Chapter 20

...

"You again," he said in a booming voice that was not of this world. He was supposed to be in a binding spell.

"We're going now," I called, running towards Savannah to pull her out of there before she had to face the fact that she was horribly out matched.

She cast an energy bolt and Ken stumbled, almost like he had tripped. Eyes flashed as he righted himself. He picked up the end table near him and flung it at us.

We both dropped and the table flew over us, smacking into the wall behind us, sending splinters everywhere. I grabbed Savannah's arm and began dragging her towards the exit. Paulson finally came around the corner, took one look at the scene and invoked the only offensive Expiscor power he had.

My father called it the 'rock concert power' when I was little. Basically, the half-demon tried to blow out people's eardrums. Apparently, it worked on demons too, as Ken dropped to the ground, screaming and clutching his ears.

Savannah and I scrambled towards the exit and Paulson rushed to help us. None of us noticed the living room lamp until it was nearly too late. Savannah pulled me down, but Paulson got clipped right across the chest.

"Anti-demon spell," I shouted at Savannah as Ken staggered to his feet. I rushed to Paulson and to my relief saw that he was only stunned. The demon must have been in more pain that I realized because usually they could usually throw things with enough force to break bones, as the wall could attest to.

Savannah cursed and seeing Ken continue to come towards us, I knew the spell had failed. The three of us dragged each other out the door. The bag banged against my legs as I looked towards Savannah to do something.

She sent an energy bolt, dodged the flying picture frame and then sent another. Ken stumbled again, slowed down but not stopped. You can't kill a demon. It's not possible. But that didn't mean Savannah was going to just give up. She might not have the strength to launch another anti-demon spell, but she had other tricks up her sleeve.

I cast my own energy bolt spell to buy her the time. We were mostly buzzing around the demon like flies—he couldn't kill us, but we weren't doing much beyond annoying him. Savannah began casting a high-level witch spell, something I only vaguely recognized. I didn't bother translating the words, just concentrated on dodging the furniture and casting energy bolts.

All of a sudden Ken stopped, as if frozen in place.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "It worked! Let's get out of here."

I grabbed for Savannah, but she shook her head, puzzled. "That wasn't me. I was trying to turn his legs to ice."

Apperently that hadn't worked, because instead of standing still Ken just walked straight out of the glass doors and right into the backyard.

Savannah moved as if to follow, but even she knew that was a bad idea. With a glance around at the catastrophic destruction we had reeked, she turned to me. "Is it just me, or was that really weird?"

Paulson grabbed both our arms and began pulling us out of the house. "We are not staying here any longer. Let's go."

We rushed to the car, using a combination of distortion spells and crossing our fingers and just hoping no one saw. Paulson waited until we were in the car before he began to talk. Well, yell. "What the hell? Are you nuts? If either of you do anything—"

"Chill, Paulie. We're not going to tell my brother how you failed to protect us. It'll be our little secret."

I think Paulson would have killed her, only he was temporarily rendered speechless.

Savannah managed to calm Paulson down eventually—we had survived after all. Add that to the fact that she managed to praise his contributions to our escape (okay, so maybe that was the wrong word) to the heavens, and he was eventually able to settle for a few promises that we would never, ever, do anything like that again.

If I had been ten years younger, I would have crossed my fingers behind my back. Savannah was going to do crazy shit that no one should ever attempt and I was going to follow her. She would succeed due to some strange circumstances and I would patch up any bruises before Paige noticed. Like I said, we have a system.

I waited until we were well away before I mentioned, "We should probably call Bryce."

Paulson jerked his gaze to the rear-view mirror, wondering if I was serious. Savannah leaned over and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Gillian will make it sound good somehow."

Her faith in me was actually quite touching.

There was no need to convince her. The demon shouldn't have done that, and we were now pretty sure that Ken was involved with this whole time tear fiasco which meant the Nasts needed to know. She took out her cell and dialled. After a while she started cursing.

"He's not picking up his cell," she announced to the car at large as if we could do something about it.

"Mr Nast never answers his cell when he's at the office," Paulson told us.

"He works?" I couldn't help from blurting out.

Savannah shrugged. "Only when he wants to. One of the joys of being the inner family." It went without saying that this did not apply to Savannah. Paige was big on hard work. And while Savannah should have been part of the Nasts...not even sort of getting along with her brother made up for that.

Paulson offered: "Call his office. Even if he's not in, they'll take a message."

Savannah handed me the phone. "It's probably better if I don't. Gramps might answer and then we'd just be fucked."

I wanted to tell her how ridiculous she was being, but there was a grain of truth in what she was saying. I took the phone and dialled the numbers Paulson gave me.

"Hello?"

Of course, he had a female secretary. He was such a cliché. I would have bet good money that he had already slept with her.

"Hello. May I please speak to Bryce Nast, please?" I hated the pompous tone my voice had taken, but I had to do what I had to do to get through.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"It's...Savannah Levine." The real Savannah snorted and looked at me as if I was crazy. It was better this way. The secretary might think Savannah was calling on business, or per Sean's orders. Though I'm sure the secretary was used to strange women calling for Bryce, I did want to make sure she put me through. He never would have thought to screen calls from his sister, being as before the beginning of the week, he never thought they would ever actually talk.

"One moment please."

Light, fluffy, uber-boring music came over the speakers as I was put on hold. With all their money, you would think the Cabals could afford better.

A few moments later, a familiar masculine voice came over the speaker: "Hello?"

"So we ran into a problem."

"Hello to you too, Gillian. You're still alive?"

Did his voice sound affectionately amused, or was I projecting? "Yes, as a matter of fact. So don't be too mad."

"Why do I not like the sound of this?"

I proceeded to tell him what had happened. Sort of. Maybe it came out so that we stayed safely hidden—thanks to Paulson—while the demon cleaned up the bodies. It was as he was moving Yi around that he suddenly froze and just dropped her there, instantly stopping what he was doing and walking out the back door. "And then we snuck out the front door and called you," I finished.

He sighed. "So exactly how much of that was bullshit?"

I blushed a little. I would have told the truth, but Paulson was in the front seat and we had promised. "It's close enough so that you know what's going on. Trust me, Bryce, it's better if we just leave at that."

I don't think he liked doing it, but he dropped it. "So the she-devil is fine too?"

"Your sister is fine, Bryce. You want me to put her on the line?"

He agreed and the two siblings began to talk (argue, whatever). Savannah spent most of the time protesting that she knew what she was doing and he couldn't stop her anyway. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but Paulson kept laughing silently to himself.

"Really?"

Savannah was practically squeaking. She listened for a few more seconds. "That would be awesome. Deal. We'll spend the rest of the day in the mall. No, I'm not lying." She held up two fingers and crossed them. "We'll be good. Promise."

"What was that about?" I asked when she hung up.

She grinned evilly. "I promised we'd stay away from case. But I figure we research at your house and then hit up any leads afterwards." My agreement being obvious she turned to Paulson. "What do you say, Paulie?"

"I feel its long past the time when I should point out that it's Mr Nast who pays my salary. As gorgeous as you two ladies are, he's the one I answer too."

"What he doesn't know he can't fire you for," Savannah said with a shrug. "And I doubt he'd be very happy if I told him you made me cry."

"Threatening the minion. Classy," Paulson muttered. At least he had a sense of humour about it. "Well, I expect he'll be so angry with you he'll forget all about killing me."

"That's the spirit, Paulie," Savannah grinned.

First off, back to me house for more research. This was Savannah's least favourite part of any job. She could kick ass like no one else—she had pretty much single-handedly kept a demon away from us—but asking her to sit around just made her antsy.

Savannah pronounced the grimoires only full of healing spells, which meant she handed them over to me. I could browse through them later and hopefully pick up a few tips, though a quick glance showed theses were more hardcore than your average healing spell and those were only the ones I understood. There were a few I didn't recognize at all...though one near the back seemed vaguely familiar even though I had absolutely no idea of what it would do.

The medical file proved even less interesting. Most of it was boring details of a some sort of pregnancy. There was nothing to indicate it was special in anyway, save for the tiny death certificate at the back. A brown badge of failure.

It didn't explain why Yi had brought it home. I was pretty sure that was a crime.

We would have hit the homes of the other three women Savannah had seen but we had no idea who they were. So instead, we went shopping.

It might seem sort of irresponsible, but really, what else was there to do? The investigation was being handled, we were alive and I did need a dress for tomorrow. And anything that kept Savannah from charging into the unknown was fine by me. Though for the first time I got to have a sort-of explanation of what was going on.

Thomas Nast was turning eighty-five tomorrow. That was the reason Bryce was in Los Angeles in the first place. Thomas was having a major celebration—against his own wishes. The whole family was flying in, and almost every sorcerer of importance in North America was going to be sure to attend, even Paige and Mr Cortez. No one would dare miss it.

Why then was Bryce so eager to take a witch he didn't know? When I asked, Savannah replied with a glib, "You do have nice hair." But if Bryce bringing a witch would give Thomas Nast a heart attack and I was willing to give the crazy plan a try.

"To the mall, Paulie," Savannah announced, flinging herself in the backseat of the car.

Paulson started driving, but announced: "He gave you his credit card. You're not going to the mall. We're going to Rodeo Drive."

"Clearly someone's watched Pretty Woman way too many times," I said.

"Wasn't Pretty Woman the one with the prostitute?" Savannah asked. The glare I gave her told her the answer. "Stop being so sensitive. Besides, if Bryce didn't say anything about a price limit..."

"It's stealing. He offered to pay, he didn't offer a fortune."

Paulson interrupted: "It's not like he goes shopping. He would have said something if he wanted you to be stay under a limit. Come on. He's never going to take me and I want to go."

I rolled me eyes. "Fine. But if they kick us out I'm making your life miserable."

"You're walking in with your own bodyguard. They aren't going to say anything." Paulson grinned happily in the mirror. Savannah rolled her eyes and the two of us burst out laughing. Because the two of us did not go shopping together and this was just weird.

There was a doorman at the front of the boutique Paulson took us to. Savannah just grabbed my arm and pulled me along, like she saw things like that every day, like she didn't have to be as economical as I did when going shopping. Whatever made her happy.

I tugged at the end of my shirt and wanted to sink into the floor. I wasn't just undressed—I was so far beneath undressed that I desperately wished I was anywhere else. All three of us had just fought a demon; we were all rough around the edges. Yet, I kept on following Savannah. She could act like she owned anything.

A smiling woman with red hair that had been pulled back into a professional looking bun approached us in a sharp black suit. She was disproportionally pretty, considering she was in retail. A glance showed that all the employees had the same semi-sculpted good looks. It made them all look like robots. When she spoke, the clipped even tone did little to dispel me of the notion. It turns out Paulson was right. Show up at a store with a bodyguard and people automatically assumed you were important.

Savannah loved having her own minion and she ordered the woman around the store, picking out clothing for me. She was getting far more into this than I had ever seen her. I was the girly one. But I guess she was the Cabal princess. I just tried to ignore it. The ceaseless fawning was impressive, but also very annoying. My attention was also focused more on the store. It was absolutely enormous. And I think I almost bumped into George Clooney.

Eventually, after Savannah had pointed out every dress in the shop, the saleslady led us to a dressing room. It was very...nteresting. It was polygonal and made completely made of mirrors. There was an elevated platform in the middle of the room and a chair by the door we had entered from. Paulson waited outside. It was not going to be fun to see my flaws in high-definition.

The saleslady and Paulson helped hang the dresses on hooks I could barely make out. "I'll be right outside the door if you two need anything," she promised. "Anything at all."

Paulson followed her out and we were finally alone. "Since when are you coming to the party?" I asked Savannah.

She laughed. "I just want a dress."

"That's stealing," I pointed out. "It's not our money."

"Don't get all self-righteous. I'm sure you'll make it up to him somehow."

Though her tone had been casual, I asked: "Does it bother you that much? Because I can stop."

"Since when have you ever been able to stop anything?"

"Shut up."

Savannah smirked and then chuckled. "You really are freaking short. The two of you are going to look ridiculous."

"I'm sure they have shoes here. Probably have people sweating in the back making them." I glanced at the mirror, taking in Savannah's long limbs and comparing them to myself—I had the body of a twelve year old boy. A short twelve year-old boy. Or ten year old. Whatever. Shoes could only do so much. "Let's just get this over with."

The clothes Savannah had picked up held every single colour of the rainbow and then some. They were well made; silk and cashmere and a hundred other deliciously smooth fabrics that I couldn't name. They caressed my skin, hugged it, loved it. It almost made me think it wasn't so bad. But the styles. Sure they were more expensive than anything I could afford. And calling them ugly wasn't quite right. But though I hadn't known it was possible, you could look trashy in fifteen hundred dollar dress. I should have known better. Hadn't I ever watched the Oscars?

"It should be a little shorter," Savannah directed, as I stood in beside her in a deep green dress that was backless, practically frontless and already indecently short. It hadn't looked so bad outside—all dresses that fit me looked small—but on me it was ridiculous. I didn't have curves to speak of and this dress just made it more obvious.

Meanwhile Savannah was in a simple black dress that was making my rethink my heterosexuality. It just wasn't fair.

"I look like twenty bucks."

"Stop exaggerating. Try on something else."

"Is it really necessary for me to dress like this? Really?"

She reached over and helped undo the few hooks that were keeping the dress on me. "I guess you could be completely inappropriate while not looking like a slut."

"It's my skill," I informed her and she grinned. "Completely inappropriate is what I do."

"I'm such a bad friend," she said laughing. "I'm feeding you to the wolves on the outside chance that it'll help my brother. How fucking stupid am I? I know you hate Gramps and know you're touchy about taking things without paying and even touchier about paying and I keep asking you to do this."

"I'm the one that keeps agreeing."

"Yeah, but you're dumb."

"Thanks Savannah," I said as I tried on yet another dress. This one was red and not half bad, though it was perhaps a little too plain. I did have to make an impression, after all. As I studied myself in the mirror, Savannah asked, "Are you going to sleep with Bryce again?"

"It's none of your business." Except maybe it was. I always told her that kind of stuff—why should now be any different? "Honestly, Savannah, I don't know. I won't if it bothers you."

"Just because the dresses were a little…" She sighed: "Maybe I was torturing you a little bit with the clothes."

"Maybe," I agreed.

Savannah burst into laughter. "I can't believe you actually tried on that yellow monstrosity. It made you look like Big Bird."

"Anything to make me look taller."

We grinned at one another and she finally stood up and began changing out of the dress. "Just...I barely know the guy. But he except for the fact he's started to give me things, I don't think I'm ever going to be very close to him. And it's just..."

"You're jealous," I realized.

"Incest is a crime in California, Gillian. Or it should be."

"Ha ha. That's so clearly not was I was talking about. I just meant...he's spending time with me, even if he doesn't like me that much. Which is more than he ever did for you. Which is stupid. I doubt he pursue a relationship with you, but I don't think he'd stop you from trying to make him have one."

Savannah pulled on her shirt. "Where have you been, Gillian? He clearly likes you."

"Likes screwing me is not the same thing as likes me as a person. FYI." She looked pointedly at me and I sighed. "He tolerates me, which is in itself a miracle, but that's just because he can sleep with me without being arrested."

"I think I would be okay if that's all it was," she said. "But it's not and I get that. I know I don't deserve for him to wanna be all BFFL but it just sort of sucks."

"Yeah it does. I'll stop. So what do you think of the pink dress?"

"Too Barbie. You don't want to."

"Be a Barbie?"

"Stop sleeping with my brother."

I tried to change the subject again, because I really didn't want to get into a discussion about what I wanted. Because then I might actually have to admit I felt a little bit disappointed. "What about the dark olive green one?"

"You looked liked Oscar the Grouch. Gillian, whatever the hell you're doing with Bryce, you don't have to stop because of me. Honestly, as long as you remember he's an evil manwhore, I'm okay with it."

"Nice," I laughed. But I stopped protesting.

"What about the baby blue one?"

"That could work."

Savannah spent the night at my place because driving back to Portland was out of the question, though I had her call Paige, so the older witch wouldn't worry. Before bed I alternatively read the girmoires and my school books—I was never going to graduate if I fell behind. Languages weren't courses that you could just pretend to do the readings. If you didn't take the time to learn the vocabulary, there was no way you could fake it.

We didn't make much headway though around ten we went out and broke into Yi's practice. There was nothing there that gave any hint that she was a supernatural. We did find an address book that might give up the names of her associates; Savannah would get Bryce to find pictures of the women, to see if she could recognize any of them. In the meantime she called Adam about the demon.

The change that came over her when she talked to Adam Vasic was astounding. She reverted right back to a preteen, alternatively insulting him or giggling manically. The pitch of her voice even rose a few octaves. It was embarrassing and yet sweet. And for the thousandth time I wished he would come out and say something—either tell her she had a chance or that she was delusional. It was the waiting around that was impossible.

Adam was supposed to help us find out what kind of demon Ken was. Tracking down demons wasn't as easy as you would think. Most people would just assume that it was as simple as following the trail of bodies. Actually, sometimes it could be. But most of the time, it was a little more complicated.

Demons were very big on the hierarchy and within their nether realms they had enough rules about who was above who to make a girl's head hurt. That's why Savannah had called Adam, or her official reason, anyway. You needed a lifetime to understand these rules. Adam's step-father—his actually father being a high ranking lieutenant to Satan—Robert Vasic knew more about demons than I knew about drugs. Unfortunately, there wasn't much help he could give us—there wasn't much for him to go on.

There were a few things it was easy to figure out. First off, demons were divided into two types, officially called eudemons and cacodemons. Eudemons were the ones that didn't actively try and screw up everything in the human world—in that way they were sort of likes sorcerers. It was beneath them. Cacodemons were more like their half-demon offspring (I assumed eudemons could have children, but I wasn't sure if there ever had been) in that they had awesome power and thought the best thing to do with it was to use it. And the thing about power was that it looked a lot prettier when things were going boom. Cacodemons were the types that supernaturals usually conjured, simply because it was a lot easier to give them what they wanted. Much easier to rape, torture and kill than it was to locate the Arc of the Covenant or whatever other obscure thing the eudemon felt like learning about that day.

It didn't feel like reaching to assume that the Ken was a cacodemon. Sure eudemons probably also had the strength to rip hearts out of bodies, but we were agreed that they wouldn't see the need for it. It would have been helpful if we could be sure of the distinctions between eudemons and cacodemons. Almost all demons claimed to be eudemons—I guess they thought it made them seem more trustworthy. Still it was a start.

But that tiny start was the only thing Adam could give us over the phone. He promised to do some more research and get back to us soon.

...