Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(52)
Author: Kim Harrison

Before the smaller hearth, on his back, was Al, out cold and bleeding from several gashes as he lay before the black fireplace. And over him was Pierce, a black ball of death in his hand.

"Pierce!" I shouted, and he turned, shocked.

"What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, the blackness in his hands flickering.

Al groaned. Pierce spun to him, Latin coming from him fast as Al’s eyes opened in fear.

I didn’t think, just moved. Slipping on the chalky stone dust, I lunged at Pierce, knocking him from Al and landing front first across the demon. Frantic, I scrambled up, hearing Al grunt in pain as my elbow dug into his gut. Almost in the fireplace, Pierce had gotten to his feet as well, the invoked curse still in his grasp.

For an instant, our eyes locked, and then, after shaking his head, he threw the spell at Al.

What is he doing?

"Rhombus!" I shouted, and Pierce’s curse hit, pinging through my awareness as I slapped his magic aside. It went spinning into the broken remains of Al’s kitchen, and my anger peaked.

"Are you addled?" Pierce yelled, his blue eyes showing his anger as he stood, his hands bereft of magic. "What the blazes are you doing?"

At my feet, Al groaned, and I felt a twinge on my awareness as a red-sheened sheet of ever-after coated him, dropping away to leave him looking half dead but no longer bleeding.

"I had him!" Pierce shouted, arms waving. "I bloody had him, and you knock me away? Deflect my curse? What’s wrong with you, woman! I could have been free!"

My mouth dropped open, and I glanced down at Al gazing up at me. Holy crap, had I just saved Al’s life? "Uh," I stammered as Al levered himself up onto one elbow, his head drooping to the floor and his dark hair covering his eyes.

"I had one chance!" Pierce shouted, shaking as he stood by the fireplace. "And-"

"Septiens," Al wheezed, and Pierce collapsed, seizing as if having hit an electrical field.

"Al! Wait!" I shouted, seeing Pierce writhe.

"And you blew it," the demon said, ignoring me as he staggered to his feet before the small hearth. His red, goat-slitted eyes fixed on Pierce. "Killing me when I’m down…not very sporting."

My heart pounded, and I remembered the ugliness leaking out of Pierce’s hand. Pierce was a demon killer, and I was basically a demon. Would he try to kill me next? I had to believe no, but I hadn’t thought he’d try to kill Al, either. I hadn’t thought at all, apparently.

"Let him go," I pleaded as Pierce shook, his neck muscles straining as he tried to breathe. "Al!" I shouted, smacking the demon’s shoulder. It wasn’t hard, just enough to get his attention.

For a long second, Al looked at me, his goat-slitted eyes searching mine. Then Pierce’s breath rasped in, and his entire body went flaccid. Panting, he lay on the floor and didn’t move.

"Perhaps you’re right," Al said, looking disheveled as he leaned against the fireplace and eyed his kitchen. Half-burned wood was scattered on the floor, and the book in the corner was going out. Seeing it, Al snarled and muttered a word at Pierce. Pierce screamed, shocked into pain again as his back arched. "Selling him might pay for this mess," Al finished, his expression ugly.

I reached out to protest, then hesitated. Pierce had saved my life, but he had tried to kill Al. "Stop," I finally whispered, touching Al’s sleeve, but what I was thinking was, Why did I help you? If I’d let Pierce kill him, all my troubles would have been over. Except they wouldn’t have been. Al was my protection in a world that I was probably going to be trapped in very soon.

Al frowned, and he looked at me as if only now seeing the dirt, grime, and bruises. He twitched, and I heard Pierce collapse behind me. My gut unclenched as it grew quiet, Pierce’s breath sobbing in and out in relief. Part of me was angry, part of me wanted to lift Pierce up and wash off his face. I didn’t know which part was stronger.

Moving slowly, Al staggered to the stone bench circling the center fire pit, coughing on the dust as he began arranging sticks for a fast fire. His fingers were shaking. It was dark, and I looked for a candle to light. All I found were puddles of wax, spattered like blood. At a loss as to what to do, I looked at the devastation, then went to help Pierce.

"You did this?" I asked as I pulled him upright against the broken remains of a bookcase, and Pierce winced, his eyes still closed. The shelves were leaning askew, and a thick tome fell, glancing against his shoulder. Still, he didn’t open his eyes, but pushed me away, grimacing. I’d seen them fight before. Almost a year ago, Pierce had gone into this familiar partnership with the intent to kill Al. I hadn’t thought he might actually do it.

"He wishes." Al’s tone was flat, and I turned to see his thick fingers nursing an infant fire in the circular fire pit. "He’s a cowardly runt."

The new flame flickered, lighting Al’s features into an ugly mask, and from Pierce came a ragged "I utilized my resources to the fullest, demon spawn."

"You’re a bloody coward!" Al shouted, then coughed. "Trying to kill me when I was down."

I stood between them, not knowing who to help. He had tried to kill Al. "What happened?" I asked, remembering the deadly, world-killing curses that Al had drawn through me. My God, the power they could use and didn’t…I was like a child playing, and I suddenly felt both scared and stupid.

Al looked up, his wavering gaze landing immediately on Pierce. "You. Go," he said, pointing, and before Pierce could do more than widen his eyes, he vanished.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, and Al pushed himself up. He looked beaten, and his clothes were dusty, showing blood and rips, though the skin under them was unmarked.

"He’s alive," the demon muttered, dropping a chunk of what had once been his chair on the flames. "I simply shoved him in a box for when I decide what to do with him. He tried to kill me. Please tell me you aren’t still clinging to the idea that he lo-o-o-o-oves you?" he mocked. "That witch is a demon killer. You’re simply lower on his list than I am. Grow up and accept it."

I didn’t want to believe it, and I searched the floor, hoping I hadn’t cracked my scrying mirror. Pierce had said he loved me, and I truly believed he hadn’t been lying. But the memory of him standing over Al, hurt and unconscious, with a black curse flickering over his aura, ready to kill him…Could I afford that kind of blind trust?

Depressed, I picked my way through the devastation to get my scrying mirror, breathing shallowly to avoid the dust. Feeling awkward, I sat beside Al, the slight curve of the bench between us. "You don’t look good," I said, my thoughts on Vivian. Trent would tell them what had happened. Jenks would be angry that he hadn’t been there. Ivy would be ticked because Trent hadn’t done anything, and Vivian would have another chapter in her "Let’s Shun Rachel" book. Even better, I was going to stink like burnt amber when I got back. If I got back.