by Kim Harrison
A sneeze shook me as I shut the door. My brow furrowed. If it followed the emerging pattern, I’d sneeze again in about ten minutes. Al was trying to get a hold of me, and my scrying mirror was across town in the Hollows. I’d tried stepping into the line that bisected Trent’s estate and contacting him that way, but Al hadn’t showed and I hadn’t lingered since the lines felt sour somehow. I hoped it was only the uncomfortable state of the lines that he wanted to discuss, but I had a bad feeling it was more, and my eyes flicked to Ray in her car seat as I got in.
Jenks eyed me suspiciously as I settled myself, wiping my nose with a tissue I took out of my shoulder bag. “Bless you,” he said sourly. “That’s like, what, the twentieth one?”
“I lost count.” Smiling at Ray, who was making s-s-s-s-s noises to get Jenks’s attention, I headed for the bright square of light and out of Trent’s underground garage. Worry flitted through me that I was taking Ray off the grounds, but Trent hadn’t told me I couldn’t.
Jenks went drowsy in the new sun, and I slowly wove my way past the employee parking lots and low buildings to the gatehouse. It was up about half a mile, and Ray was well on her way to snoozeville, too, when I came around a bend and slowed.
Trent had modified his gatehouse twice since I’d known him, once when I had blown through the simple metal bar on my way out, and again when Ivy had tossed me over his new wall when I was in a hurry to leave and he had wanted me to stay. The modest, one-story building was now a two-story edifice that straddled the road, officers on both sides to monitor traffic leaving as well as coming in. Parking lots were available on either side of the highly landscaped wall, the bushes trying to hide how tall and thick it was. It wasn’t the five I.S. vehicles parked just this side of the bar that made me take my foot off the gas and coast in—it was the three news vans just past the gate.
Crap on toast, that hadn’t taken long.
My sigh roused Jenks, and he whistled, bringing Ray’s eyes open for a brief moment. I’d known the I.S. was out here, having seen the fax of the warrant sent to Trent’s living room when they’d arrived. The I.S. I could handle. The news vans were another story.
“You think they saw you?” Jenks asked as I pulled into the parking lot.
“Probably. But I’m leaving with Trent’s kid. I probably have to sign something,” I said as I leaned to undo her buckle and pull the whining, tired girl to me. Leaving her in the car was not an option.
Both Ray and I sneezed on Jenks’s dust as he shot out before us, and I took a clean breath as I stood beside the car, baby on my hip and blinking in the wind and sun. An anxious, nervous man in Trent’s security uniform was gesturing for me at a glass door, and I headed for him, my bag over one shoulder, Ray gripping the other. Sure enough, a reporter on the other side of the gate shouted my name. I’d been spotted. Swell.
“Ms. Morgan, I’m glad you stopped,” the man said as I came in and set Ray on the counter. Three walls were entirely glass, and it was like being in a fish tank. There was new activity among the press gathered, waiting for any tidbit the I.S. might let fall. Vultures, they were vultures. “We weren’t aware you were going to take Ray off the grounds.”
“Why?” Jenks asked snidely, giving the three other guards fits as he flew behind the counter and inspected the views from the security cameras. “You think you can stop her?”
“Well, actually . . .” the man hedged, and I took a pen away from Ray before she stuck it in her mouth and gave her from my purse a harmless charm that would straighten hair.
“Look, you,” I said, a finger pointed, and I swear, Ray tried to mimic me, charm between her swollen gums like a teething ring. “Trent asked me to watch her, and I need to get home.”
From behind the counter, a big fat guy in a uniform turned, his chair on casters. “Frank, she’s on the list. Quit razzing her.”
My eyebrows rose, my good mood returning. I was on the list. How about that? And then I sneezed, feeling a faint itch of a ley line pull attached to it.
“Bless you,” Jenks said, and I swear, Ray echoed him, way off on the actual word but spot on as far as rhythm. Her little-girl voice was sweet, and charmed, I tickled her under her chin to make her squirm.
“Ma’am . . .” My smile vanished, and the man’s became nervous. “Uh, you’re on the list, but I need to see a photo ID and get a phone number we can reach you at, and we need to know where you’re going, and when you expect to be back.”
Oh. That was all right then, and I swung my bag up beside Ray, pawing through it with one hand as the other hovered over Ray’s back in case she decided to move. The clatter drew Ray’s attention, and she watched with a serious expression, not reaching for anything as I sifted past the splat gun, lethal charm detector, two sets of cuffs, handful of zip strips, breath mints, phone, and whatnot for my wallet.
“Thank you,” he said as he took it to run it through their machine. It apparently liked what it found since he gave it back. Behind him, the news crew was setting up tripods and long-range cameras.
“I’m taking her to my church,” I said as wrote down my cell number and I shoved everything away, Jenks laughing at the expression on the other officers’ faces at the cuffs and charms. “I’ll have her there until Trent picks her up or we run out of diapers.”
“Thank you,” the anxious guy said, and I swung my bag up onto my shoulder. Jenks hovered beside me, and together we looked at the newspeople, hanging around in the hopes of a scrap of anything. I slid Ray onto my hip, motions slow.
“Think if I give them something they won’t follow me?” I muttered, and Jenks snorted.
“Doubt it.”
I doubted it too, but I headed for the door. If I kept my windows up, I could at least ignore them. Trent wouldn’t be pleased about any photos they took of Ray, but it couldn’t be helped.
The sun and wind hit me anew as I went outside. Jenks was close, and my steps were fast as I headed for the car. Shouts and calls for my attention got loud as I opened the door. If you follow me home, I swear I’ll let the pixies play in your electronic equipment!
“Ms. Morgan! Is it true that Mr. Kalamack has been flown to the hospital and is in intensive care! Ms. Morgan!”
My back was to them, and Jenks, currently perched on the roof, winced. “It’s not going to look good if you don’t answer,” he said, his eyes going to Ray and back to me.
“Ms. Morgan! Have you taken custody of his children because he’s unconscious? Where is Ms. Dulciate? Has she been injured as well?”
I sighed, then shifted Ray higher. She wasn’t fussy, happily gumming the charm. It wouldn’t hurt to quash a few rumors before they got started.
The security people on both sides of the road were standing at their big plate-glass windows, watching. I’d get no help from them, and although Trent probably wouldn’t thank me for putting Ray in front of the cameras, I’d found out the hard way if you didn’t give the press something to chew on, they invented things that sold more papers than the truth.
“Ms. Morgan!” a woman shouted, and I turned, holding my hair to my head so the wind wouldn’t catch it. I must look a sight, but at least I wasn’t limping, beaten up, or bandaged.
The news crews had a spasm of delight as I let the car door shut and paced across the road to the gate they were clustered behind. Jenks hung back as the still photographers snapped their pictures and big guys with video cameras on their shoulders shoved for the best angle. They were all shouting for my attention. Jenks took refuge on my shoulder, and Ray hid her face, scared. My protective nature rose up from a tiny seed of maternal instinct I didn’t even know I had, and I shushed her, rocking as I stood in the road, three feet back from the gate.
“You,” I said to a woman in a white dress suit, her short hair hardly moving in the stiff wind. “Didn’t I knock you down once outside of the mall?”
The woman grinned as her peers chuckled at her expense. “That was me, Ms. Morgan. Trent Kalamack was seen being transported to the hos
pital by helicopter, and unless I’m mistaken, that is his daughter. Something happened to the ley lines this afternoon, and the I.S. is on-site. Can you comment?”
From my shoulder, Jenks sighed. “You sure you want to do this?”
No, I didn’t want to do this, but I wanted them following me home even less. “Trent Kalamack escorted one of his employees to the hospital after an accident that occurred while riding this morning,” I said, smug when the woman shifted her gaze to her truth amulet ring, a nice steady green. They weren’t legal in this situation, but hard to prove. “Mr. Kalamack didn’t sustain any injuries, and I’m waiting for news just as you are.”
“But the I.S.—” the woman blurted as a follow-up, and the rising questions subsided. “Were the ley lines damaged in the accident?”
“No,” I said shortly. “I felt the lines sour well after the incident. The I.S. is here because the wounds his employee sustained are similar to those a demon might inflict.” The noise rose, and I put up a hand, guessing their next question and wanting to answer it my way instead of needing to work around that truth amulet. “As you can tell, the sun is up, so logic says the I.S. is taking the opportunity to be nosy while Trent is away.”
They liked that, scribbling on tablets or talking into their recorders.
“Ms. Morgan!” a man from the back shouted, his hand raised. “As Cincinnati’s only day-walking demon, have you been questioned in the incident?”
“Told you this was a bad idea . . .” Jenks muttered, and I forced my smile to widen. A sneeze shook me, and Ray patted my shoulder.
“I wasn’t an eyewitness to the incident,” I said truthfully, “but I did blow up a couple of trees so the medical copter could land.” I looked at the I.S. vehicles dramatically. “I’m sure they will blame me for something,” I added, getting the expected laughs. This wasn’t so bad. Making deals with demons had given me practice.
“Do you have an explanation as to what happened to the ley line?” a man in a sports coat asked, holding his mic out over the gate.
“No. I’m on my way home to talk to Al, actually, and find out if the demons know what happened,” I said, then sneezed again. They were coming faster, and nervously I patted Ray on her back as she said “bless you” in a garbled baby talk. “So if there are no more questions?” I said into the suddenly awkward silence.
I took a step backward, and like lions on prey, they pounced. “Is that Ray? Can we have a picture? Are you taking her home? Where is Lucy? What has the I.S. learned so far?”
Jenks was laughing, and I reluctantly turned back around. I scanned the yammering reporters, finding one I recognized. “Mark,” I said, and they all shut up. “You know I can’t divulge what the I.S. finds, and besides, I’ve only seen the search warrant.”
“Why are you taking Ray? Can we have a picture? Was Ms. Dulciate injured in the accident as well?”
I had three to choose from, and I took a step back. “Ms. Dulciate is currently occupied with Lucy. You can understand taking care of two little girls, twins, almost, is enough to drive anyone to distraction. I need to go. It’s nap time.”
“Ms. Morgan. A photo, please. Ms. Morgan!”
Ray was clutching my neck, scared. They’d already snapped pictures of Ray, so that boat had sailed, spent a week at the island, and returned to port for more tourists, but I didn’t want Ray’s fear to be what they walked away from here with. “A picture?” I taunted, and they clamored for one. “Maybe if you would all shut up for a moment!” I exclaimed. “You’re yammering so loud that you would scare a third-grade teacher. Okay?”
They didn’t know what to think about that, but they did quiet down, and sure enough, drawn by the sudden silence, Ray pushed herself from my front and turned, her big green eyes wide and looking sweet in the little pink-and-white dress I’d put her in to nap in.
I smiled at the adoring faces of the women as the cameras clicked. I’d give Ceri and Quen one thing—they could make very pretty babies.
But then my smile faded as I noticed a big black car that screamed money driving slowly up to the gate. It was Trent. I knew it. And here I was, showing off Ray like a prize.
“Now you’re in for it,” Jenks said, darting off my shoulder and making Ray jerk as she watched his angling flight to the black car.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I said, hoping that Jenks would put in a good word in for me. I waved cheerfully at the last shouted question as I added, “I gotta go. And if anyone shows up on my doorstep, I will file harassment charges . . . after I let the pixies into your vans. You got it?”
But they weren’t listening, having figured out Trent was in the car as well. Head down, I hustled back to my car as they fell on his like zombies. If I could give him Ray right now, I could be home in thirty minutes and the press probably wouldn’t follow.
Sneezing, I wondered if I could make it in twenty if someone from the I.S. ran vanguard.
A man from the gatehouse came out, waving everyone back, shouting that Mr. Kalamack would make a statement in an hour, and that they were welcome to wait at the gatehouse pressroom if they liked. In pairs and groups, they parted, and the black car moved slowly through the gate and turned into the parking lot where I waited.
Nervous, I leaned against my car, pointing Trent’s car out to Ray and telling her that one of her daddies was in it. She was still gumming that charm when the car pulled to a halt two spots down. Immediately a back door opened, Trent not waiting for the driver to get it for him. Jenks darted out, shedding encouraging silver sparkles, but Trent was a great deal slower, moving as if he was in pain. Upon closer inspection, I decided he was just tired, his jeans creased and the sleeves of his riding shirt rolled up. There was a tuft of cotton and a Band-Aid inside his elbow, and I wondered if he’d given blood.
Squinting at the sun, he crossed the warm pavement, his hands outstretched for Ray. The little girl had begun to wiggle when she’d caught sight of him, and the smile that came over Trent caught in my heart. It didn’t matter if this child was not his blood—she was his child. And Quen’s, and Ceri’s.
My smile faded. I had to fix this.
“Ray,” he breathed, and suddenly I felt her absence keenly as he took her. “Your daddy is going to be okay, I think.” His eyes rose to mine. “We got him there in time. Ten more minutes and they might not have been able to stop the cascading reaction.” He blinked fast, then looked away. “That’s twice you’ve saved Quen’s life. Thank you.”
I shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“Me too.”
Our eyes met for a long, silent moment. Ray jumped and wiggled as Jenks’s dust sifted over her, and I flushed when Trent noticed what she was gumming, her little fingers gripping the charm so hard they were white. I sneezed, and I shook my head at Trent’s unspoken question.
“Ah, I’m sorry about this,” I said as the driver of his car began to move the car seat to the black Jag. “I hate coming home to find reporters in my driveway. I hadn’t heard from you and I need to talk to Al. That’s why I’m sneezing. Ray wouldn’t go down for her nap, and I figured she’d fall asleep in the car.” I hesitated. “You look tired.”
“I napped during some of the tests,” he said, and I wondered at the incongruity of us standing in the sun and talking as other people moved Ray’s things to his car. “I didn’t want to leave until he was stable. They got his aura to stop cycling, but they don’t know why he won’t regain consciousness. Thank you for handling the press. One of the guards relayed what you said. You did pretty well.”
My eyes dropped at his wry smile. “I’ve been dodging them the last couple of years. I know how much you have to give them for them to leave you alone.”
Ray had fallen against him, her head tucked under his chin as she started to drift asleep, her eyes never leaving me. “Oh God,” Jenks said from my shoulder, and her eyelids flickered. “Here come the vampires.”
Sure enough, coming up the road on a go
lf cart were four I.S. officers. The grit ground under Trent’s heel as he spun slowly to watch as they parked beside their cars and the one in the dress suit angled toward us.
It was Nina, or Felix, maybe. I could tell by the grace and slightly pained motion of the living vampire as she crossed the lot. The sun normally didn’t bother living vampires, but Nina was channeling Felix by the looks of it.
Trent seemed to shed his fatigue like an old shirt, but I could see it in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “They had a warrant,” I explained, and he bobbed his head in acceptance. “The I.S. in your backyard is another thing I don’t like coming home to. They’ve been on the grounds for the last couple of hours, but your security tells me they’ve been escorting them the entire time so they wouldn’t wander. The hospital called them, probably.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, gently patting Ray as the tallish Hispanic woman in the black dress suit put a hand up to ask us to wait. “You did exactly what Qu— What should have been done.”
I quashed the feeling of hurt. “I used to work for them. I know your rights.”
“Trenton!” the woman boomed out, her voice too expansive and masculine for her slight frame. Clearly Felix was in her again, and I worried about her. It wasn’t uncommon for the undead to use their “children” as moving walkie-talkies, but it was unusual that Felix kept doing it. But who tells an undead no?
“Good to see you again,” Trent said, shaking the woman’s hand with an expansive motion that he usually only used with men. “How much longer until you are off my property?”
The vampire smiled, setting a finger aside her nose in a gesture I hadn’t seen anyone under the age of fifty use. “Rachel, is Ivy back from Arizona yet?”