by Kim Harrison
“Does Tink wear little red panties?”
I smiled at Jenks’s enthusiasm, and I wasn’t surprised when a streaming flood of pixy kids flowed past the living room and into the kitchen at Jenks’s wing whistle. Punching in Trent’s number, I listened to it ring as I ate a bite of chili. “Oh God, this is good!” I shouted around my full mouth, then swallowed when someone picked up the other line.
“Hello, Rachel,” Trent’s voice eased out, sounding both professional and annoyed.
I could hear the sound of babies in the background, and a high-pitched, angry wailing. They were still awake? It was almost midnight. Elves napped around midnight and noon.
“Trent?” I said, surprised. “Since when do you answer your own phone?”
“Since we got a new switchboard,” he said tiredly, and I think he almost dropped the phone. “It recognizes your number and shunts you to whatever phone I cleared you for.”
“Really?” I sat up straighter, surprised again. Trent irritated me like no other person on either side of the ley lines, but I trusted him—most days. Seeing him casual like this meant a lot to me. It was so rare he showed anyone anything other than a professional veneer. Two baby girls in his house were doing him worlds of good.
There was an expectant pause, and Trent said in a bored, formal voice, “You ready to take the bracelet off?”
“And have Al take off my head three seconds later? No.” Though truthfully, I was more worried about Al forcing me to stay in the ever-after than anything physical he might do to me. In the background, someone started to cry. “Did I get you at a bad time? I’m sorry, but this is important. Ah, is this a secure line?”
Immediately I felt his entire mood shift, even through the phone line.
“Ceri,” I heard him say over the receiver. “Could you . . . thank you. It’s Rachel. She’s fine, amazingly enough. At least I think she is.”
I brought my knees to my chin, enjoying the little bit of his home life coming over the line. It seemed weird that Trent was a dad. Clearly he was taking his duties seriously, but after seeing the love in his eyes for his daughter, I wasn’t surprised.
“You are okay?” Trent asked, repeating off the phone that I was when I said yes.
There was another moment of rustling and baby complaints, and then it grew quiet. “So what’s not making the news?” Trent asked. “My usual sources are not saying anything.”
Interesting, I thought as I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder. “We found another body hidden at the Underground Railroad Museum,” I said. “She was even worse than the one at the park. Lasted an hour maybe.” The chili wasn’t sitting well, and I set the bowl on the table at my feet, my knees bent. “She looked halfway to what I think the demons might have originally looked like,” I added, and Trent made a small noise. “Glenn tells me that all the victims were carriers for the Rosewood syndrome.”
Trent made another deep-thought sound. “They have some rare computers down there.”
“Not anymore, they don’t. The curator almost had kittens. Trent, the victim’s hair at the park pinged on the body at the museum with a scattershot detection charm. They had it hidden under a demon curse I could see through because I’m disconnected from the lines.”
The phone at my ear beeped, and I jerked my attention from the band of silver around my wrist, glinting in the firelight. “Ah, I’ve got another call coming in.”
“Don’t switch over,” Trent said, his voice rushed. “You’ll compromise the security. Your amulet pinged on a body unrelated to the one you took the sample from?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling uneasy. “That’s what worries me. I think they layered the woman’s modified genetic structure over the man to change him down to his genetic level, enough so that a charm designed to detect minute amounts of a person found her. She was a mess,” I said, unable to keep the distress from my voice. “If the genetic mutilations didn’t kill her, she might have died from Rosewood. She lasted only a few hours by the look of it, but the men so far have lasted nearly a week. I think HAPA is trying to make demon blood.”
There. I’d said it again, and it still made me queasy. “I thought you ought to know.”
“This isn’t good,” he finally said, having followed my thoughts to the ugly conclusion faster than Wayde had, and I laughed mirthlessly.
“You think?”
“Two of my more sensitive machines went missing last week.” Trent’s words were clipped and short. “Apparently they’re more portable than I thought.”
“What did they take?” He didn’t say anything, and I stared at the wall, waiting. “What did they take, Trent?”
“Two machines my father programmed for a branch of genetic research that has been outlawed. This is the second time I’ve been broken into in less than a year. Damn.”
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard him swear. In the background, Ceri called faintly for Trent. “She’s okay,” Trent said, his voice muffled. “I’ll tell you in a moment.” When he came back to me, concern was heavy in his voice. “Rachel, maybe you should sit this one out,” he said, and I flopped my head back against the top of the chair. “Let the I.S. and FIB handle it.”
“Not you too,” I almost moaned. “I thought you of all people would understand why I have to stop these guys!”
“If they’re trying to duplicate demon blood, where is the sense in putting yourself within their reach? Let me put Quen on it. Actually, I’m going to do that anyway, so . . . wait, will you?”
I exhaled, tired, then jumped when my cell phone began humming from my back pocket. “Good. If anyone can help, it’s Quen,” I said as I twisted, trying to reach my cell. “But I can’t sit here when Nina has promised to make me the scapegoat. We both know the FIB is in over their heads. I have to be there. Me, Ivy, and Jenks.”
“You’d be more effective without that band of silver around your wrist,” he said, and my lips pressed. I hated it when he was right.
“I’m the only person this side of the ley lines who knows anything about demon magic,” I said as I put my feet on the floor and used two fingers to wiggle out my cell phone. My eyes went to the screen and my shoulders tightened. “Crap on toast. Trent? Glenn is on my cell.”
“Rachel, we need to talk.”
I couldn’t wait anymore, and I flipped my cell phone up. “Glenn?” I said before it went to voice mail. “Hey, can you hold on a sec? I’m on the phone with Trent.”
Glenn made a choking cough. “Mr. Kalamack? Rachel, leave the man alone. He’s not responsible for HAPA’s activities.”
“I know!” I said, trying to talk to both men at the same time. “Can you hold on a sec?”
From my other ear, Trent cleared his throat. “As entertaining as this is, Ceri and I would like you to come to tea tomorrow,” he said dryly. “I’d like to talk further with you about the safeguards I’ve developed to make taking that charmed silver off your wrist safer.”
I took a breath to say no, then exhaled, rubbing my forehead. “You think we can overpower Al? Find a way to keep him from taking me to the ever-after? Trent, I can’t live there. I can’t!”
“And I know Ceri would love to see you. The girls as well,” he continued as if I hadn’t said anything, but I’d rescued him from the hell of the ever-after, and he of all people would understand my fear.
“Rachel!” Glenn shouted into my other ear. “This is important.”
“Tomorrow, say three?” Trent asked. “They’ll be fresh from their naps.”
It was more likely that he’d have the charms he wanted to contain Al prepped by then. I stifled a shudder. Maybe together we could keep Al off us long enough to explain, but caging him would only piss the demon off even more. “Tomorrow at three. I’d like to talk to you about a block for memory charms, too. And, Trent? I’m sorry about the park.”
He grumbled softly. “Don’t worry about it. Watch yourself in the meantime. Everyone knows who you are.”
I couldn’t help my smile. I might almost think he cared. “See you then,” I said, and I clicked off the phone.
“Glenn?” I said, setting the landline phone down and shifting the cell phone to my ear. “Why didn’t you call Ivy on her cell?”
“You are unbelievable,” the man said, his irritation obvious. “Get your good boots on. I don’t want to see you in garden shoes and grubby jeans anymore. Now Nina thinks we don’t pay you enough. The amulets you gave me pinged. We’ve found their current base.”
I sat up, adrenaline flowing. “Ivy! Jenks!” I shouted, then turned back to Glenn. “Where are you?”
“Five minutes from the church,” he said, and I heard a background of radio chatter. “We have them triangulated at an abandoned industrial park. FIB and I.S. We’re waiting for you.”
They were waiting for me. I almost friggin’ cried.
Jenks darted in. “We’re on?” he asked, a bright silver dust slipping from him.
I eyed him, worried. He was flying well, and his winter clothes from last year were over his arm. “We’re on. You’ll need those. And anything else Belle has come up with for the cold.”
“Tink’s little pink dildo!” the pixy shouted, and he darted out, as excited as I was.
“We’ll be ready,” I said into the phone. “Thanks, Glenn.”
“Don’t thank me until it’s over,” he muttered. “You’re staying in the car.”
I snapped my phone shut and sank back into the cushions. Car? I doubt it. My eyes touched upon my band of charmed silver, and a flash of worry went through me. “That’s why I’ve got the sleepy-time charms,” I whispered as I stood. I was going to kick some serious ass, and I didn’t need demon magic to do it.
Twelve
I stood from my crouch beside the warm, ticking car and handed Ivy the night binoculars. The brisk wind tugged at a strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail, and I tucked it behind an ear as I looked at the industrial building across the parking lot. The lights of Cincy were distant, and no moon lit the spaces in between. Deserted for forty years, the industrial area had been left to rot when the world fell apart. Trains still ran through here, but they didn’t stop anymore.
I felt akin to the empty tracks and vacant buildings, abandoned when things went wrong while others thrived. Frowning, I fingered the band of silver around my wrist, thinking. Simply cutting it off would send a burst of ley-line force through me large enough to fry my brain. It was, after all, a piece of the elves’ and demons’ historic war, designed to make demons almost useless. Being able to cut it off wouldn’t be very effective. It had to be disenchanted first. That meant Trent.
His offer to help me pacify Al long enough to explain had me more than nervous. I wasn’t so sure that anything we could do or say would keep me on this side of the ley lines once Al knew I was alive. The ever-after was a hellhole, and despite my earlier thoughts that demons were more moral than HAPA, they were only when they felt like it. It was like trying to play cards with five-year-olds who kept changing the rules and lying. If you didn’t have the clout to make them hold to their rules, they wouldn’t.
I’m going to talk to Trent about the options. That’s all, I thought, and stomach tight, I blew on my cold hands and shoved the thought away to worry about later. It was above forty-three degrees, so Jenks would be okay, but it was going to get colder the longer this took. Glenn had driven us here, taking the last road with his lights off and the car barely moving, his excitement pushing Ivy’s buttons to the breaking point. Wayde had thought it was amusing, but I didn’t see anything funny about it.
That had been about fifteen minutes ago, and I was getting antsy myself as I watched car after car show up and the slow deployment of people and equipment. Wayde was fidgeting by the I.S. van specially designed to hold magic-using criminals. He shouldn’t even be out here, but they were cutting him lots of slack. Jenks was somewhere on the other side of the building. I didn’t like him being gone this long, especially when it was so cold.
I grimaced, my low boots grinding into the grit. The parking lot was laced with cracks that allowed grass as tall as my thigh to grow, and the entire area reminded me of the tomato cannery that Ivy and I had once stormed when I’d been interning at the I.S. with her. A Were had died that night—one we’d been trying to save. I hoped it wasn’t a premonition. The other Were, though, we’d saved. It bothered me that I couldn’t remember her name.
I half turned when Glenn broke from the FIB officer he was talking to, his motions sharp as he stomped our way, dress shoes kicking up tiny pebbles and his suit jacket open. Ivy stood, exhaling as she handed me the binoculars. “Please tell me that’s not the tomato cannery,” I said.
“It’s not,” she said as Glenn stopped between us. His mood was tense, and I could smell his aftershave on the cool night air. There were two yellow FIB vests in his hand, and I eyed them suspiciously. They were probably ACG, but I still didn’t want to wear one.
“You’ve been here before?” he asked as he handed one to me, and sure enough, my fingers felt the somewhat slimy feel of material coated with an anticharm spray. Maybe if I put it on they wouldn’t give me any crap about being part of the team storming HAPA’s hold.
Shaking my head no, I put the vest on over my thin leather coat. I wasn’t wearing leather as a matter of style—though it did look good—but as a matter of my not wanting to leave skin grafts on the pavement. Chances were good I’d go down at least once before the sun rose. “No,” I said flatly, not wanting to explain. “Is everyone finally ready to move?”
His motions holding an excited quickness, Glenn looked at his wrist, the dial softly glowing a faint blue. “No,” he said, and Wayde rubbed his beard and edged closer, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up about his ears. “Someone from the FIB wants to observe. We wait until she gets here.”
Ivy rolled her eyes, black in the dim light. “Are they questioning your methods?”
“I’ve no idea,” Glenn said, his low voice going lower. “They’ve never done this before.”
A soft “mmm” came from Ivy, and she touched his shoulder. “You’ve never worked this closely with the I.S. before.”
Wayde’s posture said he wanted to argue with me again, and I turned my back on him, relieved when I spotted Nina striding in from the distant parking area at the head of about six people. “Excuse me,” I said softly, then started her way. I could tell even from this distance and in the dark that it was Nina the DMV clerk, not Nina the dead vamp, and I wanted to talk to her.
Behind me, I heard Ivy say, “I’m not wearing that,” and Wayde’s nervous laugh.
Finding a smile somewhere, I pasted it on my face, extending my hand as I approached. The young woman took it, looking a little more unsure than that afternoon in the DMV office. A jumpy wariness had taken the place of her eager, confident excitement, and she looked somewhat wan, even in the dark, her attractive features tight and drawn. Nina the DMV clerk wasn’t looking healthy anymore, even if she was better dressed and had a bevy of people looking to her.
“How are you doing?” I asked, and her eyes jerked to mine, probably catching the wisp of pity that had arisen from nowhere.
Her hand pulled from mine, and the positive smile returned—barely hiding a flash of fear. “I’m fine, of course,” she said, her entourage coming to a halt behind her. “Why would I be otherwise?”
I shrugged, rocking back to get a glimpse of Ivy and Glenn. “I’ve seen how hard it is to have a god inside you,” I said, and her eyes flashed a frightened black. Her hands trembled, and my old vampire scar tingled as she suppressed a rising hunger, a hunger he had instilled in her, one she didn’t have the practice to contain on her own.
Crap, Ivy hadn’t been kidding, and I stifled a surge of fear. This woman
wasn’t safe anymore. “I’m surprised he’s not here himself. It being dark and all,” I added, trying to say something to take her mind off her needs while she tried to get a grip on them.
Nina breathed slow and deep, standing stiffly as she regained control. She looked scared. She should be. “He doesn’t come out of the basement much, actually,” she said as she pulled her shoulders back to find a stronger posture. “He was—”
I looked up when her words cut off. Nina shivered, and like magic, I watched the I.S. boss slip in behind her eyes, shake the reins, so to speak, and take control.
“ . . . waiting for you to arrive,” she said, her voice now low and soothing as she eyed my leather with a much darker thought behind her appraisal. She blinked in appreciation, and I felt myself flush.
“Hi,” I said dryly, and she shook her head.
“I already said hello,” she said as she waved her people off and took my elbow to direct me back to Glenn, Wayde, and Ivy. “Are you not listening?”
“Don’t touch me,” I said as I pulled out of her grip. “Or aren’t you listening to me? I don’t like what you’re doing to Nina. You need to spend some time helping her gain control of the crap you’ve been turning on in her brain before she hurts someone.”
“Nina is fine,” she said, smiling even more beautifully as she tugged the lace hem of Nina’s shirt out where it belonged to make a more feminine statement in the otherwise business-looking attire. “I’ve not been at an actual tag for decades,” she said as she watched Ivy and Glenn, still arguing over the FIB vest, then turned her attention to the dark building. “You’ve no idea how odd it feels to be able to use magic openly like this. You will participate?”
In the tag? I patted my hip, and then my back where my splat guns were. “Don’t see why not.” And by God, they were going to let me, I thought, glancing at Wayde.
The soft popping of gravel under tires became obvious. Ivy, too, looked up, shoving the vest back at Glenn, her posture becoming somewhat hesitant as she took Nina in, evaluating her, perhaps.