by Kim Harrison
Trent ran a hand over his hair, leaving it attractively mussed. His eyes showed his mood, dark and irate, as he looked over the vacationing people who had nowhere to go for the rest of the night. His frustration peaked. “I need to be—”
“In Seattle by Sunday,” I said, interrupting him. “Yeah, I got that part.” I took a sip of my drink, which infuriated him for some reason. “Will you relax? Have a margarita or something. I told you I’d get you there, and I will. Trust me.” That last jab had been sarcastically bitter, but I was ticked. I mean, why ask me to protect him on his way out to the West Coast, then free a demon to do it?
Vivian was watching me, her intelligent eyes squinting in question. She knew something was up, just not what.
“Trust you.” Trent shifted in disapproval. “Seattle is fifteen thousand miles from here. Just getting to San Francisco will take us eight hours, even if we take 95.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vivian said loudly, and the couple in the next boat over looked at us. “Are you crazy? No one takes 95!”
“Which means we can go as fast as we want,” Trent said, his eyebrows bunching.
“We are not taking 95,” Vivian said fervently, and I tuned them out, watching Ivy and her blood buddy slip out the back. Jenks gave me a color flash of green, and I turned back to the table. “If you get on 95, you don’t stop!” Vivian finished intently.
Trent took a swig of his beer, looking normal. “I don’t plan on stopping.”
Vivian tossed a hand up in the air and pushed herself back into the cushions. “I’m coven, not one of God’s angels. It’s too dangerous.”
Maybe he’s relying on his demon friend, I thought bitterly. I didn’t think any big, bad uglies on 95 would be a problem, even if we had to stop. Hell, we’d already evaded elven assassins and one severely disturbed demon. A soul eater. Crap on toast, I had to talk to Trent. He’d better not have any idea of what he had unleashed, because if he did, and he’d done it intentionally, I might be pissed enough to just walk away from this completely.
Trent leaned toward Vivian. “I don’t see any other way of getting to Seattle in time other than taking 95,” he said softly, his anger just in check.
“I said I’d get you there,” I said, watching Pierce eye two women in shorts, his ears turning red. “Have some faith in the people you ask to protect you.”
Feeling a hint from my last words, Trent leaned back, giving Pierce a good view of the female vamps making out in the corner.
His back against the cushions, Trent unrolled his silverware and arranged it perfectly with stiff motions. “I’ve seen how you protect people. Telling me to have faith isn’t inspiring.”
Oh, but summoning day-walking, soul-eating demons is?
Pierce pulled his eyes from the vamps long enough to snort his agreement, and my face flamed. “Have I ever not come through?”
Trent fingered his knife. “No, but your collateral damage is generally more than I want to pay—Morgan.”
This from the man I had to save by going into a partnership with a demon? I frowned; Pierce looked happy for the first time since he’d gotten here. “And what’s on your mind, demon bait?” I snapped at him. “Enjoying the show?”
Immediately Pierce’s smile shifted to a frown. “I could have killed Al if not for you,” he said, and Vivian started.
“You almost killed a demon?” she asked, eyebrows going high in interest. Her attention flicked from the two women to me and back to him. “Her demon?”
“Aye,” he said, glancing at me darkly. “She stopped me.”
“Who’s going to protect me in the ever-after if not Al!” I said, fumbling my words as suddenly everyone at the table was looking at me like I’d killed Bambi’s mother. “Al is the only thing between me and Newt, or worse! You look at me and think I’ve got this all under control, and I don’t!”
Trent smiled as he moved his nearly empty glass of beer just so. “That’s not what I see when I look at you.”
“Me neither,” Pierce said under his breath, and may God strike me dead if the two men didn’t start to bond.
“What I meant,” I said patiently, feeling like the butt of a joke, “is you think that I’m safe with them, but I’m not. If Al dies, I’m up crap creek.”
Pierce spooned a piece of ice out of his drink. “Not my problem,” he said, teeth clattering against it.
My jaw dropped. “Hey! You were the one who went to him with some stupid idea to be his familiar just so you could kill him.”
“It’s a capital fine idea,” Pierce said indignantly, glaring at me from under his hat. “And it would have worked if not for you.”
Vivian leaned closer. “You tried to kill a demon?”
“I almost made a fist of it, yes,” Pierce said, his features still holding his anger at me. “It was the only reason I did tuck with them, and I opine that if the truth were known, then the coven might have to apologize for burying me alive, and they wouldn’t want to do that, would they?”
Expression becoming pinched, Vivian sank back into the seat. I said nothing. As far as I was concerned, he was a black witch. And it bothered me, probably because I thought I might be one, too. Maybe I was being too harsh. Maybe.
Pierce gave me an angry look. “I’d be free tonight if not for your misguided, ignorant stupidity.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, unable to look up at him. “It’s all my fault. And if you killed Al, where would I be? You can’t protect me from Newt. Like it or not, I need Al. Go kill someone else’s demon to make yourself a man, Mr. Black Magic User.”
Pierce became silent as the Were in one flip-flop finished his set and got down amid a too-enthusiastic round of cheers.
“To freedom,” Trent said, startling me. His glass was raised and, fingers fumbling, Pierce picked up his mostly empty glass and the two clinked.
Men. “Well, excuse me for trying to stay alive,” I said, elbows on the table. I didn’t like being here without Ivy or Jenks. “And I thought you didn’t like Trent.”
Pierce had taken a gulp, his eyes watering at the bubbles popping. “I can drink with a man and not like him,” he said, and Trent smiled that infuriating men’s-club smile.
“I bet you can,” I said, but I was busy looking over the moving heads for Ivy. Shouldn’t she be back by now? How long did it take to bite someone, anyway? Or was it the cleanup that took so long? I’d never been bitten where I wasn’t fighting for my life three seconds later. Must be I was doing it wrong.
“Excuse me,” Trent said suddenly, and my attention jerked to him as he rose and nearly pushed Vivian out of the booth.
“Where are you going?” I asked suspiciously.
Trent hesitated next to the table, and Vivian slipped back in. “The washroom.” His eyes went to his empty beer glass, then back to me. Slipping into the narrow path, he wove his way to the back of the restaurant, past the kitchens and the big sign proclaiming BUOYS and GULLS. Catchy.
My head started to hurt. This might be my only chance to talk to Trent alone. Sighing, I stood, saying, “Vivian, you got Pierce, okay?”
Vivian looked at me in bewilderment, letting go of the straw she was downing her soda with. “He needs watching? What’s he going to do?”
“I don’t need watching,” Pierce said indignantly, and I swung my legs over the edge of the boat the way Ivy had. She’d probably looked better doing it, though. Not answering Vivian, I pushed into motion to follow Trent, noticing that he was getting some appreciative glances from the surrounding patrons. He didn’t give any indication that he knew I was behind him as the noise of the restaurant was replaced by the clatter and steam of the kitchen, and then the muted noise of the back hallway.
“Trent,” I said as he reached the door to the restroom. Arm stiff, he pushed the door open and went in, not acknowledging that I was behind him.
I didn’t slow down, following him in with my breath held and my shoulders tight.
Trent was at the mirror, head down a
s he held the sides of the white sink with a resigned air about him. Glancing up, his eyes twitched when they found me in the mirror’s reflection. “Get out.”
Arms swinging, I let my held breath out and decided it didn’t stink too much in here. Ugly things, urinals. Going past him, I looked under the single stall, then kicked it open to make sure no one was standing on the toilet. Trust me, he’d said, but he had summoned Ku’Sox, and I needed to know why.
“You hired me for protection,” I said stiffly. “That’s what I’m doing.”
Trent turned to lean against the sink. “It’s a bathroom. Wait outside.”
I stood with my hand on my hip, angry. “Seems like I remember that the elves who attacked you under the St. Louis arch had the same bits that you do,” I said, and he frowned. Sauntering forward, I all but pinned him against the sink. “Remember St. Louis? The arch fell down? Why the hell did you free a day-walking demon? Didn’t trust me to get you there, huh?”
Turning his back on me, he pumped the soap dispenser, having to go to the next one before anything came out. The rims of his ears were red, and my anger grew. “I know you girls go to the bathroom in packs, but I’d appreciate some privacy,” he said, his jaw tight and the skin around his eyes pinched. “No self-respecting assassin takes their mark in the john.”
“And no self-respecting assassin makes a hit on an interstate, either.” I moved closer, well within his discomfort zone. “You want to tell me what in the hell you thought you were doing freeing a day-walking demon from under the St. Louis arch?”
Trent didn’t pause, his smooth motion never bobbling as he turned off the water, shook his hands, and reached for a paper towel. Silent, he turned, his expression closed.
A quiver rose through me and tightened my gut. I wanted to shove him, but I managed to keep my hands where they were. Through the cement walls, I could hear cheers as the next band took the stage. “Ku’Sox was halfway to killing you until I shoved that energy back into him. He knocked down the arch, trying to kill both of us,” I said, pushing forward until we were only inches apart. “And then I freed you from your familiar bond and made you immune to him. What I want to know is whether you’ve been planning this from day one, or if you’re making this up as you go along.”
He turned his back on me, not looking at my reflection as he arranged his hair. “I’ve known about Ku’Sox since last year,” he said, and I dropped back, not knowing if I believed him or not. His eyes flicked to mine in the mirror. “You think Ivy is a planner? She has nothing on a motivated elf with too much money.” He looked away, shifting one thin lock of hair over his ear. “I’ve got this under control.”
I blinked, trying not to lose it, but my hands shook. I could almost hear him add, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” “Yeah?” I barked, glad I’d waited until we were alone to bring this up—this way, there’d be no witnesses when I killed him. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? The demons are pissed. They can’t control this guy, can’t kill him! That’s why he was imprisoned!”
Trent slowly turned, gesturing as if waiting for me to leave.
“Trying to catch him the first time was a friggin’ war,” I said, remembering Al’s spells slithering through our connected brains. “Ku’Sox isn’t confined to the ever-after during daylight, and he eats people to absorb their souls! He eats people, Trent.”
A flicker of emotion crossed the back of Trent’s eyes. A soft twitch at his lips. I pounced on it, seeing a sliver of humanity.
“You saw him eating those pixies!” I said, hammering the guilt home. “That’s what he does. He eats people because his soul doesn’t work right. Ku’Sox is a magically engineered disaster the demons created while trying to break the curse your people put on them in your stupid war! What they got was something so horrendous and disturbed that they buried it in the next world over. And you go and free him?”
Trent’s green eyes hardened. “I have this under control.”
I snorted. “Like you got him to stop eating pixies? Just because he can’t kill you doesn’t mean you control him! The demons aren’t blaming me for this, they’re blaming you! This emancipated-familiar thing makes you liable. You’re going to have demons with little red robes coming at you for breaking the law of uncommon stupidity if you’re not careful.”
His gaze on mine narrowed, and he turned away. “I have this under control. He’s sworn to protect me.”
Did he not get it? “Protect you?” I yelped. “He ate pixies—alive—to distract them so we could escape with Jenks.”
“You’re welcome for that,” Trent interrupted, and my head pounded.
“If you didn’t think I could protect you, then why am I here? Huh?” I asked, hands on my hips as I stood between the door and him.
A small, infuriating smile showed on his face, shocking me. “Because Quen wouldn’t let me out of Cincinnati without you.”
My teeth ground together, and I forced them apart. I didn’t think Quen knew about Ku’Sox, and I sure as hell believed that Ceri didn’t. “You are an idiot,” I managed, hands in fists.
Trent turned back to the mirror and brushed nonexistent dust off himself. The motion lost something with his being in a casual shirt instead of a thousand-dollar suit. “Right back at you, babe.”
Babe? Did he just call me babe? Shaking, I turned on my heel. This guy was a piece of work. “I’ll wait outside for you,” I said, not trusting myself with him right now.
“If you feel you have to.”
Pissed, I stiff-armed my way out of the bathroom. You can die here for all I care, I thought, the warmth and noise growing as I stalked down the empty hall. Trent was a jerk. A jerk and an ass. The demons might not blame me, but the coven would. And then I’d have to take care of Ku’Sox myself. What in hell was I? Trent’s maid?
Not looking at the man I pushed past, I peered out over the kitchen archway to the restaurant—then paused. Cinnamon. Cinnamon and wine.
My anger vanished, and I turned to the man now heading for the men’s room. Nice slacks, nondescript windbreaker, soft shoes, dark hair, well built. Smelled like a snickerdoodle dunked in wine.
Shit, the guy was an elf.
Fourteen
Heart pounding, I ran back down the corridor. I hit the men’s room door with a bang that reverberated from my arm to my toes. Breath held, I slid to a stop as the unknown elf turned.
Trent still stood beside the row of sinks, hunched under a claustrophobically small circle. Something close to panic was in his eyes, quickly turning to his familiar cool dispassion, but I’d seen it, and I knew he was glad to see me. The air smelled like ozone, and the last of the attacking elf’s green aura trying to break through Trent’s circle flickered and went out.
I put a hand on my hip, and gestured with the other at the man in his trendy windbreaker and utterly blank expression. Trying to kill Trent on my watch? I don’t think so. “If I can’t kill him, then neither can you,” I said, and the assassin’s lips twitched.
I moved, tapping one of Las Vegas’s lines even before he threw a ball of magic at me. Striding forward, I flashed a circle into existence for the bare second I needed to deflect the green-hazed ever-after into the corner. It hit the tiled wall and spread out, a gelatinous ooze smelling of bone dust emanating from it.
“Nice,” I said, thinking it must be a charm to break someone in half. “You want to leave before I hurt you?”
Hunched, the elf backed up, trying to keep enough distance between us so that he could throw something at me and not have it bounce back at him. I kept going forward, trying to get under the guns, so to speak. Grasping him by the front of his windbreaker, I shoved him into the wall, slapping aside his attempt to flood me with ever-after.
“I said, you need to leave,” I said, unimpressed, but I hesitated when I felt the prick of wild magic brush across my aura like sandpaper. Eyes wild and frightened, the man smiled at me, and a quiver rose in my chi as I thought of black snakes u
nwinding from Al’s head to kill Ku’Sox. The man made a gesture, lips moving and fingers twisting into an awkward figure. He gasped as his hand contorted and I heard knuckles pop, and hazy black enveloped his fist.
Alarmed, I dropped him before his magic could flood into me.
“Demon whore!” he shouted, clearly in pain as he threw whatever it was at me. I flung myself back to dodge his spell, hitting the stall door and falling backward into the toilet even as my protection circle sprang up. Arms and legs flailing, I caught myself with the oh-so-helpful railing they put in there. Sprawled across the seat with my arms straining, I stared at the horrifying green aura only a handsbreadth from me, slithering over my bubble as if looking for a way in. It was wild magic. It had hurt the assassin to cast it. It might make it through. I didn’t think it was going to be sunshine and lollipops if it broke my bubble.
In the corner, the assassin was getting to his feet, shaking the pain from his hand. I wasn’t keen on the gleam of anticipation he still wore. Licking my lips, I glanced at the charm burning its way to me, then back to him. “Stricto vive gladio…,” I started, and the man’s eyes widened in fear as he recognized the “bounce back” charm. He scrambled to his feet, almost flinging himself at the door in his effort to flee.
“Gladio morere transfixus,” I finished, and the green haze coating my bubble vanished.
The fleeing elf skidded to a halt between Trent and me, his back arching as all his muscles seized. Mouth open in a silent scream, he reached behind him as if trying to touch something. Gurgling wetly, he collapsed, his back scraping on the sticky floor.
Horrified, I broke my bubble and pulled myself out of the stall, looking at the man contorting under the charm meant for me. His lips moved as foam bubbled at the corners while he tried to speak the countercharm. “Sorry,” I said, wincing. “Maybe you should have tried to kill me with something that didn’t hurt so much.” A soft pop sounded, and Trent’s face turned ashen. I think the guy had just dislocated something.