by Kim Harrison
There was another doorman inside the elevator in case we didn’t know how to push a button, and as I nervously stood in the dead center of the small lift, the hairs on the back of my neck pricked. I slowly turned to see the couple who had gotten in with us, the woman’s lips pressed tight and the man staring straight ahead with a strained look on his face. I turned back around, and Ivy snickered.
“You’re a fun date,” she whispered as she leaned sideways. “People look at you.”
Whatever. Embarrassed, I stared at the elevator man while he hid a grin. Finally the doors opened. The older woman, who looked good in her own right, gave her husband a smack on the shoulder with her beaded handbag as they got out. He took it like a man, but I noticed he was already ogling the serving ladies in their modestly short skirts.
The murmur of conversations and the scent of high-calorie appetizers hit me first, and my shoulders eased in the warmth. Hidden around the curve of the restaurant, a live band played slow jazz. The tables were gone but for a ring around the windows. Elegantly dressed people mingled, holding little plates of food or champagne flutes, the occasional feminine laugh mixing with the clinking of expensive china to invoke a feeling of high class. Servers moved sedately or darted about, depending on what they were doing. And behind it all as a backdrop was Cincinnati herself.
Forgetting myself, I stood for a moment and took in the view. It had been pretty during the day, but now, with the black of the sky and the lights…it was riveting. The Hollows was glittering, showing the contours of the land as it rose up and away. A ribbon of illumination on the expressway ran as an informal border. The river was a black shadow, and I could see where it had cut into the hills over the millennium.
A woman’s laugh and the flash of Jenks darting from my bag drew my eyes away. Immediately the conversation seemed to grow loud. Jenks flew two circles around me to stretch his wings, then landed on Ivy’s shoulder. She was staring at the city, mesmerized. “It looks peaceful from up here,” she said when her line of sight was broken by a member of the waitstaff.
Jenks snorted. “It looks peaceful when you get up real close, too,” he said, and I thought of my garden. “It’s only the middle ground that’s ugly.”
A woman with a tray was slowly passing, and I met her eyes. She smiled at Jenks and handed me a little plate. “We’ve got twenty minutes,” I said, nervous, as I put a few bites of food on it. “Jenks, you want to scope out the bathrooms?”
“You got it, Rache,” he said, and he was gone.
By the looks Ivy and I were getting, it was growing obvious that this was almost an office party. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and they were all dressed alike, too. Elegant, but a little out of date—classy geek, maybe? No wonder Ivy and I were getting eyed.
Slowly we made our way onto the revolving floor. Balloons were netted to the ceiling for midnight, and the lights were low to keep the view fabulous. I didn’t see anyone I recognized, but it had been a long time since I’d been in school, and I’d taken only one class at the university. I’d flunked it, but that was because the teacher had faked her own death before finals.
Ivy snagged two light amber glasses as we moved. She handed one to me without looking, and as soon as we found the band, I stopped beside a potted plant at the window. There was a small dance floor, and I turned when the woman started singing “What’s New?” Crap, it was the same band that had been playing at Trent’s wedding-rehearsal dinner—minus most of the players. There were only five this time. But it was her. The woman’s voice bobbled as she caught sight of me, and I looked away. Being recognized shouldn’t cause fear.
“Nice music,” Ivy said, seeing my flush. Taking a deep breath she added, “Edden’s here.”
My back to the band, I stared at her. “Edden? You can smell him?”
She smiled. “He’s standing behind you.”
Startled, I spun, almost spilling my drink. “Edden!” I cried as I set my glass down and took in his tux. There was a thickening at his chest that told me he was wearing a sidearm in a holster, but he looked great with his hair slicked back and his almost squat figure standing shoulder to shoulder with mine. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Working,” he said, clearly glad to see me. “I see Glenn got through to you. Thanks for coming in. You look nice.” Attention going to Ivy, he added, “Both of you.”
Ivy smiled, but I was flustered. “That’s not why I’m here,” I said. “I told Glenn no. I’m here doing some personal spelling. I didn’t know this was the party you were talking about, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be working it. Mia isn’t going to show. Ivy, tell him Mia won’t be here.”
Ivy adjusted her little clutch purse, hanging on a thin strap. “She won’t be here.”
Oh yeah. That was a big help.
Captain Edden rocked back in his dress shoes to look mildly irritated. He had a plate with a stuffed puff on it, and showing a thinning spot in his short hair, he took a bite. “Personal spelling. What is that? Witch speak for washing your hair?”
“I am spelling,” I said. “Jenks is here somewhere, Ivy’s chaperoning, I guess, and my date will be along about midnight. I’ve got his clothes in my bag.”
Edden’s gaze dropped to my oversize shoulder bag that didn’t match my shoes, my dress, or my hair. “I bet you do,” he said dryly, clearly still upset I’d turned him down, then showed up at the same party he wanted me to come to with him. “Well,” he said as he wiped his fingers on his napkin and set his plate aside, “if you aren’t here for Mia, then I’m going to guess your personal spelling involves Trent.” I shook my head, and he sighed. “Rachel, don’t make me arrest you tonight.”
“Trent has nothing to do with this,” I said as I watched Ivy mentally map out the floor, “and Mia isn’t going to be here. Your profilers are way off. She’s not worried about you bringing her in. She’s fighting her own personal war with Ms. Walker, and, Edden, you need to back off and let things cool down. You hire me for my opinion, well, there it is. Don’t you have one of those amulets I gave you? It’s blank, isn’t it?”
Edden frowned, telling me it was. His eyes scanned everywhere with the skill and patience of the military officer he’d once been. “After the incident at Aston’s, three independent profilers put Mia here or at another highly visible party,” he said, as if not having heard me. “We’ll catch her, with or without your help. Enjoy your evening, Ms. Morgan. Jenks. Ivy.”
His last words, though dry, held a hint of anxiety, and my instincts kicked in. “How’s Glenn?” I asked, and Edden’s jaw clenched. Ivy saw it, too, and when Jenks flew up, we all faced him square on, not letting him leave. “My God. You didn’t put Glenn back on duty, did you?” I looked over the edge of the windows to the party below and the FIB cruisers. “Is he down there? At Fountain Square? With his compromised aura? Edden, are you crazy? I told you I’m not ready to face a banshee, and Glenn sure as hell isn’t.”
Ivy set her plate down, and Edden’s squat form shifted uncomfortably. “He’s fine. He’s got one of those amulets and he knows what she looks like. The minute she shows, he calls. Lower your voice.”
My pulse quickened, and I put my face right by Edden’s. “He is not fine,” I almost hissed. “And I’m not so sure those amulets are all working.”
Feeling the tension rise, Ivy gave us a professional smile. “Rachel, it’s getting stuffy in here,” she said pleasantly. “I’m going to go downstairs and get some air. Jenks, you got this okay?”
“Tink’s panties, yes,” he said as he landed on my shoulder protectively.
My breath slipped out in relief. She’d watch him. Good. I didn’t think Mia would show, but she sure as hell wouldn’t be up here. Jenks and I could handle Al. Pierce, if he wasn’t hurt, could help, too.
“My son is fine,” Edden said, his brow furrowed and his posture hunched.
“I like watching fine men,” Ivy said, and checking that her phone was on, she slid it away in her clutch purse and
started for the elevator. “You’re the one who wanted us to work the party. I’ll be downstairs. Call me if you need me.”
Edden took that with a bad grace, muttering, “You do the same. I have a warrant for both of them now.”
She nodded, and sashayed off. Not three steps away, and two guys approached her. Don’t do it, I mentally warned them, but she laughed like the happy woman she’d never be, and the two men thought they had it made. They were going to be made all right. Made into happy little burgers if they weren’t careful.
“I want to talk to Ivy before she goes,” Jenks said, spilling heavy dust as he hovered beside me. “Be nice to Trent, okay? You’re going to need his help someday.”
“Trent?” I asked, stiffening at the faint scent of wine and cinnamon. Jenks inclined his head to someone behind me before darting off to join Ivy in the elevator, and Edden and I turned. My jaw clenched, and I forced my teeth apart. It was Trent, and oh my God, he looked good.
“Hi, Trent,” I said wryly as I tried not to show my appreciation, as hard as that was, seeing him in a slim tux that showed off his height and frame. The fabric looked silky and free moving, making me want to run my hand down his shoulder just to feel it. A sharp, professional-looking tie with a pattern that said he wasn’t uptight gave the impression of a clever, witty man, but it was his bearing that made it all work. He had a nearly full wineglass in hand, and he was clearly comfortably in control with no doubts about who he was and what he wanted—and how to get it.
Feeling his eyes on me, I stood a little straighter and remembered how good we had looked together the night Kisten had blown up the casino boat we’d been on. Kisten hadn’t known we were on it, but thanks to Ivy’s warning, Trent and I had survived. We’d been the only two to do so. My brow furrowed as I considered that. We had gotten out of the ever-after together, as well. We were survivors.
Trent saw my frown, and the cocky boyish front that he used to beguile grew stilted. He touched his baby-fine hair to make sure it was lying flat, and I knew he was nervous. “Ms. Morgan,” he said, saluting me with his glass so I wouldn’t shake his hand.
That just ticked me off. And I wasn’t happy he’d been keeping Ceri away from me like I was the plague. Even if I was.
“We’ve shared a cell in the ever-after,” I said. “I think we ought to be on a first-name basis, don’t you?”
A single pale eyebrow rose. “They’re dressing the help nicely this year,” he said, and Edden disguised a laugh as a cough. It was all I could do to not give the FIB captain a backhanded swat.
The distinctive click and whine of a shutter snapping pulled my head around and I froze. It was the Cincinnati Enquirer, the photographer looking odd dressed in a full-length sequined gown with two cameras draped over her. “Councilman Kalamack,” she said enthusiastically. “Can I get a picture of you, the lady, and Captain Edden together?”
Edden shifted closer, hiding a smile as he muttered for me alone, “She ain’t no lady. She’s my witch.”
“Stop that,” I whispered. Then I stiffened as Trent sidled closer, slipping his hand about my waist so that his fingers would show for the camera. It was possessive, and I didn’t like it.
“Smile, Ms. Morgan,” the woman said brightly. “You might make the front page!”
Swell. Trent’s touch was light compared to Edden’s heavy pressure on my shoulder. I sucked in my gut and turned a little sideways to put my back to Trent to balance out his hand on my waist. He smelled like the outdoors. The shutter clicked several times, and I stiffened when I spotted Quen, Trent’s bodyguard, watching. Jenks zipped over us to talk to Quen, and the woman snapped another picture when his dust glittered upon us. My tension eased; Jenks was back.
“Wonderful,” the photographer said as she looked at the back of the camera. “Thank you. Enjoy the party.”
“Always a pleasure to talk to the press,” Trent said as he started drifting away.
The woman looked up. “Captain Edden, if I could get a picture of you and the dean of the university? I promise I’ll leave you alone after that.”
Edden gave me a severe look that told me to behave myself, then smiled benevolently as he talked to the woman about the FIB’s annual fund-raiser while she led him away.
Trent was gazing at nothing in the hope that either I would go away or someone would come rescue him, but the photographer had given everyone the idea that we were here together and they were leaving us alone. I wanted to talk to him about a Pandora charm to possibly return my memory, but I couldn’t come right out and ask. Cocking my hip, I tapped my heel once, then turned to him.
“How is Ceri?”
He hesitated, and still not looking at me, he said, “Fine.”
His voice was beautiful, and I nodded as if waiting for more. When he remained silent, I added, “My calls are being stopped at the switchboard.”
He didn’t even twitch. “I’ll look into it.” His eyes were mocking when they met mine, and then he started to walk away.
“Trent,” I said as I jumped to keep up with him.
“Don’t touch me, Morgan,” he said without moving his lips, waving pleasantly at someone across the room.
Jenks made a noise of affronted surprise, and angry, I got in front of Trent. The man rocked to a halt, clearly bothered. “Trent,” I said as my heart pounded. “This is stupid.”
Again his eyebrows rose high. “You are a demon. If I could, I’d have you jailed on that alone. Shunning is hardly justice.”
My expression became stiff, but I wasn’t surprised he knew I’d been shunned. “Take me down and you go with me, eh?” I said as Jenks landed on my shoulder in support.
Trent smiled mirthlessly. “That’s about it.”
“I’m not a demon,” I protested softly, aware of the people around us.
The man sniffed, as if smelling something rank. “You’re close enough for me.”
He started to push by me again, and I muttered, “It was your dad’s fault.”
At that, he jerked to a stop. “Ooooh,” Jenks mocked, sparkles sifting down my front as his wings made a draft, “don’t you talk about my daddy!”
“He saved your life,” Trent said, clearly affronted. “It was a mistake that cost him his own. My father didn’t make you. You were born what you are, and if you need any more proof, just look at who you settled into an apprenticeship with.”
I felt that keenly, but I swallowed my anger. I’d been trying to talk to him for months to clear the air, but he wouldn’t take my calls, wouldn’t let me talk to Ceri. This might be my last chance to explain myself.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” I said, leaning close since my words were barely above a whisper, and Jenks took off. “I did what I did to save your life. Laying claim to you was the only way to get you out of there, and to do that, I had to agree to a very tight tie to Al.”
“Tight tie?” he mocked under his breath. “You’re his student.”
“I did it to save your damned freaking life!” My knees were shaking, and I locked them. “I don’t expect any thanks from you, as you’re so irritatingly unable to thank anyone when they do something you’re afraid to do, but stop taking your guilt or shame out on me.”
I was done, and kissing good-bye my chance at getting a Pandora’s charm or him to understand, I turned my back on him and stomped to the window. The restaurant had shifted, and I was looking right down at the square. Damn it, why wouldn’t he at least listen?
The familiar wing hum of Jenks brought my head up, and I wiped an eye an instant before he landed on my shoulder again. “You have a way with him, don’t you,” the pixy said.
I sniffed, wiping my eyes. “Look at that,” I muttered. “The bastard made me cry.”
Jenks’s wings made a cool spot on my neck. “Want me to pixy him?”
“No. But now I don’t have the chance of a ghost’s fart in a windstorm to get that Pandora charm.” That’s not really what was bothering me, though. It was Trent. Why did I
even care what he thought?
The soft scuff of a shoe on flat carpet and Jenks’s soft oath brought me around, shocked to see Trent. He had a glass in his hand, and he extended it. “Here’s your water,” he said loudly, his jaw clenched.
I looked him up and down, wondering what the devil was going on. Behind him, Quen was doing his security thing, arms crossed and expression severe. It was obvious that Quen had made him come over. Sighing, I took the glass, turning to look out the window in the attempt to divorce myself from everything. I needed to find a quiet place, out of the way. “Jenks, could you see if the bathroom is clear?”
The pixy’s wings buzzed a warning, but he lifted from my shoulder. “Sure, Rache.”
In an instant he was gone, leaving in his path delighted coos of sound from some of the older ladies. “I don’t have anything to say to you right now,” I said softly to Trent.
Trent shifted to stand shoulder to shoulder with me. Together we looked over the edge to the mass of people down below. I should have just taken my chances in the parking garage as I had originally planned. This was starting to have all the signs of one of my famous backfires.
“I don’t have anything to say to you either,” Trent said, but tension was showing. I could play this game. I’d already lost, so it didn’t matter.
“You need a Pandora charm?” the man said casually, and I jerked. Cripes, he heard me?
Pretending indifference, I breathed on the glass to fog it up. “Yes.”
Trent put a shoulder against the glass and faced me. “That’s a rare branch of magic.”
Why does he have to be so insufferably smug? “I know. Elven, my mother says.”
He was silent while the band took a break. “Tell me what you need to remember, and maybe I’ll look into it.”
I’d been down this path with him before and had gotten burned every time. I didn’t want to owe him anything, but what harm would it do if he knew? Sighing, I faced him, thinking that leaning against the window like that looked really dangerous. “I’m trying to remember who killed Kisten Felps.”
Trent’s jaw unclenched. It was a small move, but I caught it. “I thought you’d want to remember something from the make-a-wish camp, or your father,” he said.
