by Kim Harrison
Now it is done, I thought I heard smugly in my mind.
“No,” I whispered as I rose from my crouch and shook off Trent’s grip. The bottle spinning at the center slowed and went still. My globe was gone. The spiral held no power. Bis lay beside it, wings outstretched, one hand touching the defunct glyph. As I watched, Bis shivered and was still.
God. No.
“Bis!” I ran to him, darting around the grasping agents. Shocked, I fell to my knees and picked up his bird-light body. He was gone. His soul was gone. He was breathing, but when I opened my second sight, there was no aura. He was gone!
My eyes went to the bottle glowing faintly at the center. Not Bis. Not Bis!
I turned to Weast, my chest hot with anger as he stepped forward to take the bottle.
“Where’s the baku?” someone said, and I stood with Bis in my arms, driving Weast back with my look alone. What has Bis done? Why?
“Isn’t it in Kalamack?” someone else asked.
Bis was taking his last breath, and I held him tight. “I’m here,” I said, though there was nothing left to hear me. “I’m with you, here at the end. You’re not alone,” I said, having done the same thing with my dad. And yet he took another breath, his skin lightening to a pearly white.
“I’m not the baku,” I heard Trent say coldly. “Seriously. Did you not see what happened?”
Weast pushed Trent’s head up to look him in the eye. “I can’t tell,” he said.
Trent shoved him off. “I’m not the baku!” he shouted. “It was in the bubble, and Bis . . .” His words faltered, and my eyes welled up. “Rachel. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s in the bottle,” I whispered, voice low so it wouldn’t break. “It’s in there with Bis.”
Weast started for the spiral. I lurched into motion, scooping up the bottle and holding it close, pressing it between me and Bis. “This is mine,” I warned him, pulling on the ley line until my hair began to float. “You want a war with me, Weast? This is the way to do it. This is mine!”
“Ah,” Weast said, eyes on the bottle, and fury cascaded through me.
“This is mine!” I shouted, and the agents putting out the last of the fire looked at us. “I’ve had it with all of you! If you’re not going to listen to me, fine. But stay the hell out of my city!” I faced Trent, my vision suddenly swimming. “I . . . I have to go.” Shaking, I started for the door. Trent’s arm slipped around my waist, and I blinked fast, the tears coming whether I wanted them or not.
“Sir?” someone asked, and I stiffened when someone in anticharm gear stepped to block me.
“Let her go,” Weast said. “Don’t forget Landon. Someone call the dewar.”
I didn’t care, but the man before me moved with a relieved sigh. Above me, high on the steeple, I could hear gargoyles crying in the rising smoke, their laments echoing like thunder between the hills cradling Cincinnati. It was Bis’s family: his father, his mother, his siblings, and a stoic girl gargoyle who had once hoped to share her life with him before he had bonded to me. Somehow they knew that the breaker of the worlds had saved his sword and left us. Left us all.
“Rachel?” Trent whispered, and I shook my head, leaning on him as we walked through the open door and down the steps. Though he still breathed, Bis was dead. He had done it to save me. I couldn’t live with that.
But I had to.
CHAPTER
35
“Er, can I get you something else?” Mark said from behind the counter. “We’re technically closed for Thanksgiving, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Closed. That was how I felt in a word. I took a shuddering breath, not trusting myself to say anything as I sat at the back table in Junior’s, numb. One of my hands was on the table, wrapped around a long-cold untouched coffee. My other was cradled about Bis on my lap. He was still breathing, but he had no aura, no warmth. And when his tail curled around my finger in an unconscious reaction, I choked, throat tight.
Trent stood, his empty cup in hand. “I could use a refill. Rachel, you want a warm-up?”
I said nothing, and after giving my shoulder a squeeze, he went to the counter. His soft voice against Mark’s was a bland background to the nothing my life had become.
I didn’t remember Trent calling the car after walking out of the church, much less getting into it. I barely remembered Trent helping me out of it at Junior’s. I did remember that it had taken two fifties to get Mark to unlock the door, but now I think he was regretting the decision.
I knew about regret. Little regret, like not remembering to send your mom a birthday card. And the whopping big regret, like trusting your boyfriend with your summoning name and ending up in Alcatraz. But this, I thought as I looked at Bis curled up on my lap. This was going to break me.
I blinked fast, trying not to cry. Somehow, Bis was still alive without his soul—comatose and chalk white but alive. Most people would have gone to a bar to lose their memories in a numbing wave of alcohol. Not me. No, I didn’t want to forget. Maybe if I remembered, I wouldn’t be stupid and try to fix everything. But I doubted it.
“You sure you don’t want something?” Trent said, and I looked up, not having realized he’d come back. He set two steaming cups on the table, and I finally let go of my cold one. “You haven’t eaten in . . . a while.”
Eat? I thought, chin quivering. My vision began to swim, and I held my breath.
“Oh, Rachel.” He sat beside me, scooting closer as I dropped my head. “We will find a way to separate them,” he soothed as he tugged me closer. His gaze was on the baby bottle sitting atop the table like a weird centerpiece. It contained nothing I could see—and yet it held everything.
I won’t start crying again. I won’t. My head began to hurt, and I exhaled in a slow, measured movement. “Why did he do it?” I said, voice low so it wouldn’t break. “He knew it would kill him.”
Trent gathered me to him, almost rocking me. “Because he loved you,” Trent whispered, and my throat closed. “And he’s not dead. We’ll find a way to get him free.”
Okay, he wasn’t dead, but this was almost worse. I tried to take a new breath, but it escaped me in a sob. I tried to pull away, but Trent wouldn’t let me, and I let go, crying in great, gasping, ugly sounds against his shoulder as he ran his fingers through my hair and made shushing noises.
“This is my fault,” I said around my sobs. “I called on the Goddess to break Weast’s amulet. And then I used elven magic to try to bottle the baku.” I looked up, seeing the shared pain in his eyes. “Why did he do it?”
“I know it hurts,” he whispered, pulling me closer, and I hid my face against him again.
Even as I melted into him, I wanted to lash out at Trent. How could he know? The only things he’d ever loved that needed him to survive were his girls, and they were fine.
But then I remembered his agony in Ku’Sox’s lab, the knowledge in his eyes that he had failed. He’d taken the entire elven species into his circle long before he’d known me. The orphanages, the camps, the illegal medicines that funded the research to bring his people back from extinction: they needed him to survive. They might fight him every inch, but they needed him. And there were failures every day, large and small.
Finally my sobs slowed and I took a slow, clean breath, then exhaled, trying to let go of my heartache. But under it was even more crushing regret. Feeling it, Trent pulled me tight, grounding me without saying a word.
“He was my responsibility,” I said, my voice broken as I used one of Mark’s scratchy napkins to dab up the tears that wouldn’t stop. “How do you do it?” I asked, and he sighed, his grip on me easing without letting go. He smelled like green under the layer of smoke and sawdust, and I blinked up at him. “You’ve made yourself responsible for all of them,” I said. “To keep them alive. You know you can’t. How do you live with it?”
Still
he said nothing, and I answered my own question. You do what you can, and what you can’t do, you learn to live with.
But this was Bis, and I couldn’t. My breath shook as I pulled away and wiped my eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered, and his grip on my hand tightened.
“Where else would I be?” he said, expression pinched.
I held my breath, struggling to start right back up again. But then Mark groaned softly as the door chimes jingled, and I sniffed, blinking fast when Ivy strode in, phone to her ear.
“I’ve found her. She’s at Junior’s,” Ivy said in her dust gray voice, and I wadded up the napkin, numb and spent.
Trent gave my hand a squeeze and stood as Ivy wove between the tables. The new day was bright behind her and worry was in her eyes as she tucked her phone into a back pocket. She was still in her working leathers, slim and sexy, looking as if she would rip someone’s throat out for me if I asked. It was good to have friends. Bad when being such shortened their life-spans.
“I’m going to get you something to eat,” Trent said to me, nodding at Ivy’s dark glare. “Ivy, you want anything?”
“Black coffee. Thanks,” she said as she sat down across from me, and Trent slipped away. His hand was already reaching for his phone as he settled in before the counter, where he could see me and the parking lot both.
My head drooped, and I said nothing. She knew. She had to know. The heartache in her eyes was too deep to not.
“You should have called me,” she said softly.
I looked up, feeling as if I’d been dragged behind horses. “What would you have done?”
Ivy licked her lips, a flash of fang showing as she watched Trent, his back to us as he quietly persuaded someone on his phone. “Taken you home instead of a coffeehouse?” she said. “I’m sorry. Rachel, I’m so sorry.” Her hand reached out to cover mine, and I choked. “The Order is trying to keep what happened quiet, but I was with Pike and Constance when the news came in. Landon is not saying anything, either. I think he’s hoping that if he claims ignorance, the dewar won’t uninstall him.”
My eyes dropped to Bis, his tail curled around my pinkie like a ring. “At least he’s alive,” I said, hardly breathing the words.
And Bis wasn’t, not really.
“I wish I had something to say to make it better,” Ivy said as her hand slipped away.
My hand fisted around one of Mark’s scratchy napkins, then relaxed. “There’s nothing to say. I asked for the Goddess’s help, and she gave it. It’s my fault.” How many times had I been warned that when you ask a deity for help, it might be answered in a way that pleased her, not you?
“Your fault?” Ivy made a scoffing sound. “Rachel, I’m the first to say you make a lot of mistakes, but Bis made his own decision. The Goddess had nothing to do with it.”
I said nothing. I knew better.
“How is he still alive without his soul?” she said when she looked around the edge of the table, and the pain rushed right back, taking my breath away in its shocking suddenness.
Mark was coming over with a cup of takeout for Ivy, sparing me from answering. Ivy reached for her coffee, frowning at me until I took a sip of that new skinny demon grande that Trent had given me. “Thanks, Mark,” I said, putting off the tears with the sweet cinnamon taste, and after hesitating a moment, Mark retreated.
“I don’t know,” I said when I thought I could talk again. “Maybe gargoyles are different. They were created by the demons. Maybe they can survive without a soul.” My gaze rose to the scratched baby bottle. “There has to be a way to get his soul out without letting the baku out, too.”
“What part of we’re closed don’t you get?” Mark muttered from behind the counter, and I followed his attention to the dawn-bright parking lot. A black car had pulled up, two severe-looking men scrambling out of it as they chased after Zack and the sparkle of pixy dust. The kid was decked out in a new suit, but he was still in his sneakers. His big feet were probably hard to fit on such short notice. His eyes were wide in worry and his hair in charming disarray. It reminded me of Trent, and I glanced at him on the phone beside the front door as the chimes jingled and they came in. Crap on toast. What was I going to tell Jenks? I’d sent him away because I was afraid I’d lose him, and I ended up losing his best friend instead.
“Rachel!” Jenks darted from Zack’s shoulder, coming to a dust-laden, wide-eyed, almost panicked stop at the table. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”
“I wanted to be alone,” I said as Trent closed his phone and came over with a bag of something from the cold shelves.
“That’s swell. That’s fine. We can be alone together,” Jenks said, words tumbling over themselves as he landed on the table beside the bottle. It was as tall as him, and I averted my eyes when he touched it, wings drooping. I was going to start crying again. I knew it.
“Rache, I’m sorry,” Jenks said softly, surprising me. “He made his own decision.”
I looked up, my throat tight as Trent slipped back onto the bench, his arm going behind my back to give me a quick tug into him. “I don’t want people to sacrifice themselves to save me,” I said, trying to be angry, but it wouldn’t come.
“Too damn bad, witch,” Jenks said. “You’d do it for us. Have done it. It sucks like steaming green troll turds on the Fourth of July, but deal with it.”
“Sing it, pixy,” Ivy said, assessing Zack as he came to a fidgety halt at the end of the table. He was clearly trying to figure out what to say, but at least his security had given us some space.
“He’s alive?” Zack finally said, and I nodded, hand curved possessively around Bis. “Maybe you can put his soul back,” he added.
I followed his gaze to the soul bottle. “It’s mixed up with the baku’s. I don’t know how.”
“But you’re a demon.” Zack sat down as far from Ivy as he could get. “Maybe Hodin can.”
It was nice hearing him suggest that without fear, but a flash of annoyance lifted though me. I wasn’t happy with Hodin. He’d left. He’d just left. Sure, he didn’t owe me anything, but who leaves like that?
The click of Mark locking the front door was loud, and he double-checked that the closed sign was lit. I appreciated him not kicking us out, and managed to give him a thin smile as he came up to the table, hands smoothing his apron. “Can I get you something, Sa’han?” he asked, and everyone’s eyes went to Zack. Zack, though, was oblivious.
“He’s talking to you,” Trent finally said, and Zack flashed red.
“Oh! Uh, do you have hot chocolate?”
Mark seemed to stifle a wince. “We’ve got cocoa,” he said. “That’s pretty close.”
Zack fiddled with cuff links in the shape of the dewar seal. “With marshmallows?”
Mark’s smile began to look pained. “How about whipped cream?”
“Stellar,” Zack said enthusiastically, and Mark’s shoulders slumped.
“Coffee okay for the two of you?” Mark asked loudly, and Zack’s security up front made happy noises and settled at a table in the sun.
Ivy’s eyes flicked from the soul bottle to me. “Have you been here all night?”
I nodded. It had been hours ago, and a flash of guilt went through me. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner or something?”
“Nina didn’t go shopping,” Jenks said, now sitting on the soul bottle as if in protection. “There’s nothing but a can of baked beans and some dried-up carrots in the upstairs kitchen. You don’t want to know what’s in the downstairs kitchen.”
“What’s in the downstairs kitchen?” Zack predictably asked.
“I said you don’t want to know,” Jenks said pointedly.
“Sorry,” I muttered. I was ruining everyone’s holiday. Even Mark’s. And a pang of heartache pulled my eyes down. My eyes closed, and my hand cradling Bis unde
r the table trembled. The hard way was going to break me someday. But not today.
Trent’s grip on me tightened as he leaned in, his hopeful smile doing nothing to hide his worry. “I’ve talked to my lawyers. Dan is fine, and both he and Wendy agreed to not file assault charges, seeing as we were trying to save Landon. Landon is pretending ignorance, but there’s been no talk of giving him the dewar back, and I think Zack is it.”
My gaze turned from an embarrassed Zack to Trent as I realized he’d been putting out fires while I cried into my coffee. “Thank you.” I was a shitty person. I had completely forgotten about the two people we’d assaulted in the dewar’s stairwell. But Trent didn’t.
“One hot cocoa,” Mark said as he set a whipped-cream-covered grande before Zack.
“Thanks.” Zack reached for it eagerly. “They haven’t let me have any sugar since putting me in this zookeeper suit.”
“Ah, sure.” Eyebrows high, Mark retreated to deliver the twin cups of coffee to the guys by the door comparing phone screens.
Ivy, too, had her head down over her phone, and I wondered why everyone was here horning in on my misery. “Mark,” Ivy called out, and the kid jerked as if she’d slapped him, almost spilling the two coffees. “When you get a moment, I need a venti salted caramel. No rush.”
“You got it,” he said with a sigh.
“Salted caramel?” Jenks’s wings hummed, dust spilling from his bent wing.
My misery deepened. “You called Glenn? Thanks.”
Ivy snapped her phone closed and tucked it in a back pocket. “There are fire trucks at the church. You don’t think the FIB has been looking for you? I told him you were fine, and he said he wants to see what fine looks like today.” A smile hinting at her relief threatened to show.
I stiffened with a sudden thought. Crap on toast. Al. I’d been sitting here for hours, and I’d forgotten to tell the demons that the baku was in a bottle. I reached for my pocket, hesitating when I remembered Al was under house arrest. I didn’t have Dali’s number. But Mark might. “Ah, Mark?” I said loudly, and he smiled at me from behind the counter.