by Kim Harrison
Suck it. Frustrated, I turned away. It was getting late, and I wanted to meet up with Trent before the day was over and he became a daddy again. Chin high, I strode back to the table where my own spread still glowed. “Ut omnes unum sint,” I said, almost shouting. “Ta na shay!”
With a tug on my thoughts, the not-there candles vanished. Hodin hadn’t moved, and I snatched up the candle, now little more than a stub. I waved it out, felt the wick, and dropped it into my bag. “You want this?” I said, pointing at Ray’s sketch pad, and Hodin started.
“If you don’t,” he said.
Not sure what that meant, I ripped off the pages in question and dropped them on the couch. I was cleaning. It was over. Time for him to leave. But he didn’t, and my jaw clenched as he scuffed to a halt beside a chair as I ran a cloth over the ash and chalk, blurring it into nothing.
“Ah, do you mind if I continue to study this on my own?” Hodin asked as he picked up the sheets and stashed them in one of his sleeves.
I slowed down, thinking about that as I shoved everything in my bag. If he was going to practice, he’d have to invoke the Goddess. Shoulders easing, I turned to him, seeing a soft panic in his eyes. “You know the words, right? To garner her attention?”
“Better than you,” he said, chin high.
“Then say it once for me,” I said. “So I know you can.”
His jaw tightened, then relaxed. He took a breath to say something, only to shake his head. “No.” And then he vanished, taking my confidence with him.
CHAPTER
22
“Hey!” Jenks rose up on a column of silver. “What about Ivy’s table!”
I sighed at the remnants of the curse: bits of the garden and slivers of wax. Hodin hadn’t been able to say the words to invoke the Goddess in front of me, but I was betting he’d whisper them when alone. “I’d dearly love to see what Landon’s spread looks like if he’s been hosting the baku in his thoughts,” I said as I reached for my phone. Three thirty? No wonder I’m hungry. “You know, maybe all we need to do is show it to him. He might kick it out once he sees what it’s doing. Maybe then we can catch it.”
“You want to show Landon a demon-elf hybrid curse?” Jenks said in disbelief.
My eyes flicked from my phone to Jenks now hovering over the curse-laced table. “It’s not a curse. If anything, it’s just . . . black,” I said, feeling kind of stupid.
“Rache, maybe you should close this down,” Jenks said, and I nodded.
“Um, ut omnes unum sint,” I said, adding a belated “Ta na shay” when nothing happened. With a tweak on my thoughts, the not-there candles vanished to leave the original.
“Jeez, jealous much?” I muttered as I hit the icon to call Trent. He picked up almost immediately, and I sat down as his melodious voice spilled out in a familiar “Hello?”
“Trent!” I exclaimed, my thoughts going back to what Jenks had said about me and Trent and thirty minutes of ley lines and garden dirt. “I got it to work. You’ll never guess what it took, but I’ll give you a hint. Hodin isn’t happy.”
“Uh, this isn’t Trent,” he said, and I froze, thoughts scrambling.
“Zack?” I said, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment. “You sound just like him. Is Trent available?”
“Ah, hang on a sec. He asked me to answer his phone if it was you.” He chuckled. “Itchy witch, huh? You should see the picture that comes up.”
Please not my old I.S. ID. Please? But it would have been like Trent to track it down and use it. He liked—no, needed—that I was real, that I had bad-hair days and got tired, and that I wasn’t trying to be perfect. No, I was simply trying to survive. “Zack?” I said when there came a distinctive pop and Trent’s elegant, seldom heard swearing rose up in the background. From across the room, Jenks grinned and hummed closer.
“No, I’m fine. I’m fine!” Trent said, voice irate. “Here. I’ll take it. Could you . . . ? Thanks.” There was a pause, and then, “Rachel.”
He sounded annoyed, but I think he’d had a spell misfire, and I could relate. “Sorry to interrupt. You okay?”
“Yes.” Trent sighed, and I could imagine him sitting back on a desk, table, armchair . . . whatever. “The lower magic is working, but the more complex the spell, the more resistance we’re seeing. I’d swear it gets worse the longer we work at it. Were you able to modify Hodin’s curse?”
I nodded, feeling good at the pride in his voice, and Jenks gave me a thumbs-up. “Yes, but I had to invoke the Goddess’s attention to get it to work.”
“Mmmm,” he started, and I quickly interrupted.
“Stop. I’m fine. Jenks was with me, and Hodin, actually. Both of them agree there was no abnormal mystic activity. Mixing demon and elf magic did the trick, which makes me think you ought to prick your finger and put a little blood on whatever you’re doing.”
“Like witch magic?” he asked, voice hesitant.
“Like demon,” I said, and Trent sighed.
“Why?” he protested. “Elves don’t have the right blood enzymes to invoke charms.”
“It’s not to kindle the magic. It’s to pay the Goddess,” I said, and he made a soft sound of understanding. “Promising to sacrifice a goat won’t impress Newt. But a drop of blood? Something she’s used to? Something elves would see as a major sacrifice? It might work.”
“Huh. It can’t hurt. Hang on a sec. Zack?” I heard distantly. “Rachel thinks you should prick your finger and put a little blood on it somewhere. Use the knife there.”
Knife? “Trent,” I protested.
“Seriously?” Zack said, and hearing their voices side by side, I could tell the difference.
“Trent, don’t make him do that,” I protested, and Trent chuckled.
“Why not? He heals fast.”
Somehow we’d gotten off track, and I strove to bring it back. “Hey, now that we’ve got a curse to show baku damage, we could prove Landon has been hosting it. I just need some blood and five minutes in a corner.”
“Landon would simply claim he was a victim,” Trent said, and I slumped.
True. “Okay. But if he makes a statement to that effect, the I.S. would be forced to act. Even if all they did was let the suspects go under the Unlawful Coercion Act, it would be something.”
Again, Trent made an unsure “Mmmm,” punctuated by Zack’s whoop in success. “It worked!” the kid crowed, muffled. “Trent, it worked! Look at that. It finally worked!”
I smiled thinly. Elves buying success with their blood and demons getting it for free by saying please: what was the crazy Goddess up to? “Congratulations,” I said sourly. “You’re all going to have to pretend to be demons to get your magic to work,” I said, and Trent sighed.
“This is going to be a hard sell.” Trent’s voice held a heavy worry. “I might have to invest in a finger-stick company. Maybe if it had ‘elf’ on it somewhere, they might go for it.”
I slumped, then began to shove more things into my bag. “I think the Goddess is trying to force the two branches of magic together again, laughing all the way. Hodin practically threw up when he realized he had to invoke her attention to get the new curse to work.” But throwing up would have been better than shunning me, which was what had happened the last time I dabbled in elven magic. “Trent, do you think we can get a drop of Landon’s blood?”
“Sure. I’ll call him up and ask,” Trent said sourly. The sarcasm was unusual, but he’d been up as long as I had, and we were both tired.
“Maybe that’s all it will take,” I said, words spilling out in a rush. “If the baku is damaging his soul, he needs to know about it.”
“I think he already does.” Trent yawned, and I could imagine him rubbing his chin. “But I’m not going to the I.S. or the FIB with the claim that Landon is working with a sentient energy with the intent to murder people without
having seen the baku damage myself first.” He hesitated, then softly, almost breathing the words, he added, “All we have is Zack’s say-so. Landon could be using him to discredit me without him even knowing. I can’t risk what’s left of my reputation until I know for sure.”
“Yea-a-a-ah,” I said, wincing. Here I was worried about Trent letting his emotions make him vulnerable, and I was the one not thinking three moves ahead. “So how do we get a blood sample?” I prompted, and Jenks’s wings pinked up, vibrating in anticipation. “Go in. Hit Landon on the head. Prick his finger? In, done, and out in five minutes.”
“Perhaps inviting him to dinner?” Trent suggested dryly. “He’ll show if Zack is there.”
“But. . . . if you’re worried he might be working with Landon . . . ,” I started.
“Exactly,” Trent interrupted. “I need to see them interact.”
My head bobbed as I got it. “How about Carew Tower?” I was dead tired, but I couldn’t sleep until this was over. “Very public, and they know us.” Crap on toast, I need a dress.
“It’s short notice, but I’ll make a call. I might get through to Landon if I mention Zack,” Trent said sourly.
“Okay.” I bit my lower lip, guilt rising. Once upon a time, there was a noble elf who lost everything because of the one he chose to love. . . . “I, ah, should probably go to my boat tonight.” True, it was technically Kisten’s boat, but none of his relatives had shown up to claim The Solar. I didn’t even know if he had any living relatives. The dead ones wouldn’t have been interested.
“To pick something up? You’re staying here for the night, right?” Trent said, and my eyes flicked to Jenks. That hadn’t been my thought, but Trent had sounded almost desperate. Grimacing, Jenks rose up on a column of blue dust and flew away to give me some privacy.
“Um, sure,” I said, thoughts churning. “None of Ellasbeth’s dresses do squat to hide my splat gun. We can keep each other awake again.”
“Good. Good,” Trent said, clearly relieved. “Is Jenks still with you?”
I looked up to find him, but Jenks had darted over before I could open my mouth. “You think I’d leave Wendy of the Damned Boys alone when she’s got a piece of magnetic chalk in her pocket?” he said, and I pushed Jenks back with a glare, a hand briefly over the receiver. Privacy was an illusion around the sharp-eared pixy.
“See you in about an hour,” I said. “Let me know if you get through to Landon.”
“Will do.” Trent hesitated. “Rachel . . . I want you here. And not because of the baku.”
“I know.” I went silent, afraid to voice my fears. How could something so good cause so much trouble? I needed him, and he needed me, and the demons and elves just needed to back off.
But neither one of us said anything until finally Trent sighed. “Good. I’ll see you soon. Zack?” he said louder, his tone confident again. “I need your help.”
My brow furrowed at the click, and then I looked at Jenks hovering at eye level. I need your help echoed in my thoughts as I put my phone in my back pocket. I’d be willing to bet Zack had never heard that before. “I wish you could see intentions as you can auras, Jenks. Landon could be using Zack to discredit Trent and the kid wouldn’t even know it.”
“Me too.” Jenks’s jaw moved as he worked a chunk of pollen he’d stashed somewhere in the church for emergencies. “It would make keeping your ass above the grass easier. I think I got one of those heat blocks upstairs. Give me a sec.”
“Shout if you need some help,” I said as he darted for the foyer and the stairs. “I’m going to clean up a little,” I added, softer now that I was alone.
I stood, hands on my hips as I looked at the pool table and decided to leave the sketched glyphs. They’d freak the workmen out, but then maybe they’d stop putting their tools on it. The candles, though, were linked to people, and I plucked them one by one and dropped them in the paper bag with the original vials until I could do an incinerate-and-flush.
Everything that didn’t go into the waste bin fit in my oversize shoulder bag. Landon would meet with us if Zack was there. And once we proved the baku was in him, we could see about a cease and desist.
But I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. I’d probably have to do something I didn’t want to. Grim, I began to make a mental list of what I needed. New sleepy-time charms in my splat gun. A handful of zip-strips for Landon or his security. “A new stick of magnetic chalk,” I whispered. Finger sticks, salt vials, a pain amulet or two. Perhaps a curse to remind Landon I was a demon. That slinky black dress that hid my thigh holster really well.
“If I’m lucky, the charms in my room will still be good,” I mused, steps fast as I went down the hall. But I slowed as I pushed the door open. Everything was the way I’d left it: the closet open and empty, and the dresser top clear. The bed was stripped, and an old sheet covered it to keep the construction dust that slipped under the door from coating the mattress.
“Bingo,” I said, kneeling before one of the boxes stacked in the corner. The harsh sound of the tape lifting off was loud, and I shuffled around the bric-a-brac, dropping a few things into my bag to take home until I found the little vial of pinkie-nail-size sleepy-time splat balls. The use-by date was coming up, but they were still good, and with a quick practiced motion, I refilled my splat gun’s reservoir and snapped it closed. Satisfied, I dropped it in my bag and stood.
A sliding thump from the belfry pulled my head up, and I stared at the ceiling as if I could see through it. “Jenks?” Maybe he needed help moving something. “You okay up there?”
Silence came back, and then my pulse hammered at the rhythmic creak of steps. Someone was in the belfry. With Jenks.
I jolted into motion, swinging my bag around and fumbling inside it for my splat gun as I went into the hall. “Jenks?” I shouted as I dodged the hole in the sanctuary floor, then skidded to a stop, almost running into the shadow in the dark vestibule.
“Don’t pull that, Morgan.”
It was Weast, and I froze, my grip wrapped around the butt of my splat gun, still hidden in my bag. What the hell is he doing here? “I pull it, I use it,” I said, tone hard. “What happens depends on what comes out of your mouth next. Where’s Jenks?”
A thread of tension ruined his cool and relaxed stance as he glanced at the stairs to the belfry. “He’s with Glenn. Something about a heat block. Apparently it’s under a few boxes. I’m sure they’ll be down in a moment. Meantime, you and I can talk.”
“Talk. Sure.” Motions slow, I took my hand out of my bag, satisfied when Weast relaxed. “Walking into a demon’s church without knocking isn’t smart,” I said. “But I’m glad you’re here. I could use your help with the baku.”
“Twisting curses?” he said, and I took an instinctive step back when he came out of the shadows and into the light. His eyes were on the stripped pool table with its ten-pointed stars and melted wax as if knowing what everything was for. “On a Monday, no less.”
My eyes narrowed at his flippant attitude. “It’s new. I can prove the baku is attacking people with it. The I.S. is going to have to let everyone go.” I hesitated. “I’m its target. They got in the way. Landon is using the baku to try to make me kill Trent.”
Weast nodded, his eyes now on the underside of the roof. “That’s our theory as well.”
My lips parted. Thanks a hell of a lot for telling me that, Glenn. “And it’s none of my business?” I said, bringing Weast’s attention back to me. “The baku has been honing its skills for, what? Two weeks? Damaging people’s souls in the process. You can see it in their auras. In mine, in theirs. I can prove Landon is hosting it. I just need—”
“Stop.” Weast’s voice was soft, holding decades of being obeyed without question. That was okay. Trent could do the same thing, and it never slowed me down. I had decades of experience ignoring demands from doctors with god complexes.
Weast’s eye twitched. “Stay out of this. Glenn thinks you’re of value, but the collateral damage you leave behind is too expensive for me,” he said, and my head rose at the heavy steps on the stairs behind him. “I have this under control, and your efforts are making my job harder.” He turned to Glenn as he walked in, Jenks on his shoulder.
“Hey, Rachel,” the tall man said cheerfully. “Jenks let me in. He needed some help.” His smile faded as he took in my anger and Weast’s demanding nonchalance. “Ah . . . ,” he stammered, the heat block looking small in his hand.
“Weast seems to think he has the baku under control,” I interrupted. “I disagree.”
Jenks flew to me, wings rasping and his hand on his sword. “Sorry,” he muttered, right next to my ear. “I thought Glenn was alone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, eyes never leaving Weast. “I can help,” I said louder, to Weast this time. “We can help,” I amended. “Trent and I can prove Landon is hosting the baku.”
But Weast was walking away, pointing at Glenn to move out before him. “Back off,” Weast said over his shoulder. “Leave Landon alone.”
“He deserves a warning,” I said, jolting into motion and following them. “You know he’s in danger and you don’t care,” I said, then got it. “My God. You’re using him as bait.”
Weast halted, and I jerked to a stop before I ran into him. Eyes narrowed, he looked at me, hand hovering near his eagle amulet. “Glenn, give me a moment with Morgan.”
“Sir . . .”
Weast turned to him, and grimacing, Glenn set the heat block on the windowsill and walked out. Unhappy, Jenks rattled his wings. Shoulders hunched, Weast pressed close until I fought the urge to back up. “If you continue to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, you will be swept up with him,” Weast said, his dark eyes narrowed. “I won’t warn you again.”
