by Ким Харрисон
Five minutes. That was about right, but I was worried about Rex.
Ceri stood at the sink and warmed the teapot with hot tap water. I thought it a useless step that only served to make more dirty dishes, but Ceri was the expert when it came to tea. Her gaze went to Jenks, now holding the sticks high over his uptilted head and letting the honey dribble into him. It was going exactly where he wanted, even if he was starting to cant to one side.
"Can you take that into the overhead rack?" I said, worried.
Stiffening, Jenks gave me a wide-eyed, unfocused look. "I can fly, woman. I can fly better honey-drunk than you can fly stone sober." To prove his point, he lifted into the air, Making a whoop of exclamation, he lost altitude. Ceri's hand was under him in a flash, and he started giggling. "Listen, listen!" he coaxed while he slumped on her hand, then belched the first two lines to "You Are My Sunshine."
"Jenks…" I protested. "Get off Ceri. That's disgusting."
"Sorry, sorry," he slurred, almost falling. "Damn, that's good honey. Gotta take some of this to Matalina. Matalina would like it. Maybe help her sleep a little."
Clearly concentrating, he had sparkles sifting from him thick and furious as he wobbled down to the table. I sighed apologetically, and Ceri smiled, snagging Rex as the cat padded past her, headed for Jenks. The cat settled herself in Ceri's arm, purring.
"Kitty, kitty, kitty," Jenks slurred as he landed next to me and his honey. "Kitty wants some honey? S' good hu-honey?"
Yeah, my life was weird, but it had its moments.
Ceri leaned against the counter while she waited for her water to warm. "How have you been sleeping lately?" she asked, as if she were my doctor. "Any more sneezing?"
I smiled, flattered she cared. "No. I didn't sleep much this morning, but that wasn't Minias's fault." Her eyebrows rose, and I added, "Do you think Newt will show up again? "
She shook her head solemnly. "No. He will watch her carefully for a time."
Fingers gripping my warm coffee, I thought that if Newt did show up, there wasn't much I could do about it, seeing as she had taken control of Ceri's triple circle with the ease of opening a letter. Remembering me taking Tom's circle. I went to ask her about it, then didn't. It had to be because I'd walked into its construction. That's all. I was sure I'd read somewhere that that was possible. And I didn't want to risk hearing her say it was unusual.
Singing the Rolling Stones' "Satisfaction," Jenks sat cross-legged before his one-ounce jar, ladling honey into himself. "I will protect you, Rache," he said, cutting his music short. "I'll give that demon a labeotomy, boobotomay, lob, lob, lobotomy if he shows up again!"
I made a wry face, watching him fall over, laughing merrily at himself, then sitting up with a loud "Ow." Depressed, I pulled a ribbon of dough from the pastry. It was dry, but I ate it anyway.
Ceri's water started to steam. Managing to fill her teapot with Rex still in her arms, she brought her brew it to sit on the table. Jenks staggered to the teapot, wings a blur for balance as he put his back to it and slid down with a heavy sigh.
"May I ask you something?" Ceri asked, her eyes on her empty cup.
I didn't have anything to do until about six, when I would start getting ready for my run, so after putting the top back on Jenks's honey, I pulled a foot up onto my chair and clasped an arm around a knee. "Sure. What?"
A faint hint of pink on her cheeks, she asked, "Did it hurt when Ivy bit you?"
I stiffened, and Jenks—his eyes closed—started mumbling, "No, no, no. Damn vampire made it feel good. Ah, crap, I'm tired."
Swallowing, I met her eyes. "No. Why?"
Her lower lip turned in, and, biting it to look charming, Ceri grew solemn. "You should never be ashamed of loving someone."
My blood pressure spiked. "I'm not," I said defensively.
I was belligerent because I was afraid, but instead of responding with an equal amount of ire, she unexpectedly dropped her eyes. "I'm not finding fault with you," she said softly. "I… envy you. And you need to know that."
My fingers laced about my knee tightened. Me? She envies my screwed-up life?
"You say you don't trust people," Ceri rushed to explain, her vivid green eyes pleading for understanding. "But you do trust. You trust too much. You give everything even when you're afraid. And I envy that. I don't think I could ever love anyone without fear… now."
Jenks hiccupped. "Aw, Ceri. It's okay. I love you."
"Thank you, Jenks," Ceri said, sitting primly in her chair. "But it would never work. Your body is not as big as your heart, and much as I'd like to think I am a soul and mind, I have a body that needs to be satisfied as well."
"The hell I'm not big enough!" he protested, lurching up. Only one wing was working, and it almost knocked him over. "You just ask Matalina." The pixy went pale. "Never mind."
Ceri poured out some tea, the amber liquid gurgling with the sound of contentment to stand at contrast with my unease. I slowly pulled my second knee up to my first. "Jenks, sit down," I murmured when his staggering path toward the honey went off track and he angled for the table's edge. Glad for the distraction, my thoughts drifted to Trent and Ellasbeth's marriage. I was reaching for Jenks when he collapsed into the napkins and pulled one over his head.
Why hadn't I told Trent about Ceri? Or Ceri about Trent? I was a lousy judge of character, but even I could tell that the two seemed made for each other. Trent wasn't that bad. Though he had kept me caged as a mink. And put me in the fights. And tricked me into trying to take Piscary down by myself, though some of that stupidity was my fault.
I pulled another ribbon of pastry from a roll. Trent had treated me with respect the night I'd been his paid bodyguard, then kept me alive during the aftermath. He'd trusted me to take care of Lee on my own instead of killing him like he wanted to. Though if I had let Trent kill his friend, I wouldn't be playing bodyguard at his wedding… probably.
This is a mess, I thought, washing the pastry down with a swallow of cold coffee. Ceri could decide what she wanted to do. And if Trent used her, I'd freaking kill him. And because I was gaining his trust, I could probably get close enough to do it. Which was a terrifying thought.
My heart beat faster, and I wiped my fingers on a napkin. "Ceri?" I said, and she looked up expectantly. Rex was still on her lap, and her fingers were gentling the animal. Taking a steadying breath, I said, "I've got someone I want you to meet."
Her green eyes met mine, and a smile grew. "Who?"
I looked at Jenks, but he was out of it, sleeping under the napkins. "Uh, Trent." My chest clenched, and I prayed I was doing the right thing. "See, he's an elf."
Beaming, Ceri pushed Rex to the floor so she could lean across the table. The cat stalked out of the room, and the scent of wine and cinnamon filled me when Ceri gave me a quick hug. "I know," she said as she leaned back and smiled at me. "Thank you, Rachel."
"You knew?" I said, warm from embarrassment. God, she must think me an insensitive boob, but she settled herself in her chair and smiled as if I had just given her a pony. And a puppy. And then the freaking moon. "Kalamack, right?" I stammered. "We're talking about the same Trent? Why didn't you say anything? "
"You gave me back my soul," she said, her hair drifting. "And with it the chance to redeem my sins. I look to you for guidance. Until you approved of him, it would have caused problems. You made no attempt to hide that you don't like him."
She smiled shyly, and I stared. "You knew he was an elf?" I asked, still not believing it. "How? He doesn't know about you!" At least I don't think he does.
Embarrassed, she pulled her feet up under her to sit cross-legged, looking both wise and innocent. "I saw him in a magazine last winter, but you didn't like him." Her eyes flicked to mine and then back down. "I knew he had hurt you. Keasley told me he controls the Brimstone trade, and, like anything in excess, it's damaging. But, Rachel, how can you condemn all the good for a little bad?" she said, not a hint of pleading in her voice. "It's been illegal for thirty-two years out o
f five thousand and is a blatant way for humans to try to control Inderland."
When you put it like that, Trent almost sounded respectable. Bothered, I leaned back. "Did Keasley tell you he blackmails people using illegal genetic research? That his Make-A-Wish camps are underground genetic labs where he helps children in order to blackmail their parents?"
"Yes. He also told me that Trent's father cured your blood disease because your father was his friend. Don't you think you owe him a debt of gratitude?"
Whoa. My breath caught, and I felt cold, not about the debt-of-gratitude thing, but that Keasley knew something I hadn't until last solstice. "Keasley told you that? "
Ceri watched me over her teacup. Her head went up and down, nodding sharply.
My worried gaze went to the blue-curtained window above the sink and the sunlit garden beyond. I was going to have to have a talk with Keasley. "Trent's father saved my life," I admitted, bringing my attention back to her. "My dad and his were friends and work partners. And they both died because of it, so I think that rubs out any gratitude I might have." Stupid-ass elf thinks the world owes him everything.
But Ceri only sipped at her tea. "Maybe Trent put you in the rat fights because he blames your father for his father's death."
I took a breath to protest, then slowly let it out. Crap. Is Trent as insecure as the rest of us? Smug, Ceri topped off her cup.
"Didn't you blame him for the loss of your father?" she asked, unnecessarily, I might add.
"Yes," I said, realizing that her putting it in past tense worked. I didn't blame him anymore. Piscary had killed him—in a roundabout way. Somehow. Maybe. And if I was a good little witch and kept Trent's little elf ass above the green, green grass during his wedding, he just might tell me the details. Giving myself a mental shake, I filed that away to think about later. "Do you want to meet him?" I asked tiredly, sounding oh so thrilled at the prospect.
Her remaining ire vanished, and she smiled from across the table. "Yes, please."
Yes, please. As if she needed my okay. "You don't need my permission."
My tone was almost sullen, but she dropped her eyes demurely. "I want it." She set her cup on the saucer with a clink. "I was raised with the expectation that someone would guide me in matters of the heart: a guardian and confidant. My mother and father are deceased. My kin has been diluted by time. You rescued my body, freed my soul. You are my Sa'han."
I straightened in my chair as if ice had washed over me. "Whoa! Wait up, Ceri. I'm not your guardian. You don't need one. You're your own person!" Is she nuts?
Ceri set her feet on the floor and leaned forward, her eyes asking for understanding. "Please, Rachel," she begged. "I need this. Being Al's familiar tore everything from me. Give this piece of my life back to me? I need to resume ties to my old life before I can cut them and move into this one."
I felt panicky. "I'm the last person you should seek advice from!" I stammered. "Look at me! I'm a mess!"
Smiling softly, Ceri dropped her eyes. "You're the most caring person I know, consistently risking your life for those who can't fight on their own. I see this in the people you love. Ivy, who is afraid she can't fight her battle alone anymore. Kisten, who struggles to stand in a system where he knows he's too weak. Jenks, who has the courage but not the strength to make a difference in a world that doesn't even see him."
"Aw, thanks, Ceri," the pixy mumbled from under his napkin.
"You often see the worst in people," she said, "but you always see the best. Eventually."
I gaped at her. Noting my unease, she hesitated. "Do you trust Trent?"
"No!" I blurted, then paused. But here I was broaching the subject of introducing Ceri to him. "Maybe in some things," I amended. "I trust your judgment, though."
Apparently it was the right thing to say, since Ceri smiled and put a cool hand upon mine. "You believe in him more than you realize, and I though I may not know him, I trust your judgment, slow as it is in coming." Her smile turned wicked. "And I'm not a silly girl to be blinded by a tidy posterior and expansive landholdings."
Tidy posterior and expansive landholdings? Was that the Dark Ages equivalent of a tight ass and a lot of money? I chuckled, and her hand slipped away. "He's devious," I warned. "I don't want you to be taken advantage of. I know he's going to want a sample for his labs."
Ceri sipped her tea, her eyes focused on the sunlit garden. "He can have it. I want my species to recover as much as he does. I only wish I'd predated the curse so the damage could be fixed completely instead of the bandage he has been slapping on our children."
My fingers curled around the cool porcelain, but I didn't bring the cup to my lips. Trent owed me big time. Ceri was giving him one hell of a better bandage. "He's manipulative," I added, and she raised one eyebrow.
"And I'm not? Do you think I couldn't wind this man about my finger if I wanted? "
I looked away, worried. Yeah, she could.
Ceri laughed. "I don't want a husband," she said, green eyes twinkling. "I have to reinvent myself before I can share my life with anyone. Besides, he's getting married."
I couldn't help my snort. "To a really nasty woman," I muttered, starting to relax. I did not want Trent marrying Ceri. Even if Trent weren't such a dirtbag, I'd probably never see her again after she found his garden.
"I do believe," Ceri said wryly, "you think this wedding is just punishment for past sins."
Nodding, I glanced into the garden following a flash of motion. I stood up and went to the window to see that it was just Jenks's kids driving a hummingbird out of the yard. "You haven't met her," I said, marveling at their teamwork. Ceri came to stand beside me, the rich scent of cinnamon drifting off her to tickle my nose. " She's a terrible woman," I added softly.
Ceri's gaze followed mine into the garden. "So am I," she said, more softly still.
Twenty-two
Slumped in the back of the cab, I watched the passing buildings and imagined Ellasbeth's distain for the clearly lower-class shops. Though the Hollows' cathedral was world-renowned, it was in a somewhat depressed area of town. Unease trickled through me, and I straightened, pulling my bag with its charms and splat gun onto my lap. I should have worn something else. I was going to look like a slob in jeans.
Jenks was on my shoulder, rapping my hoop earring in time with the calypso beat on the cabbie's radio. It was way past annoying, and though I knew it would likely only encourage him, I murmured, "Stop it."
My neck went cold as he lifted off to land on my knee. "Relax, Rache," he said, standing with his legs spread wide for balance and his wings a blur. "This is a cakewalk. How many people? Five, counting her parents? And Quen will be there, so it's not like you're alone. It's the wedding you're going to have to worry about."
I took a deep breath, cracking the window to set my hair drifting. Looking down, I picked at the engineered hole in my knee. "Maybe I should have worn a dress suit."
"It's a wedding rehearsal, for Tink's panties!" Jenks burst out. "Don't you watch the soaps? The richer you are, the more you dress down. Trent will probably be in a swimsuit."
My eyebrows rose, picturing his trim physique wrapped in spandex. Mmmm…
Wings stilling, Jenks adopted a bored expression. "You look great. Now, if you had worn that little thang you picked out…"
I shifted my knee, and he took to the air. We were only a block away, and early.
"Excuse me," I said, leaning forward and into the cabbie's enthusiastic rendition of Madonna's "Material Girl." I'd never heard it done calypso before. "Could you circle the block?"
He met my gaze through the rearview mirror, and, though clearly thinking I was crazy, lunched into the left-turn lane and waited for the light. I rolled the window down all the way, and Jenks landed on the sill. "Why don't you check it out?" I said softly.
"Already ahead of you, babe," he said, reaching to see that his red bandanna was in place. "By the time you get around the block, I'll have met the locals and get the sitch
."
"Babe?" I said tartly, but he had darted out and was among the gargoyles. I rolled up the window before the street breeze could make a mess of the intricate French braid his kids had put my hair in. I didn't let them go at my hair very often. Their work was fantastic, but they chatted like fifteen-year-olds at a concert—all at once and a hundred decibels louder than necessary.
The light changed, and the driver made the turn carefully, probably thinking I was a tourist getting an eyeful. The sharp-cornered, tidily mortared stones rose up as high as perhaps an eight-story building, to look massive and permanent compared to the low shops that surrounded it. The cathedral sat tight to the curb on two sides, shading the street. There were shade-loving plants tucked into the moist shelter of the flying buttresses. Expansive stained-glass windows were everywhere, shadowed and dull from the outside.
I squinted as I took it all in, surprised at the lack of welcome that I found in my church. It was like visiting your great-aunt who disapproved of dogs, loud music, and cookies before dinner; she was still family, but you had to be on your best behavior and you never felt at ease.
After a quick scan of the side of the cathedral, I dug in my bag for my cell phone and tried to call Ivy again. Still no answer. Kisten wasn't answering either, and there had been no response when I called Piscary's earlier today. I'd be worried, but that it wasn't unusual. They didn't open until five, and no one manned the phone when they were closed.
The back of the cathedral was narrow walled garden and cracked parking lot. At the corner I set my phone to vibrate and tucked it into my front jeans pocket, where I would know if it rang. More parking was on the third side, empty but for a dusty late-model black Saturn in the shade and a basketball court, the hoop bolted onto a light pole at NBA regulation height. Across the way was another, much taller one. Mixing species on the court wasn't a good idea.
I braced myself when the cabbie pulled up, running his left wheel over the low curb of the one-way street. Shoving the car into park, he started messing with a clipboard. "You want me to wait?" he asked, glancing at the dingy storefront across the street.