Jenks darted from my shoulder, anger hard on his tiny features. "Rachel is not a practitioner!" he said hotly, easily dodging Quen's attempts to get him away from Trent. Quen dropped his hand, probably only now realizing how dangerous a small flying thing with a sword could be.

Trent's eyes had never left mine, trusting that Jenks wouldn't hurt him. His question had been laced with an iron demand for an answer. Fear lay under it, but stronger than that was anger at me for dabbling in demons. My eyes returned to Al. "Newt is a very old, crazy demon. I bought a trip home from her when your friend dumped me there."

"Her?" Trent stammered, panic sliding behind his green eyes. "There are no more female demons. We killed the last few before leaving the ever-after."

"Well, you missed one," I said, but Trent wasn't listening, having been pulled aside by Quen. The older elf was very distressed and I wondered what was bothering him. Al? Being trapped in my circle? The threat of Jenks? Ellasbeth's wedding being crashed by a demon? All of the above?

But then my own fear started to tighten about my spine. I had shoved Newt out of my thoughts a few days ago. She'd been looking for the focus. Shit. What if Al wants it to pay off his new debt to her? He had said the curse to do this was expensive. Was he the one killing the Weres trying to find out who had it?

"Why are you really here?" I breathed. If he was after the focus, there wasn't much I could do to stop him once he realized I had it.

My question seemed to delight Al, and he simpered, adjusting the cuffs of his gloves. "I'm here for my best friend's wedding. I would have thought that was obvious."

Damn it. It was the focus. I had to call Minias. I'd rather get a mark removed for it, not hang on to it until the school bully took it from me and I got nothing. But if Al got it, it would hit the streets as soon as the sun went down, sold to the highest bidder, and there we would be with an Inderland power struggle, courtesy of me.

My pulse was fast, but standing in this circle wasn't doing anyone any good. "Ready, Jenks?" I said, and the pixy dropped to hover beside me. He nodded, features tight as he shifted his grip upon his sword. Eyes narrowing, I reached my hand out and broke the circle.

Quen exploded into motion, jerking Trent behind him. "Morgan!" he shouted, and I rounded on him.

"Relax!" I snapped, releasing some tension. "He isn't going to do anything. He's here for a wedding." I glanced at Al, seeming eminently controlled and still standing right where he had been. "If Al wanted us dead, we'd be in the ground a week ago. He's been here since the invitation hit Lee's mailbox." Pulse hammering, I turned to Al. "Am I right?"

Eyes hidden behind his glasses, the demon nodded.

"He's harmless," I continued, as much to convince myself as Trent and Quen. "Well, not as lethal, maybe. If he's in Lee's body, he doesn't have access to all the curses he's stored in himself over the past millennia. He's only as good as Lee is—was. Until he spends some time in the kitchen anyway. And he's going to follow the rules of our society, or he's going to end up in jail, which won't be any fun." Forcing my jaw to relax, I arched my eyebrows, wishing I could do the one-eyebrow thingy. "Will it?" I said.

Al inclined his head, and Quen almost jumped him, catching his movement in a sharp motion. "How fast you learn," the demon said, scowling at Quen's mistrust. "We must sit together at dinner. We have so much to chat about."

"Go to hell," I said softly. This was a crappy birthday, forty thousand notwithstanding.

"Not until I kill you, and though I will, it's not going to happen today. I like your yellow sun." Tugging up the sleeve to his jacket, he glanced at his watch. "I'll see you inside. I do so want to meet your darling little-woman-to-be, Trenton. Congratulations. It is an honor to stand up with you." His smile widened to show perfect, simply dazzling teeth. "Fitting," he drawled.

I felt a chill as I remembered Ceri. Oh, man… I had to call her. Al was loose.

Steps jaunty, Al headed up the stairs to the door, oohing and aahing at the architecture and detail work. His body language looked wrong on Lee's body, and with the strength of the ley line running through me, I felt like I was going to throw up.

"Quen," Trent said, clearly alarmed. "He can't go in there, can he?"

I pulled out my phone, then put it away, since Keasley didn't have a phone and Ivy wasn't home to relay a message to them. "He can," I said, remembering how Newt had controlled me while I was on holy ground. "Besides, only the stage and altar are sanctified, remember?" The basilica hadn't been fully sanctified since the Turn to allow Cincy's more important denizens to partake of life's little ceremonies. The altars were still blessed, just not the entryway and the pews.

We all watched Al open the door. Turning, he waved to us, then passed the threshold. The door shut behind them. I waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

"This isn't good," Quen said.

I choked back my burst of laughter, knowing it would come out sounding hysterical. "We… ah, had better get in there before he does something to Ellasbeth," I said, wondering if we might all go out for a beer first. Or a six-pack. In the Bahamas.

Trent rocked into motion an instant before Quen, and with Jenks on my shoulder again, I fell into step beside him. Trent dropped his head for an instant, then pulled it up to me. "You aren't a demon practitioner?" he asked as we took the first steps up.

I put a hand to my stomach, wondering if this day could get any worse. "No, but they seem to practice me."

Twenty-three

The twenty-four-piece band Ellasbeth had hired was taking a break, leaving the muted intensity of a single classical guitar as a pleasant background to the self-congratulatory conversation at the far end of the table. Having long since lost my upright posture, I had an elbow on the pristine linen tablecloth, my fingers rolling the stem of my wineglass back and forth, wondering if I could bill Trent for the forty thousand even if Al didn't do anything.

The rehearsal dinner had been way over the top. I could have lived for a week on what had been put in front of me, and the waste bothered me. But that paled in comparison to my discomfort during the dinner conversation. Ellasbeth had shoved me, Quen, and Al as far from herself as she could. I was sure if she could have gotten away with it, the prickly woman would have put us in a different room. Al had earned his spot because of fear, I out of spite, and Quen to keep an eye on both of us.

Everyone at our end of the table was long gone; the ring bearer and his parents, the three flower girls and their folks, the ushers, and the woman who was going to sing were all laughing in a fawning circle about Ellasbeth. Trent was sitting by her. He looked tired. Maybe he should have taken more interest in the wedding arrangements and made sure that some of his friends were invited to balance out Ellasbeth's. Maybe he didn't have any friends.

Right now Al's chair was vacant, he having excused himself to go to the little boys' room. Quen had gone with him, and I didn't have anything to do until they returned. I thought the idea of a demon using the facilities was odd, and I wondered if Al was a living being and used to it, or if going to the can was a new and exciting experience.

Jenks had spent the evening in the chandelier avoiding Mrs. Withon. I found myself hoping he might pix Ellasbeth so we could leave. Tired, I raised my glass and sipped my wine. I was going to pay for it tomorrow, but damn, it was one of the best red wines I'd ever tasted. I would've looked at the label, but I knew it was far out of my reach, even without the allergies.