The Witch with No Name

Uncomfortable, Trent eased back in his chair. “Sure, why not?” His eyes roved over nothing. “It might be nice to start again without my father’s legacy hanging over me.” He carefully sipped. “Anywhere else looks real good to me right now.”

Jenks rose up, ankle still on his knee. “Meeting must be over. Al is here.”

I leaned past Trent to see the back of the store. Al was indeed there in his forties suit, shaking off the last of the ley line as he stood in an elaborately painted circle next to the door to the back. My eyebrows rose as I realized it was a jump-in/-out circle, not so much having any magical power on its own, but simply a designated space to keep clear of boxes and merchandise for demons to come and go as they would.

My eyes flicked to Mark as Al strode to the order counter. Mark, what have you gotten yourself into, inviting demons into your coffeehouse?

Trent stood. “I’ll get a chair,” he said, eyeing the nearly full establishment. Al’s presence had been noted, and people were gathering their things and making a beeline for the door.

“Demon grande, extra hot!” the barista sang out, and Mark snagged it before it got to the pickup window, handing it to Al himself with a smile that was too relaxed for my liking.

Demon grande? The barista had put a pump of raspberry in it and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

Ivy didn’t move from her slouch as Al came to our table, standing over it and looking at me in disgust. His red goat-slitted eyes shifted to Trent as the man set a chair at the open end of the table, and I stiffened as Al walked behind me. But it wasn’t the new chair he wanted, and he shoved the chair away with his foot, turning to the nearest table and glaring at the patrons until they took their things and scattered. Still silent, he moved the new table into ours so hard that Jenks rose up, swearing and shaking hot coffee from his wing.

Motions expansive, Al swung a chair to sit at the head of the now-longer table. I was starting to wonder why he was here. He didn’t look happy.

Trent sat back down across from me and moved his coffee closer. “How did the meeting go?” he asked pleasantly.

“As expected,” Al growled.

“I didn’t know you were there.” I stretched my foot out to find Trent’s. I knew he hated getting this secondhand, and from Al no less. Feeling it, Trent smiled, but it was tense and vanished fast.

Al wiped his mouth, exhaling long as he came up from his first gulp of coffee. “I was the representative from the demon faction,” he said, unable to hide his pleasure at being important and included. “Landon is devious . . . as are most elves. The vampires should be allowed to die; they’re idiots, believing in fairy tales and dreams when they know they’re damned forever.”

I curled my hand around my cup to warm my fingers. “I take it that it didn’t go well.”

Al looked away as if peeved. “Landon’s solution is to unbalance the lines—”

“What!” I exclaimed. “Does he have any idea what that can do? I spent an entire night balancing them and I am not doing it again!”

“Wait for the rest,” Al grumbled, and I sat back down, not even realizing I’d stood. Jenks was laughing at me and Ivy was clearly amused, but I was pissed. I wasn’t going to fix them again!

“His plan is to unbalance the lines, drain the ever-after to nothing, and use the energy of the ever-after’s collapse to reinstate the Arizona lines.”

I almost stood up again, jerking back into my seat when Ivy grabbed my arm. “Is he crazy?” I contented myself with that.

“Rachel,” Ivy murmured. “You’re scaring people.”

Al hunched at the table, looking depressed, not outraged. “So of course the demons should be happy, happy and go along with it and help, seeing that if there is no ever-after, there’s no way to banish us again,” he said sarcastically. “Just because the vampires are lobbying for the Darwin award doesn’t mean we are.”

Trent’s finger tapped the table in thought. “Setting aside the obvious downside to the end of magic, how would ending the ever-after solve the problem of the undead souls? Wouldn’t destroying the ever-after ensure they remain in reality?”

“Not necessarily.” Al laced his hands around his coffee. “The undead souls are still tied to the ever-after through the original curse. If the ever-after falls, they cease to exist. Problem solved, according to the elves. They’re not admitting the possibility that demons will fail to exist as well. Apart from you, Rachel.” His mood became introspective. “And all those Rosewood babies,” he drawled. “How are they doing, the little tykes?”