A Perfect Blood th-10

by Kim Harrison

  “Rachel, I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay,” I said as I held her elbows and looked her in the face. Damn it, she was crying. She’d done so well, and she was crying because of what they’d done to her and what people would think she was. I was the demon here, not her. “Winona, you’re like the bravest person I’ve ever met,” I said, thinking my own worries looked petty compared to hers. “Come on. We’ll run until we find a place for you to stay while I find a phone. I’ll explain what happened, and then we’ll get you back to normal.”

  Her grip on my arms tightened, and she dropped her head, nodding. “Okay.” But then her head came up, and she turned, letting go of me and dropping back a step in alarm.

  “Move, and I’ll shoot you,” Eloy said from the dark, his silhouette black against the starlit observatory. “Move, and I’ll shoot you both. Right here. Right now.”

  Damn. I watched, frozen, as he cocked the small rifle. He was head to toe in camouflage, looking both threatening and ridiculous against the background of Cincinnati. We weren’t in a fucking war here—but maybe we were. He’d said he’d shoot us, and I believed him.

  “Hell, I think I’ll just shoot you anyway,” he said, pulling the gun to his shoulder in a very fast, professional motion.

  “Run!” I shouted, giving Winona a push. If he was going to shoot at us, a moving target was harder to hit—especially with that little rifle he had.

  The sound of the rifle going off hit me like a slap, and something thunked into my leg. It stung, and I stumbled, almost pulling Winona down. I wedged her arm off me and fell, turning to look up at Eloy. My leg was wet, and I held it, praying.

  Eloy made a huff of success and brought his rifle up again, this time aiming for Winona. My pulse thundered in my ears. Behind him, the fire trucks got louder, the first of the lights flashing on the building. Oh God. I was going to be killed by a rifle-toting, HAPA redneck with a grudge against the supernatural.

  “Go!” I shouted, and with a snarl, she jumped right at him.

  Eloy dodged, silently swinging his gun to hit her. She caught it with a smack to her palm, and she yanked it from him, throwing it to the damp grass. “Son of a bitch!” the man cried, and she jumped onto his back, her mouth wide in a primal scream as she tore chunks of his hair out and pounded on him. Her tail whipped his face, and he reached behind himself, grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder.

  Winona landed on her feet and jumped at him again. The man covered his face and dropped to the ground, curled up like he was being attacked by a bear. Winona stomped all over him, her tiny hooves having almost 150 pounds behind each inch.

  I scooted back until I found a tree I could use to get to my feet. I wouldn’t let go of my leg, and my hand was sticky. People were getting out of the fire trucks. Now that they weren’t moving, they might be able to hear us. “Winona!” I hissed as a huge truck light swung over the nearby trees. “Winona! We’ve got to go!”

  A clatter of pixy wings brought my heart into my mouth. Jenks! I thought as my gaze darted to the new sprinkling of pixy dust arrowing to us from deep in the woods. I leaned against the tree, my hope rising. Could I be that lucky?

  “Rache! Holy crap!” Jenks shouted as he came to a short stop inches from my face, and I almost collapsed in relief. “We found you!” the exuberant pixy said, and I grinned, feeling faint. “Good thinking to set the place on fire! Glenn thought you were in some mobile home, but I stuck with Trent. The cookie maker needs someone to look out for him. He’s worse than you in making bad decisions. He did six things wrong since leaving his house. Let’s leave dust before that freaky-ass demon sees you!”

  “That’s not a demon, that’s Winona,” I said, wincing as she gave Eloy a last kick and howled her success at the stars.

  “Who?” Jenks asked.

  “Winona.” I leaned against the tree and pressed my hand into my leg. It was starting to hurt. That was a good thing, right? “She’s a nice woman they snatched. They did that to her. With my blood.” Oh God, they used my blood, and I felt a tear leak out. I knew it was the trauma, but I couldn’t stop it.

  His dust shifting to an alarmed red, Jenks hovered beside me as I started breathing shallowly. “Is she still smart?”

  “Yeah.” I took a breath, but I couldn’t tell if the lights were spinning because they were really spinning or if it was from blood loss. “She’s got a few issues she’s working out, is all. That’s Eloy she’s stomping on. He’s a son . . . of a bastard. He put us in a cage, and Chris did that to her. It’s HAPA, Jenks. They’re going to wipe us all out if they can duplicate my blood.”

  Winona turned to us, looking demonic but justifiably proud of herself as she grinned. Behind her, Eloy was not moving. Somehow I didn’t care.

  “Trent!” Jenks shouted, rising up for an instant. “We’re over here!”

  Trent was out here? I thought, Jenks’s earlier words taking on an entirely new meaning.

  Dropping down to my knee, he noticed the blood. “Shit, you’ve been shot! Trent, I could use some muscle here! Why the Tink-blasted daisies do you think I brought you!”

  “It’s just a small caliber. Why is Trent here?” I whispered, leaning against the tree. It was getting harder to breathe. Ivy. Ivy should be here, not Trent.

  The hair on the back of my neck started to prickle, and Jenks rose up. “Trent, no!” he cried out, and my eyes flashed open to see a dark shadow. “She’s with us! She’s with us!”

  But it was too late, and a ball of magic hissed through the air, headed right for Winona. The woman didn’t have a clue, staring transfixed at the hunched shadow, looking like Peter Pan, crouched in the nearby tree.

  I lunged for Winona. Jenks darted up, and I landed on her, right when Trent’s spell slammed into me.

  My breath came in with a gasp as it felt like my skin exploded, shooting jagged daggers from the inside out. Groaning, I clenched my jaw and curled into a ball as I fell off Winona, shaking as my pounding heart pushed the pain deeper, finding my chi and then exploding again. I could do nothing but ride it out, and it was a hard one. Stupid-ass elf! Jenks was right. He jumped to conclusions worse than I did.

  “What the hell are you doing!” Jenks shrilled, and the world spun as Winona picked me up and began backing away, managing my weight easily. “You hit Rachel, you idiot!”

  “Put her down, demon!” Trent said, his beautiful voice hard with threat as he dropped from the trees, the come-and-go lights from the fire trucks playing over him. “I’ll kill you where you stand. I am her Sa’han, and you will not have her.”

  “You are not,” I breathed, trying to wave him off, and Jenks hovered over us, lighting Winona’s scared expression with his own dust. “Knock it off, will you? She’s my friend.”

  “She’s with Rache!” Jenks shrilled. “God! You’re dumb! Do you think I’d be hovering here with my thumb up my ass if Winona was going to hurt her?”

  “Stay back,” Winona said, her tears hitting me, heavy and warm. “Stay back! Oh God, Rachel. Please be all right!”

  “Jenks?” I murmured, trying to focus, but Winona was backing into the trees, terrified. Elf magic sucked. I didn’t think I could move. Even my heartbeat hurt. Damn! Trent packed a punch. Someone needed to muzzle him. Stupid-ass businessman trying to play runner.

  The glow of a phone screen lit his face, and he quietly said, “I’ve got her. Right where I said she’d be.” He hesitated, a new tightness to his lips. “Why do you think I’m out here, Quen? I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He hesitated, then added, “Then you should have listened to me,” and shut the phone. The light cut off. “Please, we have to move,” he said, and Winona’s arms around me tightened. Her meadowy scent rose high where my wet clothes touched her, and I felt numb.

  “It’s okay, Winona,” Jenks said, darting to hover over Trent as he walked forward, his hands in the air, but Winona kept going back, deeper into the woods and away from the lights of the fire trucks.

  “HAPA is still
out here,” Trent said, his expression unseen as the fire trucks flashed behind him now. “I can take you somewhere safe, but you have to trust me. I’m sorry about the spell. I saw you and . . . I overreacted. Please. Don’t run. I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

  No, he couldn’t. It was something I was learning at long last. I hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Trent’s voice had lost its edge, falling into the more familiar coaxing businessman I knew. Winona wasn’t buying it, and Jenks hovered over her shoulder. Winona shook her head, her tears hitting me, and Trent made a noise of frustration. “Some help here, Rachel?”

  I tried to take a deep breath, my lungs on fire. “Idiot . . .” I wheezed. “You shouldn’t be throwing spells like that unless you know what you’re doing!”

  “You want me to leave?” he said, and Jenks’s wings clattered in frustration.

  “Can you guys save this for after we get in the car?” he said, and I tried to focus on his glittering sparkles. I was so glad to see him, I could just cry. No, wait, I was already doing that.

  “Winona, please,” I whispered as my eyes shut. “I know this guy. You can trust him.” My eyes opened, and I looked at Winona, seeing her need to believe that there might be a way out of this. “He can help us both,” I slurred, then clenched as a new wave of pain hit. Oh God, the spell wasn’t dissipating fast enough. I was going to go into shock.

  “You’re Trent Kalamack?” she warbled, and Trent nodded. She shifted from foot to foot, but I think it was Jenks still hovering over him that did it, and I sighed when Trent put his hands on me and the pain lessened. I sagged in relief, and Winona stiffened.

  “It’s okay!” Jenks yelled before she ran off with me. “He just broke the pain charm.”

  “I still hurt,” I said, my eyes opening. I smelled cinnamon and wine, and Trent’s finger turned my face to his. He was smiling, a hint of guilt and embarrassment behind it, and I tried to smile back. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be taking over a corporation or something?”

  “Ah, sorry about that,” he said, worry pinching his brow. “Better now?”

  Sorry? He was sorry?

  “She’s been shot,” Jenks said, and I felt a new wash of warmth as he dusted my leg again.

  “I see that,” he said, his gaze going up the hill to the fire trucks. “I would’ve found you sooner, but everyone was focused on a trailer park, and it wasn’t until Quen left that I had the chance to do a finding spell.” He grimaced as he took me from Winona and the soothing scent of cinnamon and wine flowed over me anew. His hand with the missing fingers pinched, the pressure needed to hold me channeled into fewer fingers. “Maybe next time, they’ll listen to me.”

  “Happens to me all the time,” I said, eyes closing as he started walking and my head thumped into his chest. Things were getting fuzzy again, and I felt like I was being rocked as he walked, Jenks shining ahead of us.

  “I’ve a car a quarter mile up the road,” Trent said, concern edging his voice. “I’ll have you in a tub of water in half an hour.” He glanced at Winona. “Both of you.”

  A tub of water sounded like heaven. “You’d better be nice to Winona,” I said. “Or I’m going to kick your ass. Understand?”

  “More than you know.”

  I was cold, and my head slumping into him, I breathed him in, giving myself up to whatever came next. I was going to be okay, and that was enough for now. Trent had been looking for me? How nice was that?

  But my next thought woke me back up. He thought he was my Sa’han? What the hell did that mean?

  Chapter Seventeen

  A high-pitched child’s wail cut through the thick walls as if they were paper, sliding between my sleep and reason and pricking me awake. A soft adult admonishment quickly followed, soothing the desperate demand into a pitiful whining that dulled to the inaudible. I smiled. Kids were great, but I was really glad not to have any right now.

  My eyes opened, and I looked up at the high arched ceiling, bright with the sun leaking past the curtains. The ceiling was painted with a hunting scene, like you might find in a museum, with dogs and horses—and one running fox. Somehow it managed not to look overdone. The opulent surroundings helped.

  In less than a day I’d gone from sleeping on a grimy floor to Egyptian cotton, silk pj’s, and enough pillows to drown in. Thank God there’d been a shower in between. Not to mention a trip downstairs to Trent’s surgery suite to get the bullet yanked out of my thigh. I’d be there still, but after they patched me up and made sure my kidneys were working, I had taken out the IV and demanded a real bed or I was going to call Ivy to pick me up that instant.

  It felt good to be alive, clean, rested . . . and sleeping in Ellasbeth’s old room. Na, na. Na, na. Na-a-a-a, na. It had been redecorated in soft, earthy colors, and I could see Ceri’s hand everywhere from the lace draped over the top of the huge mirror to the elegant French provincial furnishings. The bathroom, though, looked the same as the night Ellasbeth had walked in on me while I’d been innocently soaking in her tub. She’d probably been pregnant with Lucy at the time, now that I think about it.

  Ray, Ceri and Quen’s child, was only five months old. Lucy was eight months, and from the sound of it, had learned how to communicate without words. She was a smart little kid, the product of East Coast and West Coast elves, the attempt at forging a union between the two that I helped break not just once, but twice, first by halting their marriage, and then by helping Trent steal Lucy from Ellasbeth in an arranged agreement to avoid a legal battle for the child. Lucy was his now, lock, stock, and barrel. Trent had made me her godmother—her demon godmother.

  I stretched with a happy sigh, grunting in surprise when my leg twinged. Oh, yeah.

  Ceri had apologized profusely, but all the magic she knew that could help was demonic and therefore wouldn’t stick. Trent hadn’t even offered, probably still stinging over my less-than-enthusiastic response to being beaned by his pain charm—which had stuck. Wild magic had weird side effects in the best of situations, and he was a dabbler, even if he had laid me out. Ceri wouldn’t practice the ancient, unpredictable, elven magic. She was a smart woman.

  My thoughts drifted from seeing Trent as a dangerous shadow crouched in that tree to the kiss we’d shared last summer. It hadn’t been unpleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but to think that it would go any further was stupid. I trusted Trent with my life, not my heart.

  A shadow by the curtain moved, and I sat up. “Winona!” I said, quashing my first initial panic at finding a horned, tailed, demonic creature smiling at me.

  “Sorry,” she said, her lisp almost gone. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You feel okay?”

  The pillows behind me were too soft to give any support, and I carefully propped myself up against the headboard. Seeing Winona in a long, dark red skirt and shawl threw me. “Pretty much. I should be up now anyway. Ivy and Wayde are probably banging on Trent’s gate.”

  I looked for a clock before remembering Ceri had taken it out of the room, telling me to sleep myself out. Scooting to the edge of the bed took some doing, and I threw back the covers and lifted the hem of my borrowed pj’s to see a big ugly bruise spreading out from under the bandage on my leg. It could have been a lot worse—should have been from that distance. I was going to have an interesting scar at the very least.

  “My leg hurts, but I’m okay,” I said, and she trip-trapped over to me, the sound muted when she found the rug. I let my legs hang over the side for a moment, my bladder warring with my need to slow down and gauge my fatigue. There was a pain amulet around my neck, and it was working well despite the throbbing in my leg. Small favors.

  Slowly, with Winona ready to help, I stood. Everything seemed to shift as my feet took my weight, settle a little lower, a little more uncomfortable. I exhaled, then shuffled my way to the bathroom, Winona holding tight to my arm.

  “Thank you for pounding Eloy last night,” I said. “I can’t believe you set the basement on fire w
ith just one charm.”

  Her ugly face smiled fiercely. “I would never have made it without you. Thank you.”

  I touched the bedpost in passing for support, but my pace was becoming more sure already. “I think you would have managed it,” I said, then glanced at my charmed silver as it thunked from my elbow to my hand. “I bet I missed breakfast. What time is it anyway?”

  “Almost noon.”

  “Good.” I put a hand on the wall beside the closed bathroom door. “I promised Ivy I’d call by one.” I had talked to her shortly after the yanking-of-the-IV incident. She wasn’t happy about my sleeping over until I told her I wanted to talk to Trent about getting this bracelet off. Wayde wasn’t happy, either. He thought he’d let me down. I needed to talk to him, too.

  Seeing me standing on my own power, Winona opened the bathroom door for me. I hobbled in, a twinge of nausea rising at the pain leaking through the amulet, but I turned and made a solid front when she tried to come in with me. “I’ve got this,” I said, and she snorted, giving me a look that I’d expect from a third-grade teacher, decidedly odd on her demonic face.

  “Just thump the floor hard when you hit it, and I’ll come in,” she said, and I heard her sigh when I shut the door.

  I leaned back against the closed door and simply breathed for a moment. I was so damn tired. “Here we go again,” I said as I pushed myself into motion. If I couldn’t get dressed by myself, Trent might insist I stay. Ivy would cart me out of here anyway, but I didn’t want to push the new truce Trent and I seemed to have. Weird.

  I didn’t need another shower, but my brands of detangler and toothpaste were waiting for me on the counter along with a complexion charm. Trent would remember them from our cross-country excursion, but it still threw me. My clothes from yesterday were laid out, cleaned and pressed. The bullet hole in my leather pants had been mended so well I couldn’t see the patch unless I ran my hand over it, but there was no way I’d be able to wear them—not with my leg swollen like it was. Beside them was a robe and a pair of black sweats. The robe wasn’t happening, but the sweats I could manage, and I sat on the dressing couch and carefully put myself back together as if I was getting dressed for battle, somehow managing even the socks.