Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(36)
Author: Kim Harrison

"I didn’t bring Pierce back to life," I said, not seeing what difference it made, but wanting to clear it up. "He was in purgatory, and I accidentally woke him while using a white spell to talk to my deceased father for some parental advice. Did it on a dare. I got Pierce instead. Al was the one who made him alive again so he could use him as a familiar. Dead witches can’t tap lines, and they make lousy familiars."

I sipped my coffee, trying not to think about it. Pierce was living out the rest of his life in another’s-a dead man’s-body. It gave me the willies, and I only hoped I’d never find myself facing such a decision. It was hard to blame the guy. I just wished he had given me a chance to find a better way before he’d given himself to Al until death do them part.

"But you woke him first?" Vivian said intently, her eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep.

"It’s a white spell," I said, glancing at Trent. He had known for a while that I could do this. "And it doesn’t work on the dead, only on those in purgatory."

Vivian moved her straw around to remix her milk shake. "I know it’s white," she said. "I’ve tried it. You got it to work when you were how old?"

Oh. That. Uncomfortable, I looked out the window at my mom’s car. "I don’t remember," I lied. I’d been eighteen and stupid, but clearly there was someone under the grass Vivian wanted to talk to. "Pierce started haunting me last year. He was buried in my churchyard." I started to warm, getting angry. "It was your precious coven that killed him."

"I know," Vivian said, as eager as if she was talking about someone from a history book, not a real person I once had breakfast with, hid in a little hole with, owed my life to. "I read up on him after he…after we met," she said slowly. "He was a coven member gone bad. They had no choice but to kill him."

Trent was silent, drawing back as I pointed a finger at her. "He wasn’t just killed. He was buried alive."

"Because of Eleison-" Vivian said, eyes alight as if discussing a long-argued point.

"Eleison was a mistake," I interrupted. "It wouldn’t have happened if he had known even the basic defensive arts for demonology. Your coven turned on one of their own. Gave him to an ugly rabble instead of trying to understand what he was warning them about." Frustrated, I leaned forward. "Vivian, this lily-white crap the coven sticks to can’t protect you anymore. It took five of you to subdue me, and I didn’t use a black curse. A real demon would have. You saw how easily Al took Brooke."

"Rachel-" Trent said, and I cut him off.

"Knowing how to twist curses doesn’t mean that you’re evil," I said, hoping I believed it myself. "Using demon magic doesn’t necessarily mean you’re bad. It just means you created a whole lot of imbalance."

"You," Vivian said hotly, "are rationalizing. White is white. Black is black."

Trent picked up both bills, pulling a wallet from his back pocket and dropping enough cash on the table to cover them both. "Madam Coven Member disagrees with you," he warned me, and I frowned, my gut tensing.

"Look," I said, aware that I was probably sealing my fate, but this might be my only chance to actually say anything in my defense. "Knowing demon magic has saved my life. I never use curses that require body parts or ones that kill…" Shit, I thought, hesitating. "I’ve never killed…" Sighing, I paused once more. "I’ve never used it to kill anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me first."

Vivian’s lips parted, and her fingers slipped from the condensation-wet glass. "You admit you killed someone? With black magic?"

Trent’s expression was questioning as he sat back down. My shoulders slumped, and I grimaced. "The fairies your precious coven sent to kill me," I admitted.

"No," Vivian said, shaking her head. "I mean people."

"Fairies are people," I said hotly. "I saved the ones I could, but-" Frowning, I shut up, glad Jenks hadn’t heard.

Vivian was silent, her milk shake gone and her fingers damp as she dried them on a white paper napkin. "Well, I have to use the little girls’ room," she said, looking uneasy. "Don’t leave until I get out, okay?" she said hopefully. God, she didn’t even know why I was insulted.

"No promises," Trent said as I continued to steam. "The road calls."

Vivian stood, her chair bumping on the floor. "I’m going to pay for this little chat when this is over," she said as she flicked the amulets around her neck. "See you at the finish line."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Vivian," Trent said, standing as well, his hand extended, and I huffed when they shook. Vivian, though, was charmed, beaming at him.

She turned away, and I cleared my throat. "You going to vote for or against me?" I asked bluntly, and the woman’s eyes pinched.

"I don’t know," she said softly. "Thanks for breakfast."

"Our pleasure," Trent said as he sat back down.

Vivian paused, looking like she wanted to say more, but then turned for the short corridor with RESTROOMS over it. She turned a corner and vanished with a squeak of a hinge.

Trent wrapped his hands around his mug and took a sip. "I don’t understand you," he said. "I truly don’t. You know they were listening, right? Editing it and putting it on the closed-circuit TV at the convention hotel?"

"I know," I said, depressed. "The sad thing is that she’s probably the only coven member who might side with me, and I think I just alienated her." Disgusted, I pushed my plate away, trying to shove my dark thoughts along with it. Looking up, I caught the waitress’s eye and pointed to my coffee cup, signaling another one for the road in a to-go cup. "You want another coffee?" I asked.

"No. Mind if I shower next?" he asked, and I gestured for him to have at it.

"Be my guest," I said, hoping he left me more than a hand towel.

Trent tapped the table once with his knuckles, hesitated, then left. The Weres at the end of the bar watched him as he walked to the door. There was a flash of light and a jingle as he opened it, and then the restaurant returned to a dim coolness.

The waitress sashayed to my table, a jumbo disposable cup in her hands. It was Were size, and if I drank it all, I’d be stopping to pee more than Jenks. "Thanks. That will wake me up," I said, reaching for my bag and wallet as she set the cup down.

"We’re good," she said as she picked up the bills Trent had left behind and smiled.

Standing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and lifted the huge cup of coffee. It took two hands. This thing was not going to fit in my mom’s cup holders, and I walked carefully to the door, opening it by leaning against it and walking backward.