Chapter Twenty-eight
My pace was fast as I hustled through the cold, sunset gloom toward the DMV office. They were about to close, but if I could get in the door before it was locked I was going to try an old-fashioned sit-in to get them to cough up a permanent registration; the one that Nina had gotten me was ready to expire. I'd been trying all week. I would have asked for Nina's help, but she was on extended sick leave. She was in bad shape, but Ivy was making a difference. It must be hard to adjust when a dead vampire suddenly isn't in you anymore. Like a crash from riding the high of a drug.
Someone was coming out of the bland-looking building, and I ran the last few steps, reaching out with my gloved hand to catch the door and missing. The man looked up from buttoning his coat, his eyes going over my shoulder and widening. Behind me reflected in the door's glass was a ruddy square face, a hunter-green top hat, and a wicked, smiling grin.
"Al!" I shouted, spinning to put my back to the door, heart pounding. I hadn't realized the sun was so close to setting. "What are you doing here? I've got to finish this before they close. I'll meet you in the garden in twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes," the demon scoffed, peering over my shoulder at the line still stretched to the door. "Not likely. Let me have a go," he said petulantly. "Scaring civil servants is beyond all but the most depraved demons, and you, itchy witch, are not nearly nasty enough."
He was reaching around behind me to the door handle, and I put a hand on his chest. "No. I'm trying to be a part of society, not get my way out of fear."
Startled, he looked down at my hand and Trent's ring still glinting on my pinkie. Behind me came the snick of the lock being slid into place, and I slumped. Damn . . .
Smiling over his glasses, he reached for my hand and I slid out from his reach. "Same difference," he said lightly, swinging his walking cane as he looped his arm in mine and escorted me back to the parking lot. It was cold enough to snow, and I jammed my free hand in my pocket, depressed, as Al walked jauntily at my side with a walking cane and a hat. Not much had changed in the month since putting HAPA away, but then not many people remembered that HAPA had been responsible for the murders.
"Anyway, we don't have time for you to practice scaring civil servants," he said as we made our way back through the cars. "I want you to try that curse. The marvelously complex one rife with risk that you've been avoiding. We have a party to attend later tonight."
Swell. Head down, I reclaimed my hand and dug through my shoulder bag for my keys as we neared my car. "Al, I'm not ready to fix Winona. What if I get it wrong?"
But he had put a heavy, white-gloved hand on my shoulder, and even as I reached for my car door, my outsides seemed to pull inward with a rush of ever-after, and I snapped a bubble of protection around me as I felt the line take me. It held the icy sensation of frost, and my mind seemed to relax into an om of a hum. I had missed this.
They're going to impound my car if it's still here in the morning, I thought at Al flatly, but the world was already materializing around us, damp and green. I had no idea where we were. It was cold and snowy outside in Cincinnati.
Al's hand slipped away, and I looked up to see a plate-glass ceiling. Tired ferns edged the slate path we were standing on, and moss. Benches lined the way, most having clay pots on them with even more ferns and flowerless orchids. I peered through the vegetation, deciding that we were in a huge hothouse, the ground cold and gray beyond the glass and the heaters that I could now hear humming. The greenhouse was large enough for trees, and it smelled like vermiculite.
Ahead were more trees, and behind us was a small table and two wire chairs with comfortable, plush cushions. It was vaguely familiar, and I looked up into the dark, silent canopy high overhead.
"Where are we?" I asked. "Trent's interior gardens?"
The demon tilted his head, giving himself a devilish mien. "Of course. Popping right into Trenton Aloysius Kalamack's house would be rude."
It must be something else, because Al had never before been interested in what was rude.
"Mmm, where is my little bitch?" he murmured, his buckled boot grinding into the slate as he turned.
"Winona?" I asked, my anxiety swelling.
"Not Winona. Ceri." Al breathed deeply. "Bloody-hell wench was easier to deal with when I had control of her soul. She's gotten positively uppity. Wait here. I'll fetch her." He hesitated, his head spinning to look down the trail. "That way, I think. I can smell baby shit."
"Al!" I called, not wanting to be caught in Trent's hothouse alone, but he had vanished in a cascading wash of black ever-after.
I slumped. I was probably on-camera, somewhere. "Hello?" I called, going to sit in one of the chairs. A rustling at the edge of the ferns caught my attention, and I looked down expecting to see a rodent or maybe a bird, but my lips curved up in a smile when I found a gaunt fairy, silver and pale, standing guard with a hand-carved spear pointed at me. She didn't have any wings, telling me she was one of the fairies who had attacked me last summer.
"Hi," I said, my eyes widening when the fairy made a stabbing motion at me, snarling. "Um, I know your sister Belle. I'll take her something if you like."
Immediately the fairy straightened and stood her spear up to point at the sky. Giving me a long-toothed, scary smile, she ran into the brush. I watched the slowly swaying vegetation grow still, wondering what Trent felt about having become the first year-round landlord of a clan of fairies. They couldn't migrate, and this was far better than inviting them inside the house. Maybe I should set up a little hothouse of my own. Nah, I liked the pixies too much.
I dropped my keys into my bag, and seeing my phone, I pulled it out to text Ivy that I was at Trent's with Al and that my car was parked at the DMV. There were soft steps on the slate walk, and I looked up, dampening down an unexpected wash of feeling at the sight of Trent. He was moving at a confident pace, but his stance was wary as he came forward, unbuttoning his suit's jacket to show a soft linen shirt and a gray tie. I had no doubt that I'd tripped some sort of alarm, but the fact that it was Trent coming to see me, not Quen or a faceless security guard, did a lot to ease my mind.
The memory of tagging HAPA at Junior's swam up, and I flushed. It wasn't that I was embarrassed, but I had felt so free with him, talking about memory charms while having pie, and now everything was awkward again. I didn't know why.
"Rachel?" he said as he came to a stop beside the table, a long, narrow hand coming to rest atop the tiled surface. "When did you get here? Is Ceri with you?"
I pulled my eyes from his hand, still bare of any ring save the one, twin to my own, on his index finger. "Uh, hi. No. Hey, I'm sorry, but Al is wandering around, looking for her."
Trent's face lost its expression, a ribbon of fear sliding behind his eyes before he mastered it. "You're joking, right?" he said, his hand with the missing fingers going behind his back.
Wincing, I pulled my shoulder bag closer to me on my lap. "I wish I was. I'm sorry about this. He thinks that charm, uh, curse for Winona is ready. Trent, I'm sorry. If I'd had any warning, I would've called. He snagged me from the DMV parking lot thirty seconds ago."
His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, looking up into the vegetation. I followed his eyes and saw a camera blinking. "Really!" I insisted, scooting to the back of my chair. "He's been like this lately. Popping into my kitchen like it's his closet and he's looking for his slippers. I think the other demons are giving him a hard time, and he's using me as an excuse to leave. He keeps taking my spelling equipment and whipped cream."
Trent reached for an insanely thin phone from the inside of his suit's jacket, flipping it open and beginning to tap fast with his thumbs, like an adolescent girl. "If there's a demon wandering around, Quen should know," he muttered.
"Sorry." It was the third time I'd said it, and my gaze lingered on his mutilated hand.
"It happens around you," he added sourly, eyes on his tiny keyboard.
"You're taking it rather well."
Trent snapped his phone closed and tucked it away, his remaining fingers curling, hiding the fact that some were missing. "If he so much as touches my girls, I will hold you responsible."
I stiffened. Taking my bag from my lap, I set it on the slate floor, leaned back in the chair, and crossed my legs to look more confident. "Al is not my responsibility," I said lightly, even as I felt a new tension begin to take hold. If he touched Ray or Lucy . . .
Pulling the other chair out, Trent sat, angled away from me but not enough to be rude. "He's here because of you. Take responsibility."
I frowned, pulling my thoughts back from the curse I'd found to put maggots into food stocks. "Can we wait to see how bad he is before we start burning me in effigy?" I said sourly, and he cracked a smile.
Relief spilled into me, and he shifted to put the flat of an arm on the table as he looked into his garden, his mind clearly on other things as we waited. "Have you seen any more evidence of HAPA?" he asked, and I uncrossed my legs, surprised.
"Yes and no." I forced my teeth to unclench. "Glenn is quitting the FIB."
Trent's eyes flicked to mine and held. "Really?"
I nodded. "As far as anyone knows, you took me out for coffee so I could blow off steam. I think Ivy and Jenks suspect something, since no one seems to care that Dr. Cordova is gone and I'm not hell-bent on finding HAPA, but Ivy tells me Glenn is quitting the FIB, packing up Daryl, and moving to Flagstaff where the air is cleaner." Ivy was pissed, to say the least, which made living with her difficult. Well, more difficult than usual.
"I think the-men-who-don't-belong asked him to work with them," I whispered, and Trent's foot stopped moving. I looked up to find him watching me with an I-told-you-so expression, and I picked at the stone table. "It's either that, or he figured out that Dr. Cordova was a member of HAPA and he wanted out."
"Felix won't return my calls." Trent was reaching for his phone again. "Damn," he swore softly when he changed his mind and left it where it was. "I don't like the closed hearings they're conducting with the three HAPA members they have, either. It smacks of the old days."
It was one of the few times I'd ever heard him swear, and it made me smile even if the news wasn't good. "Does Ceri know what we did on our coffee date yet?" I asked, and he jerked his attention to me.
"God no." He shifted uncomfortably. "I think she suspects something, though. We've had cherry pie for dessert five nights in a row."
His voice drawled, and my smile deepened. We both settled back, content to wait as events shifted around us. I kind of liked having secrets with Trent, and I glanced sidelong at him in the growing darkness as snow started to fall, a soft hush on the glass ceiling. His profile was clean and young, his smile at our last words fading into a slight frown at some private thought.
He had turned Dr. Cordova into a monster, and I didn't care. What made it so different from what Chris had done? Was it because his justice was an eye for an eye, brutal but satisfying in a horrible way? Was it because Cordova wanted to wipe out Inderland, and he was protecting it? Or maybe that I knew he'd never do anything like that to me?
Someday, you'll thank me for that skill echoed in my mind. Don't change because I'm a bastard quickly followed it, and I dropped my eyes, confused.
"There she is," Trent said softly, his gaze on the path as he stood. I still didn't see anything, but a second later, I heard Ceri's voice. Another moment, and she made a turn on the path and was there. She had both Lucy and Ray, the smaller baby, over her shoulder, looking back at Al. I stiffened and rose to my feet, even if the demon was following at an obvious ten-foot distance. He was making funny faces and turning his hair different colors to entertain the little dark-haired girl, and I didn't like it.
"Ceri! What are you doing?" Trent exclaimed, almost panicking as he strode forward to take Ray from Ceri's shoulder. The little girl fussed, clearly wanting to watch the funny man with the nose drooping down to his chin, waving like an elephant's trunk.
"Relax, Trenton." Ceri shifted Lucy out of the way and gave Trent a chaste kiss on the cheek before she came to me. "The girls need to see what a demon is. They're safe. Al wouldn't dream of abducting them. I'd follow him into the ever-after and turn evidence on him for every shady deal he has made in the last thousand years."
Smiling at me, she touched me on the shoulder, and I stood to give her and Lucy a hug, still not sure about having the girls so close to Al. "Isn't that right, Aunt Rachel?" Ceri said wryly as I drew back.
"Aunt Ra-a-achel?" Al drawled.
I ignored him, busy arranging Lucy's fair hair to show off her pointed ears. "Not to mention that I will be very unhappy if he does."
Al made a rude sound, and Ray gazed at him, quiet now that she could see him. "Happy, happy," Al said sourly as he rocked to a halt when Trent pointed where he should stand, ten feet back from the table. "How did my life spiral down to making one person happy?"
Watching Al suspiciously, Trent pulled out a chair for Ceri, and she sat. "It happens when you become a parent," she said, arranging herself with small motions of grace. Her eyes went to Ray, resting in Trent's arms, the baby fixated on Al. "Stop trying to charm her."
"But she is such a darling!" he cooed. "I think I shall take you anyway. Such beautiful hair you have."
My face went cold, and my head jerked up.
Ceri's eyes narrowed, her aura almost flashing into the visible spectrum as she tapped a line hard enough to make my teeth ache. "Al. Leave. Now."
I tensed, but Al wasn't moving, instead pouting like a forgotten uncle as Lucy and Ray kicked and fussed. "I didn't mean now," he protested. "I'm not going to raise the child. I'm having enough trouble with Rachel." Smiling at Lucy, he whispered, and with a sparkling explosion of lights, two dozen tiny horses with butterfly wings burst into existence. Both Lucy and Ray squealed in delight, Lucy almost squirming off Ceri's lap to chase them.
"Al!" Ceri shouted, and with a flash of burnt amber, the beautiful horses fell to the earth and turned into squirming maggots. I recoiled, and Lucy howled her outrage. Ray simply looked surprised, the emotion appearing far too mature for her tiny features. Ceri's lips were a hard line as she stood, Lucy struggling in her arms.
"If you touch my children," Ceri threatened, and Al threw a hand dramatically into the air.
"Tish tosh. I do not want your babies. What is a demon for if not to scare?"
Lucy tight in her arms, Ceri stalked forward, her hair starting to float. "You aren't scaring them, you are charming them!"
Al grinned, showing his flat, blocky teeth. "I am scaring you, love," he said, reaching out to tickle Lucy.
The little girl squealed in delight. Ceri yanked her back, and Trent sucked in his breath, clearly furious. I wasn't all that happy, either, and I understood their dilemma. Putting the babies down might only make them more vulnerable. Taking them from the room might have the same result. There was no safe place if a demon wanted you and was free to roam about. The only way to fight a demon was to not look away. Not even to blink. The only thing keeping Al civilized was . . . what? I didn't know, and it made me uneasy.
"Perhaps we should leave, Rachel," the demon said, his voice having a mocking lilt, and Ceri's frustration flashed over her. "I don't think we're welcome here."
"You said you could help Winona," Ceri said as she jiggled Lucy, trying to get her to stop reaching for Al, and Al's smile grew wicked.
"Perhaps."
Al was looking at me, and a wave of worry made my stomach clench. "I think I can. I've been working on it," I said as I looked at Ceri, glad when she moved Lucy farther from Al. "I have a curse prepped, but I don't know if it will make things worse or better. I've never tried mixing curses before."
Ceri took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "It's an honest answer."
Ray cried out to get Al's attention, and Trent frowned, holding her closer when the demon blew bubbles at her like kisses, each one a different color. "I can help Winona," Trent said darkly. "We don't need a curse. Or you, demon."
Surprised, I turned to look at him, seeing his slight flush. That wasn't what he had said before.
Al, too, huffed, his back to us as he stared up into the foliage. It was starting to get dark, and there were little lights up there where the fairies were, tiny fires in the trees. "It was a curse that changed her," he said as if he didn't care. "Only a curse can reverse it, not wild elf magic, and it will be Rachel's curse," he said, turning to me as I made a noise of protest. "I know I can do it," he said, his hands behind his back as he looked up to the snow collecting on the ceiling. "I want to know if you can. Besides, you're the only one who knows what she looked like before."
I fidgeted in the chair. "What if I make her worse?" I asked, and Al shrugged as if he didn't care. His hands, though, were still clasped behind his back. It was one of his few tells, and as I looked at Ceri, she raised an eyebrow in question, recognizing it as well.
"Should I get her?" Ceri asked, bouncing Lucy on her lap to distract her.
Al pulled a watch from a tiny pocket by way of a gold fob. "I wish you would," he said distantly. "She sounds fascinating."
"It isn't fascinating, it's horrible," I said sourly, but looking at Ceri, I saw her hope, her confidence. "I'll try it if she wants to risk it," I said, and Al threw up his hands in a small exclamation.
I suddenly found myself holding a slightly squishy Lucy as Ceri stood, plopping the babbling baby in my lap. "I'll get her," Ceri said breathlessly, then ran down the path, her soft shoes almost silent.
"Ceri," I called as I held the baby out from me, but it was too late.
Lucy was craning her neck to watch her mom, a sound of dismay coming from her. Her little face screwed up, and she started to cry. "Trent, some help here?" I said, but it wasn't until Al strode forward saying, "Let me," that Trent got to his feet and intercepted him, taking both babies and moving to a bench just down the way.
I exhaled in relief as he put space between the girls and Al. They'd grown another month older since I'd seen them last, and Lucy was standing now, holding Trent's knee and wobbling as she fussed for her mother. Ray wasn't happy, either, looking more mad than anything else, her little face squished up in annoyance as Lucy filled the air with her noise.
"Al - " I whispered, wanting him to do the curse instead, but he shook his head.
"No," he said, his head down as he examined the tiny spear now sticking out of his arm. Apparently the fairies didn't like him. "Your curse seems fine. The last thing I want is you embarrassing me."
"Liar," I said, and he turned to me, shocked.
He plucked the spear out and dropped it, clearly wanting to protest, then seemed to collapse in on himself. Expression bothered, he glanced at Trent, trying to wrangle the two babies into some semblance of quiet, then came close to me, his boots with the silver buckles rapping smartly. I leaned back in my garden chair, and he put a hand on the table, almost pinning me there. "Hell, Rachel," he breathed into my ear, and I stifled a shiver at his dusky form around me. "I don't know what I'm doing, either. If you screw it up, it looks like another stupid-Rachel moment. If I screw it up, it looks as if I don't know what I'm doing, and while the first is embarrassing, the second is intolerable."
He pulled back at the sound of hooves on stone, his red eyes wide. "Chin up, chest out, stand up straight," he said as he yanked me to my feet, smacking my gut and shoulder in quick succession until I stood before the table, scowling at him. "Don't say anything. Ceri thinks I'm a god."
I knew that wasn't true, and I edged away from him as he waited with one arm behind him, one before, as if he was meeting royalty. Somehow he'd gotten from the outskirts to the center of the patio, looking as if he belonged among the ferns and Victorian garden furniture. Ceri and Winona were dusky shadows as they came around the bend, a small garden lamp lighting their path. Trent pointed them out to the girls, and Lucy's wail turned plaintive with little mmmumm-mums and half bounces for Ceri to come and pick her up.
Winona looked up as I said hi. She was in a comfortable, long-sleeved sweater and floor-length skirt, but her gray-skinned, ugly face with its curling horns and abnormally pointed chin put her far from normal. Her head made her top heavy, and her goat-slitted eyes reflected the light like a cat's.
"Hi, Rachel," she said, her smile fading as she looked from me to Al, standing beside me at the table. Clutching Ceri's arm, she whispered, "Is that him?"
"Yes!" Al exclaimed as Ceri disentangled herself from Winona, gave him a dry look, and physically pushed him out of the way so she could set the lamp on the table. "I am Al!" he continued, looking almost hurt, but upon bending closer to Winona, still standing at the edge of the light, his goat-slitted eyes widened. "My God, what did that bitch do to you?"
Winona lifted her chin as Ceri hissed at him to behave, and I smacked his shoulder with the back of my hand. But I had to agree that she looked monstrous, especially in the early dark of a snowy evening. "My apologies," Al said, sincere enough, I suppose. "Winona, to better gauge my student's possible success, may I . . . inspect you?"
Winona looked fearfully at Ceri for advice, but she'd gone to pick up Ray. Standing beside Trent, she gestured for Winona to approach Al. "It's okay," I added, and Al gave me a sidelong look.
"Oh, I doubt that," he said, but Winona had been brutalized so badly that Al held little threat. At the bench, Trent and Ceri had a hushed argument. Clearly they hadn't united entirely on their child-rearing guidelines when it came to demons. Trent wanted to take the girls into the vault, and Ceri wanted to use it as a learning experience. Me, I was leaning toward the vault.
"You may look," Winona said softly, her feet tapping the slate as she came forward into the light. I watched Al's face, not hers, as he leaned closer to her, breathing in her scent. His hand came out, and she stiffened.
"I won't harm you," he said formally. "May I touch you?"
I thought it was weird how careful he was being, like she was important or fragile, and after a moment's hesitation, she nodded. He took her hand with an almost painful care, turning her stubby fingers over to trace the lines of her gray-skinned palm, studying it carefully. I remembered waking up in Al's kitchen once feeling that fragile, seeing him with curly red hair and a thinner body, one quickly hidden once he knew I was awake.
I backed up to the edge of the light, watching as Al turned her hand over to study the top. It looked tiny in his, and Winona's lips parted when he rubbed his thumb over it gauging the thickness of her pelt. Worry came from nowhere. I could fix this, couldn't I? What if I made it worse?
"You have a pouch." He made it a statement.
"You're not seeing that."
Her fear was obvious, the lantern's light making her look even uglier as she pulled her hand away. Al's brow furrowed, and his fingers twitched. He wanted to touch her again, but was afraid of what it might look like. "I thought so," he finally said. "Wings?"
Winona blinked, looking at me like I had the answers. "No. Should I?" she said, and I remembered the ruin of the woman under the museum floor.
Taking a step back, Al straightened to his full height, seeming to tower over her. "I'm not sure," he said in a rare bit of honesty. "There are schools of thought that say we had wings once. I occasionally have dreams of being able to fly. It could be . . . nothing."
"You don't remember what you used to look like?" Winona said, and Al made a face, clearly uncomfortable.
"No," he admitted, taking her hand again and lifting it as if showing her off. "I don't believe that we looked like this - entirely. But you're in a unique position to help us remember."
Ceri's breath hissed in as she jiggled Ray. "Winona is not going into the ever-after to help you!"
Winona backed up, arms around herself as she pulled out of Al's touch. His hand fell to his side, and he looked disappointed even as he studied her, how she moved, how she clearly could hear things we couldn't, her ears flicking everywhere.
I licked my lips. "Chris's data said she was producing more demon enzymes. How can she be that far off from being a demon?"
Al walked around Winona, his eyes never leaving her. "You, Rachel, are producing more demon enzymes than Winona, and you look nothing like her. True, much of Winona's appearance is closely tied to several genomes that are responsible for the expression of the proper enzymes, but this?" Again he took her hand and pulled her into taking a clicking step forward with him into the light. "No. Every witch has the capacity to look like this if the right genes are turned on at the proper time, but as a species, you never looked like this, no matter how far back in the genetic history you go." He hesitated, dropping her hand. "Still, Winona, you are very intriguing as you are. I offer you a choice."
Ceri patted Ray's back as she came forward to stand with me. "She's not going to help you."
"I'm not talking to you," Al said to Ceri, his eyes on Winona. His gaze was so intense, she blushed.
"No!" Ceri insisted, and he sighed, looking away from the troubled woman. "She would be poked and prodded as you tried to figure out what was turned on correctly and what was a mistake. No. You fix her, or you leave her alone."
Al lost his serious air, again becoming his customary shallow, self-centered self. "I can't guarantee my student's magic will leave you any better," he said, distancing himself. "At least now you can breathe, eat, and take a shit without help."
I stiffened. "That's not what you said a minute ago!"
"Yes, it is." Al turned to Winona. "Well?"
Ceri dramatically threw a hand into the air and turned her back on all of us, and Ray fussed when her view of Al was eclipsed. It hadn't been the resounding encouragement that I was hoping for, and my gut clenched as I exchanged a look with Trent. There was a faint hint of excitement in him, a desire to know if I could do it, and I felt my heart thump. Lucy had finally quieted, her little face determined as she wobbled at her dad's knee.
"I want to be normal again," Winona said as she gazed down at herself. "I trust you, Rachel. Whatever happens. I want to do this. Please."
Oh God. She wanted to do it. The butterflies in my stomach turned to lead and hit bottom. I'd been working up this curse for a good three weeks. It was mostly cosmetic, and ninety percent of it was concerned with her face. She might end up being forced to be a vegetarian, or the horns might grow back. But at least I now knew how to do a transformation curse and end up with body hair only where I wanted it.
"Okay," I said, and Al's breath exploded out of him in impatience. "Winona, it shouldn't hurt. I've already twisted the curse and stored it in the collective. I just have to touch you and say the magic words. If it gets too unbearable or you think it's going wrong, say the invocation word again, and it will reverse."
What if I kill her?
Ceri went to Winona, tears in her eyes as she gave her a hug. "I'm going to miss you," she said as she pulled back, disentangling Ray's grip from her horn. "After you're normal, you're going to leave!"
"I'll come back for visits," she assured her, tears welling and spilling over and making dark tracks on her cheeks. "Ceri, you've been so kind to me. I'm going to miss the girls. Trent, thank you!"
Al sat back against the table and checked his watch again. His eyes met mine, and he made a "get on with it" gesture.
"I need some space," I said, and Ceri wiped her eyes. Giving Winona a last hug, she whispered something in her ear, and backed off, coming to stand beside Al, looking beautiful next to him, Ray on the hip farthest from him.
"Isn't this marvelously exciting!" Al said, and Ceri gave him a dry look.
I was starting to shake, and I forced my jaw to unclench. Smiling sickly, I put my hand on Winona's shoulder and closed my eyes. I didn't need to shut them to work the curse, but I didn't want to see her pain if I did it wrong.
I renewed my grip on the ever-after, letting it pour into me. I could feel it pushing on Winona, and I whispered, "Touch the line. Let it flow through us both."
She took a shaky breath, and then the blockage eased and the energies between us balanced. "Don't pull back," I said, and when I felt her nod, I yanked more of the line into me.
She gasped at the increased flow, and when I felt her soul tremble, I touched the demon collective. "Uno homo nobis restituted rem," I said, praying that I hadn't forgotten anything and that Winona wouldn't be paying the price for my stupidity. I'd picked out the trigger words myself, and though they didn't need to make sense grammatically, I hoped they did - or I'd be the laughingstock of the ever-after.
Winona made a gasping gurgle, and my eyes flew open. A wash of expected ever-after covered her, a bright gold from my aura stained with demon smut. She began to crumple, and when I felt the magic start to backwash into me, I let go, whispering that I took the price for this before the imbalance could even rise.
"Al?" I said, backing up as I watched her convulse on the slate. "Al! I did it wrong!"
"Wait!" He grasped my shoulder and pulled me back when I went to help her. His eyes were fixed greedily on her. "Wait," he echoed himself, softer. "You did it right."
It didn't look like that as she jerked and gagged, covered in my aura and a reflection of my smut crawling over her slumped form. Ceri had retreated to stand by Trent; they both looked worried. Ceri was holding her breath, and she let it out in a gasp when the ever-after shimmered a pure gold . . . and ran down from Winona, back into the ground like rain.
My heart thudded. She wasn't moving. Al's grip on my arm tightened, and he wouldn't let go as the woman took a deep breath. Winona had fallen with her back to us, and she slowly sat up. My shoulders slumped in relief and I exhaled. I couldn't see her face, but it had worked.
Her back to us, she looked at her arms, running her normal hands down her faultless skin. They were smooth, not covered in fur. Her bare feet poking out from under her skirt were white, with ten toes. Tugging her sweater straight, she turned to us, elated, and my mouth dropped open. "How do I look?" she said, then put a hand to her throat, recognizing that her voice was higher. "Did it work?"
Sort of? Swallowing, I looked at Ceri, then Al. His hand fell from me, and he shrugged.
Lightly curling brown hair framed her normal-looking face. Her chin might have been a shade more pointy than I remembered, but it was still normal. She had high cheekbones, a beautiful complexion, and a turned-up nose. Though subtly different from the young woman I'd first seen in the cage under the observatory, she looked human. Except that her eyes behind her long eyelashes were still slitted like a goat's.
"Well?" she said, feeling her face and thinking that it had been a success.
"Um, it's close," I said, and then, at a loss, I scrambled for my shoulder bag, digging until I handed her the small compact mirror.
Winona scrambled to her feet, wobbling as she came closer to the light, her attention on the mirror. Her eyes widened as she saw herself, and she put a hand to her face, feeling the new outline of her jaw. Al grunted when she stuck her tongue out, and Winona smiled when she saw it was normal.
"Close enough," she said as she felt behind herself. "Thank God that tail is gone."
"Are you sure?" Al purred. "Should we check?"
"Stop it," Ceri muttered, her jaw clenched in the dim light.
Close enough? "What about your eyes!" I exclaimed. "I don't understand. They should have changed. Why didn't they change?"
She looked at me and burst into tears.
"Oh, Winona," I said, reaching out for her and starting to cry myself. "I'm so sorry. I'll try again. I'm sure I can fix them."
"No," she sobbed, stepping back. "It's okay. I'm crying because I'm happy. I don't care about my eyes." She looked at Al fearfully, then back to me, starting to cry even harder. "Thank you. Thank you, Rachel. I never thought I'd have feet again. I don't care what my eyes look like!"
I patted her back, glad she was happy with the results and horribly relieved that I did the curse right - mostly - but I was still puzzled about the eyes. "Are you sure?" I asked again, and she pulled back, taking the linen handkerchief that Ceri handed her and wiping her nose.
"Absolutely," she said and sniffed, her face glistening in the dim light from the lantern. "I kind of like them."
"I thought you might," Al grumped, checking his watch again as he sat down at one of the chairs before the table. "You women are all demons in disguise."
Ceri gave Al a long look, up and down, reading the tells a thousand years of servitude had given her. "He didn't know how to do it, either, did he?" she said, and Al frowned.
"No." I felt good, and I began to smile, feeling the fear of the last month finally start to dissolve. I'd been hiding from myself for a long time, thinking that by ignoring the parts I didn't like and couldn't change, I could deny them. Even when I'd admitted they were there, I hadn't accepted them. Only now, when I understood who I was and took responsibility for my mistakes, did it all feel balanced, and as I looked at the faces around me, I felt a kinship that I'd never felt before - even if I didn't trust Al.
I had stopped a human hate group from gaining demon magic and the potential threat that had been. I'd found a way to work with the I.S. and the FIB both, though they were still yammering about that stupid list. I had saved Winona. With Trent's help, I'd even found the courage to tell Al I was alive and that I would fix the damage I'd made in the ever-after. Hell, I'd even discovered a new secret force and gotten on their watch list. Ivy and Jenks were slipping from me, but we had right now and I was going to hold on to that as long as I could. But perhaps what made me smile was the simple pleasure of having had pie with Trent - it felt good knowing that there would always be someone ready to do risky things with me, right down to taking on HAPA or the-men-who-don't-belong.
There was a slight tug on my jeans, and I looked down to see a fairy holding up a small bit of cloth. I carefully bent to take it, smiling at her as she backed up and vanished into the ferns.
Al's eyes were on mine, a pleased smile on his face, not knowing that I was happy for a lifetime of no's turning into yes. He took in my mood, and then his expression shifted as he turned to Trent, still sitting at that bench with Lucy.
Lucy, though, wasn't with him, and I tensed as I saw the little girl wobbling her first steps toward her mother. Trent was on his knees behind her, ready to catch her if she should fall. His face was a curious mix of delight and pride as he stretched his hands out. Fatherhood was sitting well on him.
"Ah, little girls," Al said as he tucked his watch away and bent to see her better. "All the best things wrapped up in sweet innocence and a will of iron. Escaping her father to play with the demon."
"You!" Ceri said, and then her face became alarmed when Lucy shrieked in delight, her pace bobbling as her path became clearer. She was headed for Al, not Ceri.
Trent's hands spread wide in dismay as he hovered behind her, not wanting to ruin her first steps, but not wanting her to touch Al, either.
"Me," Al said. "The big bad demon."
"Begone, demon," Ceri said, her expression holding fear as well as delight at Lucy's success. "Your work here is done."
Al smiled, the dim light making shadows where there should be none as he leaned toward Lucy while she squealed in delight and tipped forward. Trent lunged, but it was too late, and Al calmly reached forward and caught her as if he'd been doing it all his life.
"Done? No," Al said as Trent snatched her back, but the damage had been wrought, and the girls were clearly not afraid of him. "I do believe that it is just the beginning."
The End
