Free Spellbound by Kelley Armstrong

archenemy?” I grinned over at Adam. “Sorry, that just sounds hilarious. I really can’t imagine your dad having an archenemy.”
    â€œHe doesn’t. Any rivalry exists purely in Walter’s head, which is how these things usually go. The student rebels. Makes bad choices. The teacher is disappointed. That’s it. Just disappointed.”
    â€œSo, now that you don’t need to be circumspect in front of Holly, how nasty is this guy?”
    â€œHe can summon just about any demon you care to deal with. And for the right price, he will.”
    That was what made Walter Alston a bad guy, not the ability to summon, but the willingness to do it for a price. When supernaturals want to bargain with demons, they pick foot soldiers. That’s not because they can’t summon the officers and generals, but because with every step up the demon hierarchy, you increase your risk of ending up flayed or filleted. Powerful demons became powerful for a reason. They’re smart—smarter than mortals, meaning they’ll find a way out of any bargain. And, being powerful, they’ll kick your ass faster and harder than their underlings. So the rule of thumb is to always summon the lowest demon who can do the job.
    You only summon a high-ranking demon when you want something big, something that isn’t going to win you Citizen of the Year. Which made me wonder what exactly these “activists” had wanted from Walter Alston . . . and how I was going to persuade him to tell me when I didn’t have my spells.
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    One look at Walter Alston’s house confirmed that he didn’t help supernaturals as a public service. It was on the city’s outskirts, in an oasis of money where residents cultivated lush lawns and gardens, thumbing their nose at Mother Nature.
    Alston didn’t follow the pack, which I suspected was more a matter of obstinacy than humility. He embraced the desert, leaving his property looking like an angry red scar slicing through his neighbors’ manicured perfection. They’d retaliated by erecting ten-foot solid fences against him.
    â€œI’m liking the fences,” Adam said as we idled a few doors down. “Should make it easy to pay Walter a surprise visit.”
    â€œAre you sure that’s such a good idea?” I said. “If you called, he’d probably be curious enough to agree to meet you.”
    â€œRight. Skip the break-in. Make an appointment first.” He laughed. Then he realized I wasn’t laughing and peered at me in the darkened car. “You’re serious?”
    â€œDid you forget I don’t have my powers? No unlock spells. No blur spells. No cover spells. No defense spells.”
    â€œSo? His half-demon power is vision. Mid-grade power. He’s got nothing against my fire. All we need to do is get in the door. I can do that without an unlock spell.”
    â€œWould you go in if you were alone?”
    â€œHell, yeah.”
    â€œThen that’ll be our criteria from now on. If you’d do it alone, we’ll go for it, because with me out of commission, you are alone.”
    â€œYou’re not—” He stopped himself. “All right. Park down the road and let’s move.”
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    Not being a spellcaster, Alston was stuck using human security methods. Strategically placed floodlights and cameras, a gated drive, and a dog kennel beside the house suggested he took his privacy seriously. Like door locks, though, they worked best to deter a casual thief, who’d take one look and choose the place next door instead. For someone determined to get in, they posed only inconvenient obstacles.
    We breached the gate by sneaking into his less security-conscious neighbor’s yard and scaling the fence. That took care of the floodlights and cameras, too—those concentrated on the front, and left gaps elsewhere.
    There was no sign of the dog—either the kennel was for