Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(46)
Author: Kim Harrison

He dropped his head and rocked back, looking not nearly chagrined enough. Turning to the approaching bird, I touched the line, pulling it into me and imagining the strongest, bird-hating circle I could think of. Oh God. The yellow claws looked as big as tree roots, and they were getting bigger.

"Now!" Jenks shouted.

"Rhombus!" I screamed, flinging my hand out to give my spell more strength.

I went down on one knee as I pushed the energy out of me instead of letting it flow naturally. With a clap of sound that reverberated like thunder, my bubble flashed into existence. Screeching, the bird tried to backwing, head flung high and claws yanked tight to its body.

"Hold," I whispered, hands in fists as it hit. "Oh God. Please hold."

The bird hit, and I shook, bowing my head as the impact reverberated through me. And then my circle fell. Panting, I looked up. The bird had glanced off the top of the bubble, pulling up enough to avoid a full, neck-snapping strike. Tumbling, it hit the ground, getting smaller as it rolled across the parking lot and smacked into a rock.

"Did you kill it?" Trent said. "Rachel, did you kill it!"

He sounded frightened, and I gave him an ugly look. For all the smooth callousness he showed the world, perhaps he wasn’t as immune to death as he wanted everyone to think.

"We should be so lucky," I said sourly, crab-walking a quick circle around the car with the chalk to make a more secure barrier. Ivy looked frustrated, pixies perched around her for security since Trent had driven them from himself. Vivian was pale. Scared. The lump of feathers now lying at the base of the rock wasn’t moving, but I invoked the circle, shaking in the hot sun, waiting.

"Are you going to go look at it?" Vivian asked and Jenks landed on my shoulder.

"Yeah. Right," Jenks said, dusting heavily in exhaustion. "You don’t poke the monster when it’s down. You run away."

"I’m not getting out of this circle," I said. "Give it an hour or two, and if he still doesn’t move, we can throw rocks at him." Demon. I was starting to believe that it was one.

Trent edged closer, stopping when I gave him a withering look. But whether we should poke the downed bird or simply drive away became moot when the lump of black shifted and stirred. Fear tightened my shoulders as a man rose, shedding feathers, the foot-long shafts of obsidian gray falling from him to reveal the simply cut gray pants and shirt underneath and the soft gray slippers. His slate gray hair was silver where the light hit it, and when he turned, he smiled as if pleased that I’d hurt him. He was taller than me. Pale. Silver. Shiny. Demon.

I glanced at Trent, thinking I’d rather have him as an enemy than a friend if this was his idea of helping. Trent’s head was down, and it ticked me off that I was the reason he was safe and the rest of us weren’t. God! I was a fool. Al had been right.

Vivian was staring, slack-jawed, at the approaching form, and Jenks hovered at the edge of the bubble, hands on his hips as he assessed the new threat. Ivy was scared but trying not to show it as the demon came to a halt before us, looking stronger and more certain of himself. He looked young, even with the silver hair, and I squirmed when his goat-slitted eyes moved from Vivian to me.

"But it’s daylight!" Vivian whispered, and Ku’Sox smiled in delight, his attention leaving me to touch upon Trent and slide away. Can’t touch this. His look at me had been one of casual disinterest. Bet it wouldn’t stay that way.

"It’s the Ku’Sox!" the pixies shouted from the car, and Ivy waved at them to go away as they swarmed her. "The Ku’Sox Sha-Ku’Ru!"

"I’m the eater," the narrow-faced man said, and I breathed. Crap, his voice was as gray as he was. Silver and gray, with a weird accent I’d heard only once. It was Newt’s.

Ku’Sox squinted at my bubble, making me even more nervous as he leaned one way, then the next, evaluating its size and the black haze of demon smut crawling over it. I blanched when I realized the smut crawling over my bubble was being attracted to him, congregating where he was, looking like it was trying to get to him. "Guys," I said, wishing I could back up even more. "I don’t think I can hold a drawn circle this size against him."

"No, you can’t," Ku’Sox said, his eyes landing on me. "Aren’t you an odd sort of witch." He breathed deep, surprise cascading through his expression. "Wearing a man’s clothes," he added, his bloodred eyes shifting to a pale blue. "How curious. You’re female."

"Look out!" Jenks shrilled, but I was suddenly gagging, my hands digging at Ku’Sox’s fingers gripping my throat. He had me, his hands lightly around my neck as my feet dangled. Somehow he had yanked me out of my circle, broken it without a thought. It was too large for me to hold against him, and he’d taken it.

From Ivy’s and Jenks’s shouts of protest, I guessed that Vivian had reset the circle. She wouldn’t have a chance of holding it, either, except Ku’Sox didn’t seem to care about them anymore. No, I was freaking demon candy. It must be the red hair.

"Wait!" I choked out, still able to breathe and feeling his fingers firm around my neck. He didn’t stink like a demon. And his eyes, though still slitted like a goat’s, had become a pale blue with a thin rim of slate gray on the edges. His lips were thin, and his chin was narrow. Al had once said he could change his eyes if he made the effort. Had Ku’Sox made the effort, or were his eyes naturally blue?

Fear was a cascade of sparkles through me, and I shuddered as my toes touched the earth. "Uh, can we talk?" I managed, and the man smiled wider. His teeth were flat and blocky, like Al’s, and very white.

"Can we talk?" he echoed softly, looking at me in a not-so-nice way. "Perhaps. Hel-l-lo-o-o," he drawled. "Nice to meet you, little red-haired witch."

"Let me out, Vivian!" Jenks shrilled, and I tried to see them.

"Don’t you dare…," I managed, then looked back to Ku’Sox as the grip around my throat shifted to my shoulders and my heels touched the pavement. I could breathe freely again, and my gaze was fixed on the man…demon…Ku’Sox. Washed-out, pale blue eyes flicked behind me, then back.

"I don’t know who you are," I said boldly, his long, narrow fingers pinching my shoulder, "but you need to leave."

"Brave," he said, and I punched him in the gut when he tried to tuck me under his arm.

I didn’t know what my fist connected with, but he dropped me. I got a gasp of breath in, and then the pavement hit me hard. The chalk was still in my hand, and I refused to open it. Ku’Sox’s slippers were inches from my eyes, and my knuckles were bleeding, scraped open when I fell. I still had my chalk. Damn it, I still had my chalk.