by Ким Харрисон
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.
Sweat broke out on the small of my back as I eyed the line. I'd never put myself in one before. Unless you made the effort to tap into a line, you could walk right through it and feel nothing. I took a breath, willing myself to relax. If Algaliarept did show up, all I'd have to do was step out of the line. It couldn't get out of the ever-after as long as the sun was above the horizon.
With a final, wary look at the two men standing protectively behind Trent, I closed my eyes. Stealing myself, I reached out and touched my will to the line.
Power, heady with intent, surged into me. My pulse leapt, and I think I staggered. Breath fast and shallow, I held up a hand to keep Edden from touching me. I had heard him stand. As he shot hushed questions at Nick, I hung my head and did nothing, riding the surges of power rising through me in ever stronger pulses. They backwashed at my extremities, my head throbbing in hurt as they rebounded and crashed into the continuing inflow. I felt a moment of panic as it grew, and grew, and continued to grow. Just how strong was this thing?
I felt like an overinflated balloon and it seemed I was going to burst or go insane. This, I thought, almost panting, was why ley line witches have familiars. Their animal companions filtered the raw energy, their simpler minds better able to handle the strain. I wouldn't make Nick take my risk. I had to take it all. And I had yet to actually step into the line. How much more potent it would be then was anyone's guess.
Slowly, the demanding influx ebbed, becoming almost bearable. Tingling from the inside, I took a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. The balance of energy finally seemed to have equalized. I could feel the wisps of my hair that had escaped my braid tickle my neck as the wind from the ever-after lifted past and through me.
"My God…" I heard Edden breathe, and I hoped I hadn't just lost his trust. I don't think he truly understood how different we were until that moment, seeing my hair move in the breeze that only I could feel.
"Not much of a witch," I heard Jonathan say, "staggering in a power drunk at noon."
"It would be if she were tapping it like most people," came Quen's throaty whisper, and I strained to hear him. "She's not using a familiar, Sa'han. She's channeling the entire bloody line by herself."
Jonathan's intake of alarm sent a surge of vindication through me—until he followed it up with an urgent, "Kill her. Tonight. She's not worth the risk anymore."
My eyes almost flew open, but I held them shut so they wouldn't know I had heard. My wildly pounding heart sounded loud in my ears, adding to the slow swelling of ley line force still trickling in. "Jonathan," Trent said, sounding tired. "You don't kill something because it's stronger than you. You find a way to use it."
Use me? I thought bitterly. Over my dead body. Hoping it wasn't a premonition, I lifted my head, crossed my fingers for luck, prayed I wasn't making a mistake, and entered the ley line.
My knees buckled as the power swelling in me vanished with a painful suddenness. It was gone. The uncomfortable influx of ever-after was gone. Not believing it, I stood, realizing I had fallen to one knee. I forced my eyes to remain shut lest I lose my second sight, slapping away Edden's hand gripping my shoulder.
The strength of the ley line swirled through me, making my skin prickle and my hair float, but the balance had become perfect. It left me shaken but no longer having to fight the strain of its power. Why had no one ever told me this? Standing in a line was a hell of a lot easier than maintaining a link to one, even if the gritty wind took getting used to.
Eyes still shut, I looked at the ever-after, thinking it was even stranger lit under the demons' sun. The walls of Trent's office were gone, and only Edden's hushed conversation with Nick kept me grounded, telling my frazzled mind that no, I hadn't crossed into the ever-after, I was standing in a trapdoor, seeing a vision of it.
Spreading in all directions was a rolling landscape of scattered groves of trees and wide, open tracts. To the east and west stretched a hazy ribbon of ley line force. I was standing two-thirds down its considerable length, and I would guess it went to Trent's back office. The sky was a washed-out yellow and the sun was intense, beating down as if trying to crush the squat, stubby trees into the ground. I felt as if it was passing right through me, bouncing up and warming the undersides of my feet. Even the coarse grass seemed stunted, barely coming to mid-calf. In the hazy distance to the west were a cluster of sharp lines and angles towering over the landscape. Eerie and strange, the demon city was clearly broken.
"Cool," I breathed, and Edden shushed Nick's demands for information.
Knowing Trent was watching, though I couldn't see him, I turned my back on him so he couldn't read my lips as I whispered the first half of the incantation. Fortunately, I recalled the short translated phrase, since I didn't want to open my eyes to read it off my palm.
As the words fell from me, a slight imbalance of everafter energy stirred in my feet, swirling up to settle in my belly. My knees grew loose as the grass bent toward me from all sides. Ley line strength flowed into me, carrying a pleasant slurry of tingles with it. I wondered how intense the sensation would grow, not wanting to admit it felt good.
My hair lifted in a sudden swirl of power as I began the second half. With all but the word of invocation said, the energy crested, sending a swirl of prickles to push evenly through me. It hung within me for a moment, then it flashed from me in a flat pulse of yellow, to run like ripples over the contours of the land.
"Holy crap," I said, then covered my mouth, hoping I hadn't just ruined the charm. I hadn't finished it yet. Shocked, I watched with my second sight as the flat sheet of ever-after energy sped away. The pulse was the color of my aura, and I felt uneasy, reminding myself that the spell had taken only the hue of my aura, not my aura itself.
The ring continued to expand until it went faint in the distance. I didn't know whether to be pleased or alarmed that it seemed to have gone all the way to the half-seen city. The outgoing ripple didn't leave the ever-after landscape unchanged, and my awe shifted to alarm as I realized that in its wake was a smattering of glittering green smears.
Bodies. They were everywhere. Beside me I could see the small ones, some no bigger than my pinky nail. Farther out, only the larger ones could be discerned. My first gut-twisting reaction dulled as I realized the charm was picking up everything that was dead: rodents, birds, bugs, everything. A huge number of big ones lay to the west in neat and orderly rows and columns. I had a moment of panic until I realized they were right where Trent's stables lay in the real world and were probably the bodies of his past race winners.
My heart slowed, and I tried to remember the last word, the one that would sensitize the charm to show only human remains. Brow furrowed, I stood in Trent's office, my feet firmly in a gateway to the ever-after, trying to remember what it had been.
"Oh, isn't this a delight," came a richly cultured voice from behind me.
I waited for someone to tell me who had just walked into Trent's office, but no one said a word. The hair pricked on the back of my neck. Anticipating the worst, I kept my eyes closed and my second sight open, and turned. My hand rose to my mouth and I froze. It was a demon dressed in a robe and slippers.
"Rachel Mariana Morgan?" it said, then smiled wickedly. I swallowed hard. Okay—it was my demon. "What are you doing in Trenton Aloysius Kalamack's ley line?" it questioned.
My breath came faster and I waved a hand behind me, trying to find the edge of the line. "I'm working," I said, my hand throbbing as I found it. "What are you doing here?"
It shrugged, its stance lengthening as it molded into the familiar vision of a lanky, leather-clad vamp with blond hair and a torn ear. Sl
umping into a bad-boy swagger, it licked its pouty lips, the chain running from a back pocket to its belt loop jingling. My breath went shaky. It was getting better at picking Kisten out of my mind; it had him down perfectly.
A pair of smoked glasses with round frames appeared in its hand, and it snapped the earpieces out with a quick flick of the wrist. "I felt you, love," it said, its teeth lengthening to that of a vampire's as it put the glasses on to hide its red goat eyes. "I simply ha-a-a-ad to see if you had come for a visit. You don't mind if I be this one, do you? He's got the balls of a bull."
God, help me. I shuddered, sticking my hand out of the line despite the stabbing hurt of ever-after imbalance. "I wasn't trying to get your attention," I whispered. "Go away."
I felt a touch on my hand and I jerked away. I could smell burnt coffee, and I wished Edden would quit doing that. "Who the devil is she talking to?" the FIB captain asked softly.
"I don't know," Jenks said. "But I'm not going into that line to see."
"Leave?" the demon said, its grin widening. "No, no, no. Don't be silly. I want to see how much ever-after you can manipulate. Go on, love. Finish your little charm," it encouraged.
In the background I could hear Trent and Quen having an intense argument. I wasn't willing to open my eyes and risk losing sight of the demon, but I thought Trent was winning. Nervous, I licked my lips, hating myself when the vision of Kisten did the same with a mocking slowness. "I forgot the last word," I admitted, then stiffened as I remembered. "Favilla," I blurted in relief, and the demon clapped his hands in delight.
I jumped as a second wave of ever-after jolted through me. Clutching my arms about myself as if to keep my aura intact, I watched the flat pulse of yellow dart away, following the path of the first. Algaliarept moaned, staggering as if in pleasure as it passed through it. I watched its reaction in near horror. The demon obviously liked it, but if it could have taken my aura, it would have by now. I think.
"Spun candy," it said, closing its eyes. "Flay me and slay me. Spun candy and nectar."
Swell. I had to get out of there.
While Algaliarept ran its hand over the grass and licked from its fingers the yellow smear of ley line power my charm had left on it, I scanned the surrounding countryside. My shoulders tightened in worry. Every glittering blur marking death was gone. Algaliarept seemed content seining the grass for remnants of my spell, so I snuck a quick look behind me, my fast spin jerking to a stop.
One of the horse graves glowed a bright red. It wasn't a horse, it was a person.
Trent had killed her, I thought, my attention darting to a new shape materializing within the ley line.
It was Trent, having stepped into it to see what I was seeing. His gaze went to the flash of red, widening, but his shock was nothing compared to when the demon shifted into a mirror copy of me, sleek and dangerous in a black silk body stocking.
"Trenton Aloysius Kalamack," it said, making my voice sexier than I ever could. It suggestively licked the last of my spell off its finger, and I wondered if the demon was making me look better than I actually did. "What a dangerous direction your thoughts have taken," the demon said. "You should be more careful whom you invite to play in your ley line." It hesitated, its hip cocked as it squinted over its glasses and compared our auras. "Such a pretty pair you make, like matched horses in my stables."
And it disappeared in a sensation of tingles, leaving me to stare across the ever-after landscape at Trent.
Twenty-One
My heels clacked with more authority than I felt as I walked down the long planked porch of Trent's foaling stable ahead of Trent and Quen. The empty row of box stalls faced the south and the afternoon sun. Atop them were the vet apartments. No one was in them, seeing as it was fall. Though horses could have their foals any time of the year, most stables enforced a strict breeding program so the mares all dropped their foals at once, getting the dangerous period over with at one time.
I thought the temporarily abandoned buildings were a perfect place to hide a body.
God help me, I thought with a sudden wash of ill feeling. How could I be so cavalier? Dr. Anders was dead.
A faint baying of a beagle lifted over the hazy afternoon. My head jerked up and my heart gave a pound. Farther down the dirt road was a kennel the size of a small apartment complex. Dogs were standing against their wire runs, watching.
Trent brushed past me, the breeze of his passage smelling of fallen leaves. "They never forget their quarry," he murmured, and I tensed.
Trent and Quen had accompanied us out here, leaving Jonathan behind to supervise the FIB officers still coming in from the gardens. The two men angled for an alcove tucked dead center between the row of box stalls. The wood-walled room was completely open to the wind and sun on one side. By the rustic furniture, I guessed it was a box stall converted to an outdoor meeting place for the vets to relax during births and such. I didn't like that no one was with them, but I wasn't about to join them. Slowing, I leaned against a support post, deciding I could keep an eye on them from there.
Three FIB officers with their cadaver dogs stood by the dog van parked in the shade of a huge oak tree. The doors were open, and Glenn's authoritative voice drifted to hang over the sun-warmed pastures. Edden was with them, looking out of place on the fringes. It was obvious that Glenn was in charge, by the way Edden kept his hands in his pockets and his mouth shut.
Flitting over them was Jenks, his wings red in excitement as he got in the way and offered a steady stream of unasked for advice that was ignored. The remaining FIB officers stood under the ancient oak that shadowed the parking lot. As I watched, a crime scene van pulled in with an exaggerated slowness. Captain Edden had called it after I found a body.
I snuck a glance at Trent, deciding the businessman looked a bit bothered if anything, as he stood in the informal room with his hands behind his back. Personally, I'd be visibly upset if someone was about to find an unexplained body on my property. I was sure this was where the unmarked grave had been shining.
Cold, I stepped off the covered walkway and into the sun. Hands gripping my elbows, I came to a halt in the sawdust parking lot, surreptitiously watching Trent from around a wisp of hair that had escaped my braid. He had put on a lightweight cream-colored hat against the sun and changed his shoes to boots in deference to our trip out to his stables. Somehow the mix looked right on him. It wasn't fair he should look so calm and relaxed. But then he jerked at the sound of a car door slamming. He was wound as tight as I was; he just hid it better.
Glenn said a few last, loud words and the group broke up. Tails waving, the dogs began a methodical search: two in the nearby pastures, one through the building itself, I couldn't help but notice that the handler assigned to the stables was using his skills, too, instead of relying on the dog's nose alone, looking up into rafters and opening latched panels.
Captain Edden touched his son's shoulder and headed toward me, short arms swinging. "Rachel," he said even before he was close, and I looked up, surprised he had used my first name. "We've been over this building already."
"If it isn't this building, then it's near here. Your men may not have been using my charms properly." Or not at all, I finished silently, knowing the prejudice humans felt was often covered up in smiles, lies, and hypocrisy. I knew I shouldn't jump to conclusions, though. I was fairly sure Trent had used a ley line charm to cover up her whereabouts, and so my spells would have been less than useful. My attention went from the dogs to Trent as Quen leaned to speak into his ear. "Shouldn't he be under arrest, or detained, or something?" I asked.
Edden squinted from the low sun. "Keep your panties on. Murder cases are won and lost in the collection of evidence, Morgan. You ought to know that."
"I'm a runner, not a detective," I said sourly. "Most of the people I tagged were charged before I brought them in."
He grunted at that. I thought that Captain Edden's adherence to "the rules" might lead to Trent vanishing in a puff of smoke to neve
r be seen again. Seeing me fidget, he pointed at me and then at the ground, to tell me to stay where I was before he moseyed down to Quen and Trent. The squat human's hands were in his pockets but not far from his weapon. Quen hadn't a weapon, but looking at him shifting lightly on his feet, I didn't think he needed one.
I felt better when Edden subtly moved the two men apart, snagging a passing officer and telling him to ask Quen to detail their security procedures while he talked to Trent about the upcoming FIB fund-raiser dinner. Nice.
I turned away, watching the sun shine on the dog's yellow coat. The heat soaked into me, and the smell of the stables was warm with memory. I had enjoyed my three summers at camp. The scent of sweaty horse and hay mixing with the hint of aged manure was like a balm.
My riding lessons had been to help increase my balance, improve my muscle tone, and up my red blood cell count, but I think its largest benefit had been the confidence I gained from being in control of a big beautiful animal that would do anything I asked of it. To an eleven-year-old, that feeling of power was addictive.
A smile curved over me and I closed my eyes, feeling the autumn sun soak deeper. My friend and I had snuck out of our camp house one morning to sleep in the stables with the horses. The soft sounds of their breathing had been indescribably comforting. Our cabin mother had been furious, but it was the best I had slept the entire time.
My eyes opened. It had probably been the only night I'd slept uninterrupted. Jasmin, too, had slept well at the stables. And the pale girl had desperately needed sleep. Jasmin! I thought, clutching at the name. That's what the dark-haired girl's name had been. Jasmin.
The sound of radio chatter pulled my gaze from the field, leaving me feeling more melancholy than I would've expected. She had possessed an inoperable brain tumor. I didn't think even Trent's father's illegal activities could have fixed that.