Peeved, I shifted a little more to stand between him and Al. "I'm trying to make the world a little safer," I muttered, then beamed as Al looked at us, my smile fading the instant the demon looked away. "He's not abducting you, is he? Turning you into a toad?" My voice was getting louder. "I've got this under control!" I smacked the "lobby" button, praying we didn't stop anywhere between here and there. There was no way this elevator could go fast enough.

"You will be jailed for this," Trent was saying, still having kittens in the corner.

"Nonsense." Al polished his glasses with another bit of red cloth. "I'm here to party on this side of the lines, eat a little something, but mostly"—he looked at me and put his glasses back on—"I'm here to keep our itchy witch from killing herself with an ash-to-flesh spell."

Jenks's wings buzzed in the sudden silence, and I turned to Trent. The man was pale, and his hair was in disarray, but he was staring at Al and me. His eyes flicked to Pierce, white-faced in the corner, and he said, "You can bring the dead to life? That's black magic."

"Not at all," Al protested grandly. "Where do you think our itchy witch found this tricky little runt of a bastard?" He gave Pierce a shove, and the witch gagged. "He's a ghost." The demon sniffed. "Can't you smell the little worms on him?"

My head thumped into the wall. This was so not going well.

"You're a ghost?" Trent said, and Pierce shakily extended his hand from his corner.

"Gordian Pierce. Coven of moral and ethical standards. You are, sir?"

"You're what?" I exclaimed, my face warming.

Al started laughing, and Jenks dropped down to my shoulder.

Jenks tickled my ear, almost getting smacked. "Rache!" he hissed. "Isn't that the coven that got you shunned?" I nodded, and he added, "Maybe he can get your shunning rescinded."

I thought about that. Having been buried in blasphemed ground and dealing with demons didn't stand well in his favor, but he had worked for the coven of moral and ethical standards. They were kind of like the I.S. Once a member, always a member. You couldn't retire. But you could die.

Trent shook his hand, looking positively stunned. "Ah, I'm Trent Kalamack. CEO of—"

Pierce jerked his hand from Trent and pushed himself straight. "Kalamack Industries," he said, expression twisted as he wiped his hand on his pants. "I knew your father."

"I do not freaking believe this," I said, shifting to stand where I could see both of them.

Al beamed. "Amazing who you can meet in an elevator," he said, and Trent eyed me.

"You have a charm to bring the dead to life. And it's white," the elf stated.

I took a breath to answer, and Al interrupted smoothly. "And it's for sale, at apprentice rates. No guarantees. I have two right here," he said, patting his coat pocket. "It's temporary. The curse to give them a lasting body is a far sight trickier. Someone has to die, you see. I'd imagine that would make them black, but you don't seem to worry about killing people for your own ends, do you, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack?" he said with a simper. "Funny how you call my witch black, when you kill for profit, and she kills…" He hesitated in mock thought. "Why, she hasn't killed anyone who didn't ask her to! Imagine that."

Color spotted Trent's cheeks. "I don't kill for profit."

From the corner, Pierce muttered, "You kill for progress, if you're anything like your father."

As one, we all looked at Pierce. The elevator dinged, and our attention was diverted as the doors opened. "Splendid! A fire!" Al cried cheerfully, striding out into the noisy crowd that had filled the downstairs lobby. The smell of smoke hit me, and I lurched to follow, not wanting Al to get out of my sight. It was crowded as people in evening gowns and suits talked loudly, mixing with people in jeans and heavy coats coming in to get warm but not ready to leave. Or perhaps they couldn't with the streets blocked off.

Trying to watch Al and Pierce both, I shuffled over to the coat clerk. Pierce's hand landed on my arm as I extended my ticket, and I spun, almost smacking him. "Best stay away from that one, mistress witch. His father was a devil on earth," the dead witch said, his eyes going to Trent.

"No kidding." Who should I believe, a ghost, or my dad? My dad was a good man, wasn't he? He wouldn't work for the devil on earth. Would he?

Confused, I took my coat and scanned the crowd for Al's velveteen one. Seeing Quen, I gave Trent's security a little shrug to try to tell him everything was okay and to keep him from going into battle mode when he saw Al. The demon had once mauled Trent.

Trent was making his way to Quen, his pace slow for being recognized and delayed. I pointed him out to Quen, and the security officer jumped into motion, his employer's coat over his arm.

I finally spotted Al by the doors, chatting up a pair of twins wearing baby bonnets for the year's end, and I unzipped my bag. "Inside, Jenks," I offered as I went to rescue the twins, and the pixy dropped down, cold and probably ready for that hand warmer. I knew it killed him being shoved in a bag like this, but he had no choice. And as I zipped it up, I vowed to be very careful with him tonight.

I shuffled into my coat as we went, jerking from Pierce's reach when he tried to help me. "I've got this okay," I said, then winced when Al grabbed my shoulder, pinching me into submission as he helped me into my coat. "Let go," I demanded, but my options were limited by the crowd. My last arm went sliding into the cold sleeve, and Al leaned in, reaching over my shoulders to fasten my top button.

"I admire the way you are breaking Trent," Al whispered from behind me, his white-gloved fingers moving to my chin to force my gaze to Trent and Quen. "So slow, like melting ice. And with his own pride. Masterful. I didn't know you had it in you, Rachel. Pain gets old after a time, but it's faster, and profit is the name of the game unless you're making art."

"I'm not breaking him," I said softly as Al backed up and I shifted my shoulders to get my coat to hang right. Trent and Quen were leaving, and the security officer looked back once before they vanished, his expression blank. I breathed easier when they were gone. At least I wouldn't be responsible for Trent's death. Not tonight, anyway.

The wail of sirens grew louder, and I turned to a second door. Pierce jumped ahead of us to open it, and I did a double take. "Where did you get a coat?"

Pierce's face reddened, but it was Al who leaned forward, saying, "He stole it, of course. The man has many talents. Why do you think I'm so interested in him? Or you, my itchy witch?"

Mood sour, I headed out into the cold, ducking down into my scarf and wishing I was anywhere other than here. If Ivy and Glenn weren't okay, I was going to freaking kill someone.