by Kim Harrison
His reassuring smile only made me more concerned. “He wants an end to the vampires more than an end to me or you. We can trust that.”
“So we’re safe until the undead vampires are dead. I should probably write it down before I forget.” I reluctantly pulled from him to get a pencil and paper from Ivy’s desk. “Even if it will be in my handwriting and not his.”
“I think Jenks has it,” Trent said, looking out at the garden. “Jenks!” he shouted, startling me. “Where’s the charm?”
Pen in hand, I turned from the table to see Trent stretching to the hanging rack to turn the few hanging pots as if to empty them. “You had him copy it? Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you—” Spent dust spilled out of one, covering Trent in silver. He sneezed, missing the postage-stamp-size scrap of paper now drifting to the floor. It had to be the copied charm, and I picked it up, recognizing Jenks’s handwriting and the glyph of a pentagram. “There it is,” he said, seeing it in my hand and smiling. “Because you aren’t used to dealing with civil servants disguised as religious leaders.”
A smile found me. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?” I tugged at his belt, pulling him to me again. My arms went around his neck, and I beamed at him, the copied spell in one hand, the fingers of my other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, stretching until I could just brush the arch of his pointy ears. Heartache swept me. How long could I hold on to him? A year? Two?
“Repeatedly, but I’m open to hearing it again,” he said, eyes alight with possibilities as he tilted his head and our lips met in a kiss.
Emotion spilled through me, heat tingling from our lips down to my middle, all the sweeter for knowing it could never last. My hand fisted in his hair, and his breath caught at the tight demand. He pulled me closer, his hands at my waist almost lifting me off my feet. The kitchen, I thought as my back hit the counter and his hand slipped under my shirt, his fingers both smooth and demanding, tracing over my skin. What was it about the kitchen that seemed to get both of us in a rush?
My eyes opened as our lips parted, but the tingling he’d started continued, making me move against him in time with his ever-moving hands, searching, rising to hint at finding my breast and send new tingles down to my spine. “You know what to do when you think of me, huh?” I said, thinking it was one of the most telling things anyone had ever said to me, making me feel loved and needed all at the same time.
“Always,” he breathed, looking at my lips.
“What are you thinking now?” I teased.
“I’m trying to remember why you haven’t moved in with me,” he said, and we slowly stilled, pressed against each other and content to just be.
Because I can’t take that hurt again, I thought, unable to say it. Because anything this good can’t last. Because I love you. Because Ellasbeth and he were talking again, and I knew that was what everyone wanted. Quen would be so-o-o pleased.
“Tink’s titties, you two aren’t pressing flesh again,” Jenks griped as he flew in at head height, saving me from answering. “God! I’m glad pixies dust instead of sweat. You should see the heat waves coming up from you.”
Trent started to let go, but seeing the doubt my silence had made, I pulled him back and found his lips, hungry almost as soon as I closed my eyes and let my fingers drift down his back to his tight, grabbable backside. Trent responded, and I don’t know what happened to Jenks’s copied spell as I suddenly found myself spun around and plunked on the counter.
“Oh God!” Jenks complained as I wrapped my legs around Trent, imprisoning him. The bare hint of stubble pricked over my fingertips as I traced his jawline. “Stop it, will you?” Jenks griped. “Just ’cause there aren’t any more kids in the church doesn’t mean you can . . .”
Breathless, I pulled from Trent. My lip unexpectedly caught between his teeth for a bare instant, and a flash of passion lit through me even as we parted. “Can what, Jenks?” I said, letting my feet fall from around Trent so he could turn to look at the disgusted pixy hovering before us. I’d found Trent to be a surprisingly attentive lover the last three months, the tabloids going crazy at kisses over sparkling wine at Carew Tower, and his casual touch as he tried to teach me how to golf, and though the passion had been real, I knew the intent behind the last thirty seconds had only been to shock Jenks. It made me love him even more—he was a part of my life, and I hadn’t seen it even happen. Now all I had to do was hold on until it fell apart.
Trent’s smile slowly faded as reality came slipping back, drawn by Jenks’s orangish dust and the spell in his hand. “Thanks, Jenks,” he said as he moved away. I suddenly felt alone as I sat on the counter, the bitter smell of cold coffee coming from the coffeemaker. I slid down, having to tuck my shirt in before I opened a drawer for my magnifying glass. I had like three of them, and I handed Trent the largest.
“No problem,” Jenks said as he got over his huff and set the spell on the counter. “You guys never look up, and Jrixibell had a pencil lead stashed up there already.”
Jenks’s wings seemed to slow their hum at the reminder of his youngest daughter, now out on her own and raising a family. Jax, too, had left again after only a few weeks. I intentionally bumped into Trent as we clustered over the scrap of paper, and I relaxed at the scent of cinnamon and wine hiding under Trent’s aftershave. Jenks’s sketch was more precise than Landon’s, having none of the crossed-off instructions and with the ingredients in order. Even better, it would be harder to link this to me since it was in Jenks’s handwriting.
“I’m not liking the spiderweb,” Trent said, frowning as he used one finger to hold the paper from moving from our breath. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t match from what I remember when Bancroft taught it to my mother.”
“You know it?” I exclaimed, following that through to an uncomfortable conclusion. “You know how to strip an infant’s soul from it and paste someone else’s on it? Why did you make me go through that?” But what disturbed me most was why he knew it at all.
Trent was grinning when he looked up. His expression flashed to panic as he guessed my thoughts. “Oh, Rachel, I was ten when I heard it, listening at a door where I shouldn’t have been. I’m sorry. I didn’t even remember it until seeing this.” He hesitated, and I frowned when he touched my arm. “Really, I didn’t. But I don’t remember the spiderweb.”
My shoulders eased, as much from Trent’s obvious distress as from Jenks’s shrug. “Maybe you should skip that part,” Jenks suggested as he took it and rolled it into a tube.
“Maybe,” I said, when Trent ducked his head and winced. “Aren’t spiderwebs supposed to be for protection, though?”
“Protection through concealment.” Trent dropped back to lean against the counter in thought, looking especially yummy when he crossed one ankle over the other. “I think it’s okay. I probably just forgot.” His focus shifted to me. “I still think giving an undead a soul is a bad idea, but if you don’t, Ivy will suffer. Be careful what you wish for, yes?”
“Because it might come true,” I said softly. At this point, I honestly didn’t care if they all died out, but having seen the chaos in Cincinnati when the undead had been sleeping was a stiff lesson to swallow—or whatever.
I jumped when Trent’s arm went around me. “We’ll see it through,” he said, and Jenks rose up with the charm, presumably to hide it. “No matter what it takes. Soon as we get the charm prepped, we’ll go collect Felix’s soul. It’s probably still lurking about the ley line at Eden Park. We could have this done by the end of the weekend, no problem.”
Somehow I didn’t think it was going to be that easy. “Thank you.” I turned into him, head falling to his chest as he wrapped his arms around me and held me, grounding me in a way that no one had for a long time. I felt his certainty, but my doubts lingered even as I soaked him in.
I hadn’t wished for Trent in my life, but now that I had him, I was more confused, more heartbroken than I’d ever been.
Trent was willing to sacrifice everything for me, but I didn’t know if I could let him.
Chapter 7
Ellasbeth’s light perfume lifted from Trent in the tight confines of his car. My head hurt, but if it was from that, or Cormel’s vampires tailing us, or Nina fidgeting in the back, or that I was on my way to Eden Park to capture a master’s soul with an elven black charm that Landon had given me, I didn’t know.
“So much to choose from,” I whispered, my grip on the wheel tightening as I glanced at Trent. He was slumped against the window, eyes shut and chest moving slowly in the faint light reflected from the twilight-gloomed sky. My irritation eased, and I stifled the urge to rearrange his hair. He looked charmingly vulnerable when he slept, and because of his nature, I often caught him catching a few winks around noon and midnight. It made me feel loved every time.
The scent of angry vampire was growing stronger, and I opened a vent. Behind us, Cormel’s thugs accelerated to close the gap as we neared the interstate’s off-ramp. The window would have been better, but that would’ve woken up Trent for sure.
“I shouldn’t have left Ivy,” the nervous woman said, expression tight as she looked out the window. The car following us was almost on my bumper, and I flicked on my turn signal way ahead of time hoping they’d back off a little. Cormel knew where we were going, and I thought the escort was a bit much.
“They might try to kidnap her,” Nina said, her motion vampire fast as she fiddled with her hair, pulling the heavy wash of rich black out of its thick clip and redoing it. “He said he wouldn’t kill her. He never said he wouldn’t kidnap her.”
Grimacing, I took the curve off the interstate, pumping my brakes to get the vampires behind me to friggin’ back off. Trent took a deep breath as I slowed for a stoplight, blinking himself awake. His flash of confusion vanished as he sat up, looking entirely accessible in his rumpled, relaxed state.
“Kalamack’s security has too many holes,” Nina muttered, and Trent’s smile vanished.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said as he looked out at the shadowed Cincinnati riverfront and placed himself.
“I like it when you do.” Eyes forward, I eased into motion when the light changed.
Trent’s hand landed on my leg with a contented pop. I let go of the wheel to take it, giving his fingers a squeeze even as I kept them right where he’d put them. My pulse quickened, but it wasn’t from his touch. The distance that he’d always kept between us had gradually—almost shyly—dissolved over the last three months, evolving into a surprisingly tactile nature. Casual touches and meaningful looks had become as natural as breathing. But it was different now because I wanted it to last forever.
And burn my cookies if I didn’t think he sensed the change when he cocked his head and leaned across the space between us, whispering, “What?”
The thought was still painfully new, and I shook my head, flustered. “Nothing.”
His eyebrows high in question, he glanced at Nina as if she might be to blame for my mood, and I shook my head, staring straight out the front window as we wound through Eden Park’s outer drive. I wished things were different, that my life was easier. But then I might never have had the chance to see Trent slumped against his car door, smiling as he opened his eyes and found me watching him. Good with the bad, I thought, hoping they would equal out in the end.
“Leaving her alone was a bad idea,” Nina said again, stewing as she filled the car with the scent of unhappy vampire.
“She’s not alone,” I muttered, thinking that between Quen’s security and Cormel’s promise, she ought to be safe. My mood lifted when we passed the town houses and then where I’d left my car yesterday and I saw it waiting. It hadn’t been towed, but it wasn’t as if we could stop and get it. Frustrated, I cracked my window, neck tingling as the draft pushed everything to the front. “Ivy is fine,” I grumped, glad when Trent opened his window as well and the cloud of pheromones finally found a way out. And if Ivy wasn’t fine, I was going to spend tomorrow polishing my stakes and amulets.
I had to believe that Ivy was okay—at least until midnight—and I didn’t mind at all that Nina wasn’t with her, the edgy vampire coming with us to be the bait in the Felix-soul trap. I had a lingering concern that Nina was out for what was important to Nina, not Ivy. That she loved Ivy wasn’t in question. What she’d do to keep her was.
Trent sat up as we wound up the long drive to the overlook and the limited parking. Head down over his phone as he texted, he said, “Not very subtle, is he?”
My gaze flicked to the rearview mirror and the big black car. There were at least five heads in there, maybe more. Nina’s slow growl made me more nervous than the car did.
“Where does he get off interfering like this?” the woman said, clearly feeling threatened.
I met Trent’s eyes in concern, thinking the woman was a dangerous roller coaster of emotions without Felix’s finger in her thoughts, all the power and expectations he’d left in her out of control and beyond her emotional limits. Trent’s slight twist to his lips said he agreed with my unspoken desire to get out of the car, and I took the first parking spot I could find. There were a few people up here walking their dogs, feeding the ducks, or just enjoying the first shadows spilling over the Hollows. We’d have to take the footbridge to get to the ley line, just on the other side of the tiny twin ponds. The memory of being here almost exactly twenty-four hours ago—fighting for Ivy’s life—flitted through me.
“They promised midnight!” Nina fumed, head almost touching the ceiling. “If they’re following us now, what makes you think Ivy is even safe?”
“Nina, shut up!” I shouted, and her eyes flashed black.
Trent smiled at my frustration, and I hit the brakes hard. His head swung and he reached for the dash, but his amusement was undimmed as Nina bolted from the vehicle, her heels snapping sharply on the pavement as she strode to the car following us.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, hands on her hips as she stopped them right in the middle of the road, her knees almost touching the front bumper.
“Ivy is fine,” Trent said, but I wasn’t convinced. “Shall we set up? We’ve got a few minutes until Jenks and Bis get here.”
Trent turned to Nina, standing in the headlights, her silhouette obvious and shapely as she reamed them out. “Is that Felix or Nina?”
“Nina.” It would have been easier if it had been Felix, but I’d swear that Felix hadn’t taken her over. Nina was beginning to show the power Felix had taught her. It made her dangerous, more unreliable. But we had no choice.
Sighing, I dropped the keys into my shoulder bag as I got out. Trent moved a little slower, his motions gracefully methodical as he collected the briefcase that held the equipment to capture Felix’s soul. My stomach was knotting as I stood between the car and the open door, breathing in the new night as Cormel’s vampires got back in their car, tires smoking as they backed up to the farthermost reaches of the long, narrow parking lot. They weren’t leaving, but at least we had some space.
Nina didn’t move, remaining in the middle of the street in her business skirt and collapsing hairstyle. I could tell by her bowed head and shaking hands that she was trying to bring herself back down without the help of Felix’s steadying hand. This was why master vampires seldom dropped into the living, and never to the extent that Felix had over the past few months. The reminder of what they’d lost tore at the dead. The connection unbalanced the living, forcing them to deal with emotions they had no practice in handling. The longer it went on, the more addictive and dangerous the experience was. Ivy had promised to keep Nina alive, a thin hope that was likely to fail and cement in Ivy’s mind anew that she deserved nothing good in her life.
Pity sifted through me as Nina’s hands slowly unfisted. How many times have I seen Ivy do that? I wondered when Nina looked at the sky and closed her eyes as if in prayer—just like Ivy coming back from the edge of control.
The goons at the en
d of the parking lot had gotten out, shouting at everyone that the park was closed and to leave, but I think it was Nina shaking silently in the middle of the street that made the most impact. No one wants to be around when a vampire loses it. Sure, there’s compensation and apologies, but that doesn’t go very far if you get bitten. A vamp scar is forever, fading in time but able to flair into full potency if properly triggered.
Trent slammed his door, and I yanked my hand from my neck, not even realizing I’d covered it. My head jerked up when Bis flew overhead, wings flashing as he awkwardly slid to a halt on one of the shadowed picnic tables. His eyes glowed red as they found me, and the cat-size gargoyle resettled his leathery wings. His skin had gone entirely black in embarrassment for the ungraceful landing, and the white tuft of fur on the tip of his lionlike tail stood out like a beacon as it flicked nervously.
Pleased, I ambled over, smiling as his skin returned to its usual pebbly gray. If Bis was here, Jenks wasn’t far behind.
“Nice of you to wait for me, snot breath,” Jenks snarled, clearly out of breath as he dropped heavily down onto my shoulder in a wash of silver dust.
Bis shrugged, touching his wing tips together over his head and flushing again.
“I see we got a posse,” Jenks added, tugging on my ear as he settled himself. “Bis, I’m more tired than a pixy on his wedding night. You check around. See if we got vampires hiding under that lame bridge.”
Grinning to show his black teeth, Bis took to the air. I pulled the hair out of my face and looked to see Nina and Trent, the woman nodding at his soft question. There was a whiff of honey and pollen as Jenks replenished his energy, the scent mixing with the more earthy smell of ducks and the nearby barrel of garbage. He’d probably tried to impress Bis by flying the entire way instead of hitching rides.
The vampires had begun throwing stones at Bis. I took a breath to yell at them, only to snicker when Bis caught one and threw it right back, making them scatter and swear.