For a Few Demons More by Kim Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

her pockets were deeper than mine. She had told me she was nearly broke, but nearly broke for the last living member of the Tamwood vampires was not my broke, rather more of a down-to-six-figures-in-her-bank-account broke. If she wanted something, she got it. But I was too tired to fight her.
    â€œI owe you,” I said as I grabbed the cooled tea Ceri had made for me and shuffled out.
    â€œGod, Jenks,” Ivy was saying as I avoided my room with my scattered clothes and just headed for my bathroom. “The last thing she needs is to be working for Kalamack.”
    â€œI just thought—” the pixy said.
    â€œNo, you didn’t think,” Ivy accused. “Trent isn’t some pantywaist rich pushover, he’s a power-hungry, murdering drug lord who looks good in a suit. You don’t think he’s got some reason for inviting her to work security other than his welfare?”
    â€œI wasn’t going to let her go alone,” he protested, and I shut the door. Sipping the tart tea, I dropped my pj’s into the washer and got the shower going so I wouldn’t have to listen to them. Sometimes I felt as if they thought I couldn’t hear at all just because I couldn’t hear a pixy belch across the graveyard. Yeah, they’d had a contest one night. Jenks won.
    The water’s warmth was wonderful, and after the sharp scent of pine soap washed away the choking smell of burnt amber, I stepped from the shower feeling refreshed and almost awake. Purple towelwrapped around me, I rubbed the mist from the long mirror, leaning close to see if I had any new freckles. Nope. Not yet. Opening my mouth, I checked out my beautiful, pristine teeth. It was nice not having any fillings.
    I may have coated my soul in blackness when I had twisted a demon curse to turn into a wolf this spring, but I wasn’t going to feel guilty over the beautiful unmarked skin I had when I turned back. The accumulated damage of twenty-five years of existence had been removed, and if I didn’t find a way to get rid of the demon smut from twisting the curse before I died, I was going to pay for it by burning in hell.
    At least I’m not going to feel too guilty about it, I thought as I reached for my lotion, heavy on the SPF protection. And I certainly wasn’t going to waste it. My mother’s family had come from Ireland long before the Turn, and from my mom I got my red hair, my green eyes, and my pale skin, now as satisfyingly soft and supple as a newborn’s. From my dad I got my height, my lean, athletic build, and my attitude. From both of them I got a rare genetic condition that would have killed me before my first birthday if Trent’s father hadn’t set himself above the law and fixed it in his illegal genetic lab.
    Our fathers had been friends before they’d died a week apart under suspicious circumstances. At least they were suspicious to me. And that was the reason I distrusted Trent, if his being a drug lord, a murderer, and nastily adept at manipulating me weren’t enough.
    Suddenly overcome with missing my dad, I shuffled through the cabinet behind the mirror until I found the wooden ring he’d given me on my thirteenth birthday. It had been the last one we’d shared before he died. I looked at it, small and perfect in my palm, and on impulse I put it on. I hadn’t worn it since the charm it once held to hide my freckles had been broken, and I hadn’t needed it since twisting that demon curse. But I missed him, and after being attacked by a demon this morning, I could use some serious emotional security.
    I smiled at it circling my pinkie, feeling better already. The ring had come with a lifetime charm reinstatement, and I had an appointment every fourth Friday in July. Maybe I’d take the madam out for coffee instead. Ask her about maybe changing it to a sunscreen charm—if there was such a thing.
    The give-and-take of masculine and feminine