White Witch, Black Curse

"That is my intent, Jenks," he said gallantly, and I wondered if Pierce meant his intent was to leave or to turn me into a twitterpated twit.

Pierce bent to Rex, who was twining about his ankles. "I have to go," he said as he rose with her in his arms. "I was of a mind to explain before Al fills your head with his view of what happened this past week. I will see you as soon as I can. Al is a devilishly fine demon. More fun than a nest of bunnies to outwit."

He's playing with Al? "Pierce…," I said, almost laughing. I was so confused. He had escaped him? He had used Al to gain a body, and then escaped him?

Pierce brought his gaze back to me. "I must pull foot, but until I find myself in a better situation, I will think of you every evening between candle lighting and dawn."

"Wait a minute, Pierce. I'm not—"

But he had swooped forward, and as Jenks angrily dusted silver sparkles on us, he kissed me soundly. He stole it. That was the only way I could describe it. He stole a kiss, wrapping his arms about me and holding me tight as he took a kiss from me and left me breathless.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, not shoving him away but pulling back. Letting go, he inclined his head…and vanished with the soft scent of coal dust and shoe polish.

I stared at where he had been. From behind me, a forgotten cube of ice slipped down and hit the floor. "Uh, Jenks?" I warbled. He had come. He had befuddled me. He had escaped Al on his own and come to crow to me about it. Oh-h-h-h-h crap. I was in trouble.

"No!" Jenks shouted. "Damn it to the Turn and back!" he shrilled, throwing a hot-sparkled tantrum two feet above the counter. "I'll not have you falling for him, Rachel. No!"

But as I ran my fingers over my lips, remembering his there, I thought it might be too late. He was just so…Rachel-ly. Hitting a spot in me that hadn't been alive since I was eighteen. And with that thought, my face went blank. Damn it, Ford had been right. This was why I hadn't had any luck with guys. I had been measuring them against Pierce all this time, and they had all come up lacking. I was in big trouble. Big. Maybe as an eighteen-year-old I thought it was romantic to be involved with a smart, intelligent, devil-may-care, handsome witch who could take on demons, vamps, and the I.S., but I was smarter now, right? Right?!

The air pressure shifted with a bang. I cowered below the level of the counter, and Jenks shot up to the ceiling.

"Witch!" Al bellowed, and I peeked over the counter. His eyes met mine, and he yelled, "Where is my familiar?"

I stood, a smile quirking the corners of my lips. "Uh, he was here," I said. "I didn't summon him, he just kind of showed up." My focus sharpened on Al, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge the truthfulness of my words. "Kind of like how you just did," I added. "He popped in, and then he left."

"Where did he go!" he bellowed, gloved hands clenching. "I had him in a snare that would take Alexander the Great a lifetime to untwist, and he did it in a week!" Al took a step, pinwheeling as his booted heel found an ice cube.

"I don't know," I said, then shouted, "I don't know!" when Al growled at me. "I think he went that way." I pointed off in a vague direction.

Making an mmmm of discontent, Al tugged his frock coat. "I'll see you Saturday, Rachel," he said roughly. "And bring a silver-core rope to tie Gordian Nathaniel Pierce down with. If I ever find him, I'm going to sell him to Newt. I swear, if I didn't need him, I'd kill him myself!"

With a foul-smelling gust of air, Al vanished.

I stared at the spot, blinking.

"Sweet mother of Tink," Jenks whispered from the ladle. "What just happened?"

Leaning against the counter, I shook my head. From the front of the church came the sound of the door opening. "Rachel?" Ivy's voice filtered in. "I'm home. Why did Pierce pop into the car and tell me to pick up a grande latte, double espresso, Italian blend, light on the froth, heavy on the cinnamon, with a shot of raspberry?"

My lips curved up in a smile.

I loved my life.

Acknowlegdements

I'd like to thank my editor, Diana Gill. The more I know, the harder her job looks. And my agent, Richard Curtis, my knight in shining armor.