by Ким Харрисон
"And some bottled water," she added. "A few energy bars. And some cream for your neck."
"Thank you," I said softly.
Her attention flicked to mine and away. "Keasley put in a few pain amulets, and I found a finger stick in your bathroom drawer."
"That will help."
"Flashlight. Extra batteries," she added.
There wasn't anything that would help us if we were caught, but I knew why she was doing this. Trent shifted impatiently, and I frowned. "Hat," I said suddenly as I looked down at the long brown duster. "I need a hat."
Ivy smiled. "It's in there."
Curious, I dropped the bag and unzipped it, digging past Ivy's colored markers that I wouldn't need and Jenks's old toolkit from this spring, when he'd been big. I pulled out an unfamiliar black leather hat and snugged it over my curls. It fit me perfectly, and I wondered when she had bought it for me. "Thank you," I said as I tucked my hair up and out of my face.
Ceri was staring at the horizon. The sun was down, and I knew she wanted to get on with it. "Rachel?" she prompted, and my heart thumped. I almost hoped Trent wouldn't be able to make good on his deal to pay my way and I could bow out of this without looking like a coward. But then I'd be fighting for my life every time someone called Al.
Ivy touched my shoulder, and not caring what anyone thought, I dropped the satchel and took her in a tight hug. Vampire incense filled my senses, and as my eyes closed to keep a tear from leaking out, I breathed it in, feeling not a twinge upon my scars. Misery took me, heartache that this might be good-bye forever. "I'll see you about sunrise," I said, and nodding, she let go.
I couldn't look at anyone, and my throat was tight as I picked up my bag and stepped onto the cement slab. My gaze flicked to Trent. His expression was carefully empty. What in hell did I care what he thought?
Ceri stepped into the first circle, and my eyebrows rose. "I can hold Minias's circle," I said, then swallowed. "Unless you think Newt will show up."
She wrapped her arms around herself, clearly wanting to put herself on hallowed ground, but just as clearly planning to stay where she was. "Minias will follow you if I don't circle him and keep him here until sunrise." Her narrow jaw clenched. "Walk fast."
I looked briefly at my mother as I remembered the mental torture Al had put her through when she had done the same. "Ceri…"
"I can do this," she said, fear in her eyes, and I touched her arm. There was nothing this side of the lines that would keep Minias from tattling on us if he knew what we were doing. "Thank you," I said, and she smiled fearfully.
"If spending a night talking to a demon is all I have to endure to keep you alive and help mend the damage the demons did to my species, then it's thirteen hours well spent."
"Thank you all the same," I said, worried.
"I'll close the outermost circle," she said, starting to babble in her nervousness. "That way, no one can interfere. And because Trent will be doing the summoning and bargaining, he will make the inner one to hold Minias. I'll set the middle circle to hold Minias here and keep him from following you once you leave."
"Trent!" I exclaimed, my gaze shooting to him in his cute little jumpsuit, and he flushed. "I can make a stronger circle with one arm tied behind my back."
Ceri shook her head. "Trenton is the one bargaining for the jumps, so he will be the one holding the circle," she said, her smooth features wrinkling as I found fault with her plan. "Keep your mouth shut while he talks or Minias will use it against you."
Ticked, I pressed my lips tight.
"Keep your mouth shut!" Ceri said in a burst of anger, then gestured for Trent to come closer. Sighing, Trent tightened his grip on his backpack and stepped over the outermost chalk line to join us. Ceri pointed for him to stand next to me, and looking nervous, he edged closer yet. I wondered how much of Ceri's temper was actually worry. She was terrified of Newt, and Minias was only a small step from the insane female demon.
Quicker than thought, a shimmering sheet of black ever-after rose up around us along the outermost circle permanently etched out in the reddish cement. There had been a tug on my thoughts when Ceri had tapped the nearby line, and I worked to keep the huge spindle of ever-after I had gathered earlier from unwinding. Trent didn't look happy as Ceri trapped him with the same witch who had turned him in for murder and might just as easily give him to a demon to get rid of one of her own demon marks. Trust, I thought suddenly. He trusted me—to some extent anyway.
I took a steadying breath as I looked at the other two circles at my feet. They would make an airlock of sorts. Trent would set the inner circle to hold Minias, but when we left, it would fall. The middle circle, set by Ceri, would hold the demon at that point.
Ceri glanced at Trent and nodded. "Just as we practiced," she said, and Trent set his backpack down and came forward. He glanced once at Quen, then closed his eyes. His lips moved, and I felt an uncomfortable sensation as he slowly tapped a line and set the circle. It was the difference between a sharp tug to remove a splinter and a methodical, painful digging, and I could tell it was bothering Ceri, too. Quen must have been making him practice, since he didn't need candles to set a circle anymore.
"Bartholomew's balls," Ceri muttered. "Can he do this any slower?"
My lips quirked, but my satisfaction at Trent's lesser skills died in a wash of self-pity when his sheet of ever-after rose up. His aura was clean and pure, the bright gold shot through with the sparkles of seeking. Mine would look like a crap-smeared wall next to his.
Jenks, I thought. Where in hell is Jenks?
"Ivy?" I said, worried. "Where's Jenks?"
She waved a hand. "He said he was going to make sure his family was safe," she said, and my gaze went over the pixy-empty garden. From the steeple, a pair of unfamiliar red eyes glowed, and my pulse jumped until I realized it was Bis. I felt miserable. Jenks didn't want to say good-bye. I understood that.
Ceri handed Trent my scrying mirror, and I saw his expression close off in the gathering dusk. Damn, the thing was beautiful out here in the gloomy light, the wine-colored glass etched with crystalline lines in the shape of the calling pentagram with all its little figures and symbols. I couldn't tell if Trent thought it beautiful or foul, and I wondered if that was why Ceri insisted he summon Minias. She might be trying to convince him neither she nor I was immoral for what we did, just incredibly stupid.
Swallowing hard, Trent knelt on the red pavement. He set the glass carefully in front of him, and he put a shaky hand on the mirror. My nose tickled, then faded, and when a queer feeling of falling inside out flipped through me, I wasn't surprised when Trent blinked fast several times.
"Trent Kalamack," he said softly, clearly talking to Minias. "I ask for your attention in a matter of traveling the lines and am prepared to pay. I won't pay for you coming over here to discuss it, though. That is your choice, not my request."
Trent blanched at Minias's unheard response. "I'm using Morgan's calling circle," he said as if answering a question, then followed it up with "Standing beside me."
A sudden pop of air pressure hurt my eardrums, and I jumped.
Minias had blinked into this side of reality within Trent's circle. A thin hand held his yellow cap onto his head, and his beautiful green-trimmed robe looked loose and undone. His curly hair was in disarray, and with him was the scent of burnt amber and bread hot from the oven.
The demon had his back to me, but I could see his shock when he realized where he was and spun. "By the two worlds colliding," he swore softly as he looked me up and down. "After sunset and still alive? How did you manage that?"
I shrugged one shoulder as Trent took his hand from the mirror and stood. Her back hunched, Ceri whisked it away.
"You kick your dog one too many times, someone's going to call the animal protection agency," I said, not liking the servile attitude Ceri had adopted in Minias's presence. "Now that's an organization you don't want to piss off."
Minias's gaze went to my friend
s clustered together on holy ground, then Trent—who was trying to look calm—then finally back to me. "An audience?"
I shrugged again. "My friends."
Trent cleared his throat. "This is nice, but we do have a deadline."
My lips pressed. "Which you just blabbed to him, Trent. Way to go."
Trent reddened, and Ceri made a telling face. Minias, though, tugged his yellow robe tightly closed and smiled wickedly at the elf.
"I want to bargain with you," Trent said, casually clasping his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. "I don't want to know your name; I've asked for your presence, not summoned you; and I'm never going to call you again."
Minias reached behind himself for the ornate wire-and-cushion chair that had appeared, tugging it closer until he could sit. "I'll believe that when I see it." His goat-slitted eyes shifted to me, and I forgot to breathe. "Curiosity brought me here. I thought it might have been someone else." His attention landed on Ceri, then slid away. "What could you possibly want, and why in heaven and hell do you think I will help you? A putrid little elf?"
Without hesitation, Trent said, "I want passage in and out of the ever-after for two people, and asylum while we're there. You don't touch us or tell anyone we're there."
Minias's eyebrows rose, and he blinked slowly. "You're going to try to kill Al?" he said softly, and I refused to look away or change my expression. There were ways to solve problems other than killing someone, but if that's what he thought we were doing, then no one would be watching the archive. Right?
In a smooth motion, the demon leaned forward. "I can get you there, but nothing will buy my silence. Two trips in and out," he said speculatively. "You and Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate?"
Trent shook his head, then did a double take to look at Ceri. "You're a Dulciate?" he stammered, and she flushed.
"It means little now," she murmured, her attention down. Minias cleared his throat, and Trent dragged his gaze from her.
"Me and the witch," Trent said, still glancing at Ceri.
"I suppose asking for your soul is out of the question?" the demon said, and I looked at the first of the stars starting to show. We could be here all night. But Trent seemed to have found a cavalier attitude and he turned sideways, as if not really caring whether Minias went along with this or not.
"Stanley Saladin has purchased multiple trips from a demon," he said, his voice carrying an indolent confidence. "Four trips through the lines is not worth my soul, and you know it."
"Stanley Saladin bought line passages from someone trying to lull him into servitude," Minias said. "It was an investment, and I'm not looking for a familiar. Even if I was, I'd buy one, not bother raising one up from scratch. And what makes you think your soul is worth anything?"
Trent said nothing, calmly indifferent until Minias asked, "What do you have that's worth your soul, Trenton Aloysius Kalamack?"
A confident smile curved over Trent. I was shocked at his attitude—he was slipping into this demon-bargaining mode far too easily—but Ceri didn't seem surprised. A businessman is a businessman.
"Good." Trent patted his front for a nonexistent pen. "I'm glad we can talk. I'd like to finish this cleanly, without any marks to be settled at a future date."
Minias's eyes narrowed, and I blanched. "No," he said firmly. "I want a mark. I like the idea of you owing me."
Trent's face went tight. "I can give you the secret of Morgan's parentage—"
My breath hissed in. "You son of a bitch!" I shouted, leaping for him.
"Rachel!" Ceri cried, and I smacked into a front fall when she tripped me.
I scrambled up. My respect for her, not her small hand on my arm, held me back. "That's mine!" I shouted. "You can't buy a trip into the ever-after with my secrets!"
Minias glanced between us. "Add a minor demon mark, and you have your curses."
"Make it settled at my discretion, not yours," Trent haggled, and I jerked from Ceri's grip.
"You son of a bitch!" I yelled, getting in his face. The man had the gall to make an innocent face at me, and losing it, I shoved him into Ceri's outer circle.
He stumbled back, hitting it as if it were a wall. There was a shout of protest, and Quen's toes were suddenly edging near the salt ring. He was ticked, and Ivy was behind him, her lips pressed into a thin line, ready to take Quen down if he somehow got through the sheet of ever-after.
"You sorry little pissant!" I shouted, standing over Trent in his little black jumpsuit with my borrowed duster edging his legs. "You pay for my trip with information about me? I could have done that myself! I only agreed to protect you because you were paying my way!"
"Rachel." Ceri was trying to soothe me, but I'd have none of it. I reached to grab his lapels, and he rolled to his feet. It was fast, and I tried to hide my surprise.
"I'll accept that deal," Minias said, and I almost screamed.
"Done!" Trent shouted, and Minias grinned. "Back off, Morgan, or I'm taking Ceri with me instead, and you get nothing!"
Seething, I glanced at Ceri. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't dare ask Ceri to go. I saw her fear, hating Trent all the more for threatening her like that. She'd go if I didn't, if only to try to help her species. "You are foul, Trent," I said as I backed from him. "This isn't over. When we're done here, we're going to talk."
"Don't threaten me," he said, and my blood seemed to burn under my skin. I looked at my mother, shocked to see her being held back by Keasley. Her color was high and she looked one hundred percent pissed. If I didn't make it back, she would make sure Trent would be sorry he had ever put me, and now Takata, in danger. If Trent talked, demons would be coming after him, too.
"Interesting," Minias said, and I spun back to him. "Rachel Mariana Morgan protecting Trenton Aloysius Kalamack? Trenton Aloysius Kalamack paying Rachel Mariana Morgan's way? This isn't a suicide run to kill Al. What, by the two worlds, are you doing?"
I pulled back to the edge of the circle until it buzzed a harsh warning. Shit, I hadn't realized I had telegraphed so much of our intent. Jaw clenched, I glared at Trent. "Get your cookie-ass in there and get your mark so we can get out of here," I demanded, and Trent blanched. A moment of satisfaction colored my anger, and I made an ugly face. "Yeah," I said bitterly. "You're going to wear his mark, and you're going to have to trust that he doesn't just change his mind and cart you off once you're in there with him."
Ceri frowned. "That's rude, Rachel," she said. "He's bound by law to leave Trenton alone for the duration."
"Just like Al's not supposed to hurt me or my family," I muttered as I backed away from Minias. My legs were shaking from adrenaline as I gestured to Trent to cross over the middle, uninvoked circle and get on with it. The elf got up, brushed himself off, and, with his thin lips pressed tightly, walked over the chalked line with his chin high.
Ceri knelt to touch the line, and a circle of black rose between us and Minias. For a moment, there were three circles, Ceri holding the outer two and Trent holding the innermost one. Then Trent touched his and it fell to put himself and Minias breathing the same air.
Minias smiled, and Trent went ashen. My own heart pounded in the memory of Al doing the same thing to me. Crap, was I trying to feel better about myself by dragging those I envied down to where I was?
"Where do you want it?" the demon asked, and I wondered why, unless it was more degrading to look at it every day knowing you asked for it, rather than have it forced on you. I felt the raised circle on the inside of my wrist, thinking I had to get rid of one of these soon.
His eyes never leaving Minias's, Trent shoved his sleeve up to show a lightly muscled arm, toned and sun-darkened. Minias grabbed his wrist, and Trent flinched at the knife the demon suddenly held, jerking only once as he scribed a circle bisected with a single line into him. I thought I smelled the acidic scent of blood and the rich aroma of cinnamon. I glanced at Ivy—her pupils were dilating as Quen looked at her in disgust.
"Tell me of Rachel's father," Minias said, h
is hand still around Trent's wrist. The mark had stopped bleeding, and Trent was staring at it, shocked that it looked old and long healed.
"Give me the way to cross the lines," he said, his gaze jerking up to Minias's.
The demon's eye twitched. "It's in your head," he said. "Just say the words of invocation, and you and whoever is with you will cross the lines. Now tell me of Rachel's sire. If I don't think it worth the imbalance of four trips through the lines, I'll simply upgrade your mark and give you a second slash."
I fidgeted, and my mother shook off Marshal's restraint. Damn it, Takata. I'm sorry. Trent was a bastard. I was going to get him for this.
"The man who raised her was human," he said, staring at Minias. "I found out when he came to my father asking for a cure. I have Morgan's father's medical records, but there's no name on them. I don't know who he is."
Keasley and Marshal looked shocked that my dad wasn't a witch, but my lips parted in wonder. Trent had…lied? My mother was sagging in relief, and I reached behind me until I touched the wall of ever-after, leaning my hand against it for support. He hadn't told. He hadn't told Minias. Trent had lied.
Minias's attention flicked to me and back again. His grip on Trent tightened. "Who's her birth father?" he asked, and Trent's gaze grew wild.
"Ask her," he said, and my heart seemed to start beating again. "She knows."
"Not enough," Minias said, knowing he was lying. "Tell me…or you're mine."
My fear redoubled. Did he expect me to save his ass by blurting it out?
"The man is alive," Trent said, that same wild glint in his eye. "He's alive, and Rachel's mother is alive. Morgan's children will survive carrying the ability to kindle demon magic. And I can make more like her." His smile grew ugly. "Let go of me."
Minias's gaze flicked to me. With a shove, he let go of Trent and took a step back. "The mark stands as it is."
Ceri was crying silently, tears trickling down her face as she stood and watched Trent find his composure. Had Trent just assured him that in a few generations they'd have a crop of highly desirable witch familiars available? Ones that could invoke their curses so they wouldn't have to? God help me, he was slime. Utter slime. He had put demon hit-marks on my potential children before they were even born.
