by Ким Харрисон
Her vivid green eyes met mine. "I thought you'd be angry," she said with desperate worry. "Rachel, it's the only way I can get rid of it."
My lips parted. "You don't want it?"
Ceri's expression blanked. She stared wonderingly at me for a moment. "What are we talking about?" she asked cautiously.
"Your baby!"
Her mouth dropped open and she flushed scarlet. "How did you find out…"
My pulse had quickened, and I felt unreal. "I talked to Trent this afternoon," I said, and when she just sat there, staring at me with her pale fingers encircling her teacup, I added, "Quen asked me to go into the ever-after for a sample of elven DNA that predates the curse, and I wanted to know what the rush was. He kind of blurted it out."
Panic filled her, showing as her hand flashed to set her cup down and grip my wrist, shocking me. "No," she exclaimed softly, eyes wide and breath fast. "Rachel, you can't. You can't go into the ever-after. Promise me right now that you won't. Ever."
Her fingers were hurting me, and I tried to pull away. "I'm not stupid, Ceri."
"Promise me!" she said loudly. "Right now! You will not go into the ever-after. Not for me. Not for Trent. Not for my child. Never!"
I wrenched my wrist away from her, taken aback at her extreme reaction. I had been in the ever-after before, and I wasn't about to go back. "I told him no. Ceri, I can't. Someone is summoning Al out of confinement, and I can't risk being off hallowed ground after sunset, much less go to the ever-after."
The pale woman caught her emotions, clearly embarrassed. Her eyes flicked to my reddened wrist, and I hid it under the table. I felt guilty about the stand I was taking to stay out of the ever-after, even if it was a smart decision. I wanted to help Ceri, and I felt like a coward. "I'm sorry," I said, then reached for the teapot, wanting a cup of something to hide behind. "I feel like a pile of chicken crap."
"Don't," Ceri said shortly, and my eyes met hers. "This isn't your war."
"It used to be," I said, my thoughts going to the widely accepted theory that the witches had abandoned the ever-after to the demons three thousand years before the elves gave up. Before that, there was no witch history except what the elves remembered for us, and very little elf history either.
Ceri intercepted my reach for the teapot, pouring it out for me and carefully handing me the cup and saucer with the grace of a millennium of practice. I accepted it and took a sip. It wasn't coffee, but I could still feel the caffeine rush, and I eased into the wicker and crossed my legs. I had time, and Ceri, nervous and flustered, clearly was in no state for me to leave yet.
"Ceri," I said, putting a tone of pride in my voice. "You're something else. If I found out that I was pregnant unexpectedly, I'd be falling apart. I can't believe Trent did this to you."
Ceri hesitated over her cup, then took a delicate sip. "He didn't."
I shook my head. "You can't take the blame for this. I know you're a grown woman and you make your own decisions, but Trent is devious and manipulative. He could charm a troll out of her bridge if he tried."
A faint rose color tinged her cheeks. "I mean, it's not Trenton's child."
I stared at her. If it isn't Trent's…
"It's Quen's," she said, her eyes on the swaths of fabric fluttering overhead.
"B-But…" I stammered. Oh, my God. Quen? Suddenly his awkward silences and stiff looks meant something completely different. "Trent never said anything! Neither did Quen. They just stood there and let me believe—"
"It's not their place to say anything," Ceri said primly, then set her teacup down with a sharp clink.
The breeze shifted the wispy strands of her hair that had slipped her braid as I realigned my thinking. That's why Quen had gone behind Trent's back to ask for my help. That's why he'd seemed guilty. "But I thought you liked Trent," I finally managed.
Ceri made a face. On me it would have looked ugly; on her, it looked comely. "I do," she said sourly. "He is kind with me, and gentle. He is clever with words and quick to follow my thoughts, and we enjoy each other's company. His bloodline is impeccable…" She hesitated, her eyes going to her fingers, now sitting still in her lap. A deep breath lifted through her and was gone. "And he won't touch me without fear."
My brow furrowed in anger.
"It's the demon smut," she said distantly, shame in her gaze darting about. "He thinks it's the bloody kiss of death. That I'm filthy and foul, and that it's catching."
I could not believe this. Trent was a murdering drug lord, and he thought Ceri was dirty?
"Well," she said sourly, as if she'd heard my thoughts, "technically he's right. I could slough it off on him, but I wouldn't." Her eyes came up to find mine, dark with unshed misery. "You believe me, don't you?"
I thought back to Trent's reaction to black magic, and my jaw clenched. "Yeah. Yes," I amended. "He won't touch you, huh?"
Ceri's expression went pleading. "Don't be angry with him. Bartholomew's balls, Rachel," she cajoled. "The man has a right to be scared. I'm mean, I'm nasty, overbearing, temper driven, and I'm covered in demon smut. The first time we met, I knocked Quen out with a black charm and then I threatened him."
"The man was trying to drug me with an illegal charm!" I said. "What were you supposed to do? Ask him to play nice?"
"Quen understands," she said, her eyes watching her still fingers. "I don't have to explain myself or my past to him." Her head came up. "I don't even know how it happened."
"Uh," I murmured, sensing a story coming that I really didn't want to hear.
"I agreed to meet with Trent. I wanted to apologize for threatening him," she said. "I wanted to hear how his genetic treatments are keeping our species alive when magic could not. The afternoon went surprisingly well, and his gardens are so lovely—silent, but lovely—so we had tea the following week, and I told him of my life with Al." A tear spilled over and ran a quick path to her jawline. "I wanted him to know so he'd understand that the demon smut wasn't a sign of one's morals but simply a mark of imbalance upon one's soul. I thought he was beginning to understand," she said softly. "We even laughed at a shared jest, but when I touched him, he jerked back, and though he apologized and turned red, I saw the entire afternoon was a sham. He was entertaining me because he felt he needed to, not because he wanted to."
I could see it clearly in my mind. Trent was slime.
"So I finished our tea, playing the part of a courtesan entertaining the son of a potential ally," she said, and I felt her hurt pride and the shame her words couldn't hide. "I thank God that I saw his true feelings before…my heart softened to him."
Ceri sniffed, and I handed her one of the cotton napkins she had arranged about the teapot. Though she said she didn't care for him, I saw that it had wounded her deeply. Probably too far for Trent to ever make amends to the self-admittedly overly prideful woman.
"Thank you," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "Quen drove me home that afternoon as usual. He had witnessed the entire miserable affair, and when I fled his car to find solace in my garden, he followed me, taking me into his arms and telling me I was beautiful and pure. Everything I wanted to be. Everything I know I'm not."
I wanted her to stop, but she had to tell someone. And I knew how she felt, wanting to be loved, accepted—only to be reviled for things she couldn't control. A hot tear spilled over and ran a quick path to my chin when Ceri's eyes rose to mine, red and swimming.
"I spend time with Trent now simply so that Quen may escort me there and back," she said softly. "I think Trent knows it, but I don't care. Quen is confident and secure in his mind. When I'm with him, I feel beautiful and unsullied. I didn't have the ability to say yes or no to a man's attentions for a thousand years," she said, her voice gaining in strength. "I was a thing to Al, something to teach to showcase his talents, and when Quen stirred my passions after a particularly trying engagement with Trent, I realized I wanted more than his gentle words."
My throat was tight when her gaze found mine. Kisten. I knew wha
t she meant, and he was gone. Utterly gone.
"I wanted to give myself to a man who would give himself in return," she said, pleading for understanding when I had already given it. "Not just sharing the ecstasy our bodies could bring each other, but sharing our thoughts as well. Quen is a good man," she said as if I would deny it. "He will instill my child with a proper frame of beliefs. I'd rather have as my husband a man of mixed birth who accepts me than a pure-blood who, deep in his soul, thinks I'm tainted."
My hand went out, finding hers. "Ceri—"
She pulled away, apparently thinking I was going to argue with her. Nothing could be further from the truth. "Quen is as noble as any man in my father's court," she said hotly.
"And more honorable than Trent," I said, cutting her argument short. "It's a good decision."
Relief cascaded over her, melting the tension and widening her eyes. She went to say something, then stopped. Steadying herself, she tried again, managing a high, squeaky "Would you like some more tea?"
My cup was full, and I smiled back. "Yes, thank you."
She topped it off, and I took a sip, hearing a new understanding in the cricket-filled silence between us. I knew what it was like to seek that feeling of being wanted—though I was going to play it smart with Marshal, I was the last person to say she should have been stronger. Stronger for what? What was she saving herself for? And I knew Quen would be honest with her. He probably needed an understanding soul as much as she did.
"I saw Quen today," I said, and her expression grew eager, telling me she loved him. "He looks good. Worried about you, I think." God, I felt like I was in high school, but who else did Ceri have to bubble and overflow with? The woman was in love and couldn't tell anyone.
"I'm fine," she said, flustered.
Smiling at seeing her in such a state, I settled back with my tea. I had some time yet before I had to go. Marshal could wait. "Have you given any thought to moving closer to him?" I said. "Trent offered to put you up in his…compound."
"I'm safe here," she said softly, eyes lowered, telling me she had considered it.
"I wasn't thinking about safer," I said, laughing. "I just don't want Quen coming over here all the time. Parking his big-ass limo at the curb. Driving in and out at all hours. Waking me up at sunrise when he beeps his horn for you to come out."
She blushed delicately. "I'm going to stay with Keasley."
My smile faded, and though I didn't want her to leave, I said, "You could both go."
"Jih and her new husband…," she protested, but I could see her desire to be closer to Quen.
"I bet Trent would let pixies in his garden if you asked," I said with a smirk, imagining the man covered in them. "Quen is trying to convince Trent how good pixies are at detecting intruders." Brand-new gargoyle in our eaves aside. "And Trent is trying to impress you, even if he's as ignorant as a duck." Her eyebrows were high in speculation, and I added, "He insists he's going into the ever-after to get that tissue sample."
"He can do more good in his lab," she said caustically.
"That's where he belongs," I agreed, taking a sip of tea. "Little mouse burger."
Ceri's eyebrows went up, and she lost her stiff, formal stance. "I'm safe here," she reaffirmed. "Nothing will harm me or Keasley. I have defenses that I can raise in an instant."
I didn't doubt it, but demons were able to pop in anywhere but holy ground. "There's Al to think about," I added. "He's gone rogue. Ivy told you, yes?"
She nodded, eyes on the distant vines, and I felt a frown come over me. "Someone has summoned him out of confinement and let him go three nights in a row," I said sourly. "David is checking the incoming claims to see if it's someone local out to get me, or if it's just Al giving some nameless idiot a wish per night to let him go." My lips pressed together and I thought of Nick. My gut said no, and I was going to believe that.
"He tried to kill me last night," I said. "While I was shopping with my mom."
"K-Kill you?"
My attention swung back at her faint stutter. "He says he's got nothing to lose, so he's not going to hold to his agreement to leave me or my kin alone." I hesitated. "Does that mean I can teach anyone how to spindle line energy?" Demon immunity for keeping our mouths shut had been the deal.
"He said he wasn't going to hurt you," she said, looking rightly frightened. "I mean, they aren't going to let him get away with breaking his word, are they? Did you call Minias?"
I let out a puff of air, not eager for the bill from the charm shop to hit my desk. "I didn't have to. He showed up and chased him off," I said, wondering whether, if I asked, if she would come over and sleep in the sanctuary until they found a way to contain Al. "Minias doesn't even care that Al's breaking his word. He's only upset that he's slipping their cell. They pulled Minias off babysitting Newt and put him on demon-catching detail." I looked up, seeing an almost panicked look on her face.
"It's not that Al's breaking his word that's got them in a tizzy," I said. "It's that he's escaping. Minias expects me to exchange names with Al so he can't be summoned out of confinement."
"Rachel, no!" she cried, shocking me as she reached across the table. "You can't!"
I blinked, surprised. "I wasn't planning on it, but if I can't find out who is summoning Al and letting him go, it might be the only way to get my nightlife back."
Ceri drew away, her hands clasped in her lap, sitting very straight.
"Why in the Turn's sake would I take Al's name when all I have to do is kick some demon-summoner's ass?" I muttered, and her narrow shoulders relaxed.
"Good," she said, seemingly embarrassed at her strong outburst. "You don't need to deal with them. I'll help you if you need it. Don't go to the demons even if you need to exchange names with Al. I'll find the curse for you."
Curse. Yeah, it would be a curse I needed to save my neck again. I was really going to have to put some effort into getting Al's get-out-of-jail-free card away from him. "I can't believe they put him in jail just for letting you live knowing how to spindle line energy," I mused, taking a sip of tea and startling myself when it wasn't coffee. "Stripped him of his accumulated potions. Everything. No wonder he wants me dead."
"If it got out, it would limit their pool of familiars," she mumbled, obviously wanting to drop the subject.
"Yeah, well, he's got someone cooking spells for him. He was his usual crushed-green-velvet self. I swear, if it's Nick, I'm going to kick his butt back off the Mackinac Bridge. That is, if Al hasn't chewed it off him by then. That demon is going to kill me if I'm not careful."
"No," Ceri rushed. "Al wouldn't. It's got to be a bluff. He said—"
Her words cut off and my focus sharpened on her suddenly distressed, almost panicked features. My runner training kicked in, and my heart pounded. "He said." Ceri had talked to him? To Al?
"You?" I stammered, scrambling to my feet. "You're summoning him?"
"No!" she protested, her face going whiter. "Rachel, no. I'm only making appearance charms for him. Please. Don't be angry."
Aghast, I tried to find words. "He's been loose every night for three days, and you never told me!"
"He said he wouldn't attack you!" she said, standing. "I thought you were safe. He can't attack you! He promised."
"He did attack me," I shouted, not caring if the neighbors heard me. "He's going to freaking kill me because he's got nothing to lose. And you're making him curses?"
"It's a good deal!" she shot back. "For every thirteen, he takes a day's worth of smut off of me. I've already lightened my soul by a year."
I stared at her. She was voluntarily making Al curses? "Well, merry freaking good for you," I snapped.
Her face flashed red in anger. "It's the only moral way I can get rid of the smut," she said, the loose strands of her hair starting to float. "He promised me he wouldn't go after you." Her eyes widened, and she put a hand to her upper chest, her mood shifting like a kite. "They want you to help capture him? Rachel. Don't say yes. No matter what
they offer. If Al has gone rogue, he will be as slippery and devious as a stingray. You can't trust him now!"
Like I ever have? "I can't trust him now?" I exclaimed. "What kind of game is this when the rules keep changing!"
Ceri appeared affronted as she looked me up and down. "Well, did he actually hurt you?"
"He picked me up by the neck and shook me!" I shouted. She was defending him. She was defending Al!
"If that was all he did, then whether he broke his word might be open to interpretation," she said sharply. "He is bluffing."
I do not believe this. I freaking do not believe this. "You're siding with him!"
"I am not!" she exclaimed, red spots showing on her cheeks. "I'm telling you how their law system works. If there is a loophole, they'll allow him to use it. And I only made him disguise charms. I would never do anything that might hurt you."
"You're working for Al, and you didn't tell me!"
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd get angry!"
"Well, you were right!" I yelled, heart pounding. "I got you free of him, and now you're right back at it again. Just another potential familiar who thinks they're smarter than a demon."
Ceri's red face went ashen. "Get out."
"With pleasure."
I don't even remember walking through the house. I do remember storming down to the walk because I jumped when the screen door slammed behind me. Keasley was sitting on the steps, three pixies on his hand. They flew up when the door banged, and he turned to look at me. "All set between you two…ladies?" he said, his eyes widening when I stomped past him and a frustrated scream from the backyard echoed over the neighborhood. There was a booming noise, and the pixies yelped at the sudden pressure shift. Ceri was throwing a tantrum.
"Congratulations, Jih," I said as I jerked to a halt at the bottom of the steps. "I'd like to meet your new husband properly, but I don't think I'm welcome here anymore." I turned to Keasley. "If you need me, you know where I am." Saying nothing more, I left.
My pulse was fast and my breath was short. I felt my expression turn ugly when Jenks joined me, flying at eye height.
