Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(122)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Ow," I huffed, then rolled, instinct and too many fights telling me to move.

I was too slow to escape everything, and the toe of Ku’Sox’s boot helped me over, bruising my ribs instead of breaking them.

"Mother of a dog whore!" Ku’Sox shouted, following me with his foot swinging, and I rolled the other way, right into him.

He wasn’t expecting that, and he fell forward over me, hitting the sidewalk with an oof of surprise. Immediately I reversed my motion, almost crawling across him as he lay facedown on the sidewalk. Inside, a part of me was shrieking with laughter. Here we were, two demons in the sun, down to kicking and punching.

"You’re scum, Ku’Sox." I breathed heavily, straddling his back as I found his arm and yanked it backward, almost breaking it as I smashed his face back down onto the sidewalk, but he only started to laugh, his cheek against the cement and unable to see me. He was starting to piss me off, and I gave a little pull, cutting his mirth short.

"Rachel, what do you hope to accomplish?" he said, clearly feeling the pain of the position but not taking it seriously. "I can jump to a line from under you. Burn every last thought from you as I lie here."

Maybe, but he hadn’t. Grimacing, I shoved his wrist into his back and lifted his bent elbow, making him yelp. "Then why haven’t you?" I asked. I let up, but just a little. The hills of San Francisco were silent, not a single bell ringing. Please, Vivian…

"Because this is sort of nice," he said, and I pulled up on his elbow, making him laugh more even though his face started to show the strain. He was getting a kick out of this, the bastard.

"Nice?" I leaned closer to his ear. "You should see me when I get warmed up. I’m like a hemi, baby. Run all night."

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot," Ku’Sox said, and I eased up a smidge. "I heard you almost killed Al. You made a damn fine construct for the collective. I walked it while you languished in Al’s tiny kitchen, trying to survive its creation. I can admit I was wrong. You’re a demon. A damn fine one. I don’t care if you came from witches and the genetic engineering of elves. I myself am born from tinkering, and I’ll admit that my abhorrence might have originated from my own shame."

"I’m not ashamed of where I come from," I snarled softly, my worry growing as I glanced at Pierce and Ivy, still not moving.

"I’m even impressed with how you tried to slide that curse into me," he added, eyes roving to find mine. "You forgot to include the collective, though. Good luck finding one. The demons won’t help you. They want me even less than your pitiful coven does. No, you’re down to one choice, and that’s me."

Vivian would find me a collective. She would. I had to believe it. "You?" I said as I leaned in, my shadow covering his eyes, and he winced, his gaze finding mine at last. A grimace grew on my face as I pinned him to the cement. Ku’Sox was an ass; he was getting turned on by this. I could tell.

"I told you I liked red hair, yes?" he murmured, sand stuck to his face. "I could get to like you," he said, and I forced myself to smile back at him. "We could enjoy each other, enjoy the best of the ever-after and this world both. Just you. And me. The hell with the rest of them."

Keep him talking, I thought, feeling a weird sort of energy starting to slip from him to me. Damn it, was he trying to do a power pull? But the memory of him eating a pixy, the warrior struggling to pierce Ku’Sox’s throat even as he gulped him down intruded. As if. "What about Ivy?" I asked breathlessly, glancing at her.

"Bring her along," he said. "Variety is the spice of life."

"I meant," I said in his ear, "you hurt her."

"I didn’t do anything permanent." His voice betrayed his bewilderment. "You want to know the way to keep her soul after she dies, right?"

Shock quivered through me. "You know how to do that?" I warbled.

I couldn’t help it. My grip eased, and Ku’Sox drew his arm to his chest, laughing low as he shifted out from under me, sitting up and turning to face me. Streaks of dirt had turned his black shirt gray, and he felt his shoulder before wiping the sand from his face and arranging his hair.

"That’s better," he said, gaze taking in my rumpled body, eyes cataloging the curves and lines of my face all the way down to my borrowed shoes. "This is what you really look like?"

"You can return Ivy’s soul to her when she dies?" I prompted breathlessly.

"No. I just wanted you to let go."

My jaw dropped. "You son of a bitch." I swung at him, my wrist bursting into pain when he caught my hand, inches from his face.

"Find something new to call me," he said, yanking me to him. My hand curled into a claw, and I panted through the pain. I was kneeling before him, and he pulled me closer, almost into his lap.

"I’ve been alone a long time," he said, his hand gripping my wrist painfully, promising me even more hurt if I struggled. "Lots of time to think of how to pleasure myself with a woman who wouldn’t die at her first orgasm. Lots of time to imagine what it could be." His groping hand reached, taking the chalk from my pocket and throwing it away. "Lots of time to lose what few inhibitions I might have had."

My splat gun was next, and I struggled as he found it, slipped in the small of my back, and threw it into the nearby ocean.

"I can shift the smallest mote of energy," he said, a new depravity in his eyes, as if he wanted to strip me of everything else. "Make it dance in you."

"Promises, promises," I said, listening for the bells, but still there was nothing but the shush of the water and the crying of the gulls. It wasn’t going to happen. They were too afraid, and my hope began slipping from me, leaving the sour taste of burnt amber on my soul.

"I don’t want to fight you," he said, sounding reasonable as the wind moved the ends of his hair. "I’m not even asking you to submit. Simply…let me be."

Let me be. It was what I wanted. "Let you be?" I said, my gaze darting to the chalk, well out of reach.

He nodded, and my hand hurt when he let go and the blood flowed again. "You aren’t wanted here," he said, his eyes lifting from me as I leaned back, the deathly silent hills watching us. "They hate you. Why are you trying to save them? This is your playground. Play! Play with me."

He was smiling, looking as beautiful as only a satisfied demon could, knowing the world was his and nothing could stop him. I felt my wrist, looking for a way out and not finding one. There was no collective to help me move the curse, no white knight in the guise of a city-wide outflowing of goodwill. They had turned their backs on me, not trusting me. The hurt part of me said screw them, but I’d been afraid before and I couldn’t fault them. They were scared, and no one should die because they were scared. Not when someone else had the courage to say no.