Demon Bound

dust of the alley floor off his ass. He sniffed, and slapped harder. It was more than dust.
    “You will need to change your clothing, anyway,” Alice said. Her robes and head scarf from the temple were back, and she’d darkened her skin and eyes. “A white man is still noticed in these older sections of Cairo, especially among the street children.”
    So he needed to look local. He shifted into the first form his mind grabbed hold of, and Alice’s mouth flattened.
    “You still look foreign.”
    He knew from news feeds that his loose jeans and button-down cotton shirt were unremarkable, so it must have been his face. “But it’s Omar Sharif. You know, from Lawrence of Arabia. ”
    She frowned. “Is that an Egyptian actor?”
    “Yeah, he’s from—” Okay, he wasn’t sure. And maybe he’d put a little too much Peter O’Toole into it, anyway. “Forget it.”
    He tried another. Alice raised her eyes to the heavens, then strode to the mouth of the alley.
    Jake followed her, fighting his grin. “Come on. It’s Yul Brynner. You should have stars in your eyes.”
    “Are you trying to put stars in my eyes, novice?”
    “Do I look crazy?”
    Damn. That probably hadn’t been the best response—because he did want to see something in her eyes besides disapproval.
    Better yet, he wanted them closed, her skirts up around her waist, and her dancer’s legs wrapped around him. Those black stockings and witch boots were optional.
    Yeah, he was flippin’ insane.
    She stopped, faced him. “You look like an overly handsome man who will bring attention to us, and alert the demon of our approach before we arrive.”
    Screw this, then. Jake shifted back into his own form, then did what she had, simply darkening his skin and eyes.
    Alice’s lips thinned. “That hardly solves the problem.”
    She stalked out into the street. Jake weaved through the busy foot traffic after her, pretty damn sure she’d just called him handsome. Maybe overly handsome.
    Hot dog.
    “At the very least, grow your hair out,” she said when he caught up. “And a heavy mustache. Roll up your shirtsleeves, and wear a watch. A cheap one, so that you do not attract thieves.”
    He studied the men sitting outside a café, and walked around an exhaust-belching bus to conceal the transformation.
    She eyed him critically, then nodded. “How is your Arabic?”
    “Nonexistent.”
    He could’ve sworn that relief flashed over her prim expression, but her reply was pure sourpuss. “I suppose you focused on the Romance languages first. The novices from America and Western Europe so often do, as those are the easiest for them to learn.”
    “That’s true,” he said, refusing to be baited. He’d have bet anything that she wanted to piss him off so bad he’d leave. “I did pick those up first.”
    Before working his way west across Asia. Arabic and Swahili were up next, but he wouldn’t say so. He was starting to enjoy watching her bloomers twist into a knot.
    “Arabic is spoken by a quarter of a billion humans, novice. You should make an effort to learn it if you plan to be active in this region.”
    “Golly gee, Alice. You’re right—I should get on that. Maybe you’ll volunteer to tutor me.”
    She slanted him a narrowed look. “I don’t think so.”
    Dangerous ground, but he stepped on it. “Do you tutor anyone now?”
    “No. How much farther?”
    Yeah, now he was pissing her off. Even in these twisting streets, she could estimate distance as well as he could. He made a show of checking his watch and glancing up at the sun before pulling out his GPS. “Okay, yeah. We’ve been walking about one minute. So, go figure, we’ve still got a little less than half a kilometer to go.”
    She pulled in a breath through her teeth.
    He had to hand it to her; that was pretty brave. A brown haze filled the sky, so God knew what she’d just sucked into her lungs while controlling her temper. Even a Guardian might choke on it.
    And it did sound as if she was strangling when she said, “Thank you, novice.”
    Jake grinned at her back as she set off at a walk again—smoothly now. Trying to appear inconspicuous, probably, but she still didn’t look completely human. She hadn’t increased her pace to an inhuman speed, but she was practically gliding, as if her limbs were weightless beneath her robe.
    Her legs. Jesus. He needed to get his head from under her skirts. Which meant he was going to take a flying leap into a minefield.
    “So,” he