by Kim Harrison
Her smile widened, but didn’t get any warmer. “Still,” she said, her hands clasped before her to look like a proper 1940s wife in her monochromatic dress suit and matching purse. “It’s very noble of you to risk your life when you don’t have a personal stake in the outcome.”
Lemon-yellow dust sifted from the light fixture. Ignoring Jenks’s silent comment, I smiled right back at her. “But I do. Lucy is my godchild, and Ceri is my friend. I freed her from the demons before, and seeing her cry over having a home, husband, and children when she never dreamed of freedom makes me a tad protective of her when some demon tries to take it away.”
“I see.”
I see? Did she say I freaking see? “Besides,” I added when her eye twitched. “If I don’t help him, who will?” My unspoken you? was obvious.
From Ceri’s high-backed embroidery chair, Quen cleared his throat. Trent had his back to us, busy in the kitchen making coffee, and Jenks simply sent down another shower of sparkling dust, the crystal in the fixture tinkling as it shook from his laughter.
Inclining her head, Ellasbeth smoothly sat back down. “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated.” My smile froze as I suddenly became hired help standing before her.
Damn, she was good. “I don’t work for Trent,” I said, suddenly feeling outclassed. Her eyes were on my pinkie ring, and I think she’d recognized it as matching Trent’s. “I work with him.”
Stop it, Rachel, I thought as I realized I was in danger of arguing with an idiot. It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice. She just lost her daughter, not once but twice.
Exhaling, I leaned against the counter, forcing her to turn if she wanted to keep me in her sight. “Ku’Sox won’t hurt either of them,” I said as Trent passed between us to hand Ellasbeth a cup of coffee. “Ku’Sox wants something, and this is the only way he can get it. Hurting them will only piss me off, and Ku’Sox knows that.”
Ellasbeth’s beaming smile to Trent vanished. “Can we please stop saying his name?” she asked, and on his way back to the kitchen, Trent shot me a look to be nice.
“Why?” I crossed my ankles and leaned deeper into the counter. “It’s not like saying it does anything.”
“Coffee, Rachel?” Trent said as he shoved a cup at me, and I scrambled to take it before it sloshed over. A faint blush was showing on Ellasbeth. Maybe that had been a tad petty.
“Ah, you have a book for me to look at, right?” I prompted, then took a sip.
“It’s in the safe room. Look at it in there.” Chin high, Ellasbeth pushed away the cup of coffee Trent had brought her. Out of her sight in the kitchen, Trent hung his head, his free hand rubbing his temple.
Quen rose, his motions slow and pained. Ray was slumped against him, the little girl valiantly fighting sleep and starting to lose. “I’ll show you.”
Jenks peeked over the fixture at me, laughing. It made me feel as if I’d lost something. Damn it, I could be nice to this woman. I didn’t have to be her best friend, just not smack her while we breathed the same air. “Thank you, Ellasbeth. This is going to be a huge help,” I said, but it sounded forced even to me. “We’re going to get them back. It’s going to be okay.”
She looked up. The worry and fear of the last two days pooled in her eyes as she met mine and held them. I don’t think anyone had told her it was going to be okay, and upon hearing it—even if she didn’t believe it—she began to break apart. Tears welled and she quickly turned away, her posture becoming more stiff, more closed. It must be hard when the only comfort you got was from the person you most disliked in the room.
Trent set his coffee aside, the cup hitting the granite loudly. “Quen, while you’re showing Rachel the safe room, Ellasbeth and I will be in the gardens.”
“Why?” Ellasbeth said in distrust as she fumbled in her matching purse for a tissue. “I can help.”
Trent touched the woman’s shoulder, and I shoved a twinge of jealousy away. “If you’re open to it, I’d like to discuss the possibility of joint custody.”
Ellasbeth’s eyes widened. “Trent,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t want to have to need a joint custody agreement at all.”
From the chandelier came a tiny “Eeeeewwww.”
“I just want us to all be together as we are supposed to be,” she said, gazing up at him, tears spilling from her. “I want my family! What if we can’t get her back! What if . . .” Sobbing, the elegant woman dropped her head into her hands and sat alone at the table and cried. Uncomfortable, I glanced at Quen—who clearly didn’t care—then to Trent. He seemed unsure, and I made a face at him to do something. Anything.
Grimacing, he pushed himself into motion, pulling her to her feet so he could hold her. That was even more uncomfortable, but at least she wasn’t crying alone. “Shhhh . . .” Trent soothed, even if he did look a little stiff doing it. But awkward or not, they looked beautiful together. Sophisticated. “Ceri lived among demons for a thousand years,” Trent said, holding the woman as she shook. “Lucy is resilient and brave. The demons won’t hurt her as long as they have a hope I’ll give them what they want.”
My stomach hurt, and I looked away.
“We can talk in the garden,” Trent said, starting to guide her to the stairway. Jenks dropped down from the light fixture, and my lips parted when Trent made a small finger movement to tell him to stay.
Oh, really? I thought, watching Trent help Ellasbeth down the wide stairs, a hand under her elbow as she continued to warble about home and family, and how she had been an idiot.
Idiot. Sure. My thoughts drifted back to her standing at the basilica’s altar, furious at me for ruining her wedding day as I handcuffed Trent for suspicion of murder. I’d ruined her day.
Ray perked up at the sound of Jenks’s wings, and she watched with sleepy eyes as he dropped down to me. “Tink’s little pink rosebuds, you two are like dogs snarling,” he said, and I scowled, looking at the top of the stairway.
“I didn’t hit her, did I?”
He laughed, but I still felt ill. If Ellasbeth was going to be in Trent’s life, I’d probably better start kissing ass if I ever wanted to see the girls again.
Jenks landed on my shoulder as I went to help Quen up the two shallow stairs. I was still wondering about that finger motion. “Is he seriously considering . . . that?” the pixy whispered as Ellasbeth’s voice rose from the great room.
“Looks like it,” I breathed. “If you ask me, she’s nothing but bad news. But they look good together.”
Quen grunted as he got to his feet, unbalanced from Ray and his injuries that he wouldn’t tell me about. Shaking off my offer for assistance, he headed for the nursery, his left leg sluggish on the two stairs.
“Is that what you see?” Jenks said, jerking me back to my last comment. “That they look good together?”
I tried to eye him, but he was too close. “You don’t think they do?”
Pushing open the nursery door with his foot, Quen shook his head. “The joining of the two houses would do a lot in bringing the two factions of our society together. I’m glad someone finally talked some sense into that woman.”
He seemed genuinely pleased, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Ceri, Ray, and Quen if Ellasbeth entered the family.
“Good thing the man likes frustrating women,” Jenks said, and I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear to shove him off my shoulder. I could still hear Ellasbeth’s tearful protests bracketed by Trent’s musical voice. The farther they got from us, the more hysterical she was getting, and her voicing her doubts wasn’t helping.
“She is wearing your ring, Trenton!” echoed, and then the door slammed shut.
We only had days, and despite Trent’s confident words, I didn’t have a plan; I had a goal whose solution revolved around a book I hadn’t seen yet.
My heart sank as I looked over the dark nursery lit by a friendly, smiling full moon with cows jumping over it. Oh God, Ceri and Lucy. I’d get them back if I had to tear the ever-
after apart line by line. “Was it Nick in the woods?” I asked Quen as he nudged a walk-’n’-ride out of the way to get to the closet door.
“On the outside,” he said, and the little girl felt his tension and squirmed to turn around. “His speech patterns were Ku’Sox’s.” Quen shifted his shoulders painfully as he took a set of keys from his pocket. “His combat patterns were Ku’Sox’s as well. I’m surprised the human survived channeling that much power. But then he didn’t have to do much once he got Lucy.”
It must have been horrifying, and my eyes roved over the beauty here as he sifted through the keys: the well-thought-out toys, the books and figures waiting for pretend—the twin cribs, one messy, the other tidy, clearly not slept in, with a lonely giraffe waiting for Lucy’s return. It about broke my heart, and feeling ill, I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Silent, Quen held the keys up to Ray, and the little girl took an interest. Quen looked distressed. He knew Ceri would be okay, right? “I’ve been in contact with Dali,” I said as Ray patted the keys. “We have some time before things shift. I’m sure they’re both okay.”
Quen’s entire body relaxed. “It’s what I pray to the Goddess for.”
On the door frame, Jenks shrugged, but I didn’t know what else to say.
Quen still hadn’t unlocked the door, waiting for Ray to lose interest in the keys. I was all for letting children learn when the opportunity presented itself, but I did have a timetable. I took a breath to say something, then hesitated as I realized Ray wasn’t playing with the keys; she was sorting them, her little fingers pushing them around until she found the one she liked with a pat.
“Abba,” she said in her high, little-child voice as she touched the keys, and my eyes widened. I had no idea what Abba was, but it was very clear what she was trying to convey.
“Very good, Ray,” Quen said, his voice soft and holding pride. “That’s the one to get into the big toy box. Now will you go to sleep? Abba has to help Aunt Rachel pick out the toy that’s going to get your mother and Lucy back.”
The elf name for father? I wondered, vowing to ask Jenks about it later. Guardian? Protector? Mom’s Mr. Significant? I didn’t know, but it sounded like a term of affection.
Ray’s face puckered. I thought she was going to cry, but when Quen raised his eyebrows, she thought better of it, turning away from me to cling to him.
“Oh my God,” I said as Quen held her to him with one arm and fitted the key in the lock with the other. “You’re teaching her to be a little you,” I accused, and Quen flashed a smile, not looking at all guilty.
“Someone has to keep Lucy alive when I’m not around,” he said as the door creaked open and he reached in to flick on the light. “Trent’s daughter is entirely too trusting, and I doubt her days with a demon are going to change that. Go on in. I’m going to put Ray down. Ellasbeth already has the book in the cabinet, but this will just take a moment.”
He turned back to the dim nursery, and I waved bye to Ray, the girl watching me over Quen’s shoulder. “Abba,” Ray warbled as Quen put her in the crib, and two little hands reached for him. Quen stooped down to reassure her, and I saw the love before the closet door arced shut. I couldn’t help but feel good. Jenks sighed, and I jumped, having forgotten he was there. Obviously he’d seen the love between them, too. I knew he missed having newlings.
“Wow,” I said as I turned away and took in the “closet.” It was impressive, smaller than the vault Trent had been keeping his most precious secrets in, but more organized. Racks of paintings, shelves of knickknacks of various styles and eras, and one big glass-fronted cabinet with leather-bound books took up most of the room. Cabinetry and a small sink ran along one wall, and a library table with two wingback chairs filled the middle space. Underfoot was a rug that looked old enough to fly, and given the location, it just might if you knew the right word.
“Don’t touch anything, Jenks,” I said, and he scowled at me as he hovered before a rack of shiny ley line baubles.
“I won’t break anything,” he said, then spilled a flash of silver dust as something caught his attention and he darted to it. “Hey! Trent still has that elf porn statue you stole.”
Eyes rolling, I came to see if it was as graphic as I remembered, but I lingered over the pair of rings below Jenks’s feet. One was a simple gold band, the other heavy and ornate. They looked like mismatched wedding bands, reminding me of the rings that Al and I had used when we had shared each other’s strengths. “Ah, Quen?”
Jenks had his hands on his hips as he looked over that nasty statue of three elves in the middle of a threesome. “Tink’s titties,” he said. “I suppose that’s possible.” His head tilted. “You’d need a lot of grease and two straps, though.”
“Quen!” I hissed, and Quen pushed open the safe room’s door, almost shutting it completely behind him. Ray was babbling to herself in the other room, but she’d probably drop off if we didn’t talk too loudly.
“Let me get you the book,” he said, limping past the library table to the tall cabinet.
I pushed close to ask him about the rings, and he handed me a pair of soft gloves lying out on the table. They looked too small, but I tugged them on, thinking they were likely Ceri’s. Quen was putting on a second pair. “Thanks,” I said, feeling the soft knit mold itself to my fingers. “Those rings by Jenks. How old are they?”
The hiss of escaping air from the temperature-controlled cabinet was soft, and Quen glanced at Jenks as he swung the doors wide. “Not sure,” he said shortly. “Old. I can find out.”
“Hey, Quen.” Jenks circled the statue, avarice in his gaze. “Let me know if Trent ever wants to get rid of this. I have a spot in my front room it would look ace in.”
I held my breath as I leaned toward the open cabinet, avoiding any possible demon stink. “Are they demon made?” I asked as I looked over the books, some so old they were falling apart.
Quen looked at me, suspicion in his eyes. “The rings? No. Elven. Why?”
“Al has something similar.” I took a hesitant breath, pleased when I found only the honest scent of leather and decaying ink.
Quen snorted, the rude sound seeming odd coming from him. “I doubt that,” he said as he scanned the spines. “They’re chastity rings.”
Jenks sniggered, coming to make annoying circles around me. “Too late for you, Rache.”
Irked, I waved him off. I thought it odd that Trent would keep chastity rings next to his elf porn, but it wasn’t like he used any of these things. I think. This was his father’s collection, like some dads have stamps. Or guns.
Quen reached for a book set aside by itself. “More accurately, they’re binding rings,” he said, his face showing the strain as he stretched for it. “It creates a continuous bond between two chis so the wearer of the alpha ring can snuff the magical ability of the other if needed. They were used to keep younger, inexperienced elves from exposing themselves as magic users. They don’t work, though. The charm in them is long spent.”
“The books don’t smell,” I said as he set the book on the library table. “Bad, I mean,” when he looked at me. No, they didn’t smell, but there was a faint whine at the back of my ear, like a high-pitched echo of leashed magic that made me uncomfortable.
“None of them have been in the ever-after for at least five hundred years.” His voice was distant as he stood over the book and carefully turned the yellowed pages until he got to a section marked with a black ribbon. The binding made a cracking sound as he shifted the last page, and I swear he winced.
Standing over the tattered book, I looked down to read “Ley Line Corruption and Manipulation” in big, squished loops that I sort of recognized. My eyes went up, and I squinted at Quen suspiciously. “That’s Ceri’s handwriting.”
“No shit!” Jenks said, finally abandoning the statue to come hover over the text.
“I know.” Quen’s eyes shifted as he read the text. “We have six books here that Ceri has copied. A handful of
other scripts. She doesn’t remember doing them. Ellasbeth insists that the book stays here. You’re welcome to spend the night if you want to read it cover to cover, but I believe this is what you want. I read it before it was returned to Mrs. Withon.”
Sitting, I looked at Ceri’s extravagant loops and swirls. I sucked at research. If he’d done it already, I was good with that, though I might come back and read it all later. “Thanks,” I said as I tugged the book closer. Quen cringed, and I curled my tingling fingertips under.
“So how come it was at the Withons’?” Jenks said, his feet lightly touching the pages.
Quen sat in the chair across from me, motions slow as if he wasn’t sure he was going to hold together. “Trent’s mother and Ellie were good friends.”
There was more to the story than that, but it didn’t really matter. Jenks flew up when I shifted to a new page, and his dust spilled over everything to make the letters glow. Seeing it, Quen leaned forward. “Interesting . . .”
I met his eyes. “You didn’t know pixy dust makes demon texts glow?”
“No,” he admitted, leaning back and steepling his fingers.
Wondering if this was where Trent got his little nervous tell from, I went back to the text. “You’re shooting yourself in the foot, Quen. Jenks has six bucks looking for property this spring. They can all read and they don’t mind fairies.”
“Hey!” Jenks said. “Quit trying to farm out my kids!”
“Just pointing things out,” I said as I turned the page to a map of the dead lines in Arizona. A second map showed where the author thought they’d been before they’d been shoved together. Quen was right. There might be something here. It was all theory, but theory based on fact and observation.
Seeing me intently quiet, Quen asked, “Do you want something to drink? Eat?”
“No-o-o,” I drawled, feeling like I was close to something.