The Witch With No Name

by Kim Harrison

  Quen pulled himself upright, the tissue wadded up in his fist. “Take me with you.”

  “Take you?” I said, becoming alarmed. “Where are you going?”

  Al made a face at me, then looked at Quen. “Why should I?”

  “Because you lost them,” Quen barked, and my heart leapt. Al was going to retrieve the girls? Why? Why did he care?

  “You’re going to get them?” I tried to stand, but by the time I managed it, Al and Quen were gone.

  I spun, reaching for Trent when my balance left me. “You think?” I said.

  “I don’t know.” Trent steadied me. “He did lose them.”

  My pulse hammered. “And they expect us to just sit here and wait?”

  “Well, he did say fifteen minutes.”

  “I can’t sit here for fifteen minutes not knowing. I have to—” I wavered on my feet, breathless. Trent’s hand on mine gripped harder, and a hand cupped under my elbow.

  “You’re as cold as ice. You need a bath.”

  “Trent . . . ,” I protested as he helped me up the last stair and aimed me to his bedroom. His tub was bigger than the one in the guest bedroom. “I can’t take a bath. The girls . . .”

  But he just kept pushing me. “A demon, Quen, and Jon have gone to get them. I’m more worried about Ellasbeth and Landon. You need to learn the art of delegation.”

  I snorted, scuffing slowly across the carpet. Actually, a bath sounded great, and I winced when I thought of everything that had happened between now and my last shower. “Hey, I’m sorry about Lucy and Ray. I never thought he’d leave them like that.”

  Trent pushed the door open with his foot. The room was dark, the vid screen on one wall showing a live feed of the orchard, dim with sunset. “He was in a hard place,” he said softly.

  “Hard place!”

  “He knew you were in trouble, and he loves you, Rachel.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks, pulling out of Trent’s grip and putting a hand on the wall beside the bathroom door. “He does not!”

  Trent’s smile was easy and gentle as he reached a hand past me to flick on the light. “He does,” he said as he slipped an arm behind my back and breezily ushered me in. “Not romantically, or even that of a father for a daughter, but he does. I think he sees something in you that he lost a long time ago and still mourns. He knew what would happen if he left the girls, and he went to rescue you instead.”

  Rescue me instead? I thought, feeling colder yet.

  “That we were late in getting back was just an excuse to hide his fear for you. I would’ve done the same. The girls aren’t in any real danger, even if Ellasbeth has them. Not like you.”

  Trent turned on the water, jiggling the taps until he was satisfied. “You think . . . ,” I murmured, and he straightened, shaking the water from his hand.

  “I know.”

  My expression must have shown my panic because he took my shoulders. “Don’t read too much into it. It could have been coincidence.”

  “Right.” I couldn’t meet his eyes as a sharp hail came from the living room and Ray’s crying suddenly pulled at my heart.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, almost jogging out of the bathroom.

  “Be right back,” I muttered as I turned the taps off. Glancing in the mirror, I shifted a strand of hair out of my eyes and sighed at my reflection before I pulled my shoulders up and tried to walk as if I didn’t hurt everywhere.

  It was a frightening thing to have the love of someone so determined, resolute, and unafraid of committing a great wrong for his personal right. The love of two men so determined, actually. I hoped I survived it.

  Chapter 22

  Bare feet scuffing the carpet, I halted just outside Trent’s room. Trent was in the kitchen, taking Ray from Quen. The little girl was crying softly, clearly distressed. Al stood stoically beside the small breakfast nook, looking awkward in that suit from the forties. Quen was beside him, his weight on one foot and nursing a new bruise. Jon was with them, and a knot eased even if the tall, sour-looking man was red faced and furious.

  But it was on Al that my attention lingered. I wondered at the shift of clothes and if what Trent had said about his making decisions based on a deeper feeling—his loss of something he now saw in me. Had he come to save me knowing he could get Lucy and Ray at his leisure?

  And then it hit me. Lucy wasn’t here.

  I crossed the sunken living room, stomach light and uneasy. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Jon tensed, his long face becoming ugly in hatred. “He left her!” he snarled, and I reached for Ceri’s high-backed chair, my skin prickling from a heavy draw from the line bisecting Trent’s grounds.

  Trent backpedaled toward the stairs, his hand protectively over Ray’s head. Quen moved forward, first blocking Jon’s outthrust, glowing hand, and then grabbing his wrist, wrenching Jon to kneel with his arm pulled behind him, almost snapping his elbow. Al stood there, suspiciously quiet, his belligerent expression hiding what I thought was guilt.

  “He left her there!” Jon exclaimed, his short graying hair hiding his face, turned toward the floor. Ray’s voice rose up in distress, higher than I’d ever heard it. “He left her there with that monster of a woman!” Pain making his eyes stand out, he looked up past his bangs to Al. “Demon or no, I will kill you for that.”

  My eyebrows rose as I remembered the savagery with which Jon had attacked Ellasbeth’s people when they’d threatened the girls. Perhaps I was lucky to have gotten only pencils poked into me when I’d been a mink in a cage.

  Trent’s lips were a thin angry line. Ray was miserable in his arms as she clung to him. He wasn’t saying anything, so I stomped over to Al, keeping clear of Quen and Jon from a faint sense of prudence. “Hey! You lost both of them. Why did you only bring one back?”

  Al’s gaze came back from Ray, his eyes flicking from me to Trent. “I have to go. My compensation, please.”

  My jaw dropped. “For babysitting?” I said, glancing back to Quen wrestling Jon back into submission. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Trent tried to be calm as he jiggled Ray, but his red ears gave him away. “I want to know if it’s because you’re angry with Rachel, or if you’re actually trying to work within the law. Al?”

  I jerked upright, spinning to them. “Law?” I blurted out, remembering that ridiculous claim Ellasbeth was filing. “You mean that lousy scrap of paper? Al! Are you nuts? That is full of crap and you know it!”

  Al’s shoulders stiffened as if taking on a burden. “She had a legal right,” he said softly, and Jon grunted in pain, almost on the floor under Quen’s nerve hold. “A legal paper and a scary woman from social services. Even a babysitter has to honor that. I have to leave. I’m late.”

  I reached out, jerking my hand back when he spun at my faint pull on his sleeve. “Not yet,” I said, backing up. “You still have three minutes before you have to be at work. What do you do, Al? Are you Mickey D’s newest fry cook?”

  Okay, that may have been a little bitter, but how could he honor a stupid scrap of paper that was bull to begin with?

  Trent patted Ray, the little girl finally having stopped crying. “If I’m not mistaken, he works for . . . the I.S.?” Trent guessed.

  “The FIB, actually,” Al said, and I sank down into a chair at the breakfast nook. “I chose the FIB over the I.S. because the I.S. currently functions on decisions from old white vampires who have lost touch with the ever-changing social structure and are slowly losing power. Progress and all.”

  Thunderstruck, I blinked. “You work for the FIB?”

  Al tugged his suit coat straight. “I accepted a request to investigate the damage to your church initially, but I like it and I needed a job on the rental agreement other than former emperor of China.” Trent was chuckling, but I failed to see anything funny.

  “I get to push people around, poke my nose where I want, and no one stops me. At least not more than once,” Al finished with a familiar evil smile.

&nb
sp; Tired, I rubbed my forehead. “Did they give you a bright shiny badge?”

  Al flushed, but I figured they had when he touched a breast pocket. That explained the weird questions he’d asked me earlier. Maybe he’d tell me how my case was going if I asked.

  “I think that’s commendable,” Trent said, and Al’s face twitched. “Quen, I left my wallet at Cormel’s.”

  My God, he was going to pay the demon.

  With a final pinch to tell Jon to behave himself, Quen let go of Jon. The taller man rocked into a sitting position, rubbing his shoulder as he slowly got up. Quen reached for his wallet, reminding me that my shoulder bag with my phone, keys, and splat gun were still at Cormel’s as well.

  “Commendable,” I grumped. “Like me trying to get the world to accept demons.”

  Trent took the cash that Quen handed him, easily jiggling Ray on his hip to have two hands free. “Who else will keep them in line?” he said as he handed most of it to Al. “You?”

  Elbow on the table, I shook my head. “Heck no. Al, you can have the job.”

  Trent faced the demon. “Thank you for the return of Ray,” he said calmly, but I could tell he was annoyed, not at Al, but himself.

  “I can’t believe you’re paying him for that,” I grumped.

  “Rachel . . . ,” Trent admonished, and I stood. Ray was reaching for me, and I went to get her. She looked miserable, far too aware of what was going on for her age.

  Al looked at the folded money in his grip, never opening it to count it. “This is the damnedest way to run an economy.”

  I rocked Ray, the little girl snuffling pitifully, her grip on me tight and endearing. “Better than blackening your soul.”

  Al’s expression became blank. “I fail to see the difference.”

  Trent gave Jon a sharp look to be quiet. “I know what you did. Thank you. I would have done the same. I’ll get Lucy back on my own.”

  The demon’s face twitched. “It was an accident,” he said flatly. “If you get the paperwork that returns Lucy to you, ah, just summon me.”

  Had he just acknowledged that he cared? And what was with the request to summon him? My anger faltered. Perhaps the situation was bothering him more than I realized. And besides, it was impossible to be angry when holding Ray.

  “It would be an honor to work with you again.” Trent held out his hand, and Al took it, leaning in over their clasped fingers and jerking Trent off balance and into him.

  “Don’t think this means anything,” Al said, then shoved Trent back. Al nodded to me, glanced at Ray, and vanished in an inward-falling haze of ever-after. A scuff behind me pulled my attention to Jon and Quen. I couldn’t tell what had happened, but both men were angry, Quen still favoring that one foot.

  “Huh,” Trent said introspectively as he flexed his hand. “How about that.” His gaze clearing, he smiled at Ray, still on my hip. “It’s okay, sweet pea. We’ll get your sister back.”

  I frowned as I realized the little girl had a silver flower in her grip that she hadn’t had before Al left. There was no way I was leaving Lucy where she was, court order or not. “I don’t have a problem breaking the law,” I muttered. “Quen, you want to ride shotgun?”

  Quen jolted into motion, and Trent raised his hand. “Stop,” Trent said, his voice tired. “Please stop.”

  I scowled and Trent reached for Ray. “Jon, will you put Ray to bed for us?”

  He was still waiting for me to hand him Ray, and the little girl gave me a big sloppy kiss, her tiny arms clinging around my neck with a feeling of trust I was loath to let go of. She smelled like lemon and sea grass, and her cheek was cool when I kissed it. I gave her to Jon, and the tall man made no move to take her to the nursery.

  Seeing our determination, Trent shifted his weight and rubbed his forehead. “No one is going after Lucy right now,” he said, and Quen dryly cleared his throat. “She isn’t in any immediate danger. As ugly as Ellasbeth is in her efforts to gain her, she isn’t going to harm Lucy. I’m more concerned about the immediate threat of the dewar.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “With Lucy, they can do whatever they want. We need to get her back.”

  Ray was reaching for Trent, and Jon passed her to him so she could give him a good-night kiss. I watched his face, seeing the pain flash over it even as he held the little girl. Hand against her back, he looked at us in turn. “After having their own curse bounced back at them, I don’t think they’ll ever get the support to destroy the demons, Lucy or no.”

  “Maybe,” I admitted grudgingly. But their fear would eventually turn to anger, and then action.

  “It’s late,” Trent said as he gave Ray to Quen, the little girl reaching to go to her other daddy. “I’m going to have a quick shower and catch up on my sleep. I want to be up an hour before sunrise tomorrow. Quen?”

  “Yes, Sa’han,” the dark elf said, his manner subdued as Ray gave him a little-girl kiss.

  I eyed him and Jon suspiciously. I wouldn’t have put it past them to sneak out of here on their own, direct request or not. “That’s it, then?” I said sourly.

  Trent smiled, but I could tell he was dead tired. “Delegation, Rachel. It’s how things get done.” He hesitated, frowning. “Or forgotten. Which reminds me. Quen, could you move the horses in? Cormel threatened them.”

  I could tell by Quen’s expression he was thinking the same thing I was. Busywork to keep him occupied until morning? “Credible?” he asked, craggy voice catching as he handed Ray back to Jon, putting her full circle.

  “He’s going after Tulpa to cut off my access to the lines while underground, but he’ll take out the entire herd to get him. Chances are Cormel is going to be busy with the returning souls, but I don’t want to risk it.”

  Quen was scowling, his midnight plans probably foiled. “Yes, Sa’han. I’ll forward all your calls to your secondary phone.” He turned to me, inclining his head with an unknown emotion darkening his mood. “Rachel,” he said flatly, and then he turned to the stairs, moving slowly to hide his limp.

  I wished I had a secondary phone. Trent was standing a little too close, and I looked up. “Your bath?” he prompted.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to take a nap,” I said as I glanced at the clock. “The only reason the dewar failed was because the sun was down and the lines were flowing contrary to shoving someone into the ever-after. Soon as it comes up, they’ll try again. And what about all the undead? We’ve got surface demons running around again. I can feel it!”

  Trent’s hand went behind my back. I would’ve protested as he escorted me forward except I liked his hand there. “They didn’t fail because of the flow of the lines. They failed because of you,” he said, almost whispering it.

  The nursery door shut with a soft and certain snick that Jon somehow made sound accusing. My steps into the lower living room slowed. Trent had asked Jon to put the little girl to bed to try to bring him down from his anger and rage. Suddenly I felt a lot more worried.

  “Ahh,” I hedged, not wanting to call it a night quite yet. “Can I use your phone to call my mom before she storms the I.S.?”

  Trent’s hand made tingles as it slipped from me. “Sure. Good idea.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be right in.”

  He gave me a faint smile, hesitating at the door to his rooms. “Take your time. I’ll be in the shower.”

  The couch pillows were on the floor, and I picked them up, replacing them before I sat down with the phone. The memory of being attacked washed over me, and I quashed the surge of anxiety. Trent had left the door open, unusual for the privacy-loving man. It was a clear indication that he was on edge and didn’t want anything closed between us. The shower went on as I punched in my mom’s cell number, and the faint soft sounds of running water were soothing.

  My eyes roved over Trent’s living room as I waited. It wasn’t that bad, especially compared to the ruination of my church, and as the call connected, I stood to fix one of the pictures. I took a breath as the l
ine clicked open, but my mom was faster.

  “Trent?” her voice came, worried and fast. “Where are you? Is Rachel with you?”

  I smiled, feeling good all of a sudden. “It’s me, Mom. We’re good. Al helped us.”

  “Your demon?” she blurted out, and my heart leapt as Jenks’s wings became obvious in the background.

  “Mom? Is that Jenks? Can I talk to him?” Thank all that was holy. Something was going right for once.

  “I thought the demons were pissed at you,” my mom was saying, but I hardly heard her. Ivy. I could hear Ivy! She was okay? She was with my mom!

  “Thank God you called,” my mom was saying. “Ivy’s made an unholy mess of my front sitting room. Sweet Jesus, that woman has a temper when planning things. I don’t know how Nina puts up with her, the sweet dear.”

  “Mom! Let me talk to Ivy,” I said, then lowered my voice before I woke Ray up. “Mom!”

  But she wasn’t listening, hand over the phone with a muffled, irritated “What? No,” and then an indignant “Hey!”

  “Rachel?” Ivy’s soft gray voice filtered through the phone, and I closed my eyes, holding the warm plastic to my ear and almost rocking in relief. Jenks was there, too, swearing at Tink, the sun, and her unmentionables.

  “I’m fine. I’m at Trent’s,” I said, choking up. “I thought Cormel had you. They called on your phone.”

  “I lost it at the square. David got us away. Why did you go to the tower? Rachel, you could have been killed.”

  Tears warmed my eyes, and I wiped them away before they could fall. She was okay. I wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of her languishing in a cell because of me. “I thought they had you . . . ,” I said, sounding weepy. “Jenks couldn’t find you. We thought—” My words choked off, and I just smiled. Her phone. All they had had was her phone. Jenks’s wing clatter sounded like static over the line as he hovered by the receiver, and all I could do was grip the phone and smile.

  “So you were going to rescue us? Of all the unplanned, thoughtless—” Ivy started, but I could hear the relief in her voice, and I picked up a vase of flowers, setting it upright.