by Kim Harrison
He looked at me beseechingly. The charm in my hand was a steady green, and I exhaled, believing him. “She says she doesn’t remember any of it,” I said, and Jack made a noncommittal shrug that was more desperation than anything else. “Is she lying to get you in more trouble?”
“For cheating on her?” he said, confused. “She knows I’ve never cheated on her again. I don’t understand.” Fatigue pulling at him, he put the flats of his arms on the table and slumped over his cuffed hands. “We went to bed like any other night, and I woke up with her turned into a deranged, crazy woman mad about something I did years ago, something that she forgave me for before we got married.” He sniffed, the sound going right to my core. “At least I thought she did,” he whispered, the guilt he had felt in the past swamping him again.
“Have you had any other marital problems recently?”
“No.” His voice took on some strength. “Just the usual stuff like using all the milk and forgetting to turn off the TV, but nothing worth . . . this.”
The truth amulet was green, and more telling, I believed him. “Okay,” I said, and he looked up at my soft voice. “Maybe I can get a message to your wife.”
He blinked fast, pulling his arms back to his chest. “Will you tell her I love her?”
I smiled at his sincerity. “Sure.” I stood and touched his hand, wondering if I heard Edden groaning behind the one-way glass.
“But you don’t believe me. No one does,” Jack said as he looked at the mirror.
The rustle of the paper being pulled from the table seemed loud. “It’s hard when Jacqueline doesn’t remember it.” According to the report, she didn’t even remember him hitting her, which was suspicious in itself. Suddenly I wanted to talk to Jacqueline, and I gave Jack a final smile as I went to the door.
“Thank you,” Jack whispered as I left, but he was looking at his cuffed hands when I turned, and so I simply closed the door, leaving him in his personal hell.
I jerked, finding myself eye to chest with Edden. Not liking his accusing stare, I held the truth amulet up. “He wasn’t lying,” I said, and when he grudgingly nodded, I dropped my keys into my jacket pocket.
“Maybe he’s just good at it,” Edden muttered.
“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” I shot back, stiffening when Edden’s hand went to my shoulder to lead me to the FIB’s back door, where my car was parked.
“Stop it, Rachel,” he said, and I eyed him askance.
“Stop what?”
He smirked, his mustache bunching. “You have this bleeding heart for the underdog, but we found him standing over his wife, who was sobbing on the kitchen floor. He admits to hitting her hard enough to knock her down. Why should I take his story at face value?”
“Other than my gut and my charm?” I said, a hint of outrage trickling through me. “Maybe because Jacqueline doesn’t remember anything. Not even Jack hitting her. If she was trying to get him in trouble, I’d think she’d at least remember that. Besides, his story matches the motive pattern of the other cases.”
“There is that,” he said, and I breathed easier when we left the detention hall behind and entered the FIB proper. The phone chatter and the officers moving around were like heaven itself, and it was nice feeling as if I was part of it. I missed this more than I wanted to admit, having left the I.S. three years ago. Maybe this was why Ivy had returned to the I.S. as a consultant.
“Can I talk to Jacqueline? Maybe she doesn’t want to remember. If I’d tried to kill someone I loved, I’d want to forget that, too.”
Edden nodded as we dodged busy people on our way to the garage. “Sure. She’s been moved, so I’ll need some time to get the paperwork through.”
“Great.” I didn’t know when I would fit an interview at the hospital in, but Trent would understand if I had to take an hour out of our weekend. We could stop in on our way out to the golf course, or lunch, maybe. Get out of his compound and mingle. “I want to ask her about him cheating on her,” I said as we neared the back entrance. “Maybe he’s picked up the habit again.”
Edden’s long “Mmmm” snapped across me like a wet towel, and I eyed him. “Could be,” he finally said, and I frowned when he avoided my eyes. It was pretty obvious that someone was targeting couples, but why? Or maybe how? And, more important, who? “Can I have those back, please?” he added, his attention on the reports still in my grip.
He held out his hand, and I pulled them closer, grinning. “I need them,” I said, then sneezed, backing up more when Edden punctuated his “Bless you” with a grab for them. Dancing back, I tucked them under my arm so I could take out my phone and look at the time. It was eleven, straight up.
“Thanks for letting me interview Jack,” I said. “You don’t mind if I talk to Jenks about it, do you? He knows the damnedest things and might have an idea,” I added, and Edden nodded, looking pained. “Let me know when Jacqueline is available?” I asked, wondering if he was upset I wanted to bring Jenks into it, but jeez, he knew how to keep his mouth shut.
“You got it,” Edden said, lingering by the back door. “Ah, Rachel. One more thing.”
“If you wanted them back, you never should have given them to me.” I smiled, finding my keys as I walked backward to the door. Edden had said I could park in their garage, but the nearest slot had been someone’s reserved spot, and I knew I was pushing it.
“It’s not that,” he said, and I rocked to a halt, not liking his faint tells that something was wrong. “There are people, not me,” he said hesitantly, “who think the murders might be a demon having some fun.”
My smile vanished as if he’d socked me in my gut. Fun? “You’re serious, aren’t you?” I said, and he winced, making me even more angry.
“Could you ask around in your unique circle?” he said, his stance stiff. “See if you can find out which one of the demons is pitting couples against each other?”
Is? As in a foregone conclusion? Pissed, I stomped back and put a hand on my hip. “That’s the only reason you let me talk to Jack, isn’t it,” I said flatly.
“No,” he said, but the charm on my key fob had gone a muddy reddish green. “But it was how I got the okay to involve you,” he added, looking relieved when it shifted pure again.
“Well, isn’t that dandy,” I said, and he gave me a weak, uneasy smile. “It’s only been two months since the demons were freed to walk in reality at will, and the first time something crops up that you can’t easily find a cause for, both you and the I.S. blame the demons.”
He shrugged, and my hands stiffened into fists. No wonder Dali and Al were the only two demons living openly. Asshats. They were all asshats. “Thanks, Edden,” I said, turning to leave. “See you around. Do me a favor and tell Jacqueline for me that Jack says he loves her.”
“Jesus, Rachel,” Edden coaxed, but I was having none of it. “Don’t take this personally. You can’t deny that forcing couples to kill one another is demonic.”
I spun back around, frustrated with the way the world worked. I’d thought things might be different, but they weren’t. People only got better at hiding it. “You’re forgetting one thing,” I said as I took three steps back to Edden. He could have stood up for me, told them that they were wrong instead of asking me to spy on the demons with the assumption that they were responsible—based on nothing other than a gut feeling. But he hadn’t, and it hurt. Just when I felt I was starting to belong.
“What’s that?” he asked nervously.
“What’s in it for them?” I asked, waving Ivy’s carefully assembled information. “Demons don’t do anything unless it’s for a profit.” Frustrated, I slapped the reports against his chest, and he fumbled for them. “And neither do I anymore,” I said.
Turning, I walked away.
CHAPTER
4
“Are you still worried about postponing our meeting?” Trent’s
expressive voice rose and fell like water even through my cell phone, currently on speaker and sitting on the kitchen counter. “Ellasbeth severely underestimated Lucy’s and Ray’s temperament by suggesting a five-star restaurant. Ice cream after naps is more their speed. I couldn’t have planned the shift to Eden Park better if I’d arranged for that zombie to be dropped into your garden. It doesn’t hurt that she’s blaming you for it, either, not me,” he finished softly.
I pushed the salt-water-soaked rag over the stainless steel counter to remove any chance of a residual spell interfering with the coming curse. I was still hurting about Edden, too much to tell Trent that the I.S. and the FIB had banded together to blame the demons for pitting happy couples against one another for kicks. “You didn’t, did you?” I asked, and he chuckled.
“Hang on a sec,” he said, and I heard him set the phone down.
I tossed the rag into the sink, then leaned back against the counter and nibbled the elephant-shaped cookie that I’d picked up at the zoo. Breakfast of champions. Piscary’s kitchen felt odd without any vampires in it, the shouted orders and friendly catcalls that once kept order amid the flour-and-tomato-paste madness now existing only in memory. The large pizza ovens were cold, and the huge walk-in freezer warm. The industrial-size pots and pans were gone, sold when Cormel took possession of Pizza Piscary’s, closed it, and turned the kitchen into a large eat-in.
A normal-size fridge hummed in the corner now. Several freestanding counters had been replaced with a long family-style farm table. Again, unused with only two vampires sleeping belowground. There were still pots and pans, mixers and spoons, gadgets and gizmos tucked away for everyday use, but the feel of the large room was one of abandonment.
That is, apart from the last freestanding counter in the corner. I was going to claim it as my own now that Ivy had suggested it. The curse’s ingredients were in my largest spell pot, brought over from the boat. They looked out of place under the electric lights, but that would change in time. I hoped.
“Sorry about that,” Trent said as he came back. “Where were we?”
I set the half-eaten cookie down and dusted my hands free of crumbs. “You were about to tell me you didn’t drop a zombie in my backyard so you’d have an excuse to change Ellasbeth’s playdate.” Taking up the gold silk scarf I got on sale last week, I polished a small six-inch circular mirror to remove any stray ions. Clean, spell-free mirror. Check. I was going to make a scrying mirror just so I could slap a do-not-disturb sign on it and stop sneezing.
“No, not me,” Trent said again around a yawn. I’d say I was boring him, but it was almost noon and he usually took a four-hour nap this time of day. “I had no idea that you’d be at your church. I’m sorry about the insurance not coming through.”
The mirror clinked as I set it down. “How did you . . . ?”
“Jenks called to arrange rent this winter,” Trent said, and I nodded, exhaling as I took my five-pound bag of salt from the bowl and set it heavily on the counter. Sea salt. Check.
“I’m glad you convinced him to overwinter with his kids,” Trent was saying. “That boat you’re on is a good temporary option, but if the power goes out . . .”
Silent, I took a handful of salt and spilled a large circle encompassing the entire counter. Pixies were braver than anyone gave them credit for. I didn’t know if I could live somewhere where I might slip into a hibernating coma if some asshat yanked the power cord.
“If it’s a matter of money to fix the church—”
“We’ve got this,” I interrupted, warming at how harsh it had come out, but he knew my anger wasn’t with him but that Jenks and I were in this predicament. Water chattered into the nearby sink as I washed the salt off my hands and mentally went over my list. Wine. I forgot the wine. Stepping carefully over the uninvoked salt circle, I took out a bottle of local red from the restaurant-size wine cooler. Check.
“I know you do,” Trent said into the growing silence. I could hear his desire for me to move in with him. A part of me wanted to, but a larger part knew I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t that I didn’t love him. I did. And the girls. But I’d made a success of myself with Ivy. I had to do the same on my own before I could stand beside Trent and not feel as if I was . . . leaning on him.
Frustrated, I pulled my bowl closer and rummaged to find my silver snips. They’d tarnished, and I began to rub them clean with the silk scarf. No, that’s smoke damage, I realized, wondering if that would make them more or less useful in twisting curses. “That reminds me.” I leaned against the counter beside the sink and rubbed harder. “There was an elf at the church.”
“Landon,” Trent said flatly, shocking me at the clenched-jaw anger in his voice.
“No,” I said, surprised. “I never got his name.” I gave up on the snips and set them beside the mirror with a soft click. “He ran off when Ivy and Jenks showed up. Young, about sixteen? You guys all look the same to me.”
“Because we are,” Trent said sourly, and I smiled, totally understanding his desire to be unique among his peers, but thanks to Trent’s dad’s efforts to save their species, they all looked pretty much alike. Why work individualism in and risk screwing up something that sufficed?
“He wants to meet you.” Head down, I began opening and closing drawers as I looked for my ceremonial knife. It hadn’t been on the boat, which meant I’d left it here the last time I made some sleepy-time potions. “Sorry about not getting his name.”
“I’ll ask around,” he said after another yawn, and I smiled at the familiar sound of him settling back for a nap. I knew he slept in his chair most workdays, trying to give at least the illusion of keeping to a human time clock.
“If he shows up again, you want me to bring him out?” Frustrated, I put my hands on my hips and stared at the kitchen. Where would Nina have put my knife?
“Sure, but stop at the gatehouse so Quen can talk to him.”
Could be a Landon spy. My head bobbed, and I crossed the kitchen to the novelty pizza cutters. Sure enough, my knife was among the circular unicycle cutter and long toucan-beak scissors. “You got it, boss,” I said, and I heard a sleepy chuckle.
The silence lengthened, and thinking he might have drifted off, I picked up my phone to end the connection with a whispered “I love you.” He’d fallen asleep while talking to me before, and whereas some might find insult, I only felt loved. But my coming words choked to nothing when he softly said, “I’m going to grant Ellasbeth the girls this weekend.”
I froze, worry knotting my gut. He’d said it so formally. Grant her. But giving his ex-fiancée time alone with the girls was utterly at his discretion, the law having terminated her rights to Lucy, and Ray never having been hers. “I thought that was a no-go with you,” I said, concerned.
“I think you’re right that it’s safer than refusing to let her have Lucy on a regular schedule,” he said. “And Quen will be with them. She’s done everything I’ve asked. Has a new flat overlooking the river. Sold her house in Seattle. She’s teaching classes at the university as she promised. She’s even gotten over her West Coast snobbery and begun to show some interest in Cincinnati’s considerable finer arts.”
Elbows on the counter, I cradled the phone in my hands as I wrapped my mind around this. Elf children matured a lot faster than what was considered normal. Still, Lucy was only four months shy of two and she’d already been kidnapped three times, first by Trent, then by an insane demon, and lastly by Landon. No wonder nothing fazed the little girl. “What about Landon?”
“Landon already tried stealing power with Lucy and failed,” Trent said, a frightening coldness in his voice. “Besides, if she gets too distressed, she knows how to call Al.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding,” I said, not sure what surprised me most: that the toddler knew how or that Trent was clearly proud that she was seeking help from someone who, until just this year, had been th
e elves’ sworn enemy. Still was in most circles.
“I think it’s more her trying to use a ley line that is alerting him,” Trent admitted, but the pride was still there. “It shocked the peas out of me the first time he showed up when she threw a tantrum. We’ve since chatted, and Al has agreed to leave the parenting to me.”
My grin was unstoppable as I bent over the counter, flats of my arms on the stainless steel, and held the phone as if I could touch Trent through it. I’d be willing to bet that Trent wasn’t the only one surprised to suddenly find an uptight, supercilious demon in crushed green velvet in his rooms demanding to know why his elfling godchild was screaming holy hell.
“So, long story short, unless Ellasbeth does something dreadful over ice cream, she has the girls until Sunday night. My schedule is clear. How about yours?”
My smile widened at the change in his voice. “Nothing pressing.” My focus blurred at the thought of two entire days with Trent with minimal disruption. Though in financial straits due to fighting off the numerous—and true—accusations of being a bio-drug manufacturer, the man still owned a considerable number of high-tech, low-employee farms and most of the train runs east of the Mississippi. Occasional questions cropped up. Oh, and the illegal Brimstone trade. No one was going to call him out on that, though, seeing as if that went, the undead would be looking to humans to round out their needs. “The last thing on my list this week is making a scrying mirror, and then I’m all yours.”
“It needs a circle, right?” he said around another yawn, and I nodded.
“Yep.” It was a demon curse, and he knew it. Didn’t care. Understood I needed it to do my job. Reason number eight hundred and sixty-five that I love you.
“I’ll let you go, then,” he said reluctantly. “See you at four. Al’s line.”
“Al’s line,” I said softly, loving him even more. He’d said Al’s line, not the Eden Park overlook, though they were one and the same. “You bet. Bye.”