I could see my expression in the side view mirror of Joel’s car.
Try as I might, I couldn’t twist my expression into anything other than barely repressed anger.
■
“Wait, it’s a demon?” Ty asked.
“Yes,” Rose said.
There they are. I hung back.
“As in, something like what was in that warehouse?” Tiff asked.
“Factory, not warehouse,” Rose said. “And no. Not like that thing. The thing in the factory was a minor demon of the first choir, maybe on its way to becoming moderate, I don’t know. The Barber is in the middle tiers of the third choir, according to the books.”
“Does that make it stronger or weaker?”
“It’s stronger,” Rose said, confident but not sounding too pleased to be confident. “But, and this is important, it’s a strength we could control, if it came down to it.”
“I dunno,” Ty said.
“You’re flippin’ crazy,” Evan said.
“I’m being realistic,” Rose said. “What I need to know is… do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Alexis said. “I’d be a lot more inclined to exercise that trust if I knew what it stemmed from.”
“That goes two ways,” Rose said. “I’d feel less guilty about drawing on it. But we’re in dire straits, and…”
“What?” Ty asked.
“The house spirit is reacting. Something’s inside,” Rose said.
“Shit, shit,” Ty said.
“Something or someone?” Tiff asked, her voice small.
“Something,” Rose said.
I was already stepping into view.
I saw their eyes widen. I saw fear, I saw hands moving closer to weapons, and it killed me a little. Delivering a little wound as sure as a slice of a knife could, a little crack for another bit of spirit to get in.
I couldn’t bring myself to speak.
Evan was the one who drew closer, before anyone else. Who let his guard down. He settled on the back of the armchair closest to me.
I reached out for him, and my fingertips only touched my side of the mirror.
Silent, I let the hand drop to my side.
9.x (Histories)
The untidy man walked through the park. He looked like he’d been ‘preppy’ once, but was disheveled now. He wore a button-up sweater and a collared shirt with a tie that had been pulled loose, the knot a good half-foot from his collarbone. He wore slacks and shiny black shoes. His hair had been parted earlier in the day, but was now messy.
The youths were a stark contrast to him. Fourteen or so, some with hair bleached to a near-white, some with hair gelled into wicked spikes or flame-like wreaths around their heads, some with both. Most wore heavy eyeliner. Some had jackets with ripped sleeves.
The twenty-something man set down his gift. A case of beer.
“You’re offering? How much?” asked the boy with the craziest hair.
“Free,” the man said.
The group’s ‘cool’ facade broke as a few of them exclaimed in surprise. “No kidding?”
“No kidding,” the man said.
“You’re not going to turn around and demand money later, are you?”
“No,” the man said. He raised his nose, miming sniffing, “I wouldn’t mind some of that grass, though.”
Wariness, now.
“This isn’t some sting, is it?”
“No,” the man said. “If it was, I’d be getting myself in a lot more trouble than I’d be getting you into.”
“Man, this stuff is expensive. You’re doing us a favor and all, but-”
“But nothing. You want me to sweeten the deal? If you do me this favor and manage to finish off the case between you, I’ll get you another before the night’s over.”
The eyes of the group’s leader widened at that, he wasn’t good enough to hide his greed, even as he demurred, “I dunno.”
“Hey,” the smallest in the group spoke up. He was the least done up in the rocker aesthetic that ran through the gang. “Don’t be a pussy, D. Think things through. He’s cool-”
“He’s not-”
“He’s cool, D. With it. Gotta give a little to show we’re honest. Make friends and he could hook us up in the future.”
“I’d consider it my duty,” the man said. “But if you’re not interested, I’m gone. Don’t worry, you wouldn’t see me again.”
‘D’ leaned closer, and the group huddled.
“He’s creepy,” ‘D’ said.
“He’s giving us free beer, and he’s offering more,” one of the other guys said. “One joint.”
D hesitated. “He’s creepy. What if he’s getting us drunk to do stuff to us?”