Ever After (The Hollows 11)

Chapter Twelve

The last time I'd been in the room outside of Trent's vault, I'd been stealing that elven threesome statue Jenks was so enamored of to gain Trent's undivided attention. The outer chamber hadn't changed, the air still flat and unmoving, the floors and walls bare with no furniture. I stared at the blank wall, Jenks on my shoulder and Trent beside me. Quen was down the hall turning on Trent's magnetic imaging device. It would shift the ley line running through Trent's compound down into the earth. More proof that the ley lines functioned as magnets on some level.

Once the line was out of its natural course, I could enter the ever-after not through the surface, which not only sucked dishwater but had no direct access to the demon realm, but right into their underground mall. From there I could buy a jump to Newt's rooms. If she was there, we'd have a chat and I'd borrow Pierce for a few hours. If she wasn't, then I'd save myself a few bucks and talk to Pierce with her none the wiser. I was hoping for the latter.

"There it goes," Trent said softly, staring at the wall as if it were a big-screen TV, and feeling a sudden hiccup in my balance, I unfocused my attention and brought my second sight up. Sure enough, the red smear of a ley line now ran through the room at chest height, right before and through the blank wall. It would be an easy matter to step into it, will myself across, and be safe underground. Trent's father, Kal, had used the ley line as a way to have a temporary door to a doorless vault, accessible when the magnetic resonator was on, and completely impossible to enter when the machine was switched off. It had been off for almost a year now, since Nick and I had burgled the vault behind the wall. I agreed with Trent that having a vault full of precious artifacts where any demon could see them using his second sight was a bad idea, but then again, Trent's dad might have been using the room for another reason.

Nervous, I wiped my hands on my pants and turned to Trent, startled at his aura. It wavered over him like a gold sheet, like he was on fire. The slash of red through it hadn't grown, but there was a new hint of black to it that I thought might be the first visible signs of smut. The room with the resonator was fairly close. We had a few minutes until Quen rejoined us.

"Is an hour enough?" Trent asked, calm as ever as he looked at his watch, but I could see by a flicker of darker gold aura that he was nervous. I wasn't leaving until Quen was here to keep him from following me.

"You want to make it two?" I countered, not sure how long this might take.

Jenks flew from my shoulder, his rainbowlike aura trailing him. "How about five minutes?" he said tightly, and I pleaded with my eyes for him not to make a stink. It was daylight, and pixies couldn't stay in the ever-after when the sun was up, same as demons couldn't stay in reality.

"I'll have a better chance of success if I go alone," I said, then craned my neck to look through the low ceiling at the banners and dappled light patterns that the demons decorated their mall with. It was early yet, and there wasn't a lot of traffic, just a few harried familiars and disgruntled demons who'd been pressed into service to clear a debt. I thought I could hear '80s music being piped in, echoing against the flat places. It was weird standing so far underground and feeling as if you were outside, but the demons had had thousands of years to build their pretend.

Trent eyed me askance-making me wonder if he was checking out my aura for smut-then fixed his gaze firmly ahead to the shop sign visible through the wall, THE COFFEE VAULT. Someone had a sense of humor.

"We can turn the magnet on at fifteen-minute intervals," Trent said; then we both turned at a scuff at the door.

"Sa'han," Quen protested, out of breath but clearly having heard him. "The risk . . ."

Trent's pleasant expression never changed. "We can turn the magnet on at fifteen-minute intervals," he said again, and Quen nodded reluctantly. Satisfied, Trent turned to the humming ley line.

The sour whine to the ley lines throughout Cincinnati was getting worse. Seeming to hear it as well, Jenks hovered before the line, hands on his hips and glaring at an oblivious man behind the coffeehouse windows. There was no reason for the familiar to be using his second sight, and unless he did, we would be invisible.

I stepped forward, dipping a hand through the line and deciding it felt okay even if it sounded bad, the flow even and smooth. Perhaps Trent's dad had had a deeper relationship with demonkind than Trent wanted to admit. Being able to step through a ley line and into the demon mall and coffee shop was a little too convenient-even if it was going to save both our asses.

Ready to go, I ran my hands down my linen blouse. It was going to stink to high heaven when I got back. "Quen, don't let him follow me," I said as I took a step forward into the line.

"Rachel, wait!"

Trent's voice stopped me cold, and I turned, still in reality even if I was in the ley line. He was digging in his pocket, and I warmed when I realized I'd almost left without the rings. He held them out, and a spark of magic jumped between us as the rings fell into my hand. It was the ley line, not him, but I still shivered. "Thanks," I said sheepishly. Nodding, he stepped back with a quick, sharp motion, gesturing for me to go. Jenks's wings clattered, and with a final thin smile, I willed myself into the ever-after.

Nose wrinkling, I took three steps within the line, walking through the wall in reality and into the demon coffeehouse. I jerked as the muggy stink of ever-after and the echoing sound of a European band singing about red balloons hit me. What is it with demons and the '80s? I wondered, not for the first time.

The familiar looked up from behind the counter. "By the two worlds colliding, don't jump into reality in here!" he berated me, perhaps not even knowing about the door and thinking I'd jumped in. He looked oddly familiar with his green apron and cap. "I don't care how much of a hurry your demon is in for his coffee, if you mesh with the wall, I'm not paying for it."

I gave the guy a quick smile, backpedaling for the door. "Sorry, wrong store."

"Use the circles at the fountain," he said, eyes narrowed. "Stupid-ass newbie."

He looked like a Scottish lord from a romance novel, the bushy sideburns and thick blocky muscles not doing a thing for me, but as my scrabbling hand found the doorknob, he muttered an oath. "Hey, wait. You're Rachel Morgan, right?" he said, dropping his rag. "Hold on. I got something for you."

My hand slipped from the knob, and I turned. "Me?"

His head was down and he was rummaging in a bin behind the counter. "Yeah. My boss has a proposition you might be interested in."

Shoulders slumping, I sighed. Trent, Quen, and Jenks were probably watching with their second sight, and I did have a timetable. "Sorry," I said as I yanked the door open and the music got louder. "I'm not making tulpas right now. Saving the world, you know." Again.

"No, wait! Just take it. I'll give you a coffee on the house!"

I couldn't care less about the nasty coffee, but the guy at the fountain's jump-spot might, and I reluctantly took the envelope he was eagerly extending. It was thick, contract thick, and I shoved it in a back pocket to look at later. An ever-after job might be advantageous if Al and I ended up being strapped for cash. Again . . . Was my life truly this predictable, or did I just keep making the same mistakes over and over?

"Straight up black, right?" the guy was saying, hustling behind the counter for a to-go cup and filling it with something black and bitter. It wasn't coffee, but it was the best they had, and I took it just to get out of the place.

"Great. Thanks," I said, hoisting it. "Mmmm, good!"

"On the house," he affirmed, backing up and looking both nervous and pleased with himself. "Let me know about the contract!"

There was no bell to jingle as I went out into the mall, and after a quick look up and down the wide avenue, I headed to the central fountain and the jump-demons. Though demons could jump lines at will, familiars needed to buy them, and to facilitate ease of passage, demons convicted of minor crimes such as uncommon stupidity paid their debts by providing jumps. On the weekend there might be as many as ten jump-demons clustered around the center fountain moving people out, but this early on a Tuesday morning and with the impending line trouble, there was only one. Head down, I angled to him. He might have just been a demon waiting for someone, but the hat he was wearing said differently.

"Jump me to Newt's for a coffee?" I said as I got close, and he opened one eye. It was really weird. I knew I was deep underground, but between the shifting lighting, shadow, fitful breeze, and wide space, it felt as if we were outside on a cloudy day. A really hot, cloudy day.

"Newt's?" he said around a lazy yawn, then did a double take, pulling himself upright when he actually looked at me. A panicked expression raced across his face until it was replaced by mistrust. My eyes narrowed when he poked my shoulder as if trying to decide if I was real. "By the two worlds colliding, you really are Rachel. I thought you were Newt. Damn, girl! Wait until I tell my familiar!"

"Touch me again, and you'll really be in pain," I said, shoving the cup at him. "Newt's kitchen? You know it?"

He took the coffee and looked at the ceiling. "Costs more this week."

I forced my jaw to unclench. "Look, I'm trying to save your asses. You really think it's a good idea to try to skin me for a sliver of smut?"

The demon's gaze came back to me. "No. Look up there. The ceiling is down by about a foot from yesterday. Space is shrinking, and unless you want to end up in a wall, I need a gargoyle assist."

Shit, it is happening already. No wonder it is so warm.

"Well?" he said. "How bad you want in?"