Al pressed close, far too close, and I held my breath, cringing. Not quite touching me, but almost, the lace at his throat shifted. "The question is," Al whispered, eying Pierce, "Nicky wouldn't know you had my name unless someone told him. Who told him, Rachel?"
"The coven." Al stank of burnt amber, and seeing me wince, he drew back, frowning. Knees shaking, I pushed from the counter.
"The coven," Al echoed, mocking me. "Yes. But who told them?"
I thought about Trent and dropped my eyes. "The problem isn't who told the coven your name," I said. "The problem is someone told them I can invoke demon magic. Maybe it was you trying to force me into the ever-after."
Al huffed, turning away. "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel... Such thoughts of paranoia. And you say you don't need a babysitter."
"I don't!"
He stood at the table, both elegant and derisive. "Then start acting like a demon, itchy witch."
"I'm not a demon," I said, glancing at the clock. Crap, it was after six. Nick
"You could have fooled me." Al's white glove vanished, and he examined his hand, the thick knuckles going white as he flexed his fingers. "This entire situation is so... banal" The glove misted back into existence, and his attention landed on me. "You must do better, love, if you expect anyone to take you seriously."
"Is there a point to this?" My arms were over my chest again, and I forced them down.
"I bloody well hope so," Pierce grumbled as he set a cup beside the chugging pot.
"The point is, you could excel if you would simply exert yourself!" Al complained.
My head shifted back and forth. "I don't want to be a demon. I just want my name back so my life can go back to chaotic and weird instead of chaotic and desperate."
Al took a breath to say something, and when he held it, head cocked, my face went cold. Dragonfly wings. A slow smile spread across Al's face as he locked gazes with me.
"Jax?" I called, not seeing him but knowing the pixy was here. "I didn't call him. I didn't call him, Jax! You've got to believe me!"
In a sprinkling of falling green dust, a pixy darted into the kitchen. Jax stared at us with his mouth hanging open. His hand was over his bi-cep, almost hiding a new tear in his shirt.
"I didn't call him," I pleaded, and the young pixy's wings hit a new high, his mouth moving, but nothing coming out. "Jax, tell Nick not to come in!"
Jax darted to whatever pixy hole he'd come through. But it was too late, and I heard the knob turn. "Nick! No!" I shouted, running for the door.
I gasped as I ran right into Al, suddenly before me. It was like running into a tree. "Nick!" I shouted. "Don't come in! Nick! Get out!"
But with a thump of furious music from downstairs and the smell of Chinese takeout, Nick came into the shadowy apartment. Jax was a streak of silver, his voice high and unrecognizable as he panicked. "Get out!" I shouted, stumbling when Al vanished, reappearing behind Nick in the open doorway. Oh God. Can this get any worse?
Al shoved the door shut with one foot. "Hi, Nicky."
Yup, it can.
Nick spun, eyes wide. Dropping the takeout boxes, he scrabbled frantically for the slab circle in the corner. He didn't have a chance.
Al reached a white-gloved hand out and snagged him like an errant kitten, holding him up by the scruff of his neck and giving him a shake. "Got you, you little wizard."
Nick choked, spinning slightly with his toes just touching the floor. "Little... bitch," he gagged, face red and long hair brushing Al's fingers. "You little bitch. I trusted you... "
"Jax! No!" I exclaimed, hands high as I got between Al and the pixy. He'd get himself killed. "Take the high ground and look for an opening. You can't take a demon by the front!"
Al looked at me in question from over his glasses, but the small pixy had withdrawn in frustration, and that's all I was after.
"It's not what it looks like," I babbled to Nick. "Al, let him go. You can't snag him. He's with me." I looked at Pierce, but the man was standing in the kitchen beside the coffeepot with his arms crossed, an annoyed expression on his face.
It smelled like the demons' mall that Al had taken me to once, the burnt amber mixing with the smell of green things, takeout,