behind me. I'd seen Nick's apartment. What he had here in his last-ditch hidey-hole was probably priceless.
"How did you find me?" he said, anger creasing his brow.
I pushed his hair back to run a finger over the scar Al had given him. "How do you think? He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake."
From the corner, Al shifted his tune. "So be good, or I'll rip your fucking head off."
Nick sat up, shoving me back to a stand. In his hands was an amulet. Al hissed, but I was way ahead of him, snatching up the clock and swinging it by the cord into Nick's fist.
Swearing, Nick dropped the amulet and I kicked it away. "Don't touch it, Al!" I warned when the demon went for it, and Al stopped, looking at me indignantly, until a demon-size bubble rose from it. If he'd been anywhere nearer, he would've been caught.
"I knew it was a trap, itchy witch," the demon said, but then a flash of white exploded against the inside of the circle. I felt the bubble go down, leaving a white disk of ash where the carpet had burned away. "But I didn't know it was a lethal one," he continued, and I fought the urge to smack the sniveling human. Nick had wanted me in it, not Al.
Nick bolted, and instinct kicked in. Lunging, I grabbed him around the waist, letting go before we hit the floor, then rolled into a stand and smacked a front kick in his middle. His breath whooshed out, and he clutched his stomach. Swell, he was in his underwear. I hated arguing with men in their underwear. "Get up!" I shouted, hoping there was no one upstairs.
"Ohhh, nice one, little grasshopper," Al said as he rummaged through a crate.
Ignoring Al, I yanked Nick to his feet and shoved him back on the bed, where he hunched over his knees, feet on the floor. "Poor Nicky," I said as he struggled for air. "Can't make a bubble cause I'll just shove you into it. Can't tap a line cause we're better than you. And your pixy is gone. Don't you even wonder where he is? Or did you send him to spy on us?"
Nick looked up, ears red and having gotten in only one good breath. "What do you want?" he wheezed. "You want something, bitch, or you wouldn't be here." Hunched over, he glared at Al. "Don't touch that!"
From the edge of my sight, I watched Al raise a multiple-pipe instrument to his lips. It looked old, and with his fingers bare of his usual gloves, he played a few notes, then carelessly tossed it back into the crate. Nick cringed, and I brought his attention back to me with a shove that pushed him into the wall.
"I want you," I said, answering his question. "Or more specifically, I want your nasty, devious, light-fingered skills. Wanna job?"
Nick looked up - I hadn't hit him that hard - and smiling, as if I'd just given him the upper hand, he pointed to his pants on the chair. Wary, I checked the pockets before throwing them at him. "Right," he said as he shoved one foot, then the other, in. "Why would I help you?"
Behind me, I heard Al sigh dramatically. "I told you, itchy witch. Let me. Violence works so-o-o much faster."
My eye twitched at the sound of Nick's zipper. "Oh, he'll do it," I said, tension winding tighter. "He won't be able to resist."
Eyebrows raised, as if asking for permission, Nick clicked on the small bedside lamp sitting on a milk crate. His scars became visible, reminders of our beginnings. "I'm not doing a job for you," he said as he roughly pulled a white T-shirt on to hide them. "I don't care that you have your demon on a leash."
Al growled, and I hoped he'd keep playing the good cop. Maybe I needed to get rougher.
"Al leashed? Right," I said, standing with my hip cocked. "The only reason you're not on the auction block buying me a set of rooms in the ever-after is because I don't want you."
Nick hesitated, eying me as he shoved his arms into the sleeves of a plaid shirt. Long fingers moving dexterously, he stood before me in the low-ceilinged room and did up the lowest four buttons. "You admit you're a demon," he said bitingly.
My face burned, and I stayed silent.
"What do you want?" Nick yanked a pair of white socks from