American Demon - Kim Harrison Page 0,112

beginning to show. “Last night. When the mystics cloaked you . . . That was the same demon, right?” he asked, eyes pinched. “The one who told me not to talk about him?” I nodded, and he leaned toward me, an intent gleam in his eye. “He did a charm so the mystics couldn’t see you anymore.”

“It was a curse, but yes,” I said, and a flicker of quickly hidden revulsion crossed him.

“What did you give him?” he asked. “He didn’t even try to abduct anyone.”

“Oh.” I took a sip of coffee, feeling tired from more than a lack of sleep. “Demons don’t do that anymore.” I hope. “But you’re right. It wasn’t free. I promised Hodin I wouldn’t tell anyone about him, but Al would have done it for free if he had known how.”

“Your teacher,” Zack said, his smooth face screwed up. “What did you give him for that?”

But it was obvious by his look what he thought I’d given, and it wasn’t my soul. “I gave him my trust,” I said, focus blurring as I remembered Al’s shock when I had brazenly asked for a way to summon him without the safety of a circle, trusting that he would adhere to our bargain. He had, but only after I’d forced him into it.

“No way.” Zack pushed back from the table in disbelief.

“Way.” I stretched for the coffee and topped off my cup. “I wouldn’t advise it, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. Anyone else would be gargoyle chow. But I’m a demon, so . . .”

Zack smirked with the misplaced confidence of youth. “No, you aren’t. I mean, Landon calls you one, but that’s just . . .”

“Propaganda?” My smile widened, perhaps becoming somewhat mean. “Not all demons have goat-slitted eyes.” I touched a finger to his mug, and it began to steam.

Zack’s smirk faltered. “But the mystics like you,” he said, sounding betrayed.

“Yeah. A little too much.”

He shook his head in denial. “You can’t be a demon if the mystics like you.”

I stretched for the raspberries and pulled them closer. “Zack, demons could talk to the Goddess better than elves if they’d trust her again.” Feeling sassy, I ate one. “Deal with it.”

“They do not.”

I smiled, enjoying rubbing his nose in it since it bothered him so much. “And that’s why you can’t hold a simple circle anymore and I was lovingly covered in mystics.” I eased up, not wanting to alienate him. “Zack, there was more truth in those five minutes you watched Hodin hide my aura than Landon could tell you in ten years, but you won’t see it unless you let go of the dewar propaganda. And you know why?” His eyes narrowed, and I leaned back with my coffee cradled in my hands. “Because Landon thinks knowledge is power, and he doesn’t want to give it up. Especially to you.”

“Then why did you let me watch?” he asked, more angry than listening.

“Because Trent knows truth is power, and you’re going to have a hard time surviving without it.”

Silent, he looked upstairs at a sudden crash and swearing. Zack’s eyes shot to me as if expecting me to rush up there and help Trent. Then he frowned when I sat there, content to let Trent handle it himself. “I can’t believe he doesn’t have any servants,” Zack said when I continued to do nothing. “How can you have demons in your living room and no servants?”

In his living room? How about his bed? “Right. You think he vacuums this on his days off?” I said, waving an expansive hand.

“But he’s making breakfast. . . .”

I nodded. “While you were enjoying yourself in his pool,” I said. “Who do you think ran out last night and bought you that swimsuit? That’s not Trent’s robe or slippers you’re in, either.” I closed my eyes as the sun finally crested the vegetation around the pool and found me. “Trent has staff, but he knows they make me uncomfortable, so he gives them the weekends off.”

“Everyone? He doesn’t even have any security,” Zack said, but his tone had lost a lot of its lordly sound.

I opened one eye. “You’re looking at his security, bud,” I said, and Buddy swished his tail, thinking I was calling him. “You need to take off your dewar rose-colored glasses before they kill you.”

Zack fiddled with his cup of coffee, quiet again. Relenting, I sat up and sifted a half teaspoon of sugar into my mug. “I think Trent first excused his

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