Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

remains of Ku’Sox steaming beside him in the cold wind. “For me,” he said, but his voice was too soft for it to be him wanting to take his revenge on Nick alone. “I want . . .” he said, then hesitated, taking a breath of air and lifting his chin. “I want one pure thing in my life,” he said loudly, his voice ringing in the red-tinted air. “I want one thing I can point to and say, ‘That is good, and it’s a part of me.’ ”
    My heart thudded and my eyes teared up. He thought I was good? I couldn’t speak as Trent took my hands and pulled me a step from Al, and I shivered as the demon’s touch fell away. “I want,” he said softly, “you to keep what you can of the person you want to be. Don’t sacrifice it for this.” Lip curling, he gave Nick a sidelong, dismissive glance. “Don’t let your desire for revenge give him the power to make you what you don’t want to be.”
    “It’s hard,” I said, and the demons around me began to shuffle, eager to be gone.
    But he smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Of course it is. If it was easy, everyone would do it.”
    Newt pushed the dead carcass of Ku’Sox into the hole with her foot, and Nick scrabbled away from the edge. “Well?”
    It hurt to say it, but I took a breath and looked straight up. Trent’s fingers were clasped in mine. “It’s Nick,” I said, then danced back when Nick cried out, reaching for me.
    As one, the demons groaned. Al’s shoulders slumped, and then his eyes narrowed. “I say we still kill him,” he muttered, reaching, and Newt slammed her staff down between them.
    “I claim him!” she shouted, swinging her staff in a wide circle, and they fell back, used to her outbursts. Trent pulled me out of the way, and I watched Newt almost crouch over Nick, her robes covering his feet. “He’s mine! He’s mine by rights! His actions cost me a familiar, and I claim him!”
    “No!” Nick cried out, his hand reaching for me. “Rachel! Please!”
    Her head tilted, Newt waited, one eye almost slitted shut as she looked at me. I nodded, and the demon laughed, hauling him up and giving him a shake. “Go wait for me,” she intoned, and he stared, panting in fear. She gave him a shove, and he stumbled, vanishing as she flung him to her rooms. I thought of him landing in the mockery of my kitchen, and a tiny part of me felt the first hints of justice.
    I jumped when Al’s hand landed on my shoulder again. “He will be dead in a week,” the demon murmured, his ash-scented breath tickling my ear.
    But I knew Nick. He was too ugly to die.
    The sound of Newt’s staff scraping on the stones was loud as she came forward to us. Demons were vanishing with their gargoyles in pairs and groups, and the bite of windblown rock blew about my feet, rising. I closed my eyes when it reached my face, and my hair began to stream behind me. I didn’t know what was going to happen tomorrow. Maybe I could take a day off.
    “It was an excellent Hunt,” Trent said, and my eyes flew open to see him extending his hand to Dali. “I am Trenton Aloysius Kalamack. I am not my ancestor.”
    Dali looked at it, then Trent. “No, you are not,” he said, his hand unmoving. “But you come from the same place.”
    Trent’s hand slowly dropped, and he inclined his head in understanding. “Perhaps later.”
    Dali backed up a step, his eyes touching mine and Al’s. “I need to think on this.” A coating of ever-after shimmered over him, leaving the clear air of morning empty of him.
    Newt sighed. “And so it circles,” she said, her black eyes coming to meet mine as the sun spilled over the rim of the ever-after, turning me a blood red. “It looks as if I won’t be killing you this morning, Rachel. You have been given a reprieve.”
    Nodding, I pulled the slaver ring off my finger and handed it to Trent. The two demons winced as Trent removed his slave ring, silent as he handed them back to me. They were mine again, and I could destroy them.
    I was alive, but what color was my soul?

Chapter Thirty-One
    T here was no moon as I followed Trent down the soft sawdust path of his private gardens. It was silent but for the sighing of the wind in the tender new leaves, and I could smell the cedar the path was made from. Small ferns laced the path, tiny because they’d been above the earth for only a few weeks, but I knew that by the end of the summer they’d be nearly as high as my knees.
    “I appreciate you coming out,”