by Kim Harrison
Trent looked inquiringly at Quen, and the man muttered, “Several cases of tissue-growth media.”
Nodding, I leaned heavily on the counter as I retraced my steps, not knowing why. My leg hurt, and Jenks watched, his dust becoming a concerned blue. “Chris has no problem treating people as a means to an end,” I said, jaw clenched as the memory of Gerald forcing Winona’s clothes off swam up, unwanted. “Really likes her black magic. If she was a witch, curiosity would have her dead by now. If she doesn’t smarten up, I give her a month, but I think she’s just clever enough to survive. They used a curse to hide one of their victims, and I’d be willing to bet she owes someone a favor.”
Once again at the far end of the counter, I opened a drawer to see a plethora of plastic-wrapped instruments. I frowned, not knowing what they were for, then shut the drawer, looking up in exasperation at the large fluorescent lights. “Then there’s Jennifer,” I said, and Jenks laughed.
“Jennifer?” he scoffed, and I curled my fingers under so he wouldn’t see them shaking. “HAPA takes in Jennifers?”
“Don’t stereotype, Jenks. HAPA is an equal-opportunity hate group,” I said. “She’s the pretty face they use to catch their takes and procure their lab supplies. I think she’s a nurse when she’s not mutilating witches. She keeps the data books.” Frowning, I rubbed my fingers over the counter, wondering if I could feel a faint tingle of magic in my memory. “Jennifer doesn’t like the magic, but she’s not as military as Eloy.”
My pulse quickened, and I looked at the floor and an unusual pair of scuff marks—as if from a ladder. Again I looked at the light fixture. By the door, Quen shifted his weight, probably concerned that he’d missed something.
“Then there’s Gerald,” I said, shuffling to the counter against the wall to look at the scratches from a different angle. “Up until I tried to take his head off with a pipe, he didn’t seem to be a bad egg—for a hypocritical, bigoted card-carrying HAPA member with a squirrel rifle under his bed. He’s the muscle and security. Guns and cameras. Good old boy with a degree.”
My leg hurt, and I straightened. “Last is Eloy. He’s not there much, either working as a distant sentry or just making himself scarce. He’s old-school HAPA. Military background. Planner. Finds and stocks their next location. He doesn’t like magic. At all. I think he was the one who killed the vampires when they took me.” I dropped my head and rubbed my brow, thinking I might need a new pain amulet. Everything was hurting. “He’s in charge, but is letting Chris have enough latitude that she thinks she’s running it, and there is clearly some question in her mind. He has the purse strings, but the real question is where HAPA is getting their funds.”
“I agree,” Trent said slowly, and I noticed that he hadn’t moved from where he’d first come in. “What are the chances that HAPA has teamed up with another group whose aim is simply a return to old science?”
I quit rubbing my forehead. “I thought of that, too. Chris was adamant that she’s HAPA.”
Looking from Trent’s concerned expression, my wandering eyes landed on the ceiling again. Jenks cleared his throat, his hands on his hips as he waited for me to tell him what was going on in my head. “Jenks, tell me what you think of that light,” I finally said, and his wings hummed into invisibility as he rose. Quen was frowning, but something had been right under the light and in the traffic flow, and I was guessing it had been a ladder.
Sure enough, the pixy whistled. “It’s clean!” he exclaimed, still out of sight between the ceiling and the top of the fixture. “Really clean. Someone wiped it. No dust at all.”
Trent turned to Quen, and the man had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’ll find a ladder,” Quen said, looking awkward as he shifted past Trent to get to the door.
Jenks dropped from the ceiling, his dust a bright gold. “I’ll come with you,” he said, and after Trent’s initial cringe, he nodded his agreement. Not that Trent could stop Jenks from doing whatever the hell he wanted without downing him with sticky silk.
Quen almost slunk out the door, clearly upset that we’d found something he’d missed, but I wasn’t going to lie to save face for him. Jenks had put himself on the chagrined elf’s shoulder, and just as the door shut, I heard him say, “Hey, don’t sweat it. I didn’t think to look up there, either. She’s good like that.”
The heavy door shut behind them, and the silence took hold. Trent’s suit made a soft sound as he levered himself up onto a counter, looking at odds with the lab setting, more like the man I remembered from our cross-country trip, even if he was wearing dress shoes instead of stable boots.
Remembering the conversation in the elevator, I ran my hand across the top of the counter, leaning against it, the space of the room between us. My chair was across the hall, and I was too macho to ask him to get it for me. Propping my crutch up beside me, I covered my middle and met his eyes, refusing to let the silence get to me. We were alone again, and this time, I swore I wasn’t going to yell at him.
“Why did you come out to find me?” I asked, and he rubbed his nose, ducking his head to avoid my gaze as he slowly slid from the counter.
“I was afraid you might try taking your charmed silver off without breaking the spell first,” he said, his gaze going to it. “And kill yourself in the process.” His eyes met mine. “I rescued you. Mmm. I’ve never done that before.”
“You didn’t rescue me,” I said. “Winona and I got out on our own! She even stomped on the bad guy!”
“You got shot,” he said, his voice suddenly bland as he looked at the ceiling. “You had no phone, no magic, no car. Your only mode of transportation was a scared woman who looked like a demon.” His attention fell on me, and I felt stupid. “Still mad at me, I see . . .”
Damn it, I was doing it again. Frustrated, I forced myself to exhale slowly. “You’re right,” I said, swallowing hard. “You rescued me. Us. Thank you.” My eyes narrowed. “You’re not my Sa’han, though.”
He blinked, arms falling from his middle as he stood upright. “Ah, you heard that?” he said, face crimson.
I’d never seen Trent blush, and I hesitated in my anger. “Oh yeah.”
He winced. “See, there’s more than one meaning to that honorific. It’s not always a term of respect from a subordinate to a superior.”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. You’re not my Mal Sa’han, either.” I’d heard him try to call Ceri that, and she wouldn’t let him. I had a feeling it had a romantic overtone.
“God, no,” he said, his flush making me even more sure of it. “I only meant that your safety was my responsibility.” I cocked my head, and he added, “My responsibility not like a jailer or a parent, but as an equal. It was your idea.”
Mine? My confusion must have shown, because he said, “The curse that emancipated me? ‘I will come to your aid in a time of war’? Your idea, not mine, but an agreement is an agreement.”
My head flopped to the other side of my shoulders as I eyed him from a different perspective, but he still looked like the same irritating man, his ankles crossed and his stance confident. “So you were out there perched in that tree looking for me because of some stupid Latin phrase?”
“Why do I even try?” he whispered to the ceiling. “Rachel. Listen to me for once. I helped get you into this situation with the demons, and I am standing beside you to get you out. Whatever it takes.”
I thought of Ceri and the girls, what the loss of Trent would mean to them. My pulse thundered. I wanted to believe him, I wanted to be someone who wasn’t afraid. His eyes were on my bracelet, and I hid it under my other hand. “Trent. I’ve got nothing to keep me on this side of the lines. He knows my summoning name, so even holy ground won’t work this time. I don’t care what you’ve done, what charms or spells you’ve made, but there is nothing on God’s green earth that is going to stop that demon from taking me.”
“So you made a hole in the ever-
after,” he said, and I threw my hand in the air—he still didn’t get it. “You’ll find a way to fix it. Al is broke, but only if you’re dead, which you aren’t. He’s going to be angry you hid out from him for five months, but that was your choice—deal with it. You saved the elven species, but you also have the cure for the demons’ infertility. What more do you need?”
“No, I don’t,” I said quickly. “I am not going to be a demon broodmare.”
He touched his chin in thought. “Perhaps I should have said I have the cure for their infertility. If I can fix you, I can fix them. All they have to do is trust me.”
Like that will ever happen. But my clenched jaw eased. “You’d do that? I thought you were at war with them.”
Trent’s toe scuffed the floor. “No one can remember why the war started,” he said. “Maybe it’s time to end it. It’s what my father wanted. Yours too.”
I looked at my bracelet, my heart hammering. The memory of being helpless rose up, not of simply being in a cage and watching Winona being tortured and knowing I might have been able to stop it if I hadn’t been afraid. No, it was the feeling of helplessness I’d known all my life, of being too weak, betrayed by my own body. And then the helplessness because of a lack of skill until I learned what I could do. The helplessness brought on by my own people when they shunned me, then being afraid of what I was and of what I had done. I wasn’t going to be afraid anymore. I could fix Winona. I owed her her life back.
Swallowing, I turned to Trent, but my next words died as the door opened and Quen came in, Jenks riding the ladder he was toting. My face was hot, and I knew I had a panicked look on it. Trent had something they wanted. Something they wanted so badly I might be able to bargain with Al for my continued freedom. Trent could help me, I thought. And this time I believed it. If we could hold Al off long enough for him to listen.
The clatter of the ladder being set up was harsh, and both Jenks and Quen looked up when neither Trent nor I said anything. “In the meantime,” Trent said to fill the breach, “Winona is welcome to stay. We don’t have a nanny, and the girls seem to like her.”
Jenks’s wings buzzed, and even Quen accepted that at face value, but I dropped my head, trying to lower my pulse before Jenks sensed it racing. I had to talk to Trent. I didn’t want to be afraid anymore. I didn’t want Winona living her life as a monster. I didn’t want anyone killing for me when I could use my magic and avoid bloodshed altogether. And if someone had to die, then . . . Oh God, I didn’t know if I could do that.
But I wasn’t going to be afraid anymore, and it was the scariest thing I’d ever decided. With a single-minded purpose, I hobbled forward, my hand reaching for the ladder in support.
“What the Tink-blasted hell do you think you’re doing?” Jenks said, and I started, shocked. How did he know?
“You’re not getting on the ladder,” Quen said dryly. “I can tell if the light has been disturbed.”
Oh! I took my hand off the ladder, flustered. Still leaning against the counter, Trent watched me pull back as if stung. Our eyes met over the length of the room, and when he saw my frightened, lost expression, his entire demeanor shifted. His lips parted and he pushed from the counter. Eyebrows high, he smiled faintly, a new excitement making his motions sharp. He knew. I was an open book to him. It had begun, my terrifying, I’m-not-afraid world.
“Um, I have to go,” I said, and Jenks’s wings clattered in sudden mistrust.
“What did you say to her, Trent?” the pixy demanded as Trent came forward and took my elbow, helping me to the door. “Where are you going? We just got the ladder. Don’t you want to know if this is how they got in?”
Oh shit. I was going to take the bracelet off. My heart pounded, and I felt dizzy.
Trent’s grip on my elbow tightened and he slipped his mutilated hand around my waist. “Now?” Trent murmured. The scent of wine and cinnamon filled me, and I closed my eyes, trying to stand upright, but it only made me dizzier. “Let me know what you find,” he said loudly, his voice calm under a lifetime of business dealings, but I don’t think he was fooling Quen. “Rachel has been on her feet too long. I can get her to her chair okay. Ceri will skin me alive if she passes out. I’m going to take her upstairs. Quen, a full report of what you find, on my desk ASAP.”
“I’m fine,” I said breathily, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t meet Jenks’s eyes as I shuffled out, but he was more excited about helping Quen with the light than anything else. I didn’t want him around when Al showed up. At least it was daylight. I’d have a few hours to make a new scrying mirror and try to explain before it all hit the fan.
Unless he jumps me to the ever-after, that is.
“Us,” Trent said as the door shut behind us and I looked up in the cool emptiness of the hall. “Unless he jumps us to the ever-after. Get it right, Rachel. I said I would help.”
“H-how . . .” I stammered, but he just smiled, his grip on my elbow never changing as he helped me to my chair.
Nineteen
My leg hurt, and I sat in my rolling chair, as I had done for much of the first part of my life, numb as someone else moved me around. Saying nothing, Trent smoothly pushed me through the downstairs labs until we were rising up to the first floors through a different elevator than we’d come down in. The humming, chill silence of the basement labs was replaced by the warmth of neutral carpet and soft conversation as he wove me through the front offices, skillfully evading or redirecting comments or requests from curious employees.
Almost without notice, the noise muted, then vanished. The warmth of the sun spilled in over my feet, and still I sat, doing nothing as the chair halted. I felt Trent slip around from behind me as he took a tray from someone coming in, then his beautiful voice rising and falling reassuringly as he ushered whoever it was out and shut the door with a soft and certain thump.
Then there was silence. Slowly the wonderful scent of coffee slipped into me.
My breath went in and out, and I looked up to see that we were in Trent’s office. The fake sun was coming in the huge video screen showing this year’s foals standing to take in the last of the warming rays, but it felt warm on my feet and looked real enough to me. Trent was sitting behind his desk, his feet up on his daily planner, his fingers steepled as he watched me, a curious tilt to his head, his fair hair almost in his eyes. Between us on a wooden tray was a pot of what had to be coffee and two empty cups with the Kalamack logo ghosted in silver.
“Are you okay? You kind of spaced out.” He put his feet on the floor and leaned over the desk, an excitement I’d never seen before sparking in his eyes, making them almost . . . mischievous? “I’ve never said that before. Spaced out. But that’s exactly what you did.”
Still feeling numb, I looked at the carafe of coffee, then my silver bracelet, the Möbius strip with Latin etched into it wrapped around me, shining in the sun. “Did I?”
My voice trailed off as he got to his feet and came around to the front of the desk, his motions still having a quick edge. “You started to go into shock. I thought my office would be better than a roomful of helpful Ceri.” He hesitated. “Unless you want her in on this, too?”
Having her here would be like asking someone else to take my bullet. No. I was done with that, and I shook my head as he poured two cups and offered me the first. It wasn’t the shock of injury, but the realization that the bracelet was going to come off, that everything was going to change. I was going to be a demon for real, the power, the responsibility . . . If people were going to die from my decisions, it would no longer be because I was too afraid to act. But to kill someone . . . I didn’t know if I could do that. I desperately didn’t want to be that person.
The sound of the coffee chattering into the second cup was loud as I brought mine to my lips, my hands shaking. The mug was warm in my fingers, and the coffee slipped into me, both bitter and rich, shocking me awake. “Thank you,” I said
softly as he sat back on the edge of his desk with his own cup.
He inclined his head slightly, looking as fabulous as ever, more appealing than before because I had no idea what he was going to do, what he was capable of.
“Don’t do that,” I said, my gaze going everywhere but to him.
“Do what?” He sipped from his mug, one long leg draping to the floor, the other pulled up slightly.
“Sit on your desk and look sexy.”
Trent hesitated. Clearing his throat, he slipped from the desk, fidgeting as he looked at his chair, behind his desk. It was obvious he didn’t want to sit there, and looking somewhat sheepish, he used his foot to shift one of the leather chairs in front of his desk so that it faced me more fully. “I’ve never sat in one of my own chairs before,” he said as he eased back into it, slowly, as if testing it out. His eyes roved over his desk, taking it in from a new point of view. He might not have any idea what it meant to me—that he wasn’t behind his desk and in a position of power—but then again, he probably did.
More nervous yet, I held my coffee with two hands and sipped, afraid of what was coming.
“You’re ready?” Trent said, and I flicked a glance at him.
Crap, he looked even sexier now, more relaxed, more accessible—more off-limits. I swallowed my coffee and rested the cup against me, warming my middle. “Yes.” My voice didn’t even quaver, but I was a wreck inside. Al was going to take me. He was going to take me and stick me in a little box. And that was if I was lucky. This was a dumb idea.
“Mmm.” His foot was twitching, and he stilled it as he saw me notice. “I have a room set up. Lots of circles, protection. We should break the charm now before the sun goes down so we have a chance to prepare for him popping over.”
My breath came fast. If we waited, Ceri would get involved. “No.”
“No?” I felt his eyes land on me, his almost subliminal fidgeting stop as he probably weighed his chances of changing my mind. Sighing, he stretched for his phone. “Give me a moment, then. I’ll get some charms sent up that might contain him for a few moments—”