Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

showing me his flat, blocky teeth. “Sibling rivalry. Maybe you should uncurse him.”
    “Don’t think so,” I said quickly, wondering how I was going to convince Dali the threat was more than he thought. “Look, letting me die would be a mistake. I’m not trying to kill you. He is, and I don’t think that line can be shut down with that purple sludge in it, even if I am dead. And in case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t need you anymore. He has Nick, who stole the enzyme that keeps the Rosewood syndrome suppressed enough to survive it, and then you stood by and hid the fact that he circumvented my protection of Trent—the only one who can make the cure permanent and able to pass to the next generation. Ku’Sox doesn’t need you anymore. In ten years, he’s going to have a bunch of demon-magic-using kids to play with.”
    “The Rosewood babies are not for him, they are for us.” Dali washed down his cookie with a sip of tea, and I gaped.
    “Y-you?” I stammered, and he nodded. One gingersnap left. Thirty seconds.
    “They’re life rafts, demon-magic-capable bodies that those loyal to him can slip into and escape a failing ever-after,” Dali said, and I stared, not having considered that.
    “And you believe him?” I said. “Seriously?”
    Dali’s eye twitched, telling me he didn’t, but it did make it easier to understand why no one would help me. “Has it ever occurred to you that without a permanent cure, everyone who escapes on Ku’Sox’s coattails will be completely dependent on him to stay alive?”
    Dali’s thick fingers were on that last cookie. Hesitating, he tapped it on the plate. “Which is why we’re not forcing him to give Ceri back,” he said softly. “We want the permanent cure.”
    I leaned back in the chair, hard-pressed to not pound my head on the table. “He’s lying to you, Dali, to all of you. He’s never going to allow any of you access to those children, and he’s going to let the ever-after collapse whether you kill me for him or not. Now quit blocking me and give me Ceri and Lucy back so I can figure this out!”
    Dali set the last cookie down and wiped his fingers. With a new stiffness in his manner, he shifted his weight. “You think his intent is annihilation?”
    I nodded, and my shoulders eased. “Before Newt got us back underground, a gargoyle came to see who had been messing around in my ley line.”
    His carefully trimmed eyebrows high, Dali eyed me, but if it was because Newt helped us or that a gargoyle was involved, I didn’t know. “In the daylight?”
    “He had a huge sword that looked like it had been propping up a laundry line for the last fifty years,” I said, angry. “He said the line would fix itself in time, but destroy the ever-after in the doing of it, and that they were going to leave and to save who they could.”
    “The gargoyles are leaving?” It was a soft but alarmed utterance.
    “He also said I wouldn’t find enough time to fix it before it fixes itself. If you can’t give me Ceri, at least give me some time,” I demanded. “Four days,” I added, thinking of Al’s burn.
    Dali’s intent gaze focused on me, considering it. Sighing, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking?”
    Adrenaline jerked through me as I realized he’d probably come here with the intent to kill me and be done with it before he left. “I think I can fix the line,” I said, scrambling to find something positive to take away from this. “I just need to borrow . . .” My words trailed off reluctantly, as if not wanting to divulge just what it was, not that I had no clue what I needed. “Something from Al,” I finished, trying to appear cagey, not confused.
    Dali peered at me, his mouth a thin line. “You don’t trust me.”
    “Sure I do,” I said, and Bis snickered, making a weird snuffing sound.
    The older-looking demon frowned. “You don’t have a clue how to fix that line,” he said, but inside, I felt a tiny spot of hope. He was thinking about it.
    Beside him, Bis cleared his throat. “I can see the lines,” he said, flushing a heavy black. “I know I can help. I’m good at auras.”
    Dali ignored him, which made me mad, and I said, “Ku’Sox cursed my line. That purple sludge is demon made. I have yet to find the curse I can’t untwist.”
    His face scrunched up, making him look like the benevolent uncle who wanted to give you the quarter of a