by Kim Harrison
“Yeah, I love you, too.” They were okay. All of them. Slowly my shoulders relaxed.
“Rache, we were coming for you,” Jenks said, guilt thick in his voice.
“You did good,” I said, reluctant to tell them why Al had gotten me out. “Ah, I’m going to stay here tonight if that’s okay.”
“Back off!” I heard Ivy admonish Jenks, and I knelt to pick up the scattered stack of children’s books. “At Trent’s?” she said, her irritation clearly not directed at me. “Good. Don’t come back into Cincy or the Hollows yet. It’s crazy here, and you can’t do anything. Now that I know you’re okay, I’m going to head back to my folks’ with Nina.”
My motion to collect the crayons hesitated. “Maybe I should come in.”
“Tink’s little candy ass, Ivy, I told you not to tell her that!”
“I said back off! I can’t hear when your dust hits the receiver!” Ivy said off the phone, and then to me, “We’re fine. Nina crashed, but I think she’s going to be okay now. There’s no reason to come back until it’s safe.”
When was it ever safe? I sat down on the edge of the couch, guilt bringing my shoulders to my ears. “I’m so sorry, but you can’t let your mom find her soul. Every vampire who does is going to commit suncide in the morning.”
“She . . .” Ivy hesitated, and I tensed.
“Ivy?” Crap on toast, how did Ivy’s mom find her soul that fast? It was just after sundown!
“She’s okay,” Ivy rushed on, but I could hear the heartache in her. “She’s never wanted her soul before, but after seeing others find them . . .” Ivy’s words trailed off, and I pressed the phone to my ear, heart aching. “Rachel, she wants her soul so badly. She knows it will kill her, but she wants it. She’s hurting. I’ve never seen her in pain like this before.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. Lucy’s doll was half under the couch, and I pulled it out, propping it carefully in the crook of the couch. “Maybe . . .” But there was no maybe. If she got her soul, she would suffer until she brought her soul, body, and mind back in balance—that is, until she committed suncide and died for good.
Ivy was silent, thinking. “It should settle down in the morning, right?”
Or turn really, really bad. I clicked off the table lamp, wanting the muffling gray of shadow. “I, ah, don’t have my phone anymore either,” I said, reluctant to hang up but having nothing more to say. “Just call Trent to get hold of me.” Unnoticed until now, the faint glow of the downstairs bounced against the ceiling to light everything in a soothing haze.
“Trent’s number. Got it. Call me before you get on the roads. I’ll let you know where it’s safe to meet.”
This was bad. “Ivy . . .”
“Stay there,” she said, voice hard. “I mean it. We’re fine.”
She was down to three-word sentences. Great.
“Yeah, we’re fine, Rache,” Jenks said, almost shouting into the phone. “Take a night off from saving the world for once, huh? We got this!”
My fingers were cramping, they were so tight on the phone. “Tell my mom bye for me. I’ll be up before sunrise if you need me.”
“Me too,” Ivy said softly. “Bye.”
“Talk to you then.” I didn’t hang up, and there was a telling hesitation as both of us sat there saying nothing, just . . . silent.
“Well, hang up already!” Jenks said, and I sighed when the phone clicked off. Guilt tugged at me as I set the phone down. Guilt, but what could I do? I had a lot of things I was capable of, but until I had a direction, a place to aim my frustration at, it would be for naught. I wasn’t good at waiting, and now I had nothing to do until sunrise.
The doll looked lonely, and I pulled her onto my lap, holding her to my middle as if she were real. The undead with their souls were going to suncide. Every last one of them. I couldn’t stop it. As soon as enough of the vampire masters were dead, the real battle between the elves and the demons would begin.
The soft sounds of Jon singing to Ray filtered out into the soothing gray, and the occasional clatter from downstairs gave evidence of Quen’s business. The shower had been off awhile, and I wondered how much Trent had heard. Hugging the doll, I looked over the familiar shapes and shadows of Trent’s life and wondered if I could fit in here—if I dared to try to belong to something not of my making. Or if I would just blow it all to hell.
Trent’s silhouette eased into the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The sight of him drying his hair almost made me cry. I wanted to belong to this so badly, but I was afraid I’d bring only more heartache. Look what I’d done to Ivy. To Jenks.
“I overheard you talking to Ivy. She’s okay?”
I nodded. “She was with David all this time. Cormel only had her phone.” He had lied, twisted me into coming to him, played upon my emotions because he didn’t have any.
Trent was silent, then, “You want to go home?”
My head dropped to my fingers, clenched around the doll. His voice was low, holding emotion for me—about me—because of me. “No,” I whispered as I set the doll in her corner.
He didn’t move, looking lost as he stood there in his robe. “I wasn’t thinking about anything other than preparing for tomorrow,” he said, his voice moving up and down like music. “I can take you home. You have other people who need you. Jenks, Ivy, Bis.”
My shoulders hunched as I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. I wanted to be here. I wanted to be there. Fear threatened to swamp me just thinking about what I’d do if something happened to Trent. He always seemed so in control, so capable. Unfortunately his confident past was starting to get him in trouble in his shaky present. A mere six months ago, Cormel would never have dared to restrain Trent.
Trent tossed the towel to a chair. “Rachel?”
My head snapped up as the door to the nursery softly opened. Jon came out, moving like a shadow or a thought soon forgotten. His long face held no expression as he took in me sitting on the couch and Trent in the doorway. “Excuse me, Sa’han,” he said as the door shut behind him. “I’ll help Quen oversee the horses being brought in.”
Trent scrubbed his scalp with his fingers, looking so much like I wanted him to be that it hurt. “Thank you.”
A lump had formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard as Jon gave me a last evil look before he went downstairs. I’d never seen Trent’s underground stables, but apparently he had an entire arena to practice his horsemanship in at a pleasant sixty-five degrees even in the winter.
“I’ll get dressed.” Motions abrupt, Trent turned away.
“Trent,” I called, and he stopped short at the guilt in my voice. I said nothing when he came to join me when I gestured helplessly. He sighed when he sat down on the couch, smelling of soap and meadow and spiced wine.
He was tired, and I looked at our hands twined together. “I don’t know how you do it,” I said. “Going to sleep whenever you get the chance.”
Trent smiled, his thumb rubbing my palm both rough and gentle. “It comes from trying to live with a human clock for most of my life.” His arm went around me in a sideways hug. “I’m sorry. I was selfish to try to keep you here. Much of this feels like my doing.”
“You haven’t done anything,” I said, leaning into him as his grip on me eased.
“That’s just it. I feel as if I’ve been more of a hindrance than anything. I really thought we could walk in there and still get back out.”
I gave his fingers a squeeze. “And you got caught. I know the feeling. Don’t worry about it. How were you to know that Cormel . . .” I stopped and bit my lip. That your clout was so damaged by me that it couldn’t keep you safe anymore.
“My selfish desires screwed up the alliance that would have united the dewar and the enclave under one voice.” His head was down and his words were soft as he gave voice to long-held guilt.
Dropping my head onto his shoulder, I stared at nothing. “The dewar would have divided anyway, and you’d be married to
Ellasbeth,” I said, and I actually felt him shudder.
“No. You’re right,” he said quickly. “But no one is listening to me anymore.”
I smiled in the dark, my fingers tracing the lines of his hand in mine. I’d never seen anyone who had two life lines before. He wasn’t used to having his words ignored, and I understood his frustration.
“Three years wasted.” He sighed. “Not to mention most of my business ventures.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t have—”
Trent’s hand slipped from mine, reaching to cup my cheek. “Don’t even think it,” he said earnestly. “The past few months have been the best in my life.”
He was looking at my lips, and my pulse quickened. “Tell me it’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
His fingers ran a tingling path down my jawline as his hand dropped from me. “It’s going to be okay. You want to go home?”
To a soggy church with no kitchen or electricity? Or Ivy’s parents’ place where the tension was so tight that it almost sang? Even better, a hotel room where I’d dodge my mom’s pointed questions while the news inescapably blared? “No,” I said, reaching up to feel his new lack of stubble under my fingertips, and I froze when he took my hand, kissing my fingertips.
“Damn it, Rachel,” he said, the pain in his voice startling me. “When I saw you on the floor, I thought I’d lost you again.”
He was holding my hand close to his chest, and I felt a pang of guilt for his fear. “I’m hard to get rid of.”
“Yes and no.”
The silence stretched and neither of us moved. It had gone quiet downstairs, and the world felt empty. “Do you think the undead who find their souls tonight will suncide?”
Trent nodded, a shadow in the dim room. “If the curse holds and they aren’t pulled back,” he said, then gave my hand, still in his, a slight squeeze. “At least Cormel can’t blame you.”
“He’ll find a way,” I grumped, and Trent seemed to pull himself together as if turning a page in his weekly calendar.
“There is a meeting tomorrow with a few key people. If you’re not busy, I think your presence would be helpful.”
Apart, no one listened to us, but together they might. “Let me guess,” I said, bringing a knee up onto the couch and turning sideways so I could arrange his still-damp hair. “Whoever is in charge of the I.S. during this mess, the head of the FIB. Ms. Sarong and/or Mr. Ray.” I hesitated, smiling. “Mark, maybe.”
Trent laughed, the sound of it seeming to ease some of the ugly uncertainty away. “I’d really like you to be there, not necessarily as a demon representative, but as, ah . . .” He winced.
“As someone who might be able to fix this mess?” I said, and he exhaled in relief.
“Something like that.”
His hand was on my foot, and I couldn’t help a soft moan when his thumb ran right up the side of the arch and pushed on the nerve that ran to my back. “You know, I’m starting to see some benefits from dating a man who has weekly massages,” I said, and he began to squeeze my foot in earnest.
“Actually, I’d like Dali there as well,” Trent said, but I was hardly listening. “I wonder if he’d come if I asked? Etude, if he could stay awake. The elves are behaving badly, and I’m wondering if there’s enough worry to gain letters of intent from them that would outline their concern and their policy against further elf-to-vampire aggression.”
He let go of my foot and motioned for me to turn around. “Your shoulders look like rocks,” he said. “All the way down to your feet. Five minutes, and that bath of yours will be a hundred times better.”
I gathered my hair and turned as he swung one leg up onto the couch, tossing the back cushion to the floor to make more room as he settled me before him. “Sort of like a species intervention?” I said, then stifled a moan when his hands, strong from reining in impossible horses, began working my shoulders. “That’s old school.”
“What works never goes out of style.”
His voice was preoccupied, and my head dropped forward. Trent’s leg was beside me, bare where his robe fell away. “I’ll see if I can work it into my schedule,” I said, imagining there were better ways to use a couch. Unable to resist, I leaned back, ruining my shoulder rub but not caring when I tilted my head into him and found a freshly shaven patch of his neck. His arms shifted to go around my middle, and I smiled when my lips found him.
Trent’s hands never stopped moving, becoming gentler as he touched my stomach and made a tingling path higher.
I turned my kiss into a soft, awkward bite. Oh, this isn’t going to work at all.
Shifting, I turned to face him, settling almost into his lap with my legs wrapped around him. Arms about his neck, I found his ear and nibbled on it as my one foot kicked off another back cushion. More room. Much better.
Trent’s hands held my waist, his thumb moving, pressing as he began to work his way inward to pull my shirt from my pants. My heart thudded as he slipped behind it, fingers both rough and smooth making a scintillating path up to find the curve of my breast.
His breath against my neck was delicious, and I made tiny hop kisses from his ear to his lips. Trent’s touch became aggressive, and breathless, I pulled him to me, very aware that his robe wasn’t covering much between us. His mouth against mine sent tingles over me, our passions rising, building upon each other.
Shock jolted through me when his teeth fastened on my lip. My eyes flashed open to find him looking at me, and my pulse hammered even harder at the heated desire in them.
“You’re wearing too much,” he whispered, and I groaned when his hands eased to my back, motions firm with intent as he reached the top of my pants. His lips found my neck, and I took a long, slow breath as his fingers worked to undo them. My knees were to either side of him, and the sudden give of the button was electrifying—the sound of the zipper bringing me back from the rising ecstasy.
I met his eyes to see his desire mirroring my own. I wanted everything, I wanted this. The silence was profound. I thought about Ray safe in her bed, then Jon and Quen at the stables. My hands were behind his neck, my fingers playing in the damp ends of his hair. “Is it worth it?” I said. “Everything you gave up?”
He couldn’t take my pants off with my knees to either side of him like that. There was only one foot on the floor, and it was his. I smiled, knowing he was stymied. “You tell me.”
I leaned to find his ear. I felt him tremble, his hands on me hesitate and move against me even more strongly as I nibbled on his ear. “I’ll let you know tomorrow,” I whispered.
“Mmmm.” His grip on me shifted, finding my center of gravity. “I work best under pressure.”
“Me too.” I barely breathed the words, my hand trailing down his chest to wiggle the last tie closing his robe open. I tensed, knowing he was going to have to do something drastic if he wanted my pants off. His balance shifted, and I countered it, wanting to prolong this. He saw my wicked grin, and he smiled, changing his attack.
He went for my shirt, and I shivered as he pulled it and my chemise over my head in one smooth motion. They fell to the floor beside the couch in a soft hush. The cooler air gave me goose bumps, but they vanished in a wash of heat, driven away as his eyes traveled over me an instant ahead of his hands.
His robe was open, and I eased closer to him, my hands tracing an ever-circling path inward to find him. Trent’s breath quickened as I dipped to his inner thighs, and then I gasped when he unexpectedly found my breast and gently bit me. “You wicked elf . . . ,” I whispered, reaching for him, then almost lost it when he pulled a trace of energy from me.
My eyes widened at the scintillating feeling icing through me. We’d played with the lines before, and my pulse quickened. It was going to be like that, then.
I felt our auras begin to shift to find a middle ground, and I almost lost it when he suddenly dropped the line and everything he collected washed back into me, balancing in a wave of sparkles along my spine. “O
oh,” I groaned, and in that instant of bemused sensation, he shifted his weight, pushing me back into the couch and pinning me there.
His robe fell open around us, and I blinked up at him, reaching to play with the hair behind his ears, letting little spills of energy trace a path where my lips had been.
“Hold still for just a bloody second,” he said, and I shivered as he pulled my pants off, dropping them inside out next to my shirt. I arched my back, reaching for him as he returned, his hands tracing my lines from my foot to my hip, and rising higher until he found my mouth with his lips.
We kissed, breath coming fast as waves of energy swung back and forth between us. My hand ran over his tightening muscles, delighting me in how he tensed as I moved from his neck to his arms to his back and down to his buttocks, where I traced little circles.
His hands clenched in my hair as he nuzzled my neck, finding the old scar hidden under my new skin and nibbling it to life.
I could feel him pressing against me, and unable to deny myself and him any longer, I reached to find him. His breath quickened, and we began to move with each other, tiny sparks of energy shifting between us. His head dipped and he found my breast again as I eased my touch inward, muting the energy in my hands until it was a soft, gentle hum.
He gasped as I found his smooth skin. I slid my touch upward, tightening my grip, enjoying his smoothness and wanting him inside me.
“Not yet,” he panted, and he shifted out of my easy reach.
I wiggled, and he pinned my arms next to my head.
A jolt of desire shook me, and I lunged for his mouth, his neck, anything as his weight settled on me, pinning me where I was. I found his lips, and he met my fervent need with his own, adding to my desire until I moaned.
I pulled one hand free, traveling down his back and circling in to find him again. His weight lifted, and I guided him in, exhaling as he entered, arching up to find him, letting him fill me.
Exhaling, he pushed against me, and my eyes opened. He looked wonderful over me in the dim light. A rising feeling of sparkles widened my eyes, and I gasped as he slowly pulled energy from me, almost like a slow climax. I could hardly breathe, letting him draw it forth until I couldn’t stand it anymore and I pulled it back, making him start as our energies mingled.