Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

surrounding gargoyles moved their wings, whispering in elephant tones as they chuckled at my precaution. “He won’t evade us,” Etude said, his voice holding a mocking assurance, and I tapped the line to make every single gargoyle’s ears prick.
    “That demon I told you about?” I said, pulling in the clean energy and filling my chi. “The one that has Bis? He can drop into this piece of crap like he’s an old slipper.”
    Etude’s tail curved up into a question mark, and Nick grunted as the sharp claws holding his shoulder pinched.
    “So you don’t mind if I strap him, do you?” I added, walking a sodden heel-toe, heel-toe toward Nick over the grass. “Simply being on holy ground won’t stop Ku’Sox from taking over Nick. A strap, though, will at least prevent Ku’Sox from using a line if he should feel the need to drop in and see how his favorite human is doing. Our agreement to leave me alone aside.”
    “Ku’Sox isn’t possessing me,” Nick said, and I shrugged.
    “Things change.” I stopped before him, feeling confident with my belly full of energy and fifty gargoyles backing me. “Are you telling me you don’t do-o-o-o that anymore, Nicky baby? Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Maybe I shouldn’t be so cocky, but I was so angry at Nick that I was beyond caring.
    The gargoyles had hoisted him up, giving me the impression of him being crucified. Nick squinted down at me, clearly hurting. “You were right,” he said, his words thready from the pain in his back and shoulders. “Ow. I’m here to help. Will you stop hurting me?”
    The grinding sound of rocks had to be laughter, and a tiny thrill of anticipation dove through me. Oh, please . . . “I’m right, huh?” I said as I cocked my hip. “Right about what? I’ve said so many things about you.” Hurry up, Jenks. I’m no good at monologues.
    Nick’s feet twitched, and a gargoyle hissed. “Trent is licking his boots,” Nick said, unable to meet my eyes. “You were right. Ku’Sox doesn’t need me anymore. I want to help you.”
    I leaned in, ready to smack his feet away if he tried to kick me. With two gargoyles holding his arms, it might be a really bad life choice. Because of him, Ceri and Pierce were dead. My eyes narrowed. “We don’t need you either, Nick.”
    The door to the back of the church slammed into the siding, and I turned, backing up out of Nick’s reach. A silver sparkle arrowed to us leaving a bright trail; the time inside had warmed Jenks up as I had hoped. It was too cold for him to be out here. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be any better. How was I going to convince him to stay home? He would see through any excuse.
    Ivy was behind him, moving fast until she found herself among the hulking shapes and she slowed to a respectful pace. One of her katanas was in her grip, and she lowered the tip, becoming a slow-moving shadow as the gargoyles responded to her with pricked ears.
    “Strap the fairy louse,” Jenks said as he dropped the flexible band of silver-cored plastic into my hand.
    I swung my hair off my shoulder to give Jenks a warm place to land, but he went to Etude instead, looking tiny on the giant’s shoulder. A wave of heat was coming off the gargoyle. My eyes went to Nick, and I hesitated. I didn’t want to touch him. He might jump me out.
    “Allow me,” Etude said after Jenks buzzed discreetly into the giant’s ear, and I gratefully gave the plastic strip to him. His clawed hands moved dexterously, and with a finger gesture, the two gargoyles holding Nick set his feet on the ground so they could strap his hands before him.
    “Thanks,” I whispered softly, and Etude’s ears flicked back.
    Nick grunted, shifting his shoulders in relief as the band tightened over his wrists with a sound that made me shiver. “I understand why you don’t trust me.”
    “Oh, I doubt that.” I backed up to where Ivy waited, not trusting him when there was no one ready to rip his arms out of their sockets if he did so much as sneeze. “If you did, you wouldn’t be here.”
    Free of his guards, I looked him over, seeing the wear and tear of living with a demon. His eyes darted. Stubble was thick on his cheeks. The suit was gone, and he was wearing a pair of black jeans, black shirt, dark sneakers, shivering in the cold. Scars covered his neck and wrists and had turned his ear into a soft mess of scar tissue. If I didn’t know he’d gotten his scars as a rat in Cincinnati’s illegal rat