The Outlaw Demon Wails Read Online Free PDF Page B

of us.” She shyly looked to Minias, and the demon stepped back almost out of my peripheral vision.
    The kid snuck glances at Jenks as he punched that in, announcing, “Fourteen eighty-five.”
    â€œWe have one more person here,” I said, trying not to frown, and Jenks landed on the counter with his hands on his hips. I hated it when people ignored him. And asking him to share simply because he wasn’t going to eat much was patronizing.
    â€œI want an espresso,” he said proudly. “Black. But give me the domestic blend. That Turkish crap gives me the runs for a week.”
    â€œTMI, Jenks,” I muttered while I yanked my shoulder bag forward. “Why don’t you find a table? Maybe a corner without a lot of people?”
    â€œWith your back to the wall. You got it,” he said, clearly doing better in the shop’s moist, balmy climate. A sustained temp below forty would send him into hibernation, and though Cincinnati was regularly hitting that after dark, the stump he and his huge family lived in would retain enough heat to keep them warm until almost mid-November. I was already dreading his brood moving into the church Ivy and I lived in, but they would not hibernate and risk Matalina, his ailing wife, dying of the cold. Jenks was why I wore the scarf; it wasn’t for my comfort.
    Glad for the warmth of the shop myself, I unzipped my coat. I handed the kid a twenty, then dropped the change into the tip jar, making the businessman wait while I scribbled “client meeting” on the receipt and tucked it away.
    Turning, I found my mother and Minias standing uneasily beside a table against the wall. Jenks was on the light fixture, the dust slipping from him rising in the bulb’s heat. They were waiting for me to sit down before choosing their seats, so grabbing some napkins, I headed over.
    â€œThis looks great, Jenks,” I said as I edged behind my mom to reach the chair against the wall. Immediately my mother sat to my left, and Minias chose the chair to my right, shifting it a foot back before sitting down. He was almost in the aisle; apparently we both wanted our space. I took the opportunity to remove my jacket, and my expression froze when the bracelet Kisten had given me slipped to my wrist. Pain hit, almost panic, and I didn’t look at anyone as I tucked it behind the sleeve of my sweater.
    I wore the bracelet because I had loved Kisten and still wasn’t ready to let him go. The one time I’d taken it off, I found myself unable to tuck it away in my jewelry box next to the sharp vampire caps he’d given me. Maybe if I knew who had murdered him I could have moved on.
    Ivy hadn’t had much luck tracking down the vampire Piscary had given Kisten to as a legal blood gift. I had been sure that Sam, one of Piscary’s lackeys, had known who it was, but he hadn’t. The human polygraph test at the FIB, or Federal Inderland Bureau—the human-run version of the I.S.—was pretty good, but the witch charm I had around Sam’s neck when Ivy “asked” him about it was better. That was the last time I helped her question anyone, however. The living vampire scared me when she was pissed.
    That Ivy wasn’t getting results was unusual. Her investigative skills were as good as my ability to get into trouble. Since the “Sam incident,” we had agreed to let her handle our search, and I was getting impatient at her lack of progress, but my slamming vampires into a wall for information wasn’t prudent. What made it worse was that the answer was buried somewhere in my unconsciousness. Maybe I should have talked to the FIB’s psychologist to see if he could pull something to light? But Ford made me uneasy. He could sense emotions faster than Ivy could smell them.
    Uncomfortable, I scanned the décor of the busy place. Behind my mother was one of those stupid pictures with babies dressed up as fruit or flowers or