"Until the elves learned how to travel the lines and come home," I said, my eyes rising to his. "Witches learned to do it first, though." And then demons killed all the gargoyles who knew so no one could travel the lines hut them. And then demons killed all the gargoyles who knew so no one could travel the lines hut them.

Pierce turned from me to wash the plates with careful attention. "A reasonable truth when a body knows the secret of our origin," he said, reminding me that he was one of the few people to know. "Demons created the ever-after and are slung back to it when the sun rises."

"Jenks can't stay in the ever-after after sunup," I said, taking up my cup and warming my hands around it. "He popped right out. And when I was in the ever-after, it felt like the lines were running from the ever-after to reality."

Pierce set the rinsed plates in the dry sink. "Perhaps because pixies are of such a small stature. I've not the learning, uh, I don't know. The lines flow like tides. When the sun is down, ever-after flows into reality, allowing demons to visit. When the sun is up, reality flows into the ever-after, pulling them back. It's the tides that make a caution of their realm."

I thought about that, remembering the broken buildings. Standing, I started pulling drawers open to hunt for a drying towel. "So ley lines are the paths the demons took to return to reality that first time, and they flow back and forth like tides, trashing the place."

"You have it like a book!" Pierce said, clearly pleased. "The entirety of the ever-after is pulled behind us like a man hanging behind a runaway horse, fixed fast by the ley lines."

"So how do you travel them?" I asked as I dried a plate, remembering what all this history was supposed to lead up to. He hesitated, and I added, "I want to know, even if it's just theory. I won't tell Al you told me. Give me some credit, will you?"

Hands dripping suds, he squinted as if in pain, and I added, "I'm going to need something to think about in Alcatraz besides your stunning Latin syntax, okay?"

Emotion drained from his face. "You won't get there. I'll not allow it," he said, his soapy hands suddenly on my shoulders. "With Bis's help, I can find you, follow you anywhere."

My impulse to pull away vanished. As I stood there, my shoulders became damp. I searched his expression, too jaded to believe in white knights. Happy endings were never handed out. You had to fight for them, earn them with bruised hearts and sacrifices. And I just couldn't do it right now. It hurt too much when it fell apart. "Don't make me promises," I whispered, and the earnest glow in his eyes tarnished.

Head down, I ducked out from his hands, going to the table and recapping the corn syrup as if nothing had happened, but my shoulders were cold, making it feel as if he was touching me still. I couldn't let myself like him. It was too stupid to think about.

"Look, I've traveled by ley lines a lot," I persisted, wanting to change the subject. "I can even hold myself together without help. Al hasn't had to keep my soul from going all over the continent for weeks. Can you at least tell me how gargoyles fit into it?"

His head down, Pierce returned to the sink and dumped the pan of sudsy water.

"Oh, come on!" I cajoled as I slid the corn syrup in next to the cornflakes and shut the door hard. Why does Nick have six bottles of corn syrup? Why does Nick have six bottles of corn syrup? "I won't tell Al!" "I won't tell Al!"

Still Pierce said nothing as he rinsed the dishpan and put it away damp. He was frowning when he turned back, and upon seeing my arms over my chest, he held up his hands in surrender. "Holding your soul together is but a small part," he said, and I made a satisfied huff, turning to dry the silverware. "To put it all on one stick, you need to shift your aura to match a ley line."

I pulled three drawers open looking for the silverware, dropping it in when I found it. There was no order, just everything all jumbled together in an otherwise empty drawer. Ivy would have an OCD moment. "I didn't know you could do that," I said. "Shift your aura. What, like make it a different color?"

"No. Color shifts slowly with our experiences, but the sound it makes is... flexible."

I b.u.mped the drawer shut with my hip, turning. "Auras make sounds?" I questioned.

"Apparently," he said sourly. "Mine never says anything that I can hear."

I smiled, relaxing at the drop in tension. "How can you change something you can't even hear?" I complained. "It's like teaching a deaf woman how to speak immaculately."

"That," Pierce said as he put the plates away, "is an almighty fine comparison. And why it takes a gargoyle to teach you. You need to know what sound your aura needs to be, and gargoyles are the only creatures that can hear auras and ley lines both."

I leaned back against the kitchen counter, wondering if this was as close to a normal life as I'd ever get: a few hours in someone else's apartment, cleaning up after breakfast and talking shop with a man who had been dead for a hundred and fifty years. But dead no longer. But dead no longer.

"Bis can hear auras," I stated, and Pierce took the dishcloth from me, drawing it through my fingers. "So if I want to use the ley lines like a demon and go back and forth, all I have to do is learn how to make my aura sound right?"

He nodded. "Death on," he said, his eyes fixed to mine. "When Al totes you in a line, he first changes the sound of your aura until it's consistent with that of the nearest ley line. That draws you into it. You settle somewhere else by making your aura sound like the line you wish to be in. A body's soul will find itself there most quick, and from there, you allow your aura to return to its normal sound to push you from the line back into reality. Demons can't hear the lines, nor can witches or elves or pixies, but with practice they can learn to shift their auras. "

"And you."

He inclined his head. "And me. Because I studied on it. Most diligently. It is one of the reasons the coven branded me black, saying it's a demon art because it makes your aura s.m.u.tty. But, Rachel, it's not evil. Bis is neither cursed nor s.m.u.t-ridden because he can travel the lines."

"You're preaching to the choir here, Pierce," I said, watching him dry his fingers. "So, a.s.suming I go along with this and Bis can tell me how to shift my aura, how do you do it?"

Dropping the dish towel, Pierce sat down at the table, looking excited for the first time. "Think on it like this," he said as he folded a napkin into an informal cup shape. I stayed where I was, and he looked up with an innocent expression. "Come along, Ms. Schoolmarm," he said, and I tugged out the chair opposite him and sat down.

Pierce eyed the s.p.a.ce between us, then shook a bunch of salt into the napkin. "Be of the mind that the salt is like your aura," he said, "and the napkin is the barrier the ley line makes with all creation. The salt can't get through, agreed?" he asked, and I nodded. "But if you make the s.p.a.ce that abides within the salt bigger, spread it out... "

I gasped when he dumped his cold coffee into the paper-napkin cup and coffee predictably went through the napkin and all over the table. "What are you doing?" I protested, my motion to stand halting when he reached across the table and grasped my wrist. Smiling, Pierce squished the napkin in one hand to get the last of the coffee out. Taking my finger, he traced it through the puddle and touched it to my lips, bringing the nasty taste of salty coffee to me. That's not why I shivered, though. Stop it. Just stop it now, Rachel Stop it. Just stop it now, Rachel "Just like the salt, your aura can be tuned so the gaps within it are bigger. It is still your aura, unchanged, but when the holes match up with the holes of the line, you can slip through right smart. Like magic. Each line is different. Know the line, and you can travel to it."

My lips were salty, and I felt another quiver as he held my wrist with the width of the table between us. "YouVe made a mess," I said, not looking from his eyes. They were blue, but not like Kisten's. Not like Kisten's at all.

"Do tell?" Pierce leaned across the table until he was inches away. His eyes were glinting. I didn't care if it was him or what he had told me that got my pulse racing. He was holding my wrist, almost pulling me closer. "Are you of a mind to try to shift your aura?" he offered. "Without Bis, you won't know what to match it to, but if I should make a die of it, my wicked witch tucked away in Alcatraz will have something to ponder."

The memory of Alcatraz was like a slap, and I jerked from him. "G.o.d, yes," I said as my hand slipped from his. "What do we do first?"

He smiled, taking a moment to swipe the coffee up with the dish towel before he held his hands out over the table, palms up. "We bring our souls to perfect balance."

My eyebrows rose. Tap a line and bring the energy in our chi to an equal state?

"My intentions are honorable," Pierce protested, but his lips twitched in amus.e.m.e.nt.

Eyes narrowing, I crossed my arms and looked at him. Balancing two people's chis was innocent enough. Sort of. It was a common event between teachers and students of the higher ley-line courses, sort of finding ground zero when learning a new charm, but it was also the same thing as a power pull, which was basically s.e.x with your clothes on if you did it right. And I'd be willing to bet that Pierce knew how to do it right.

"If you're skeery... ," he taunted, leaning back and letting his hands fall below the table.

My eyes scrunched up. "This is something I really want to know," I said softly. "Please?"

His smile softened. "You are indeed a chaste woman," he said. I snorted, eying his hands, again held out, palms up. "Are you communing with the nearest ley line?" he asked.

Excitement zinged through me. Scooting the chair closer, I reached out with my thoughts and tapped the university's line, wide and slow. "Got it," I said, putting my hands atop his, palms down but s.p.a.ce still between us.

"If you're sure," he said slowly. "I'll not have it said that I took advantage of you."

"G.o.d, Pierce!" I griped. "We're just balancing our chis. It's not like we're doing a power pull." Not yet, anyway. Not yet, anyway. A shiver took me, and our eyes met when he noticed. A shiver took me, and our eyes met when he noticed.

"Let's try then," he said as I stifled my smile, lifting his palms to touch mine.

My focus tightened for an instant at the connection, a knee-jerk reaction to keep my energy levels to myself, a necessity among polite society. He was still looking at me, and something in me twisted. I was in so much trouble. He was dangerous. He was quick, clever, powerful. I'd learned more from him in one night than I had with Al the past two months. But what really had me worried was that he didn't judge me by what others said, but by what he saw. And what he saw was me, not the s.m.u.t or the demon pact or the shunning.

There was nothing but the soft warmth of skin between us, both of us holding tight to ourselves as if afraid. I swallowed, and on my exhale, I loosened my hold. A trickle, a whisper, a breath of power ebbed between us with the slow pace of mola.s.ses. Energy slipped coolly from me to him, equalizing. It hadn't happened in a jolting flash, telling me Pierce had an amazing amount of control. There was no t.i.tillation, or at least not much. But there could have been. There were ways, and slow was often more excruciatingly pleasurable than fast.

I stared at him, pulse hammering as our palms touched and the energy hummed between us. "I have no idea what I'm doing," I whispered, not knowing if I was talking about how to travel the lines or my life in general.

Pierce's lips twitched. "Then let me show you, mistress witch." Palms never leaving mine, he leaned forward across the table. My pulse hammered, and I thought he was going to kiss me, when he suddenly pulled back, his eyes wide and his gaze unfocused.

"What did I do?" I asked, alarmed, and then the air pressure shifted.

"Stu-u-u-udent!"

s.h.i.t. Algaliarept. Algaliarept.

What, by the two worlds colliding, are you doing!" Al shouted, ruddy face ugly. Pierce flung himself back. A sheet of green-tinted ever-after rose between us, and I stood, my chair crashing to the floor.

"Al, wait!" I shouted, lurching clear when Al dove across the kitchen for Pierce, shoving the table aside. My splat gun and Pierce's hat hit the floor, victims of inertia. Al's white-gloved hand smacked into Pierces hastily raised protection circle with an audible crunch.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" the elegantly dressed demon howled in his proper English accent and crushed green velvet as he shook his fist and danced back. "You b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l sewer rat. I told you no teaching her!" Looking from his hand, his anger shifted to me. "h.e.l.lo, Rachel."

Pierce's face was white as he stood ramrod straight behind a shimmering sheet of green-tinted ever-after. A flair of red washed through it, and was gone. His expression was both determined and frustrated. Clearly he wasn't happy about being caught teaching me lines.

Al backed up, his head bowed over his gloved hand until a shimmer of ever-after coated it. "Maybe I should blame you," the demon muttered, goat-slitted red eyes making me shiver. "Using your feminine wiles to lead my familiar astray. If all you want is dangerous s.e.x, I can give that to you better than he can, and I won't break your heart afterward."

Insulted, I glared, ready to argue with a demon who could snuff me as fast as I could flip a switch-but wouldn't. "He was just teaching me the theory on line jumping. More than you ever did! And I'm not too happy about you sending him to watch me. All he does is order me around, and it's not even good advice. He's part of the problem!"

Al's eyes narrowed. I had taken three steps back before I even realized it, the small of my back hitting the counter. Sure, as his student-the only one worth teaching in the last five thousand years-keeping me in good health and not bent into a pretzel was a plus, but if I went too far he might not be opposed to being known as the one who killed their chance at a rebirth of demons. Trent could make more of me, and Al knew it. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"Pierce watching you wasn't my idea," he said smoothly, his anger an icy thread in his voice. "You'll learn line jumping when I say so." He looked at Pierce over his gla.s.ses, and I shivered. "And not from some runt with delusions of grandeur. You need a gargoyle."

My anger hesitated, thoughts spinning back to last winter when he congratulated me on "having my own gargoyle" and asking him to come share mortar cakes with Treble... "Treble knows how to line jump?" I asked, and Al chuckled, the noise low and satisfied.

"Of course she does. She won't be teaching you, though." Spinning on a heel he turned to give Pierce a derisive look. "You're a mess. Get out of that circle. I won't kill you today. Brew me a coffee while Rachel and I talk."

His face white, Pierce let his circle drop. Al saw the direction of my gaze, and he shook his head at me. "You look even worse, itchy witch. You simply must take more care in your personal hygiene. I'll not have it said that I'm bringing you up poorly."

"I've been a little too preoccupied to worry about what I look like," I said.

"Pish posh. Appearance is all we have sometimes. Make it a priority." I stiffened when he stooped to pick up first my splat gun, then Pierce's hat, but he only handed me my weapon. "I smell pancakes," Al said as he jauntily smacked Pierce's hat back on the witch's head. "Did the runt make you breakfast?" Al said, leaning over the stove. "Quickest way to a woman's crotch is through her gullet, eh?" he said, leering at Pierce, who was now rinsing out the percolator. "Is it working? I'd be curious to know. I'd buy her a cake or something."

Pierce was silent, his lips pressed tight as he washed the coffeepot. I didn't know what to do with my splat gun, so I tucked it in the back of my waistband. "Al, I spent yesterday in Alcatraz," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "I want my name back. We had a deal."

Ignoring me, Al turned to the rest of the apartment, the tails of his frock coat furling. "Where are we?" he asked, flicking on lights as he pa.s.sed into the living room. "Cincinnati," he said dryly, peeking through the blinds and gazing out the black windows, hands on his hips as he surveyed the street below as if he owned it. "It stinks of trains and that chili with the chocolate in it. Ooooh, books!" he exclaimed suddenly, making a beeline for the small library.

I shoved the table back where it belonged and Pierce picked up my chair, draping his coat and vest over it and taking off his hat. The man was subdued, his anger simmering. He wouldn't look at me, ticked perhaps that we'd attracted Al's attention. Watching Al coo over the books like they were puppies, I realized he'd never been here before, which begged the question of whom Nick was summoning. The raised circle in the corner wasn't for playing marbles.

"This isn't your home," Al said, pulling out a volume and laying it open across one thick hand. "Nothing smells like you." He gave me a questioning look over his round smoked gla.s.ses and snapped the book closed. Sliding it away, he reached over his head, not even looking where his hands were going as he found that ley-line knife resting out of his eyesight.

"Shiny!" the demon said, his lips parting to show his blocky teeth. "I haven't seen this since I stuck it in Amenhotep." The demon's eyes flicked to mine, his smile widening. "This is Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos's room," he said, and my breath caught. "Delightful, just delightfull just delightfull What are you doing in Nicky's room, Rachel? Ooooh, he summoned you to the West Coast, didn't he? Did you kill him? Good for you for taking care of that little What are you doing in Nicky's room, Rachel? Ooooh, he summoned you to the West Coast, didn't he? Did you kill him? Good for you for taking care of that little problem}. problem}. I should give you a bunny. Where is he? Stuffed in a closet?" I should give you a bunny. Where is he? Stuffed in a closet?"

Pierce shut the cupboard door hard, and I jumped. "She should have killed him, but she doesn't listen to me," he muttered, and I gave him a dark look.

"Al, why are you here if it's not to give my name back?" I asked, and the demon sighed, breathing deeply of the knife's blade.

"It's after sundown. I'm a.s.sessing whether your worry is valid." Eyes closing in bliss, Al ran his tongue up the length of the blade, a soft sound escaping him as he licked the knife clean of nothing I could see. "I'm going to rub the little wizard's head from his skinny shoulders for summoning you. I'm the only one allowed to pull you about." He put the knife away, fingers reluctantly slipping from it. "Not that I ever have... "

"No, you just keep crashing my life. Look-" I said, and Al grunted.

"Here it comes," the demon muttered. "Listen. Listen to this, runt. She's going to have a list." And Pierce shrugged, carefully filling the pot with fresh water.

"Hey!" I snapped, not liking either of their att.i.tudes. "If you're not going to make good on our deal, then you need to leave. And if you leave, you might better spend some time finding a good lawyer for breach of contract! I know people, you know."

"No need to get nasty," Al said, pouting. "With this nonsense about being summoned, I felt you slipping into a line and came to check. Apparently you've exaggerated your trouble."

"Excuse me?" I stood where I was, hands on my hips. "I'm not exaggerating anything. I was in Alcatraz. I want my name back. No one knows mine but my mom, Ivy, and Jenks!"

"And me." Al ran his finger across the front of the big-screen TV, har-rumphing at the dust. "You should just scare the h.e.l.l out of them. Consider this your chance to practice."

"I don't need practice," I said through gritted teeth. "I need my name back. They're talking lobotomy. Sure would be a shame for your investment to end up dumber than a rock."

Coattails furling, Al strode to the pile of electronics, picking up a camera and opening the back to take the memory card and slip it into a pocket. "You are so cute when you squirm," he murmured, looking at me over his gla.s.ses and dropping the camera so it hit with a crack.

"Al-"

"I'm giving you the chance to grow," Al said as he sat on the couch, spreading his arms across the top. "I'd be a poor guardian if I fought all your battles for you. They're paltry witches. You're demon kin. What can they do to you?"

Frustrated, I held my arms out, hands in fists and palms up. "My knees are the size of grapefruits from dancing, maybe? And these shackle marks are from what?"

Al's red eyes slid past me to Pierce. "Play?" he said, his voice dripping interest. "Gordian Nathaniel Pierce's quirks are legendary. Why do you think I want the runt so badly? Size truly doesn't matter if you can do what he can."

I looked at Pierce-his softly curling hair hid his face, but his jaw was tight and his hands shook as he measured out the grounds and plugged in the percolator. Male witches' anatomy generally didn't measure up to a human's, but witch women always always came back. came back.

" 'Course it might all be propaganda," Al said as he pulled a watch from his fob pocket. His eyes met mine, and I shivered when he rose. "Let me guess...," he said as he started walking to me, each foot placed precisely. "The little wizard summoned you to the West Coast with my name knowing he would get you, then fled here to summon you out of their grasp, probably whining some poppyc.o.c.k bull about how he lo-o-o-oves you."

I retreated as Al advanced until my back hit the counter. "Nick is slime," I said, scared.

Al pressed close, far too close, and I held my breath, cringing. Not quite touching me, but almost, the lace at his throat shifted. "The question is," Al whispered, eying Pierce, "Nicky wouldn't know you had my name unless someone told him. Who told him, Rachel?"

"The coven." Al stank of burnt amber, and seeing me wince, he drew back, frowning. Knees shaking, I pushed from the counter.

"The coven," Al echoed, mocking me. "Yes. But who told them?" them?"

I thought about Trent and dropped my eyes. "The problem isn't who told the coven your name," I said. "The problem is someone told them I can invoke demon magic. Maybe it was you trying to force me into the ever-after."

Al huffed, turning away. "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel... Such thoughts of paranoia. And you say you don't need a babysitter."

"I don't!"

He stood at the table, both elegant and derisive. "Then start acting like a demon, itchy witch."

"I'm not a demon," I said, glancing at the clock. c.r.a.p, it was after six. Nick Nick "You could have fooled me." Al's white glove vanished, and he examined his hand, the thick knuckles going white as he flexed his fingers. "This entire situation is so... ba.n.a.l" ba.n.a.l" The glove misted back into existence, and his attention landed on me. "You must do better, love, if you expect anyone to take you seriously." The glove misted back into existence, and his attention landed on me. "You must do better, love, if you expect anyone to take you seriously."

"Is there a point to this?" My arms were over my chest again, and I forced them down.

"I b.l.o.o.d.y well hope so," Pierce grumbled as he set a cup beside the chugging pot.

"The point is, you could excel if you would simply exert yourself!" Al complained.

My head shifted back and forth. "I don't want to be a demon. I just want my name back so my life can go back to chaotic and weird instead of chaotic and desperate."