by Kim Harrison
The weapons locker, I thought, but when I reached my awareness inside, I was rebuffed, thrown out with a sharp crack of loosed ley line energy.
I jolted awake with a yelp of pain, staggering as the power of the collective dropped away.
Near panic washed through me. I clenched my hands and hid them, breath fast as I realized I was standing in the kitchen. Buddy was barking wildly at me, and I wavered, remembering having gotten up from the couch and walking in here. Holy crap on toast, not again! I thought as the roar of the mixer continued, my fingers tingling as I let go of the line.
I’d been angry at Trent, so angry I’d wanted to kill him over something I’d forgiven him for a long time ago. If the jolt from the weapons locker hadn’t woken me up, I would have done it.
The baku, I thought, turning to look at the couch. Shit, I had fallen asleep. It had been waiting for me.
But Buddy was still barking, and finally hearing him, Trent flicked off the mixer, looking at me in surprise. “Are you okay?” he said even as he shushed the dog. “You look pale.”
“Um. Tired,” I lied, looking at my hands before hiding them again. Damn it, I’m never going to sleep again. “I’m, ah, I just wanted to tell you I’m going down to check on Zack.”
“Okay,” he said cheerfully, oblivious that if not for the automatic safeguards on the weapons locker, he’d be dead. My God. I could have killed him. “I’m almost done. You want to get him out of the pool?”
“Sure.” I turned away, heart pounding. I couldn’t tell him. The hatred had been real. It had been mine. But it was no longer, and I was ashamed of it: shocked and ashamed.
Eyes down, I headed for the stairs to the lower floor. Buddy slipped from Trent to follow, looking cowed and sheepish as he wagged his tail as if asking for forgiveness for barking at me. I’m not safe anymore, I thought as I started down the stairs.
I’d forgiven Trent a long time ago for everything he’d done to me, having understood the why better than he’d ever know. I loved him, trusted him, but it had been as if all that understanding and forgiveness had never existed. The baku had stripped everything from me that made me who I was.
Only now, as I wove through the silent room full of empty chairs and low tables, did I understand why Dali refused to fight it. It was a true monster, making those it attacked kill the ones they loved with anger that was long dead. Worse, if I told Trent what had happened, he’d insist that I go into seclusion with Al and leave catching the baku to him. I couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t understand how devious it was and would be taken in turn. Neither of us was strong enough on our own. Together, though, with elven and demon magic combined, we might be.
Scared, I came to an uneasy halt at the window wall, arms over my middle as I watched Zack swimming laps in the sunrise. The new light glistened on the ripples arrowing out from his unhurried, smooth strokes. Seeing him, Buddy trotted through the wall to sit at the edge of the pool, tail swishing when Zack swam past. High above, Bis was asleep on the waterfall rock. Once, I would’ve known where he was by his light touch in my thoughts. Now I just knew where to look.
My gaze shifted to the table that someone, probably Quen, had set for three before the window, having used the seldom seen dishes and flatware from the bar tucked in the back. Trent had wanted to eat in the great room this morning, perhaps to show Zack that he was more sophisticated and worldly than mac and cheese in a tiny kitchen. The girls were too messy to eat over carpet yet, or perhaps he ate here every morning I wasn’t with him. I didn’t know. With the scattered tables and chairs, it reminded me of dining in an upscale hotel, especially with the view of the pool and the waterfall.
I shivered as I stepped through the window wall and out onto the tiled pool deck, the energy from the ward tingling through me to remind me of the mystics. It was cold, and I was 100 percent awake now. Fear was better than six cups of espresso.
“Zack?” I called, my eyes on Bis’s lumpy shadow among the rocks. He knew he could come in, but the cold didn’t touch him, and I think he was still mourning what we’d almost had. As much as it hurt me, it probably hurt Bis more, seeing as it was his entire reason for existing in his eyes. “Zack!” I called louder, but the kid kept swimming.
Tapping a line, I marshaled a small ball of energy in my hand and threw it into the pool. “Zack!” I shouted as I let the energy go. Water and air rushed in with a clap of sound to replace it, and he stopped, flicking the water from his eyes with a toss of his head as he tread water.
“Breakfast ready?” he asked, and I nodded, not comfortable with his obvious assumption that people were there to do things for him. And yet . . . I went to get the towel that Jon had left beside the slippers and the robe as Zack angled for the edge and levered himself up and out.
The towel I recognized, but the slippers and the robe were new. Someone had gone shopping. That gold-and-black swimsuit Zack was sporting wasn’t anything I’d ever seen before, either.
His childhood has probably been as perfect as Trent’s, I thought sourly, until I remembered that Trent’s childhood had been as bad as mine in a way. We’d both lost parents, both fought and lost power struggles with our peers as we figured things out. Zack, too, though clearly having grown up in the luxury and the privilege of the dewar, had probably never known his parents, having been groomed and taught from infancy to replace Landon. I know I would’ve given up a lot to have my dad back. Maybe not so different from me after all.
Steam rose from Zack’s lean body as he padded forward, leaving wet footprints behind on the November-cold tile. Buddy stood, tail waving. “Hey, Buddy,” Zack said, voice high as he gave the dog a brisk head rub. “Maybe I can get you in the water next time.” His delight with the dog still lingered in his eyes as he took the towel from me. “Thanks,” he said as he dried off. “I can’t believe how warm the water is.”
I looked at the whorls of steam rising from the stilling water. Quen would probably be out here after breakfast to pull the insulating cover over it, but for now, it was nice to look at. “Trent knows I won’t get in it if it’s not like bathwater,” I said, my thoughts still on what I’d almost done. “He’s thinking about putting a dome over it for the winter. I told him not to bother if it was just for me. He’d be out here in the snow.”
Zack shrugged on his robe, completely missing Bis as he ran his gaze over the waterfall. “That would be amazing.” He scuffed into his slippers, eyebrows rising as he looked me up and down. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you,” he added, focused on my amulet.
“No.” Uncomfortable, I headed inside. Zack coaxed Buddy into following, the dog’s nails clicking until he was inside and only his jingling collar gave him away. Trent hadn’t come down yet, and I sat at the table with my back to the stairway. The journals that Quen had gone through were stacked on a nearby end table. Worried, I looked out over the steaming water and sipped my coffee. I wasn’t going to sleep until this was done. We had to do this, and we had to do it fast.
Zack hesitated for a bare moment before taking the chair across from me with his back to the enormous fireplace. It would leave Trent on my right, which was fine with me, and I slid the coffee carafe across the table. “Help yourself.” I wasn’t going to serve him.
“Thanks.” Looking as if he seldom had to, Zack awkwardly poured himself a cup. Syrup and butter were already waiting, and the scent of cooking batter drifted down. My stomach rumbled, and I slumped as I ate a fall raspberry. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through today. The caffeine was starting to work, though, and I took three more raspberries.
Zack slurped his coffee, and I smiled at his slight grimace.
“You want tea instead? We’ve got green, blue, white, black, caffeine, no caffeine. . . .”
“Coffee is good,” Zack said, convincing me he didn’t really like it when he added cream and three spoonfuls of sugar. Yeah, I remembered forcing down a cup, trying to
impress my older brother, Robbie. Even so, it was hard to say that Zack didn’t look at home there in a green robe with his hair in disarray from his swim and a dog at his feet. A fleeting thought rose and fell: was this what it would be like to live with Trent full-time? Probably not.
“Can I ask you something?” Zack said.
My head jerked up, and I eyed him warily. “Sure.”
Zack scratched the side of his face and the soft fuzz just beginning to show. “Last night. When the mystics cloaked you . . . That was the same demon, right?” he asked, eyes pinched. “The one who told me not to talk about him?” I nodded, and he leaned toward me, an intent gleam in his eye. “He did a charm so the mystics couldn’t see you anymore.”
“It was a curse, but yes,” I said, and a flicker of quickly hidden revulsion crossed him.
“What did you give him?” he asked. “He didn’t even try to abduct anyone.”
“Oh.” I took a sip of coffee, feeling tired from more than a lack of sleep. “Demons don’t do that anymore.” I hope. “But you’re right. It wasn’t free. I promised Hodin I wouldn’t tell anyone about him, but Al would have done it for free if he had known how.”
“Your teacher,” Zack said, his smooth face screwed up. “What did you give him for that?”
But it was obvious by his look what he thought I’d given, and it wasn’t my soul. “I gave him my trust,” I said, focus blurring as I remembered Al’s shock when I had brazenly asked for a way to summon him without the safety of a circle, trusting that he would adhere to our bargain. He had, but only after I’d forced him into it.
“No way.” Zack pushed back from the table in disbelief.
“Way.” I stretched for the coffee and topped off my cup. “I wouldn’t advise it, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. Anyone else would be gargoyle chow. But I’m a demon, so . . .”
Zack smirked with the misplaced confidence of youth. “No, you aren’t. I mean, Landon calls you one, but that’s just . . .”
“Propaganda?” My smile widened, perhaps becoming somewhat mean. “Not all demons have goat-slitted eyes.” I touched a finger to his mug, and it began to steam.
Zack’s smirk faltered. “But the mystics like you,” he said, sounding betrayed.
“Yeah. A little too much.”
He shook his head in denial. “You can’t be a demon if the mystics like you.”
I stretched for the raspberries and pulled them closer. “Zack, demons could talk to the Goddess better than elves if they’d trust her again.” Feeling sassy, I ate one. “Deal with it.”
“They do not.”
I smiled, enjoying rubbing his nose in it since it bothered him so much. “And that’s why you can’t hold a simple circle anymore and I was lovingly covered in mystics.” I eased up, not wanting to alienate him. “Zack, there was more truth in those five minutes you watched Hodin hide my aura than Landon could tell you in ten years, but you won’t see it unless you let go of the dewar propaganda. And you know why?” His eyes narrowed, and I leaned back with my coffee cradled in my hands. “Because Landon thinks knowledge is power, and he doesn’t want to give it up. Especially to you.”
“Then why did you let me watch?” he asked, more angry than listening.
“Because Trent knows truth is power, and you’re going to have a hard time surviving without it.”
Silent, he looked upstairs at a sudden crash and swearing. Zack’s eyes shot to me as if expecting me to rush up there and help Trent. Then he frowned when I sat there, content to let Trent handle it himself. “I can’t believe he doesn’t have any servants,” Zack said when I continued to do nothing. “How can you have demons in your living room and no servants?”
In his living room? How about his bed? “Right. You think he vacuums this on his days off?” I said, waving an expansive hand.
“But he’s making breakfast. . . .”
I nodded. “While you were enjoying yourself in his pool,” I said. “Who do you think ran out last night and bought you that swimsuit? That’s not Trent’s robe or slippers you’re in, either.” I closed my eyes as the sun finally crested the vegetation around the pool and found me. “Trent has staff, but he knows they make me uncomfortable, so he gives them the weekends off.”
“Everyone? He doesn’t even have any security,” Zack said, but his tone had lost a lot of its lordly sound.
I opened one eye. “You’re looking at his security, bud,” I said, and Buddy swished his tail, thinking I was calling him. “You need to take off your dewar rose-colored glasses before they kill you.”
Zack fiddled with his cup of coffee, quiet again. Relenting, I sat up and sifted a half teaspoon of sugar into my mug. “I think Trent first excused his staff to prove to me he could be a normal guy and that he knew how to wash his own socks, but I think he’s finding an unexpected pleasure in making things for others to enjoy.” I hesitated, spoon clinking as I stirred. “And if you ruin that, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Me?” Zack’s eyes went wide.
“Yes, you.” I couldn’t smell waffles anymore and I listened to the quiet upstairs. “You didn’t see Trent’s face when you ate your mac and cheese last night, but you made his day. He connected with you. To his own past. That means a lot to him. More than it should, but maybe that’s one of the things I love about him.”
Zack’s brow furrowed. “It was just a bowl of pasta.”
“It was until you scarfed it down and made him feel good. So think about what you want in the long term before you screw this up. You want lip service kudos from a man who sees you as a potential threat? Or the guidance of someone who wants to nurture and fledge you? You’re too smart to not see that Trent’s giving you the chance to choose between what everyone expects you to be and the chance to find out what you want to be, and I think you’ve felt the trap Landon has built around you enough to see what a gift that is.” I leaned in over the table, squinting to hammer my next words home. “If you hurt him as you figure things out, I will hurt you.”
Trent’s soft steps scuffed at the high landing, and I smiled as Buddy’s tail thumped and Trent made his slow way down with a tray. “He is all I have,” I said, my thoughts going to waking up in the kitchen with a long-dead anger filling me. “And I will do anything to keep him alive. You understand?”
“I didn’t come here to kill him.” Zack’s voice was soft but there was anger in his eyes.
“No, but maybe that’s why Landon let you escape.”
“He didn’t let me escape,” Zack said.
I shook my napkin out and draped it across my lap. “No? You’ve been on the run for how long? Ditching your phone only buys you a day.” The sound of pixy wings was a bare warning, and I leaned back. “Hi, Jenks.”
“Morning, Rache.” Jenks circled the table once, smirking at my weary confidence and Zack’s brooding mood. “Daybreak really isn’t your time. You look like cold troll shit in December.”
“Thanks,” I said sourly, but I smiled as Trent wove his way through the couches and chairs. He looked rested in a fresh outfit of dress pants and a crisp shirt that showed off his eyes. There was no tie yet, and the top two buttons were still undone to peg my meter. “Wow,” I said as he set down the tray of cereal and fruit. “I’ll never understand how you look that awake.”
“Practice.” Trent flushed as Zack eyed the cereal, the scent of waffles still clinging to him. “Ah, this okay?” Trent said, and Zack bobbed his head and reached for a bowl.
“Hey, Zack. Be a pal and pour some of that syrup onto a plate for me, will you? Rachel hates it when I get my dust in the syrup.”
“Sure.” Zack hesitantly poured out a dollop of syrup. “I thought we were having waffles.”
Trent grimaced at the dry sound of cereal clattering into his bowl. “Me too.”
I hid my smile, glad I hadn’t gone up at the crashing and swear
ing.
“That’s okay. This is good.” Zack set down the syrup, fascinated when Jenks took a pair of chopsticks from his back pocket and began ladling sticky syrup into himself, head tilted back.
“Trent, you mind if I take some of this back to Izzy and Jumoke?” Jenks asked, surprising me. He never let me buy him anything.
“Not at all. Forage all you want.”
“Thanks.” Wings a blur, Jenks rolled his chopsticks in the sticky syrup, dusting an odd shimmer over them to cake it up and make what looked like cotton candy on a stick.
Silent, I filled my bowl and poured the milk. Watching Trent trying not to watch Zack worried me. I knew that he was seeing himself in the kid and that Trent hadn’t had much of a relationship with his own dad. Combined, it made for a dangerous situation.
My mood darkened as Trent chatted lightly with Jenks and Zack, engaging them both. This was something Trent wanted that I couldn’t give him. What am I doing here? I thought, not for the first time. I knew the demons weren’t happy about my relationship with Trent. And it wasn’t as if there were any elf babies available for adoption. God knew he wouldn’t get any from me. I wasn’t barren, but the chromosomes didn’t line up right between an elf and a demon. Worse, elven society demanded children from their leader—or they weren’t a leader long. It was a barbaric, but understandable, belief that had sprung from their cascading genetic failure and subsequent near extinction. That I’d helped Trent regain the DNA that allowed everyone else to have healthy kids didn’t mean a thing.
“This is pleasant,” Trent said, so focused on Zack that he missed my mood. “I should have breakfast down here all the time. Was the pool warm enough, Zack?”
