A Perfect Blood th-10

by Kim Harrison

  Touching his forehead in salute, he turned to leave, holding the door for the laughing couple coming in. Depressed, I sat for a moment as the bells jingled against the door.

  That’s a different chime, I thought as I looked up. My eyes were damp, and I wiped them. How was I going to explain to Trent why he was here dressed in thief black and with his lip swollen? He’d never believe me.

  Something hit my foot, and I jerked my attention to Mark as he slid out from the bench, confusion pinching his eyes. “Ah, I’ll have your coffee in a sec,” he said, glancing at the seat as if wondering why he had been in it. “What was it you wanted?”

  I swallowed hard, my hands shaking. “I’d like a grand latte, double espresso, Italian blend—”

  “Light on the froth, heavy on the cinnamon, with a pump of raspberry in it?” he finished, starting to smile. “I remember. And for you . . .” He looked at Trent. “It was a grand latte, hazelnut, with two pumps, right? You were in here last week.”

  “If you would,” Trent said, his low voice sounding as depressed as I felt.

  Mark strode briskly away, his pace jerking to a pained slowness after three steps. Rubbing his shoulder as if confused, he went behind the counter, pulling his sleeve up to look at the new bruise in the making.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel,” Trent whispered as if to himself. “I should have worked harder to find a memory charm that worked on demons.”

  My head jerked up. “You remember?”

  Trent’s jaw dropped. “B-but . . .” he stammered, his eyes going to my arm where they had injected me.

  “You remember!” I said, elated, then lowered my voice, almost dancing as I moved around to sit across from Trent, taking my shoulder bag from the table and sliding it next to me. “Oh my God! Trent! How?”

  Looking delighted but confused, he leaned in until our heads almost touched. “My father owns the patent on those drugs. You don’t think I know how to circumvent them?” He shook his head, amazed. “But you. Rachel . . . I didn’t have time . . . It was either the pain charm or the memory charm, and I thought you’d rather be alive without your memory than dead with it.”

  I leaned back, then forward again, not knowing what to do with myself. He remembered. “The I.S. was wiping the memories of witnesses, and since I didn’t want to solve these crimes for them and wind up with nothing in my bank account . . .” My words trailed off, and suddenly I couldn’t look at him anymore. His ring glinted on my pinkie, and I turned it over and over, a weird feeling coursing through me as I avoided his eyes. “It doesn’t work for anyone but demons. I would have found something for you, but there wasn’t time to do that and everything else.”

  He was silent, and I looked up. “I’m glad you didn’t forget,” he said, and I froze when he reached across the table, put his hand on mine for a bare second, and gave it a squeeze. I blinked, startled, and he jerked away, the rims of his cropped ears turning red.

  “You okay?” I said, a new tension starting to build as he hid his hand under the table. There was a group of highly trained, well-funded humans who could take down Inderlanders and keep them incarcerated. We had helped them capture two HAPA members, one deeply entrenched in the FIB. I was having coffee with Trent. It was the third thing that I was worried about.

  As if appreciating the change in topic, he shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat. “I’m finding it very hard to believe that there’s been a group of humans policing HAPA and Inderland without my knowledge.” Crossing his arms, he looked over the repaired coffeehouse. “I wonder who funds them. I’ve got some toys they might be interested in.”

  I snorted, my arms draped over the table in contrast to his upright decorum. “They just tried to wipe your mind and you want to sell them stuff?”

  Shrugging, he flicked his eyes to mine, looking embarrassed. “I need to make a call.”

  In the background, Mark was staring in confusion at the note in his pocket. I bit my lip, feeling the sweet relaxation of burnt-out adrenaline. I didn’t want this to end yet. We had gotten HAPA, survived the-men-who-don’t-belong, and my coffee was on the counter waiting for me. “Can it wait? I need a moment to catch my breath,” I said, and his attention jumped to me.

  “Sure.” His gaze going to the dessert shelves, he tilted his head. “How about a piece of cherry pie to go with that coffee? Bringing down bad men makes me hungry.”

  “Perfect,” I said as I stood. Pie? Trent liked cherry pie? I’d have to remember that.

  “My treat,” Trent said, and I hesitated, waiting as he reached behind him for his wallet. His breath caught and he blinked up at me. “Ah, I didn’t bring my wallet,” he said, and I laughed.

  “I got it this time, Daddy Warbucks,” I said, and I ambled to the counter, happy and content with the world.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  My pace was fast as I hustled through the cold, sunset gloom toward the DMV office. They were about to close, but if I could get in the door before it was locked I was going to try an old-fashioned sit-in to get them to cough up a permanent registration; the one that Nina had gotten me was ready to expire. I’d been trying all week. I would have asked for Nina’s help, but she was on extended sick leave. She was in bad shape, but Ivy was making a difference. It must be hard to adjust when a dead vampire suddenly isn’t in you anymore. Like a crash from riding the high of a drug.

  Someone was coming out of the bland-looking building, and I ran the last few steps, reaching out with my gloved hand to catch the door and missing. The man looked up from buttoning his coat, his eyes going over my shoulder and widening. Behind me reflected in the door’s glass was a ruddy square face, a hunter-green top hat, and a wicked, smiling grin.

  “Al!” I shouted, spinning to put my back to the door, heart pounding. I hadn’t realized the sun was so close to setting. “What are you doing here? I’ve got to finish this before they close. I’ll meet you in the garden in twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes,” the demon scoffed, peering over my shoulder at the line still stretched to the door. “Not likely. Let me have a go,” he said petulantly. “Scaring civil servants is beyond all but the most depraved demons, and you, itchy witch, are not nearly nasty enough.”

  He was reaching around behind me to the door handle, and I put a hand on his chest. “No. I’m trying to be a part of society, not get my way out of fear.”

  Startled, he looked down at my hand and Trent’s ring still glinting on my pinkie. Behind me came the snick of the lock being slid into place, and I slumped. Damn . . .

  Smiling over his glasses, he reached for my hand and I slid out from his reach. “Same difference,” he said lightly, swinging his walking cane as he looped his arm in mine and escorted me back to the parking lot. It was cold enough to snow, and I jammed my free hand in my pocket, depressed, as Al walked jauntily at my side with a walking cane and a hat. Not much had changed in the month since putting HAPA away, but then not many people remembered that HAPA had been responsible for the murders.

  “Anyway, we don’t have time for you to practice scaring civil servants,” he said as we made our way back through the cars. “I want you to try that curse. The marvelously complex one rife with risk that you’ve been avoiding. We have a party to attend later tonight.”

  Swell. Head down, I reclaimed my hand and dug through my shoulder bag for my keys as we neared my car. “Al, I’m not ready to fix Winona. What if I get it wrong?”

  But he had put a heavy, white-gloved hand on my shoulder, and even as I reached for my car door, my outsides seemed to pull inward with a rush of ever-after, and I snapped a bubble of protection around me as I felt the line take me. It held the icy sensation of frost, and my mind seemed to relax into an om of a hum. I had missed this.

  They’re going to impound my car if it’s still here in the morning, I thought at Al flatly, but the world was already materializing around us, damp and green. I had no idea where we were. It was cold and snowy outside in Cincinnati.

  Al’s h
and slipped away, and I looked up to see a plate-glass ceiling. Tired ferns edged the slate path we were standing on, and moss. Benches lined the way, most having clay pots on them with even more ferns and flowerless orchids. I peered through the vegetation, deciding that we were in a huge hothouse, the ground cold and gray beyond the glass and the heaters that I could now hear humming. The greenhouse was large enough for trees, and it smelled like vermiculite.

  Ahead were more trees, and behind us was a small table and two wire chairs with comfortable, plush cushions. It was vaguely familiar, and I looked up into the dark, silent canopy high overhead.

  “Where are we?” I asked. “Trent’s interior gardens?”

  The demon tilted his head, giving himself a devilish mien. “Of course. Popping right into Trenton Aloysius Kalamack’s house would be rude.”

  It must be something else, because Al had never before been interested in what was rude.

  “Mmm, where is my little bitch?” he murmured, his buckled boot grinding into the slate as he turned.

  “Winona?” I asked, my anxiety swelling.

  “Not Winona. Ceri.” Al breathed deeply. “Bloody-hell wench was easier to deal with when I had control of her soul. She’s gotten positively uppity. Wait here. I’ll fetch her.” He hesitated, his head spinning to look down the trail. “That way, I think. I can smell baby shit.”

  “Al!” I called, not wanting to be caught in Trent’s hothouse alone, but he had vanished in a cascading wash of black ever-after.

  I slumped. I was probably on-camera, somewhere. “Hello?” I called, going to sit in one of the chairs. A rustling at the edge of the ferns caught my attention, and I looked down expecting to see a rodent or maybe a bird, but my lips curved up in a smile when I found a gaunt fairy, silver and pale, standing guard with a hand-carved spear pointed at me. She didn’t have any wings, telling me she was one of the fairies who had attacked me last summer.

  “Hi,” I said, my eyes widening when the fairy made a stabbing motion at me, snarling. “Um, I know your sister Belle. I’ll take her something if you like.”

  Immediately the fairy straightened and stood her spear up to point at the sky. Giving me a long-toothed, scary smile, she ran into the brush. I watched the slowly swaying vegetation grow still, wondering what Trent felt about having become the first year-round landlord of a clan of fairies. They couldn’t migrate, and this was far better than inviting them inside the house. Maybe I should set up a little hothouse of my own. Nah, I liked the pixies too much.

  I dropped my keys into my bag, and seeing my phone, I pulled it out to text Ivy that I was at Trent’s with Al and that my car was parked at the DMV. There were soft steps on the slate walk, and I looked up, dampening down an unexpected wash of feeling at the sight of Trent. He was moving at a confident pace, but his stance was wary as he came forward, unbuttoning his suit’s jacket to show a soft linen shirt and a gray tie. I had no doubt that I’d tripped some sort of alarm, but the fact that it was Trent coming to see me, not Quen or a faceless security guard, did a lot to ease my mind.

  The memory of tagging HAPA at Junior’s swam up, and I flushed. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, but I had felt so free with him, talking about memory charms while having pie, and now everything was awkward again. I didn’t know why.

  “Rachel?” he said as he came to a stop beside the table, a long, narrow hand coming to rest atop the tiled surface. “When did you get here? Is Ceri with you?”

  I pulled my eyes from his hand, still bare of any ring save the one, twin to my own, on his index finger. “Uh, hi. No. Hey, I’m sorry, but Al is wandering around, looking for her.”

  Trent’s face lost its expression, a ribbon of fear sliding behind his eyes before he mastered it. “You’re joking, right?” he said, his hand with the missing fingers going behind his back.

  Wincing, I pulled my shoulder bag closer to me on my lap. “I wish I was. I’m sorry about this. He thinks that charm, uh, curse for Winona is ready. Trent, I’m sorry. If I’d had any warning, I would’ve called. He snagged me from the DMV parking lot thirty seconds ago.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, looking up into the vegetation. I followed his eyes and saw a camera blinking. “Really!” I insisted, scooting to the back of my chair. “He’s been like this lately. Popping into my kitchen like it’s his closet and he’s looking for his slippers. I think the other demons are giving him a hard time, and he’s using me as an excuse to leave. He keeps taking my spelling equipment and whipped cream.”

  Trent reached for an insanely thin phone from the inside of his suit’s jacket, flipping it open and beginning to tap fast with his thumbs, like an adolescent girl. “If there’s a demon wandering around, Quen should know,” he muttered.

  “Sorry.” It was the third time I’d said it, and my gaze lingered on his mutilated hand.

  “It happens around you,” he added sourly, eyes on his tiny keyboard.

  “You’re taking it rather well.”

  Trent snapped his phone closed and tucked it away, his remaining fingers curling, hiding the fact that some were missing. “If he so much as touches my girls, I will hold you responsible.”

  I stiffened. Taking my bag from my lap, I set it on the slate floor, leaned back in the chair, and crossed my legs to look more confident. “Al is not my responsibility,” I said lightly, even as I felt a new tension begin to take hold. If he touched Ray or Lucy . . .

  Pulling the other chair out, Trent sat, angled away from me but not enough to be rude. “He’s here because of you. Take responsibility.”

  I frowned, pulling my thoughts back from the curse I’d found to put maggots into food stocks. “Can we wait to see how bad he is before we start burning me in effigy?” I said sourly, and he cracked a smile.

  Relief spilled into me, and he shifted to put the flat of an arm on the table as he looked into his garden, his mind clearly on other things as we waited. “Have you seen any more evidence of HAPA?” he asked, and I uncrossed my legs, surprised.

  “Yes and no.” I forced my teeth to unclench. “Glenn is quitting the FIB.”

  Trent’s eyes flicked to mine and held. “Really?”

  I nodded. “As far as anyone knows, you took me out for coffee so I could blow off steam. I think Ivy and Jenks suspect something, since no one seems to care that Dr. Cordova is gone and I’m not hell-bent on finding HAPA, but Ivy tells me Glenn is quitting the FIB, packing up Daryl, and moving to Flagstaff where the air is cleaner.” Ivy was pissed, to say the least, which made living with her difficult. Well, more difficult than usual.

  “I think the-men-who-don’t-belong asked him to work with them,” I whispered, and Trent’s foot stopped moving. I looked up to find him watching me with an I-told-you-so expression, and I picked at the stone table. “It’s either that, or he figured out that Dr. Cordova was a member of HAPA and he wanted out.”

  “Felix won’t return my calls.” Trent was reaching for his phone again. “Damn,” he swore softly when he changed his mind and left it where it was. “I don’t like the closed hearings they’re conducting with the three HAPA members they have, either. It smacks of the old days.”

  It was one of the few times I’d ever heard him swear, and it made me smile even if the news wasn’t good. “Does Ceri know what we did on our coffee date yet?” I asked, and he jerked his attention to me.

  “God no.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I think she suspects something, though. We’ve had cherry pie for dessert five nights in a row.”

  His voice drawled, and my smile deepened. We both settled back, content to wait as events shifted around us. I kind of liked having secrets with Trent, and I glanced sidelong at him in the growing darkness as snow started to fall, a soft hush on the glass ceiling. His profile was clean and young, his smile at our last words fading into a slight frown at some private thought.

  He had turned Dr. Cordova into a monster, and I didn’t care. What made it so different from what Chris had done? Was it because his justice w
as an eye for an eye, brutal but satisfying in a horrible way? Was it because Cordova wanted to wipe out Inderland, and he was protecting it? Or maybe that I knew he’d never do anything like that to me?

  Someday, you’ll thank me for that skill echoed in my mind. Don’t change because I’m a bastard quickly followed it, and I dropped my eyes, confused.

  “There she is,” Trent said softly, his gaze on the path as he stood. I still didn’t see anything, but a second later, I heard Ceri’s voice. Another moment, and she made a turn on the path and was there. She had both Lucy and Ray, the smaller baby, over her shoulder, looking back at Al. I stiffened and rose to my feet, even if the demon was following at an obvious ten-foot distance. He was making funny faces and turning his hair different colors to entertain the little dark-haired girl, and I didn’t like it.

  “Ceri! What are you doing?” Trent exclaimed, almost panicking as he strode forward to take Ray from Ceri’s shoulder. The little girl fussed, clearly wanting to watch the funny man with the nose drooping down to his chin, waving like an elephant’s trunk.

  “Relax, Trenton.” Ceri shifted Lucy out of the way and gave Trent a chaste kiss on the cheek before she came to me. “The girls need to see what a demon is. They’re safe. Al wouldn’t dream of abducting them. I’d follow him into the ever-after and turn evidence on him for every shady deal he has made in the last thousand years.”

  Smiling at me, she touched me on the shoulder, and I stood to give her and Lucy a hug, still not sure about having the girls so close to Al. “Isn’t that right, Aunt Rachel?” Ceri said wryly as I drew back.

  “Aunt Ra-a-achel?” Al drawled.

  I ignored him, busy arranging Lucy’s fair hair to show off her pointed ears. “Not to mention that I will be very unhappy if he does.”