by Ким Харрисон
"Faris was a frightened man who loved his daughter."
I put a hand on my hip and watched him fidget. It was very subtle: the tension in his jaw, the way he held his manicured fingers, the lack of any expression.
"So why don't you kill me?" I asked. "Before I do the same?" My heart pounded, and I felt as if I was at a cliff's edge.
Trent broke his persona of professional, well-dressed drug lord with a smile. "Because you won't go to the press," he said softly. "They will bring you down with me, and survival is more important than the truth to you."
My face warmed. "Shut up."
"It's not a failing, Ms. Morgan."
"Shut up!"
"And I knew eventually you'd work with me."
"I won't."
"You already are."
Stomach churning, I turned away. I gazed unseeing over the frozen river. A frown creased my brow. It was so silent I could hear the thumping of my heart—why was it that quiet?
I spun, hands gripping my elbows. Trent looked up from arranging the crease in his pants. His gaze was curious at the frightened look I knew I had. "What?" he said carefully.
Feeling unreal and disconnected, I took a step to the door. "Listen."
"I don't hear anything."
I reached out and wiggled the knob. "That's the problem," I said. "The boat is empty."
There was a heartbeat of silence. Trent rose, his suit making a pleasant hush. He looked more concerned than alarmed as he shook his sleeves down and came forward. Nudging me out of the way, he tried the handle.
"What, you think it's going to work for you when it won't work for me?" I said, grabbing his elbow and pulling him out from in front of the door. Balancing on one foot, I held my breath and kicked at the jamb, thankful that even luxury boats tried to keep everything as light as possible. My heel went right through the thin wood, my foot catching. The strips of my beautiful dress dangled and waved as I hopped ungainly backward to disentangle myself.
"Hey! Wait!" I exclaimed when Trent picked the splinters from the hole and reached through to unlock it from the outside. Ignoring me, he opened the door and darted into the hall.
"Damn it, Trent!" I hissed, snatching up my clutch purse and following him. Ankle hurting, I caught up with him at the foot of the stairs. Reaching out, I jerked him back, sending his shoulder into the wall of the narrow passage. "What are you doing?" I said, inches away from his angry eyes. "Is this how you treat Quen? You don't know what's out there, and if you die, I'm the one that's going to suffer, not you!"
He said nothing, his green eyes choleric and his jaw tight.
"Now get your scrawny ass behind mine, and keep it there," I said, giving him a shove.
Sullen and worried, I left him there. My hand wanted to reach for my splat gun, but as long as that purple disk was up and running, the potions in it wouldn't do anything but tick someone off as I got a nasty concoction of monkshood and spiderwort all over their nice dress clothes. A faint smile curved over my face. I didn't mind doing this the physical way.
What I could see of the room was empty. I listened, hearing nothing. Crouching to put my head at knee level, I peeked around the corner. I was down here for two reasons. First, if anyone was waiting to hit me, they'd have to adjust their swing, giving me time to get out of the way. Second, if I were hit, I wouldn't have so far to go to find the floor. But as I took in the elegant room, my stomach churned. The floor was littered with bodies.
"Oh my God," I said softly as I rose. "Trent, he killed them." Was that it? Was Lee going to frame us for murder?
Trent pushed past me, slipping my grasping reach easily. He crouched by the first body. "Knocked out," he said flatly, his beautiful voice turned to steel.
My horror turned to confusion. "Why?" I scanned the floor, guessing they had fallen where they stood.
Trent rose. His eyes went to the door. I agreed. "Let's get out of here," I said.
His steps behind me were quick as we hustled to the foyer to find it predictably locked. Through the frosted glass I could see cars in the parking lot, Trent's limo parked where we left it. "I got a bad feeling about this," I muttered, and Trent pushed me aside to look.
I stared at the thick wood, knowing I wouldn't be able to kick through that. Tense, I dug through my clutch purse. While Trent wasted his energy trying to break a window with a bar stool, I punched speed dial number one. "It's bulletproof glass," I said as the phone rang.
He lowered the stool and ran a hand over his wispy hair to make it perfect again. He wasn't even breathing hard. "How do you know?"
I shrugged, turning sideways for some privacy. "It's what I would have used." I returned to the gaming room as Ivy picked up. "Hey, Ivy," I said, refusing to lower my voice lest I give Mr. Elf the impression I hadn't planned this. "Saladan locked us in his gambling boat and ran away. Could you come on out and jimmy the door for me?"
Trent was peering out at the parking lot. "Jonathan is there. Call him."
Ivy was saying something, but Trent's voice was louder. I covered the receiver with a hand and said to Trent, "If he was still conscious, don't you think that he might be a little curious as to why Lee left and already have come to take a look?"
Trent's face went a little whiter.
"What?" I said as I focused back on Ivy. She was almost frantic.
"Get out!" she shouted. "Rachel, Kist had a bomb put on the boiler. I didn't know that's where you were going! Get out!"
My face went cold. "Um, I gotta go, Ivy. Talk to you later."
As Ivy yelled, I closed the cover to my phone and tucked it away. Turning to Trent, I smiled. "Kisten is blowing up Lee's boat as an object lesson. I think we need to leave."
My phone started ringing. I ignored it, and the call—Ivy?—was shunted into voice mail. Trent's confidence melted away to leave an attractive, well-dressed young man trying to show he wasn't afraid. "Lee wouldn't let anyone burn his boat," he said. "He doesn't work that way."
I clutched my arms about myself, scanning the room for something—anything—to help me. "He burned down your orphanage."
"That was to get my attention."
I looked at him, tired. "Would your friend let his boat burn and take you with it if Piscary was blamed for it? Heck of an easy way to take over the city."
Trent's jaw tightened. "The boiler room?" he asked.
I nodded. "How did you know?"
He headed for a small door behind the bar. "It's what I would have done."
"Swell." I followed him, my pulse quickening as I stepped around the unconscious people. "Where are we going?"
"I want to look at it."
I stopped dead in my tracks as Trent turned to go down a ladder backward. "You can dismantle a bomb?" It would be the only way to save everyone. There had to be a dozen people.
From the bottom of the ladder, Trent peered up at me, looking odd in his dress suit among the filth and clutter. "No. I just want to look at it."
"Are you nuts!" I exclaimed. "You want to look at it? We have to get out of here!"
Trent's upturned face was placid. "It might have a timer on it. Are you coming?"
"Sure," I said, stifling a laugh; I was pretty sure it would come out sounding hysterical.
Trent wove through the boat with a disturbing lack of urgency. I could smell hot metal and smoke. Trying not to snag my dress, I peered into the dimness. "There it is!" I shouted, pointing. My finger was shaking, and I dropped my hand to hide it.
Trent strode forward and I followed, hiding behind him when he crouched before a metal box with wires coming out of it. He reached to open it, and I panicked. "Hey!" I cried, grabbing his shoulder. "What the Turn are you doing? You don't know how to turn it off!"
He caught his balance without getting up, looking at me in annoyance, every hair on his head still perfect. "That's where the timer will be, Morgan."
I swallowed hard, peering over his shoulder as he carefully opened the lid. "How much time?" I whispered, my breath sending
his wispy hair drifting.
He stood, and I took a step back. "About three minutes."
"Oh, hell no." My mouth went dry, and my phone started ringing. I ignored it. Leaning, I looked closer at the bomb, starting to feel a little unsteady.
Trent pulled on a watch fob to bring out an antique-looking timepiece and set the modern timer on it. "We've got three minutes to find a way off."
"Three minutes! We can't find a way off the boat in three minutes. The glass is bulletproof, the doors are thicker than your head, and that big purple disk will soak up any spell we throw at it!"
Trent's eyes were cold on me. "Get ahold of yourself, Morgan. Hysterics won't help."
"Don't tell me what to do!" I exclaimed, my knees starting to shake. "I think best when I'm having hysterics. Just shut up and let me have them!" Arms wrapped around myself, I glanced at the bomb. It was hot down there, and I was sweating. Three minutes. What in hell could you do in three minutes? Sing a little song. Dance a little dance. Make a little love. Find a new romance. Oh God. I was making up poetry.
"Maybe he has an escape route in his office?" Trent suggested.
"And that's why he locked us in there?" I said. "Come on." I grabbed his sleeve and pulled. "We don't have enough time to find a way off." My thoughts went to the purple disk in the ceiling. I had influenced it once. Maybe I could bend it to my will. "Come on!" I repeated as his sleeve slipped through my fingers when he refused to move. "Unless you want to stay and watch numbers count down. I might be able to break the no-spell zone Lee has on his boat."
Trent rocked into motion. "I still say we can find a weak point in his security."
I headed up the ladder, not caring if Trent noticed I wasn't wearing undies or not. "Not enough time." Damn it, why didn't Kisten tell me what he was doing? I was surrounded by men who kept secrets from me. Nick, Trent, and now Kisten. Could I pick 'em or what? And Kist was killing people. I didn't want to like a guy who killed people. What was wrong with me?
Heart pounding as if marking the reducing seconds, we went back to the gaming room. It was silent and still. Waiting. My mouth twisted at the sight of the sleeping people. They were dead. I couldn't save them and Trent. I didn't even know how I was going to save myself.
The disk above me looked innocuous enough, but I knew it was still functioning when Trent glanced at it and paled. I guessed he was using his second sight. "You can't break that," he said. "But you don't need to. Can you make a protection circle big enough for both of us?"
My eyes widened. "You want to ride it out in a protection circle? You are crazy! The minute I hit it, down it goes!"
Trent looked angry. "How big, Morgan?"
"But I tripped the alarms last time just looking at it!"
"So what!" he exclaimed, his confidence cracking. It was nice to see him shaken, but under the circumstances, I couldn't enjoy it. "Trip the alarms! The disk doesn't stop you from tapping a line and making a spell. It only catches you when you do. Make the damned circle!"
"Oh!" I looked at him in understanding, my first wild hope dying. I couldn't tap a line to make a protection circle. Not sitting on water as I was. "Um, you make it," I said.
He seemed to start. "Me? It takes me a good five minutes with chalk and candles."
Frustrated, I groaned. "What kind of an elf are you!"
"What kind of a runner are you?" he shot back. "I don't think your boyfriend will mind if you tap a line through him to save your life. Do it, Morgan. We're running out of time!"
"I can't." I spun in a tight circle. Through the unbreakable glass, Cincinnati glowed.
"Screw your damned honor, Rachel. Break your word to him or we're dead!"
Miserable, I turned back to him. He thought I was honorable? "That's not it. I can't draw on a line through Nick anymore. The demon broke my link with him."
Trent went ashen. "But you gave me a shock in the car. That was too much for what a witch can hold in his or her chi."
"I'm my own familiar, okay!" I said. "I made a deal with a demon to be its familiar so it would testify against Piscary, and I had to learn how to store ley line energy for it. Oh, I've got tons of energy, but a circle requires you stay connected to a line. I can't do it."
"You're a demon's familiar?" His face looked horrified, frightened, scared of me.
"Not anymore!" I shouted, angry to have to admit it had even happened. "I bought my freedom. Okay? Get off my case! But I don't have a familiar, and I can't tap a line over water!"
From my bag came the faint sound of my phone ringing. Trent stared at me. "What did you give it for your freedom?"
"My silence." My pulse hammered. What difference did it make if Trent knew? We were both going to die.
Grimacing as if having decided something, Trent took off his coat. Shaking his sleeve down, he undid the cuff link and pushed his sleeve past his elbow. "You aren't a demon's familiar?" It was a soft, worried whisper.
"No!" I was shaking. As I watched in slack-eyed confusion, he grabbed my arm just below the elbow. "Hey!" I shouted, pulling away.
"Deal with it," he said grimly. Gripping my arm harder, he used his free hand to force me to take his wrist in the same grip acrobats use when working the trapeze. "Don't make me regret this," he muttered, and my eyes widened when a rush of line energy flowed into me.
"Holy crap!" I gasped, almost falling. It was wild magic, having the uncatchable flavor of the wind. He had joined his will to mine, tapping a line through his familiar and giving it to me as if we were one. The line coming through him and into me had taken on a tinge of his aura. It was clean and pure with the taste of the wind, like Ceri's.
Trent groaned, and my eyes shot to his. His face was drawn and sweat had broken out on him. My chi was full, and though the extra energy was looping back to the line, apparently the stuff I had spindled already in my head was burning through him.
"Oh God," I said, wishing there was a way I could shift the balance. "I'm sorry, Trent."
His breath came in a ragged gasp. "Make the circle," he panted.
Eyes jerking to his timepiece swinging from its fob, I said the invocation. We both staggered as the force running through us ebbed. I didn't relax at all as the bubble of ley line energy blossomed about us. I glanced at his watch. I couldn't see how much time was left.
Trent tossed his hair from his eyes, not letting go of my arm. Eyes looking haggard, he ran his gaze over the gold smeared bubble over us to the people beyond. His expression went empty. Swallowing hard, he shifted his grip tighter. Clearly it wasn't burning him any longer, but the pressure would steadily build to its previous levels. "It's really big," he said, looking at the shimmer. "You can hold an undrawn circle this big?"
"I can hold it," I said, avoiding his eyes. His skin pressing against mine was warm and there were tingles coming from it. I didn't like the intimacy. "And I wanted it large so we have some leeway when the shock hits us. As soon as you let go or I touch it—"
"It falls," Trent finished for me. "I know. You're babbling, Morgan."
"Shut up!" I exclaimed, nervous as a pixy in a room full of frogs. "You may be used to having bombs blow up around you, but this is my first time!"
"If you're lucky, it won't be the last," he said.
"Just shut up!" I snapped. I hoped my eyes weren't as scared looking as his. If we survived the blast, there was still the aftermath to get through. Falling chunks of boat and icy water. Great. "Um, how long?" I asked, hearing my voice shake. My phone was ringing again.
He glanced down. "Ten seconds. Maybe we should sit down before we fall."
"Sure," I said. "That's probably a good ide—"
I gasped as a boom shook the floor. I reached for Trent, desperate that our grip on each other not break. The floor pushed up at us, and we fell. He clutched at my shoulder, pulling me into him to keep me from rolling away. Pressed against him, I could smell silk and aftershave.
My stomach dropped, and a flash of fire burst around us. I screamed as my ears went num
b. In an unreal, soundless motion, the boat broke apart as we rose. The night became smears of black sky and red fire. The tingle of the circle breaking washed over me. Then we fell.
Trent's grip was torn away, and I cried out when fire raced over me. My explosion-numbed ears filled with water and I couldn't breathe. I wasn't burning, I was drowning. It was cold, not hot. Panicking, I fought against the heavy water pushing at me.
I couldn't move. I didn't know which way was up. The dark was full of bubbles and chunks of boat. A faint glow to my left caught my attention. I gathered myself and aimed for it, telling my brain it was the surface even though it seemed to be sideways, not up.
God, I hoped it was the surface.
I burst from the water, my ears still not working. The cold struck me, freezing. I gasped, the air like knives in my lungs. I took another thankful breath. I was so cold it hurt.
Pieces of boat were still falling, and I tread water, thankful that I wore a dress I could move in. The water tasted like oil, and the swallow I had taken in hung heavy in me.
"Trent!" I shouted, hearing it as if through a pillow. "Trent!"
"Here!"
I shook the wet hair from my eyes and turned. Relief went though me. It was dark, but through the floating ice and wood, I saw Trent. His hair was plastered against him, but he looked unhurt. Shivering, I kicked off the one heel that I still had on and started toward him. Bits of boat were making the odd splash. How could it still be falling? I wondered. There was enough flotsam between us to build two boats.
Trent started forward with a professional looking stroke. Apparently he had learned to swim. The glimmer of fire on the icy water brightened around us. Looking up, I gasped. Something big and burning had yet to come down.
"Trent!" I shouted, but he didn't hear me. "Trent, look out!" I screamed, pointing. But he wasn't listening. I dove, trying to escape.
I was flung as if smacked. The water around me turned red. I lost most of the air from my lungs when something hit me, bruising my back. The water saved me, though, and with my lungs aching and my eyes smarting, I followed my exhaled breath to the surface.
"Trent!" I called as I emerged from the icy water and into the burning cold of the night. I found him holding a cushion that was rapidly filling with water. His eyes met mine, unfocused. The light from the burning boat was dimming, and I swam for him. The dock was gone. I didn't know how we were going to get out of there.
