Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(35)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Thief shoes," Jenks said around a belch. "I wonder what he’s stealing."

"Not our problem." I hope. Taking another bite, I watched Vivian sit up, startled when Trent came up beside her, and then her quick glance at me. "Are you doing okay?" I asked Jenks, seeing his flushed face and slowly moving wings.

"I’ll be fine." Jenks tugged his new red jacket straight and rinsed his cup out in my glass of water, leaving a thin ribbon of coffee trailing down. "I want to see if she put a bomb under our car. You going to be okay alone with them?" Thinking of Ivy in the shower, I nodded, and he rose up to leave a fading glow of yellow sunbeam on the table. "I’ll be in back in five."

"Be careful," I said as he flew off, and he gave me a flash of red dust, the pixy equivalent of rolling his eyes.

At the bar, Vivian was sliding off her stool, one hand holding a tall glass of milk shake and a dangling napkin. Behind her, Trent followed, smiling as if he were crossing a ballroom floor, not a bar/restaurant surrounded by nothing in the middle of New Mexico.

"Ah, I don’t know what to say," the small woman said as she approached, and I pushed out a chair for her.

"Sit," I said, smiling. "Trent won’t bite. It’s Ivy you have to worry about, and she’s in the shower."

Her milk shake hit the table, and she sat. The heavy-magic detection amulet on my bag started to glow, but the lethal one remained dark. It didn’t go unnoticed by Vivian, and she took a sip of her drink while Trent resettled himself. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the last time I’d sat with her and had coffee. It had been in Mike’s, actually, and she’d been prepared to shoot me if I hadn’t gone with her. But that had been before she’d watched me stand next to a demon and try to save her mentor, Brooke.

"Ivy said you were at the airport," I said, taking a sip of coffee and probably getting Jenks’s glitter on my lips. "You’re not going to kill me, are you?" I asked, and Trent choked on his tomato soup.

Eying Trent, she shook her head, her eyes red rimmed and tired looking. "They’re hoping you do something demonic on the way, and if so, I’m to report it," she said, nervous until Trent stopped coughing. "Not that everyone isn’t pretty much set on how they are going to vote already. Except for whoever they elect to take Brooke’s spot. Oh, anything you say to me is going to be used against you in the vote."

Vote? I thought, my gaze going to Trent as I realized he’d been right. They were going to try to put me away despite what Oliver had promised. "This was a done deal!" I said, then lowered my voice. "Oliver said if I dropped my claim that the council is corrupt, you’d pardon me!" I almost hissed.

Vivian shrugged as she sucked on her straw, and Trent wiped his mouth, red faced but finally under control. "Ms. Morgan is somewhat naive when it comes to world powers," he said.

"Why? Because I expect them to keep their word?" I said darkly.

Looking innocent drinking her milk shake, Vivian sat back, her blue eyes downcast. The diamonds on her watch glittered, and the time was off. "It would help a lot if you brought back Brooke. She’d vote for you then."

I couldn’t stop my rueful laugh. "No, she wouldn’t."

Trent had gone back to his soup, watching us both. It made me feel like I was on trial not once, but twice.

"And we’re not corrupt," Vivian said, almost as an afterthought.

Why is she saying this crap? I thought, rolling up a second pancake and taking a bite. It was like she was reading a script. Maybe she was afraid of what Trent thought? Maybe she was bugged and this entire conversation was going to end up in someone else’s ears?

Regardless, I couldn’t let that one go without a rebuttal, so, taking a huge bite of pancake, I mumbled, "Right. Okay. Let’s just say the coven is lily-white, but Brooke was dabbling in demonology." Swallowing, I added, "She summoned Big Al all on her own, knowing that’s who she was going to get, not me. She didn’t pay or threaten anyone into doing it, she did it herself. I warned her not to. I went out of my way to try to stop her. Burned my synapses and fried my brain trying to jump a line to get to her in time. If I’m to be shunned, then she should be, too."

Sure enough, Vivian didn’t look appalled or insulted. Though we were alone, we were not unheard. "Can you…" She looked at Trent, hesitating.

"No," I said, knowing where her thoughts were. "I can’t rescue her. Brooke summoned Al. He broke her circle because she didn’t know what she was doing. I’m sorry. I know you think I control him, but I don’t. I’m just trying to stay alive here."

Vivian bent her head back over her milk shake. "I had to ask," she said, her thin fingers looking cold on the glass.

The table grew quiet. I kept shoveling pancake in my mouth, not knowing what to say now that I knew we were being eavesdropped upon.

"Vivian," Trent said, his attention lifting from my unused syrup as he broke the awkward silence. "What role do you have in the coven? You seem to be involved in everything."

"I’m the plumber," she said with pride. "It’s traditional for the junior ley-line magic user."

Plumber was a nice way of saying that she plugged information leaks and kept the crap moving. And I almost laughed at the junior tag. Junior or not, she could smear my face in the playground dirt with her white magic.

"I fix things," Vivian added to make sure Trent understood. "Make things run smoothly. That’s why I…" Her words faltered, and she looked embarrassed as she took another pull on her straw.

"Got this gem of an assignment," I said, and she nodded. "Sorry about that."

"It’s what I like," she said, shrugging. "Usually."

The last was said rather dryly, and I wondered if it was for our listener’s benefit.

"Just be careful," I said, not entirely in jest. "That’s what Pierce was before they cemented him into the ground."

Trent was still eying my syrup, even as he scraped his spoon to get the last dregs of the soup, and I pushed the little container to him.

Vivian’s face showed her disgust. Pierce had beaten her up last spring, and that was not easy for the self-assured woman. "Pierce," she said, mouthing his name like it tasted bad. "He was dead. You brought him back."

I could almost hear her think black witch, and my jaw clenched. Why was everyone so fixated on labels? Across the table, Trent dunked his clean fork in the syrup, pushing the little container back after he’d tasted it. If he didn’t like it, then Jenks wouldn’t, either, and I left it as I put my napkin over my last pancake. I was done.