Downside Rain: Downside book one by Linda Welch Page B

like abalone, her skin from the hips down is an
iridescent spectrum of pale color which shimmers in the cool pearly light. She
poses in all her glory, one arm beneath her silken copper hair, one leg angled
over the other. “What can I do for you, Rain?”
    She
knows I don’t call on her without good reason. Sure, we are amicable, but not
friends. I don’t stop by for girlfriend chats.
     “Do
you know if a powerful sorcerer is in town?” The sorcerer who called the
hellion had to be nearby to bring it through.
    Angelina’s
delicate copper brows arch. “No. Why do you ask?”
    I
don’t want to get the lovely furniture wet so sit on the floor facing her with
legs crossed and hands resting on my knees.
    After
I tell her what happened, Angelina swings her legs over the side and plants her
feet on the floor. “I did feel a ripple in the ether. With the flow of magic
and crime in Gettaholt, fluctuations are not unusual; I found the almost
constant disturbance most distressing when I first arrived, now I let it roll
off me, I barely notice.” She frowns. “But this definitely drew my attention.
Not that I knew it was a hellion. I sensed something evil rise from the dark
place.”
    “We
think we were set up. Someone is out to get us and they’re desperate.”
    “They
must be, to call a hellion.” She leans over her knees, distress etching her
face. “Rain, what have you done?”
    Sheesh.
Why does it have to be my fault? I flare my eyes and flip my hands up.
“Nothing!”
    “You
do know securing the services of a sorcerer of the higher arts is extraordinarily
expensive, and how dangerous a dark summons is?”
    “Sure.
But really, Angie, our assignments have been humdrum.”
    “Nothing
in your personal life, or Castle’s?”
    I
shift one shoulder. “No.” But Castle and me, or Castle, or me, must have put
our toes in somebody’s shit. There is nothing worse than knowing you messed up
and someone is out to make you pay, and having no idea what you did or how to
make it all better.
    “I’ll
nose around and get back to you if I find anything,”
    “Thanks.
I appreciate it.” I get upright. “What do I owe you?”
    When
Angie does you a favor, you owe her, even if she doesn’t give results. You owe
her just for asking.
    “Hm.”
She taps a fingernail on her teeth and her expression brightens. “You can come
shopping with me!”
    Oh
hell’s bells. Anything but shopping with Angelina. I would rather spend the
night in city lockup, or swim in the sewer, or slice my own throat. But I don’t
argue. If she wants my company on a shopping expedition, I’ll go. But I won’t
enjoy it.
     
    After
a hectic three hours trailing Angelina in and out of arty boutiques and upscale
department stores, I follow her back to her car loaded down with bags, parcels
and a hat box. Unencumbered, Angelina strolls ahead, wearing a new outfit with matching
red high heels. I wouldn’t wear clothes like hers if I had the figure. You
can’t run in shoes with heels like four-inch matchsticks. The pencil-slim skirt
limits her stride to a kind of swaying glide which may look seductive but
doesn’t get her anywhere fast.
    I
need full mass to carry Angelina’s packages, so my back aches and my feet hurt.
Sweat drips in my eyes but I don’t have a spare hand to wipe them. My head hurts
from her constantly asking my opinion of every dress, skirt, coat and pair of
shoes she looks at. Not that my advice matters, I soon learn she ignores it, so
stop giving it.
    Angelina
opens the car’s rear doors and I load in her packages. She kindly lets me open
the driver’s door before slipping in sideways so she sits facing the street,
skirt hiked up to her thighs. “Lunch, darling?”
    I
push the door to inches from her knees. “Love to, but Sauvageau is expecting
me.”
    “Alain?
Delectable.” She makes a moue, her generous lips pucker. “I haven’t seen Alain
since . . . oh, I don’t know. We were fond of each other at one