by Kim Harrison
Selfish? I grimaced when Trent glanced back to make sure we were okay. I knew her anger was a mix of worry for Trent and her ironclad upbringing that personal desire was a distant second to political need, but seeing her spouting off when she had her happy ending, and Trent was being asked to sacrifice what he wanted for everyone else, rankled. “You just got done telling Trent to let Red be who she is,” I said, allowing a hint of my own anger to show. “And now you’re saying everyone should be what some big plan dictates?”
She was flushed, but I knew she enjoyed our shouting matches since I was the only one who would yell back at her. And if I was honest, I’d admit I enjoyed them, too. “Red is a horse, Rachel,” she said pointedly. “Trent is poised to lead an entire society. He has healthy children, political and monetary advantage. Everyone from the vampires to the humans would like to see the elves die out. He needs protection. I don’t care if he’s insulted. A martyr won’t save our species.”
“I understand that,” I said, knowing she wasn’t angry at me, but that outside forces were threatening the one spot of peace in her long, heartbreaking life.
“Then why won’t you do it?” she asked, her horse prancing because of her tension.
“I don’t know what I want, Ceri!”
Ceri hesitated, and then her eyes widened. Sitting atop my horse, I went hot. I don’t know what I want? Had I really just shouted that?
“What you want . . .” Ceri echoed, the clops of the horses silent beneath us. “By the Goddess, you like him! Mother pus bucket, when did that happen!”
Hearing Al’s cuss phrase come out of her was a shock, and flustered, I scrambled for something to say. “Uh . . .” I hedged, praying that neither Quen nor Trent turned around. “I think somewhere between him slugging Eloy and pie. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything,” she said, her upright stance returning as she thought the possibilities over. All for the state, yes, but she was a romantic at heart, and I could see where she was going. Damn it, she was thinking again. I had to stop this, and stop it now.
“Ceri, look at me,” I pleaded. “I’ve had four relationships in two years. One was a thief, one died as a political gift, one walked away because I was shunned, and the last is a slave in the ever-after. I know you think this is perfect, but I come with a lot of baggage, and it would be a mistake to work for him.” I looked up, seeing the concern on her face as deep as her excitement had been. “He’d end up dead because of me, and you know it.”
A wisp of pity showed in her eyes as she set Lucy’s bonnet straight. “Maybe you’re right.”
It was what I wanted to hear, but it kind of hurt.
“It’s simply that Trent is so important,” she said, voice wistful as she stared into space. “I know he feels he can ward off any attack, but he needs to set his pride aside. He’s more than he ever was, more than just himself.”
There was a lump in my throat, and I wasn’t sure why. Yes, Trent had always been more than just himself. But that wasn’t what he wanted to be. I knew how that felt.
The flash of Jenks’s dust over Quen and Trent caught my attention, and I wasn’t surprised when both of them pulled their mounts up short. Concern pushed out everything else when Quen’s horse nickered, feeling the tension of his rider. Trent was gazing into the canopy, and both Ceri and I urged our horses into a faster pace to catch up.
“There’s something in the woods,” the pixy said as we joined them, and a chill dropped down my spine. “The birds are agitated, and the small mammals are hiding.”
Ceri held Lucy closer. “Quen?” she questioned, and he shook his head, clearly at a loss as he scanned the trees. I shivered, and the sun-dappled shadows became fraught with doubt. Reaching out, I tapped a line, filling my chi and then spindling enough energy in my head to make a circle around all of us.
“It’s probably just Nick,” I said, but Molly had felt my tension and was now stomping.
Immediately Ceri seemed to lose her concern. “The slimy little worm,” she said sourly. “Quen, call security to dispatch him immediately. The thought of him here makes me ill.”
“Ah . . . I talked to Al last night about Nick,” I started.
Trent bobbed his head as if not surprised, but Quen turned in the saddle to face me straight on, an accusing look in his eyes. “And?”
“See, I was going to tell you all at once,” I said, fidgeting with Molly’s reins. Jenks had darted away, and both girls were wiggling to find him. “Ku’Sox owns him. Won him in a bet.”
Tulpa pranced in place, giving away Trent’s tension. “I wondered,” he said softly, eyes on the canopy. “Nick gained the labs once. He could do it again. I know for a fact it isn’t HAPA. Damn. He’s making demons.”
I didn’t often hear Trent swear, and I nodded uneasily. “That’s what I think, too,” I said quietly. “In twenty years Ku’Sox will have at least eight day-walking demons who look to him for their very survival.”
Quen glanced at Trent, and Trent nodded. “It’s up to twelve now,” Trent said, and Quen took Ray from him, the little girl settling in before her birth father with a serious air about her. “This is what I was afraid of. Ceri, I’m sorry but we are cutting our ride short.”
“Trenton,” she protested.
“You and Quen head back to the stables with the girls. If Nick is here, Rachel and I will draw him out. I’m the one he’s after. I’m the only one who can make the cure permanent.”
Ceri began turning her horse around, but Quen was unmoving, his horse blocking the path ahead of us. “It’s not your place to draw out danger, Sa’han.”
I, too, wasn’t keen on this plan, but for another reason. “Ah, I don’t think the cure is what Ku’Sox wants.”
Trent pulled Tulpa up short, the black snorting at the rough motion. “If Ku’Sox didn’t want the cure, Nick wouldn’t be in the woods,” he said, words clipped. “And yes, it’s my place to draw out danger, just as it’s Rachel’s expertise to crush it.” He looked at me. “We will continue on.”
Oh, I was all for crushing danger, but this was moving too fast. Maybe I’d picked up more of Ivy’s cautious planning than I’d thought. “Jenks!” I shouted, and got a wing chirp back.
“Quen, it’s only Nick,” Ceri said, clearly wanting to get the girls out of the woods and possible danger.
But still Quen stood there. “This is an ill-conceived plan. We don’t know if it’s Nick. What if it’s someone else?”
The corner of Trent’s eye twitched, and he looked irate as Tulpa trotted in place under him. “You don’t trust Rachel’s skills?” he said, and I winced. “You went behind my back to buy them, Quen.” Clearly angry, he added in a softer voice, “I can’t risk any of you. Go. Let me do my job. Rachel?”
Easing up on his hold on Tulpa, he let the horse bolt. Quen jerked his horse back from following, his expression as angry and dark as I’d ever seen it. Before him, Ray was silent, but Lucy was wailing her distress. Shrugging, I gave Molly a nudge.
I glanced behind us to see Quen turning his horse back to the stables, Ceri sitting tall in her saddle with Lucy, waiting for her love to join her. I agreed with Trent. They had a perfect life, a perfect love when they’d both resigned themselves to having neither. It needed to be protected.
Trent was silent when I joined him, and we continued on. My shoulders were tense, and I listened to the wind in the tops of the trees, their new leaves pale green and rustling. Jenks was up there somewhere. He had my back. The silence stretched, and I glanced at Trent. His jaw was tight, and the sun caught his hair in a come-and-go fashion. Something other than Nick was on his mind, his fierce determination reminding me of his satisfaction when he turned that HAPA member into a deformed, twisted mockery of a demon. Here, Nicky, Nicky, Nicky . . .
Tulpa was a larger horse, and he was stepping out farther than Molly could comfortably walk. Trent was too distracted to notice. Jenks dropped down, and Trent absently corrected the uptight stallion when h
e shied. Used to it, Molly contented herself with flicking an ear.
“Something is in the woods, huh?” I said as Jenks landed on the saddle pommel. “Do you know how creepy that is?”
His sword was loosened in its scabbard, but he hadn’t pulled it. “I don’t know how else to say it, Rache. I’m going to do a Z axis until I see Quen and Ceri make it out of the woods. There’s nothing ahead of you for another quarter mile.”
Trent shook himself out of his funk. “You couldn’t have scouted a quarter mile that fast.”
“That’s right,” Jenks said, grinning. “You just keep thinking that.” He turned to me as he took wing. “I’ll stay within earshot. Something isn’t right.”
“Thanks, Jenks.” He zipped straight up to rise high enough to see when Quen and Ceri broke free of the trees, and I nudged Molly into a short canter to catch up with Tulpa.
Sighing, Trent drew Tulpa into a slower pace, the black horse snorting in impatience. “Thank you. I appreciate you doing this with me,” he said, his low voice blending perfectly with the leaves, stirring in me like the wind in my hair.
And here I had just gotten done telling Ceri I wouldn’t work with him. “You’re welcome. If I hadn’t, then Ceri would have refused to leave.”
His profile showing his concern, he tucked a wayward lock of his hair away.
“You really should think about including a pixy clan in your security,” I added.
Trent looked up into the canopy. “That’s what you keep saying.”
“Then maybe you should listen,” I shot back. Tulpa had already resumed his faster pace, and it irritated me. “Or at least do a cost analysis or something.”
Pulling Tulpa up short, Trent smiled with half his mouth. Molly stopped as well, and a sudden memory exploded in me, brought forth by the tension, the dappled sun, even the shadowed air drawing goose bumps. He had been lanky and insecure with youth, and I had been awkward and overly confident with the first hints of health, but Tulpa had been the same, and I had been irate that he’d gotten a larger horse than me and I couldn’t keep up.
“What?” he asked, and I put a hand to my cold face.
“Um,” I said, scrambling. “Ceri might be right.”
Molly shifted under me, and Trent reached out. I froze as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing the rim of my hat. “About what?”
My heart was pounding. “That you’d be good at being king of the elves.”
His hand dropped, and I breathed again. Head bowing, he looked at his fingers laced among the reins. “I can be both what I need to be and what I want to be.” But it was soft, and I wasn’t sure he believed it.
“I tried that, and it didn’t work,” I said, the reins slipping through my fingers as Molly stretched to crop at the spindly grass surviving under the shade. “It didn’t work for Batman, either.” Trent didn’t look up, and I blurted, “At least you have something worth fighting for. Trent—”
“I’ve been meaning to ask if you would like to choose a horse from my herd,” he interrupted me. “One who would be designated as yours for when you ride with us. I still owe you a proper Hunt.”
My eyebrows rose, more because of the change of subject than the offer. “We are sitting here in the middle of nowhere waiting to be attacked, and you offer me a horse?”
Tulpa sighed, making Trent shift his seat. “We can talk more about your conversation with Ceri if you like.”
Oh God. No. “Sure. I’d love a horse,” I said, feeling the need to give Molly a pat. “I’m not really into the Hunt, though.” I remembered the sound of the hounds, the heart-stopping fear that they might catch me. Is he nuts?
He nudged Tulpa into motion, and Molly followed. “If you change your mind, let me know. Ceri would love another feminine presence on the field. She says we men lack style in running down prey.”
I’ll bet. “I might just do that,” I said. “If only to get you to stop giving me Molly all the time.”
Trent’s smile warmed me all the way to my center. It was true and honest, and he was smiling at me. Stop it, Rachel. “What’s wrong with Molly?”
“Nothing, but you keep giving me a horse I can’t possibly win with.”
His face lost all expression as he thought that over. Then his eyes narrowed. “You can’t have Red. She’s not in the herd you may choose from.”
It sounded like a rather formal statement. The fiery horse was way out of my league, and I hadn’t even been thinking about her. “Why not?” I teased. “She’s sweet.”
Trent stiffened, but he wasn’t looking at me. Under him, Tulpa snorted, and with a sudden shock, I felt a huge drop in the nearest ley line.
Jenks pattered through the leaves, wreathed in a haze of silver sparkles. “Hey! Someone just made a huge bubble between here and the stables! It poked above the Turn-blasted trees.”
I stared at Trent. “Nick can’t make a bubble bigger than three feet.”
“Ceri . . .” Trent whispered. “The girls . . .”
“Trent!” I exclaimed, my hand outstretched, but he’d already wheeled Tulpa around. With a word I didn’t recognize, he urged him into a full gallop. In an instant, he was gone, the thudding of his hooves fading.
Molly snorted as I jerked her to follow, head tossing when I kicked her into a gallop. Hanging on low to her back and knees flexing, I pushed her down the trail.
I needed a faster horse.
Chapter Five
“ Cer-r-r-ri!”
Trent’s voice raised in summons jerked my attention, and I yanked Molly to a halt. Just off the path was a clearing, the winding, shaded stream we’d been paralleling beyond it. The fresher wind shifted my hair, bringing the scent of burned grass and decaying vegetation—and spent magic, tingling like ozone before a lightning strike.
There were two ugly burn marks and a large circle pressed into the tall grass, and the line I was connected to seemed to hum with the reminder of an energy draw. The fast-moving stream chattered among the rocks and tree roots, and I stifled a flash of fear when I saw Trent crouched over Quen, Tulpa standing a watchful guard. It was probably the same stream that I’d stumbled through once to lose the hounds chasing me.
“Hie!” I shouted, giving Molly my heels, and she jumped forward, neck arching and hooves stepping high when her footing unexpectedly turned spongy. The low-lying area surrounded by craggy trees looked as if it flooded often; the grass that wasn’t burned was tall. Three trees managed to survive the wet ground, but they were spindly and let a lot of light through, especially this early in the spring.
Jenks hovered over Quen, his dust seeming to melt into him as I came to a fast stop beside them. Ray sat in the crook of Quen’s twisted body, her little hands clutching her father’s jacket; she was too scared to cry. Quen was unconscious, no signs of attack but for a slight burn on his hands.
“His aura is intact,” Jenks said as he darted to me, “but it’s doing something really weird, shifting outside its normal color spectrum like it doesn’t have a clear connection to his soul anymore.”
Worried, I unfocused my attention to bring my second sight into play. Molly quivered as if feeling it, and I looked down. Trent’s aura was its usual gold with sparkles around his hands and head, a deeper slash of red running in the thin spots and a new shiny white at the center I’d not seen before. Quen’s was a dull green that mutated to red, then an orange as I watched. Whoa. Still holding my second sight, I looked away, shivering.
The sunbaked surface of the ever-after overlaid itself atop reality, a dry streambed and sparse grass running to the distant profiles of broken buildings where Cincinnati would be. There were no demons, no eyes watching, and I let go of my second sight, trembling as I maintained my hold on the ley line. “That’s not right,” I said, and Trent stood.
His eyes were haunted, and his hands cupped about his mouth. “Ceri!” he shouted again, but the silence was broken only by the sound of the water and wind. Ceri wasn’t here, nor were
the horses.
Jenks rose up on a column of purple dust as I slid down, my knees protesting. “How bad is he hurt? Is he okay?” I said as I crouched beside them. Ray made a sob that was too old for her, and I reached out as she leaned toward me, falling into my arms.
“No.”
I froze where I crouched. Ray’s grip tightened, and she twisted on my hip to see her dads. Still she didn’t cry, red, wet cheeks under deep green eyes. What had she seen? Turning, Trent squinted into the surrounding woods. “Ceri!” he called again, his voice holding fear now.
I held my breath, listening. There was a burn mark on the closest tree, the part that hadn’t hit it spreading out behind in a long trail. There’d been a fight—short but powerful. Demons . . .
“She’s not answering,” Trent muttered. His hair fell into his eyes as he looked down, cell phone in hand, and I stumbled to my feet when he shoved it at me. “Call the gatehouse. The number is there. Have them send the med copter. Stay with Quen. I have to find Ceri and Lucy. They could be hurt and unable to respond.”
His leaving wasn’t a good idea, and I resettled Ray on my hip when she reached for him, small sounds of distress coming from her. “Trent . . .”
Jenks’s wings clattered. “Stay here,” he said, hovering between both of us, Quen silent at our feet. “I can cover more ground faster than you can.”
Trent looked awful, his grace mutated by fear. “No.” Turning, he broke into a jog for the nearby trees. I took a hesitant step, but Jenks was faster, and before Trent could even get past the horses, the pixy was in his face, dripping a silver-tinted red dust.
“Hey!” the pixy shouted, and Ray’s whimpering cut off. “I said stay put! Whoever did this might still be out there, Mr. King-of-the-World, and I can cover ten times more ground than you. You got me?” Wings clattering, he stared Trent down. “Stay here and call your ambulance. Quen’s aura is freaking out. He needs help!”