Al scooted his chair closer to the fire, sitting on the edge before he shook his robe sleeves to his elbows and carefully wedged a marshmallow on the end of one of his toasting forks. Leaning in, he held the puffed sugar close to the flames. His muscular arms looked almost tan in the firelight. Feet spread wide, he hunched toward the flame, his bare feet showing from under the hem of his brown robe. They were surprisingly normal looking. Behind me, shelves of books were silent witnesses in the dark.
"Your intention was to see that they got there safely," Al said in a low voice, focusing on the marshmallow. "They are. Off to make mischief on an elven scale, which means worldwide and yet somehow...totally insignificant. You need a new hobby, Rachel. Something other than nasty little men with visions of world domination."
The marshmallow caught fire, and he pulled it close, somehow looking suggestive as he ran his fingers down the length of the stick to take off the still-flaming puff. "I want to talk to you about magic and sweat," he said, the light from the burning marshmallow glinting in his eyes. "Of good deeds born from stupid ideas. Of honest mistakes leading to dishonest graves." His eyes met mine, and he pursed his lips, gently blowing the flaming sugar puff out.
Oh God. He's talking funny, I thought, nervous as I looked over the dark room. Deciding to stay behind the chair, I let my scrying mirror slide down to rest on the soft leather. I wanted both hands free.
Al stood, and I froze. His movement had been graceful, a studied motion of power that I seldom saw in him. The marshmallow was gone, and he was licking his fingers, watching me from under his lowered brow. My pulse quickened as he went to the fire, taking a second marshmallow from the bowl. What in hell is he playing at?
"This trial of yours tomorrow," he said. "Odds are three to one that Pierce will betray you."
"I thought you said he was going to kill me," I said, trying to be flip.
A smile lifted his lips. "Odds are eleven percent there. But the bookies don't know that he lo-o-o-o-oves you," he mocked as he put the puff on the end of the toasting fork. "Stay here. Forget it all, and stay here with me. Let me spare you that."
I felt better with him eight feet away, and my eyes rolled. "Spare me the crap, will you? Al, I want to go back to the hotel." Shit, he was a demon. Why did I keep forgetting that?
Al crouched before the fire with the toasting fork, looking threatening somehow. His eyebrows were raised when he turned to face me, mocking. "Things have changed."
Stifling a shiver, I scanned the room, but there was nothing here to help me. Damn, damn, damn! Why had I trusted him? "Please don't tell me you're making a pass at me," I said, unclenching my fingers from the back of the chair. "It will make the next five hundred years really awkward. Besides, the last guy who said something like that to me while wearing nothing but a robe, I beat senseless with a chair leg."
Al blinked, looking surprised as he glanced down at himself as if only now realizing the impression he made. But then he smiled. And that smile was cruel.
He stood, and I dropped back a step, heart thudding.
"That demon your familiar let loose? Ku'Sox?" he said softly, poised as I started to sweat. "He's like nothing you've come up against. He wants to play with you. Take you apart slowly while you scream. The collective would throw me naked into the ley lines if I let you run about now. Pierce isn't enough. You're staying here."
"Like hell I am! Is this because I have a shot at getting my shunning permanently revoked?" Angry, I came around the chair so I could glare at him straight on. "I just might win our bet, so you're going to keep me here so you can win by default?"
"Willing to bet your life on it?" Al almost growled as he looked into the fire, his back hunched. "I'm not. Good or bad, my livelihood is connected to your continued existence," he said as his marshmallow burned. "Call me selfish, but you're staying here."
"You might be scared of that thing you all made, but I'm not," I snapped. "His sensitive bits are right where yours are. Ku'Sox is a demon, and I'm getting used to beating you guys off. I beat him off before. I can do it again!"
Al turned from the fire, his goat-slitted eyes landing on me with an unexpected intensity. I felt myself pale. He looked dangerous, crouched before the fire, his eyes glowing as the promise of violence drifted over him. A low sound lifted into the air, and my foot slid.
It was my undoing.
Al leapt for me, the toasting fork clattering, forgotten, to the hearth. Panicked, I turned to run. There was nowhere go. It was pure instinct.
I caught back my cry of terror as his fingers clamped on my shoulder. The world spun as he turned me around. "Al!" I managed, and then I felt myself lifted, shoved into a bookcase.
Hard thumps hit my shoulders and my lungs collapsed as I hit the tomes, little sparkles of energy pinging through me. My breath came in with a rush, and I stared at Al, inches from me, his bare ruddy hand gripping my shirt under my chin. I hadn't even seen him move.
"You think you can beat Ku'Sox off? Let's practice."
"Get off me!" I spat at him, strands of my hair on his face.
His expression became a snarl, and I jerked when his other hand reached behind me and grabbed my thigh. "This should be fun."
"Hey!" I shouted, trying to shove him away; then I shrieked when he pushed me back into the bookcase, his entire body pressing into me. "Get the hell off!"
"I think you've misjudged your strength, itchy witch," Al said, his voice iron hard. "And I'm going to prove it."
"How? By squishing me to death?" I wheezed, and then my eyes widened as Al's mouth covered mine, savage and demanding. The stink of demons assaulted me, hard and fast. A thread of ley line spilled into me from him, diving to my groin and flashing into heat. It could have been ecstasy, but I was too angry. His body was heavy on mine, and his leg forced its way between my knees.
Holy shit! I thought, my arms pinned behind me. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. I thought Al was trying to prove I couldn't protect myself. I wasn't scared, I was pissed!
Furious, I tried to get my knee up between us. Feeling it, Al let go of my wrist long enough to punch my rising knee with a heavy fist. I gasped at the sudden explosion of pain, and my knee went numb. My hand was free, though, and I went for his eyes, gouging.
My fingers dug in with a sickening give. Al took the abuse, quickly grabbing my wrist and almost yanking my arm out of its socket as he slammed it back into the books.