Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(113)
Author: Kim Harrison

Al? Tron thought, sounding disappointed. I thought I’d fix the tulpa.

"You?" I said, feeling a stab of alarm, having forgotten that little part. I’d wanted Al there as a buffer, but this was spiraling into something more complicated. "No, Al’s fixing it into reality, er, the ever-after, not you."

I felt Tron sigh, making me wonder if half the reason he’d asked me to come over was for a chance to swim in my unconscious. Not happening, bud-dy. Al was opening the bottle with a soft pop, smiling. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Who knew what I’d find there?

I’ll have the room deeded to you in an hour, Tron thought somewhat disappointedly, and I broke the connection.

"The White House pool," I said with a snort, carefully setting Al’s mirror to the side. "Is he nuts?" He was going to be in my head again, but it would be worth it. Right? At least Al wouldn’t be sleeping in the library. I was embarrassed that I’d lost my ability to leave unless Ivy or Jenks summoned me, seeing as they knew my summoning name, but Al didn’t seem upset. Actually, he was in a grand mood as he handed me a tarnished silver goblet in the shape of a champagne flute.

"And you doubt you’re one of us," he said softly, pride and more than a hint of relief in his voice. "Well done, Rachel."

We clinked and I took a swallow, the unexpected honey-amber liquid flowing, feeling like heaven. "Wow!" I said when I came up for air. "I bet Rynn Cormel could get me the White House extended tour." It wasn’t wine, but it was potent, and warmth tingled all the way to my toes. I had a room of my own, and a valuable service that no other demon besides Newt could provide. I was going to be okay.

I sobered at that. I was going to be okay. Just what did that mean-I was going to be okay? Was I going to be happy? And why wasn’t I trying to get out of here?

Al grunted, seeming to know why my excitement had left me. "I started getting the calls yesterday when they figured out your scrying mirror was in reality," he said. "I had to put up a ‘She’s out’ post, but you saw how long it took for the calls to resume when you tapped a line. They were waiting for you. Seems like you have a lucrative place here after all."

"With your help." I stared at the small hearth fire visible under the new slate table and remembered waking up and finding Al sitting there looking like…something else. "I’m making a car for him," I mused aloud. "And I’m getting a room out of it. You won’t have to sleep in the library."

Al hesitated in his motion to top off my glass. "You’re giving the room to me?" he asked as the liquid poured in and settled.

My eyes jerked to his at the hint of a question in his voice. "Actually," I said slowly, "I thought maybe I could have it so you could keep your room."

He took a breath, holding it for a moment before slowly letting it out. Hand shaking slightly, he set the amber bottle down between us. "You will be in my room. The safeguards are chiseled into the stone. But I would appreciate the chance to update my own decor." He took a sip, rocking on his feet. "I thought you would get that mark removed."

My gaze darted to my last remaining demon mark, the one on my wrist that had started our association. "Uh, I forgot," I stammered, embarrassed somehow. I sipped my drink, not knowing what it was but enjoying the mild buzz that was hitting me. "Al," I said, my tongue markedly looser. "You just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it for you. I owe you big."

He looked at me, emotions hidden behind his silence, for so long I wondered if I’d said something wrong. The fire snapped in the center pit behind me, and when I shivered, Al absently tossed a chunk of polished wood on it, probably gleaned from a broken building at the surface somewhere.

"Um, Al?" I questioned, feeling more than a little uncomfortable, the honey and amber filling my head with a shiny clarity. "I do appreciate you saving my ass. If there’s something I can do to show you that, you’ll tell me, won’t you?"

He turned to me, still no expression on his face. "I’m reasonably sure I had brown hair."

Oh God. I think I’d insulted him. "Al-"

Finally a shimmer of emotion crossed him. "Drink," he said as he tapped my glass with his. "It’s a day to celebrate. You have come home."

I didn’t know about the home part, but I lifted my glass, a sneeze ripping through me as unexpectedly as a slamming door. My fingers shook, and a splat of liquid spotted Al’s pretty black floor. Horrified, I met Al’s demon-slitted red eyes, his first reaction of annoyance shifting to dread as he stared at me in what might be pity. I was sneezing, not him. And it didn’t feel like an incoming call. It felt like a summons. And it was noon?

Ivy? Jenks?

"Rachel?" Al asked as the first gut-wrenching pain blossomed and I pushed the glass back into his hand.

"It’s a summons," I muttered, jaw clenched and the good feeling from whatever I’d been drinking dying.

"But it’s noon!" the demon exclaimed, gaze going to the clock to affirm it.

Ow. I hunched in on myself as the pull grew stronger. "Maybe Trent only cursed me to need a summons to be able to cross. Apparently I can still walk…in the sun. Ow!" I looked up, wincing. "I gotta go." Day or night. Trent had said day or night. Tron would be pleased. I could give him the White House pool in the sun after all.

I gasped as Al suddenly had my shirt front, yanking me up. "Who knows?" he snarled. "Who knows you can be summoned in the day?"

"Al, you’re hurting me! It’s probably just Ivy or my mom!"

His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go. "I asked you, who knows your curse allows you to be summoned during day hours?" he demanded, and I pushed his hand off me, feeling the pain of an ignored summons.

"Everyone who was in the auditorium when Trent cursed me," I said. "Jeez Louise! I think you bruised me."

Al’s eyes narrowed. "Trenton," he growled, thick hands clenching.

"If I’m lucky," I said, wondering if Trent even knew my summoning name. Probably. "I need to talk to him and get the Latin for sliding Ku’Sox’s curse back onto him so I can walk free again. I did it wrong the last time."

I could almost see Al’s understanding hit him when his expression went blank. "You tried to slide his original curse back onto him?" Al said in wonder. "At the restaurant? And I stopped you? Sweet mother pus bucket!" he exclaimed, and I swear, dust sifted from the ceiling. "Rachel, we have to work on this communication thing."

Hand around my middle, I bent almost double. "I gotta go," I panted. "Trent knows the curse. I have to talk to him. If I’m lucky, it’s him."