, clearly pleased.
“It is,” I agreed when the shifting, jagged pieces began to assemble themselves over the lily. Slowly a large cloche began to take shape and the smell began to lessen.
“Do you accept my payment, pixy?” Hodin said smugly as the last piece fused into place, and Jenks bobbed up and down.
“Sure. Great. We’re good.”
“Thank you,” I said, appreciating what he’d done more than he’d ever know. “But I’m still not happy with you,” I added, and Hodin’s smile vanished.
“You say that as if you think I care,” he drawled, and I leaned forward over the fire.
“You should,” I said, shoulders shifting when I dropped the circle, and the line surged before I let it go completely. “Hanging out here when I’m gone is bad enough, but we’re back, and you need to find somewhere else to squat—or make up with Al.”
Hodin opened his mouth to protest, but then he changed his mind and vanished into a puff of black feathers and flew away as a crow.
I stifled a shudder. Crows flying at night were really creepy. Stef rose, hands gripping the stone tight. “That was . . .”
“A demon,” Jenks finished.
White-faced, she looked at me through the green shimmer of her circle. “He could’ve . . .”
“Turned us all into frogs?” Jenks said, smirking. “Forced us into a lifetime of servitude? They don’t do that anymore, but yeah. I suppose.”
She turned to me as I nudged a stick back into the fire. “You . . .”
“Stood up to him?” Jenks said proudly. “Yep. Rachel can hold her own with the demons. Probably the only one in Cincy.”
“Oh.” Stef sat down, inadvertently breaking her circle as she touched it. Still white, she stared at the fire. I didn’t blame her. She’d had quite a day. “I’m okay,” she said, waving off Jenks’s concern. “I need a moment.” Panic lurked in the back of her eyes as she turned to me. “You really are a demon. Your aura is clear, but you’re a demon.”
Embarrassed, I began gathering my stuff, jamming it into a basket and setting the books carefully on top. “Yep.”
Stef made a little noise, eyes wide. “I’m rooming with a demon,” she whispered.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Jenks said, then rose straight up at a distant wing chirp. Immediately he dropped back down. “Your stuff is here,” he said, and Stef blinked at him as if he’d told her the sun was green. “Edden? Your stuff?” he added, and her confusion cleared.
I looked at the lily under the cobbled stained-glass cloche. Hodin hadn’t put the pieces together with regard to the original pattern, and it looked absolutely stunning in the firelight. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh. . . .
Stef got to her feet, wobbling as she looked at the wall between us and the street.
“You going to be okay, sunshine?” Jenks asked.
“Ask me tomorrow,” she whispered, then turned to me. “Excuse me,” she said, even softer, and staggered toward the gate and the sound of a car door slamming.