by Kim Harrison
“Thank you, sir. I do.” Edden took the seat closest to the hallway. My eyes tracked Jonathan as he closed Trent’s door. He remained standing beside it, looking defensive. I eased myself down in the remaining seat in the artificial sun, forcing myself to the back of the chair. Trying for an air of nonchalance, I set my bag on my lap and felt in my jacket pocket for a finger stick. The prick of the blade zinged through me. I eased my bleeding finger into my bag, carefully searching for the charm. Now let’s see Trent lie and get away with it.
Trent’s expression froze at the clatter of my amulet. “Put your truth spell away, Ms. Morgan,” he accused. “I said I would be happy to answer Captain Edden’s questions, not submit to an interrogation. Your warrant is for search and seizure, not cross-examination.”
“Morgan,” Edden hissed, his thick hand extended. “Give me that!”
Grimacing, I wiped my fingertip clean and handed the amulet over. Edden stuffed it in a pocket. “My apologies,” he said, his round face tight. “Ms. Morgan is tenacious in her desire to find the person or persons responsible for so many deaths. She has a dangerous”—this was directed at me—“tendency to forget she has to function within the law’s parameters.”
Trent’s wispy hair rose in the current from the air vents. Seeing my gaze on it, he ran a hand over his head, hinting at irritation. “She means well.”
How patronizing was that? Angry, I set my bag on the floor with a thump. “Dr. Anders meant well, too,” I said. “Did you kill her after she turned down your offer of employment?”
Jonathan stiffened, and Edden’s hands jerked as if he was trying to keep them in his lap and away from around my neck. “I’m not going to warn you again, Rachel ….” he growled.
Trent’s smile never flickered. He was angry and trying not to show it. I was glad I could paint the walls with my feelings; it was far more satisfying. “No, it’s all right,” Trent said, clasping his fingers together and leaning forward to set them on his desk. “If it will ease Ms. Morgan’s belief that I’m capable of such monstrous crimes, I’ll be more than happy to tell you what we discussed last night.” Though he was talking to Edden, his gaze didn’t shift from mine. “We were discussing the possibility of my funding her research.”
“Ley line research?” I questioned.
He picked up a pencil, the motion as he twirled it giving away his discomfort. He really should have broken himself of the habit. “Ley line research,” he agreed. “The vein of which has little practical value. I was indulging my curiosity, nothing more.”
“I think you offered her a job,” I said. “And when she refused to work for you, you had her killed, just like all the other ley line witches in Cincinnati.”
“Morgan!” Edden exclaimed, pulling himself upright in his chair. “Go wait in the van.” He rose, giving Trent an apologetic look. “Mr. Kalamack, I’m very sorry. Ms. Morgan is entirely out of line, and is not acting under FIB authority in her accusations.”
I spun in my chair to face him. “It’s what he tried to do to me. Why would Dr. Anders be any different?”
Edden’s face went red behind his little round glasses. I clenched my jaw, ready to argue right back. He took an angry breath, letting it out at the knock at the door. Jonathan opened it, stepping back as Glenn came in, ducking his head briefly to Trent in acknowledgment. I could tell by his hunched, furtive expression that the search wasn’t going well.
He murmured something to Edden, and the captain scowled, growling something back. Trent watched the exchange with interest, his brow smoothing and the faint tension in his shoulders easing. The pencil was set aside, and he leaned back in his chair.
Jonathan went to Trent, putting a hand on his desk as he leaned to whisper in Trent’s ear. My attention flicked from Jonathan’s condescending smile to Edden’s worried frown. Trent was going to come out of this looking like an injured citizen brutalized by the FIB. Damn.
Jonathan straightened and Trent’s green eyes met mine, softly mocking. Edden’s voice rasped at my awareness as he told Glenn to have Jenks double-check the gardens. Trent was going to get away with it. He killed those people, and he was going to get away with it!
Frustration gripped me as Glenn gave me a helpless look and left, closing the door behind him. I knew my charms were good, but they might not work if Trent was using ley line magic to hide her. My face went slack. Ley line magic? If he was hiding her with ley line magic, I could find her with the same.
I glanced at Trent, seeing his satisfaction falter at the sudden questioning look I knew I must be wearing. Trent held up a finger to Jonathan, keeping the tall man quiet as he focused on me, clearly trying to figure out what I was thinking.
Making a search charm using earth magic was clearly white witchcraft. It followed that one made using ley line magic would be white as well. The cost upon my karma would be negligible, far less than, say, lying about my birthday to get a free drink. And whether stemming from earth or ley line magic, a search charm was covered under the search and seizure warrant.
My heartbeat quickened, and I reached to touched my hair. I didn’t know the incantation, but Nick might have it in his books. And if Trent used ley line magic to cover his tracks, there would have to be a line close enough to use. Interesting.
“I need to make a call,” I said, hearing my voice as if it were from outside my head.
Trent seemed at a loss for words. I liked seeing the emotion on him. “You’re welcome to use my secretary’s phone,” he said.
“I have my own,” I said, digging in my bag. “Thank you.”
Edden gave me a suspicious glance and went to talk to Trent and Jonathan. By his polite stance and appeaseing look, I thought he might be trying to smooth the political waves his failed FIB visit was going to cause. Tense, I rose, going to the far corner to try and stay out of the camera’s view as well as their earshot.
“Be there,” I whispered as I scrolled through my short list and hit the send button. “Pick up, Nicky. Please pick up ….”He might be getting groceries. He could be doing his laundry or taking a nap or in the shower, but I was willing to bet my nonexistent paycheck that he was still reading that damned book. My shoulders relaxed as someone picked up. He was home. I loved a predictable man.
“ ’Ello,” he said, sounding preoccupied.
“Nick,” I breathed. “Thank God.”
“Rachel? What’s up?” Concern laced his voice, pulling my shoulders tight again.
“I need your help,” I said, glancing at Edden and Trent, trying to keep my voice soft. “I’m at Trent’s with Captain Edden. We got a search warrant. Will you look in your books for a ley line charm to find—um—dead people?”
There was a long hesitation. “That’s what I like about you, Ray-ray,” he said as I heard the sound of a sliding book followed by a thump. “You say the sweetest things.”
I waited, my stomach knotting as the sound of turning pages came faintly over the phone.
“Dead people,” he murmured, not fazed at all, while the butterflies battered my stomach with jackhammers. “Dead fairies. Dead ghosts. Will an invocation for ghosts do?”
“No.” I picked at my nail polish, watching Trent watch me as he talked to Edden.
“Dead kings, dead livestock … ah, dead people.”
My pulse increased and I fumbled in my bag for a pen.
“Okay …” He was silent, reading it over. “It’s simple enough, but I don’t think you can use it during the daytime.”
“Why not?”
“You know how tombstones in our world show up in the ever-after? Well, the charm makes unmarked graves in our world do the same. But you have to be able to see into the ever-after with your second sight, and you can’t do that unless the sun is down.”
“I can if I’m standing in a ley line,” I whispered, feeling cold. I’d never seen that tidbit of information written in a book. My dad had told me when I was eight.
“Rachel,” he protested after a moment’s hesitatio
n. “You can’t. If that demon knows you’re in a ley line, he’ll try to pull you the rest of the way into the ever-after.”
“It can’t. It doesn’t own my soul,” I whispered, turning to hide my moving lips.
He was silent, and my breath sounded loud to me. “I don’t like it,” he finally said.
“I don’t like you calling up demons. And it’s an it, not a him.”
The phone was silent. I glanced at Trent, then turned my back on him. I wondered how good his hearing was.
“Yes,” Nick said, “but he owns two-thirds of my soul, and one-third of yours. What if—”
“Souls don’t add up like numbers, Nick,” I said, my voice harsh with worry. “It’s an all or nothing affair. It doesn’t have enough on me. It doesn’t have enough on you. I’m not walking out of here without proving Trent killed that woman. What’s the incantation?”
I waited, my knees going weak. “Got a pen?” he finally said, and I nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see the gesture.
“Yes,” I said, jiggling the phone to write on my palm like a test cheat sheet.
“Okay. It’s not long. I’ll translate everything but the invocation word in English, only because we don’t have a word that means the glowing ashes of the dead, and I think it’s important you get that part exactly right. Give me a moment, and I can make it rhyme.”
“Non-rhyming is fine,” I said slowly, thinking this just kept getting better and better. Glowing ashes of the dead? What kind of language needed its own word for that?
He cleared his throat and I readied my pen. “ ‘Dead unto dead, shine as the moon. Silence all but the restless.’ ” He hesitated. “And then the trigger word is ‘favilla.’ ”
“Favilla,” I repeated, writing it phonetically. “Any gesture?”
“No. It doesn’t physically act on anything, so you don’t need a gesture or focus object. Do you want me to repeat it?”
“No,” I said, a little sick as I looked at my palm. Did I really want to do this?
“Rachel,” he said, his voice sounding worried through the speaker. “Be careful.”
“Yeah,” I said, my pulse fast in anticipation and worry. “Thanks, Nick.” I bit my lower lip in a sudden thought. “Hey, um, keep my book for me until I talk to you, okay?”
“Ray-ray?” he questioned warily.
“Ask me later,” I said, flicking a glance at Edden, then Trent. I didn’t have to say another word. He was a smart man.
“Wait. Don’t hang up,” he said, the concern in his voice giving me pause. “Keep me on the line. I can’t sit here and feel those tugs on me without knowing if you’re in trouble or not.”
I licked my lips and forced my hand down from where it had been playing with the end of my braid. Using Nick as my familiar went against every moral fiber I had—and I’d like to think I had a lot of them—but I couldn’t walk away. I wouldn’t even try it if I wasn’t sure Nick would be unaffected. “I’ll give you to Captain Edden, okay?”
“Edden?” he said faintly, his worry taking on an edge of self-preservation.
I turned back to the three men. “Captain,” I said, drawing their attention. “I’d like to try a different finding spell before we leave.”
Edden’s round face was pinched with frustration. “We’re done here, Morgan,” he said gruffly. “We’ve taken up more than enough of Mr. Kalamack’s time.”
I swallowed, trying to look like I did this every day. “This one works differently.”
His breath went in and out in a rough sound. “Can I have a word with you in the hallway?” he intoned.
Hallway? I would not be pulled into the hallway like an errant child. I turned to Trent. “Mr. Kalamack won’t mind. He has nothing to hide, yes?”
Trent’s face was a mask of professional politeness. Jonathan stood behind him, his narrow face ugly. “As long as it falls within the parameters of your warrant,” Trent said smoothly.
I felt a jolt hearing the concern he was trying to hide. He was worried. I was, too.
I made my steps slow as I crossed the office and handed Edden the phone. “It’s a finding spell tuned to find unmarked graves. Nick will tell you all about it, Captain, so you can be sure it’s legal. You remember him, don’t you?”
Edden took the phone, the slim pink rectangle looking ridiculous in his thick hands. “If it’s so simple, why didn’t you tell me about it before?”
I gave him a nervous smile. “It uses ley lines.”
Trent’s face froze. His gaze darted to my demon-marked wrist, and he leaned back into his chair and Jonathan’s protection. I arched my eyebrows though my stomach was in knots. If he protested, he would look guilty. His hands moved with a nervous quickness as he reached for his wire-rimmed glasses and tapped them on the desktop. “Please,” he said as if he had any say in the matter. “Invoke your charm. I’d be interested to see how much an earth witch such as yourself knows about ley line magic.”
“Me, too,” Edden said dryly before he put the phone to his ear and began talking to Nick in low, intent tones, making sure what I was going to do fell within the FIB warrant, most likely.
“We’ll have to move,” I said almost to myself. “I need to find a ley line to stand in.”
“Ah, Ms. Morgan,” Trent said, clearly agitated as he sat up straight in his chair. The wire-rimmed glasses he had put back on made him look less sophisticated, giving him a softer, almost harmless look. I thought he looked a little pale, too.
Right, I thought snidely as I closed my eyes to make it easier to find a ley line with my second sight. Like you have a ley line running through your garden.
I reached out with my thoughts, searching for the red smear of ever-after. My breath hissed in and my eyes flashed open. I stared at Trent.
The man had a freaking ley line running right through his freaking office.
Twenty
Mouth agape, I looked across the office to Trent. His face was tight and drawn as he sat flanked by Jonathan. Neither looked happy. My pulse raced. Trent knew it was there. He could use ley lines. That meant he was either human or witch. Vamps couldn’t pull on them, and humans who could and were subsequently infected with the vamp virus lost the ability. I didn’t know what frightened me more, that Trent used ley lines or that he knew I knew. God help me. I was halfway to knowing Trent’s most precious secret of what the hell he was.
The door to Trent’s office smashed into the wall. Adrenaline surged painfully, and I fell into a defensive stance. Quen burst in. “Sa—Sir,” he barked, changing his title Sa’hanu, mid-speech. He jerked to a stop, his eyes narrowing as he took in my tense posture in the corner and Edden sitting in his chair with my phone at his ear, carefully not moving one inch.
The man’s green eyes fixed upon mine. My heart pounded. Our defensive postures eased, and I tugged my skirt down where it belonged. The door arched closed as Jenks darted in.
“Hey, Rache!” the pixy cried, his wings red in excitement. “Someone’s found a ley line and it’s got someone in an unholy snit.” He stopped short, taking in the tense room. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, grinning. Wings clattering, he lit upon my shoulder, quickly abandoning me for Edden and the chance to overhear what Nick was saying.
Trent leaned forward to put his elbows on the desk. A bead of sweat edged his hairline. I tried to swallow, finding my mouth dry. “Ms. Morgan is demonstrating her ley line skills for us,” Trent said. “I’m very interested to see.”
I’ll bet you are, I thought, wondering how deep in the pile I had stepped. Ley line magic was used heavily in security, and Quen had known the moment I found it.
Uneasy, I took the opportunity to examine everyone’s auras with my second sight. Jenks’s was all rainbows, as most pixies’ were. Edden’s was a steady blue tending to yellow about his head. Quen’s was a green so dark as to be almost black, shot through with vibrant orange streaks about his middle and his hands—not good. Jonathan’s was green as well, much lighter and almost bland in its unif
ormity and shade. Trent’s … I hesitated, faltering.
Trent’s aura was sunshine yellow, streaked with a sharply defined red. The crimson slashes hinted that he had more than his share of soul-marring tragedy in his past. It was unusually close around him, rimmed in silver sparkles, like Ivy’s was. They burst into existence and floated about him when he took a hand and ran it across his head to make his hair lie flat. He was looking for something—the way the sparkles embedded themselves in his main aura indicating that he had dedicated his life to this search. The money, the power, the drive, was all to serve a higher purpose. What was he looking for? I wondered.
I couldn’t see my aura. Unless I was standing on a scrying mirror—which I would never do again. But I was sure Trent was looking at it, and I didn’t like that he could see the demon mark on my wrist pulsating with a nasty black smear, or than my aura, too, had those same ugly red streaks, or that apart from his sparkles, our auras were almost identical.
Edden looked warily between us, knowing something was going on but not what. Brow pinching, he shifted to the edge of his chair and had a terse, hushed conversation with Nick.
“You have a ley line running through your office?” I said, light-headed.
“You have one in your backyard,” Trent answered flatly. Jaw tightening, he glanced at Edden. I could almost see his wish that the FIB captain wasn’t there. His expression was laced with a threatening warning. It wasn’t publicized that only humans and witches could manipulate ley lines, but anyone could figure it out, and I knew he wanted me to shut up about them. I was more than willing to, knowing that having the information was like holding a cobra by the tail.
My fingers were trembling from adrenaline, and I clenched them into fists as I turned to the three-foot-wide smear of ever-after running through Trent’s office. It made an east to west swath before his desk, more accurate than any compass, and I imagined it probably ran through his back office, too. As soon as I stepped into it, I could make an educated guess.