Dali turned to the front, drawn by the loud complaints of the four demons who had just popped in, their disgust shifting to loud suggestions of what to put in the jukebox. “Everything is close in the ever-after,” Dali said as he took a ley line amulet from around his neck and extended it. “Red is hot, green is cool,” he said. “Five-minute walk. It’s very close to the ley line near your church. Your vampire should be able to handle the travel.”
“His name is Pike.” I took it, feeling the warmth of his body lingering in the metal disk. The demons are suffering from culture shock?
“I’m not her vampire,” Pike said, and I stood, ready to go. The restaurant was going to change, and I wanted to be out of it when it did. Sometimes the food on your plate shifted with it.
“You will be,” Dali said sourly. “Rachel never brings anyone here unless she’s culled him from the herd.”
My lips parted, but Pike chuckled, apparently finding a compliment in there. “Come on,” I said as I grabbed the two bags. “We need to get out of here before our burgers change to lamb.”
Pike slowly rose, and as Dali shouted at the demons to get off the stage, I hustled us out.
The sun had set while we’d been inside, spreading gold and pink over half the sky. There was a breath of exhaust, the hint of a dark parking lot, and then it was gone as the shack behind us evaporated. Palm trees whispered back into existence, and the calls of an exotic bird.
“Five-minute walk. We’ll take it slow.” I peered at the darkening sky, not seeing enough stars to know if they were the same.
Pike jerked his attention from the jingling of tiny bells and the laugh of a woman coming from the oasis behind us. “It would take twenty to cross Cincinnati in a car this time of night.”
“Everything is closer in the ever-after. We walk across it here, and pop out there.”
Pike sighed, his shoulders shifting. “One of those is mine, right? I’m starved.”
I handed him a bag, and he opened it up, giving me the top burger before going back for his own. So much for his “if I don’t bring it, I don’t eat it” rule.
“Huh,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the fading music. “You’re better at this than I expected.”
“This being . . . what?” The paper crackled in the dusk as I opened it up, and my mouth watered at the fragrant steam. God help me, it had Gouda cheese on it.
“Getting your way in an antagonistic situation with minimal friction,” he said as he limped beside me. “Constance wouldn’t have been able to walk in, get what she wanted, walk out with no yelling, no screaming, no blood on the floor.”
“Well, I am a demon. What did you expect?”
“Not this,” he muttered as he took a dripping bite, and I found I couldn’t argue with him.
CHAPTER
16
I was guessing Pike wasn’t much of a nature person by his perpetual grimace and his periodic mutters of disgust when he slipped on a root or misjudged the depth of a rut in the path. That the sun was down and we were walking by reflected light probably didn’t help. I had fallen into the steady yet variable pace I’d learned at camp, one that allowed for both bad terrain and periodic bites from my burger. I thought it interesting that the green and white paper the burger was wrapped in was from Junior’s coffee shop. That the finding amulet was leading us from the open grassland and into a looming, dark forest was even more so.
But my stomach was happy and I was almost dry apart from my underwear and socks. My feet still squished, and my hair had dried in tight ringlets sporting that lovely shade of blue at the tips. Dali, though, knew what to do with hamburger, and I was content as I chewed, swallowed, and repeated—even if Pike did keep slipping on damp roots. Dress shoes. Sheesh.
“Want me to carry the bag?” I said, worried he was going to fall and squish it.
His gaze went from the trees to me, eyeing the half-eaten burger in my one hand, the amulet in the other. “I’ve got it,” he said, having finished his burger and fries in the time I had eaten half of my own.
“Okay.” I slowed, eyeing the faint path. The sun was long gone, and though it still illuminated the upper sky, it was dark under the trees. Thoughts of Little Red Riding Hood meets Hansel and Gretel flitted through my mind. My hands were full, but Pike was done. He could hold a flashlight.
“Lenio cinis,” I whispered, and a glowing, fist-size ball of energy materialized, hanging in the air at chest height to send a cheerful glow a few feet into the woods. “Could you carry that, then?” I asked as I moved around it. “It will go out if I touch it. It’s basically an undrawn circle filled with energy, and my aura will break it.”
I wasn’t sure why I was explaining it to him, other than he was staring at it as if it might knock him out. “Sure.” He hesitated. “Neat trick,” he added as he gingerly took it.
I stifled a shiver as we slipped under the first of the trees. Clearly the burger and fries had done him good. But the farther we got, the less I could tell which smelled better: Pike, or the dinner we were delivering.
Pike had gone silent, probably to concentrate on his footing, and a slow unease began to steal over me. My eyes dropped to my hamburger and the few bites left. I’m eating in front of a vampire. . . . “Ah, I’m eating because I’m hungry,” I said, and he looked up, the glow from my magic seeming to smooth the scars on his face.
Pike eyed me. “Okay . . .”
“Not because I’m coming on to you,” I added. “I want to make that perfectly clear.”
He laughed, the honest sound falling short in the trees. But then surprise brought him up, and he took an extra half step to catch up. “Good God. You’ve read the book.”
I flushed. Appetite gone, I dropped my unfinished burger back in the bag and wadded it up. “Cormel’s dating guide? Ah, yeah. Ivy gave it to me so I’d quit pushing her buttons.” Eating, especially crunchy things, was a vampiric dog whistle inviting a bite. Washing your clothes together to mingle your scents, hiding your throat, conversations about family ties . . . Yeah, I had been a vampire hussy until I learned better. Crap on toast, I asked him about his brothers.
“I’d be willing to bet you haven’t given it back yet, have you.”
My gaze rose to the new leaves whispering in the dark. It was eerie here under the spring-green trees—I thought they were oaks—but peaceful, too. Alone. Apart. “I’m not sure where it is, actually,” I said, and Pike smirked. “Maybe I should find it,” I kidded him. “Start a little library in my church, seeing as it’s filling up with Inderlanders.”