Free Pale Demon by Kim Harrison Page B

“You’re not going to swear all the bloody Tink-blasted way there, are you?” he asked.
    Feeling weird, I settled myself, my bag going on the backseat. “I’ve got one more condition, or this stops right here,” I said, and Trent sighed, his hands on the wheel, staring at the dusty trunk of the car in front of us. Overhead, a plane roared.
    “What,” he said flatly, more of a demand than a question.
    My thoughts went back to the enthrallment curse and him wiping the memories of Jack and Jill, and I laboriously rolled my window down. My mom didn’t trust electronics, and they were the old crank style. “You do nothing but drive,” I said. “Got it? No wiping memories, no enthrallment, and no fighting if there’s trouble. Nothing. You sit in a bubble and play tiddledywinks.”
    Jenks made a scoffing sound. “You’re not good at this, greenie weenie, and you’re going to slow us down if you try.”
    “You don’t like my magic?” he said, a thread of pride in him.
    “No,” I shot back, stifling a shiver at the memory of his wild, elven magic. “I don’t. Calling on the divine for strength is risky, and you never know what you’re going to get. Keep it to yourself, or I’m going to zip-strip you.”
    His eyebrows rose mockingly. “Not a good feeling, is it? Knowing someone has the ability to do bad things and you just have to trust they won’t.”
    “I only do black magic as a last resort,” I said through clenched teeth. It was all I could do not to smack the smug, satisfied look off his face.
    “Keys?” Trent said mockingly, and Jenks hummed his wings in anticipation.
    Twisting, I reached over the seat for my bag, flushing when I got myself back where I belonged. Sheesh, my butt had been inches from Trent, and Jenks was laughing as I refastened my seat belt. Trent was still utterly emotionless, and I smacked the keys into his hand with enough force to bring his eyes to mine.
    “She’s all yours, Jeeves,” I said, closing my eyes as I tried to gather my strength. This was going to be a long ride. They stayed shut for all of three seconds, flashing open when Trent revved the engine hard, jamming it into reverse and making me reach for the dash. “Take it easy!” I shouted, staring at Trent, his eyes on the rearview mirror.
    “Watch where you’re driving that piece of blue-haired crap!” someone yelled, and I turned to the businessman behind us, clearly hot and bad tempered as he looked for his car.
    I went to shout something appropriately rude, but Trent had already yanked the wheel around and was accelerating, leaving him in a cloud of gravel dust. “When we get to St. Louis, we’re renting a real car,” Trent muttered.
    “There is nothing wrong with my mom’s car,” I snapped.
    Trent was silent, staring straight ahead, but I was fuming. There was nothing wrong with my mom’s car. Nothing at all.

Five
    A narrow slice of early-afternoon sun made it into the front seat to warm my arm, resting on the open window. I was driving—big surprise—and the wind had my hair in a tangle that would take half a bottle of cream rinse to fix. We’d stopped three hours out in the bottom part of Indiana for Jenks to find something to eat and somewhere to pee, and after that he told me he was going to nap. Elves had a similar sleep schedule, and though he hadn’t said anything, it was obvious that Trent was getting sleepy, too, so I’d offered to drive.
    Actually, I mused as I glanced at a somnolent Trent, the last four hours had been nice. Trent’s face was pleasant when he wasn’t scowling. His jeans and shirt made him look dramatically different—more attractive than his usual suit somehow. Accessible maybe. The wind shifted his baby-fine hair as he slumped against the door, as far from me as he could get.
    I could reach right out and smack him if I wanted. I hadn’t liked his quiet disdain of my mom’s car. So it didn’t have a six-speaker system or power doors or windows. It wasn’t