Chapter Ten
It was hot at the bus stop, and I stood breathing in air flavored by pavement, gas fumes, and the nearby Skyline Chili. It was probably the only chain restaurant serving a tomato-based food that had survived the Turn and the tomato boycott that half the world's surviving population had adopted. I was hungry and tempted to get myself a cardboard bowl to go, but I knew that the moment I left the stop, the bus would show and I'd be waiting another half hour.
So I stood there in my jeans and green T-shirt, sweating in the sun beating down and watching the heavy traffic. The tidy Were beside me smelled nice, and the two warlocks monopolizing the shade of a newly planted tree chatted about nothing. I could tell they were warlocks because their characteristic redwood scent was almost hidden beneath the overdone perfume that was making the Were's eyes tear.
The more magic you practiced, the stronger your scent, though usually only another Inderlander could pick it up. The same went for vampires, the ones who indulged themselves the most having a more obvious incense smell. Jenks said I reeked of magic and Ivy stank of vampire. And we all lived together in a little stinky church, I sang in my head.
Uneasy, I ran a finger between me and the strap of my bag. Warlock was a designation of skill, not sex, warlocks simply being witches who hadn't gone through the trouble of learning how to stir a spell by heart.
They could invoke them all right, but stirring them safely was out of their skill level. And as soon as humanity got their head wrapped around that, the entire demographic slice of educated male witches could take the chip off their shoulder and relax.
I had a two-year degree plus enough life experience to get the license to use my charms in my work. It wasn't skill holding me back from getting the license to sell my charms, but capital. Which might explain the incongruity of my riding the bus with an artifact that could start an Inderland power struggle. With my luck, I'd get mugged on the way home.
A sigh shifted me, and I plucked at my T-shirt, wondering if I should take it off and wear the chemise I had on under it home. It would be fun to watch the guy next to me react when I started stripping. A private grin curled up the corners of my mouth. Maybe I'd take off my sneakers and go barefoot. Muggers usually left dirty people with no shoes alone.
The Were next to me made a long whistle of appreciation, and I lifted my gaze up from my nasty sneakers, blinking at the Gray Ghost limo edging out of traffic and into the bus pull-off. My first reaction of surprise melted into annoyance. It had to be Trent. And here I was waiting for the bus with filthy knees and sweating. Just peachy damn keen.
I peered over my sunglasses when the tinted back window rolled down. Yup, it was Trent, the wealthy bastard looking good in his cream-colored linen suit and white shirt. His tan had deepened with summer, leading me to think he got out into his prizewinning gardens and nationally renowned stables more often than he let on. Smiling a confident, somewhat expectant smile, the elf in hiding arched his thin eyebrows at the dirt on my knees.
I didn't say a word, looking through his lowered window to the front seat to find Quen, his head of security, driving instead of his chief bootlicker, Jonathan. My pulse eased at the absence of the tall, sadistic man. I liked Quen, even if he occasionally tested my magic and martial-arts skills. He was honest, at least, unlike his employer.
Hand on my hip, I said snidely, "Where's Jon?" and the Were behind me had a conniption fit that I knew Trent well enough to be nasty to him. The two warlocks were busy taking photos with their phones, giggling and whispering. Maybe I ought to be nice lest I find my ugly scene plastered all over the Internet, and I relaxed my posture a smidgen.
Trent leaned to the window, green eyes squinting at the sun. His fair, neatly translucent hair moved in the breeze from the street, marring its carefully styled perfection. Much as I hated to admit it, his wind-mused hair pegged my attraction meter. Though his business prowess, expressed through his pristinely legal Kalamack Industries, was esteemed, his lean, well-proportioned body would look as good in a tight swimsuit perched on a lifeguard chair as it did in a suit in the boardroom. "Jonathan is occupied," he said, his practiced voice catching my attention and the hint of annoyance in it taking nothing from its mesmerizing grace.
"With Ellasbeth?" I mocked, and the Were beside me choked. What, like I have to be nice to him because he supplied the East Coast's Brimstone trade and had half the world's leaders in his pocket through his illegal bio-medicines? After failing to buy my lifetime services, he had tried to scare me into it. It was a nice bit of blackmail that kept him off my back, but he refused to take the message that I wasn't going to work for him. 'Course, that might be my fault... since I seemed unable to say no when he waved enough money at me.
Trent sighed, visibly bothered at my admittedly childish behavior, but I was hot, damn it, and needed money, and therefore I was vulnerable to his bribes and his air-conditioned car.
"Get in," he said, and then, smiling and waving to the two warlocks, he slid back from the door and into the shadows.
I glanced at the Were beside me, guessing Trent wanted to talk to me about the RSVP I hadn't RSVP'ed to. "Think I should?" I said, and the man nodded like a bobblehead doll.
Trent leaned into the light. "Get in, Ms. Morgan. I'll drop you wherever you want."
I want to go to Vegas and win a car, I thought, but I stepped forward. "Do you have the air on in that thing?" I asked, and he arched his eyebrows. Okay, that was probably a dumb question. "I could use a ride home," I added.
Trent beckoned, and the two warlocks behind me almost swooned by the sound of it. "All I want is fifteen minutes," he said, his perfectly political smile starting to look forced.
He slid himself over so I could get in, and in a surge of defiance I grabbed the handle of the front passenger-side door and yanked it open. Quen jerked in surprise as I slipped in, slammed the door shut, and reached for the lap belt.
"Ah, Ms. Morgan..." Trent said from the backseat.
The air was on, but not nearly high enough, and after I put my shoulder bag at my feet, I started fiddling with the vent. "I'm not riding in the back," I said, angling my half of the vents to me and opening them full bore. "God, Trent. I feel like a kid back there."
"I know what you mean," he muttered, and Quen behind the wheel smiled.
That our dads had been friends and worked together to resurrect Trent's species didn't mean pigeon spots to me. After they had died a week apart, Trent was raised in privilege and I learned how to fight off teenage scumbuckets who saw me as an easy mark - being raised by a mother so thrown by her husband's death she almost forgot about my brother and me. Maybe I was jealous, but I wasn't going to let him think I'd sit beside him like we were friends.
From behind us an industrial-size horn blew: the city bus trying to get into the pull-off. We were breaking the law by standing here, but who was going to give Trent Kalamack a ticket?
At Trent's gesture, Quen accelerated into the empty lane of traffic caused by the stopped bus. I felt like I'd won a few points, and I took off my glasses before settling into the plush leather to enjoy the cool air shifting the sweat-heavy curls hanging in my eyes. This is nice.
"The idea," Trent drawled, speaking louder than he clearly liked, "was that we'd talk."
"I want to talk to Quen." I turned to the heavily scarred man and smiled. He looked as old as my father would be if he were still alive, his dark skin marked by the damage with which the Turn had left even some Inderlanders. Quen was an elf, too, which made four that I'd ever met. Not bad for a species that was playing extinct. He must have a portion of human genes in him, or the T4 Angel virus that had offed a sizable portion of humanity wouldn't have affected him at all.
Though small, Quen was wiry and powerful, both in ley line magic and martial arts. I'd seen him use a black ley line charm once, though Trent probably didn't know he knew it. Sometimes it was better not to know how the people protecting you did their job.
He was wearing black, his outfit suggesting a uniform, but its design supple enough for ease of motion and comfort. He looked good, in a late-forties way, and if I ever needed a role model, Quen would do nicely. If he hadn't been working for Trent, that is.
"So how you doin'?" I asked Quen, and the usually stoic man let slip a glimmer of a smirk. Trent wouldn't be able to see it from his angle, and I wondered if Quen had a sense of humor I hadn't guessed at.
"I'm fine, Ms. Morgan," he said calmly, his voice as rough as his pockmarked skin. "You're looking..." He hesitated, taking a long glance at me as he slowed in bridge traffic. "What have you done to yourself? You look... glowing with health."
I flushed. He had noticed I'd lost my freckles along with every imperfection my soon-to-be-twenty-five years of living had bestowed on me, an unexpected benefit of shifting forms by way of a demon curse. "It's a long story," I said, not wanting to go into it.
"I'd be interested to hear," he prompted, his rough voice taking on a hint of accusation.
From the back came Trent's calculated sigh. Thinking I'd pushed him enough - and not wanting to continue this conversation with Quen - I pulled a dirt-stained knee up and twisted around so I could see Trent. "Look, Trent," I said dryly. "I know you want me to work security during your wedding, and the answer is no. I appreciate the ride home, but you're nuts if you think that's going to soften me up enough to get stupid. I'm not one of your fawning debutantes - "
"I never said you were," he interrupted. It was a soft protest, as if he liked the fact.
"And I'm not going to be a freaking bridesmaid in your wedding. You couldn't pay me enough." I hesitated, cursing my fate that he always seemed to show up when I needed large sums of money. Is it luck, or does he wait until I'm short? "Ah, it is a paying position, right? I mean, the dresses are generally god-awful, but you usually don't have to pay the bridesmaids to put them on."
Trent reclined in the back of the limo, relaxed and sure of himself, knees crossed and looking like he was at the top of his game. "It would be if you took it."
My jaw ached, and I worked to ease my tension as my thoughts returned to my church and the cost of resanctifying it. Trent had pock-ets so deep he wouldn't blink an eye. It wasn't fair to ask Ivy to shoulder so much of the financial burden when it had been my fault.
A smug smile, thoroughly irritating, came over Trent when he realized I wanted something badly enough to be tempted. This was one of the reasons I was in the front. The elf was a master at reading people, and we were enough alike that he had me down.
"I'm asking you to reconsider," he said, and then, his face losing all its smugness, he said, "Please. I could really use your help on this."
I blinked, scrambling to hide my shock. Please? Since when does Trent say please? Since I'd started treating him like a person? I mused, answering my own question. And why was that? Emotions sinking, I remembered not two months ago begging a suicidal vampire to consider drugs to ease his pain as an alternative to first-death, illegal drugs to which only Trent had access. God! It had been a mere twenty minutes ago that I'd asked Glenn to cover up how those women had died because it would make my life easier.
Ticked at myself, I started to see the reason behind Trent's murder and blackmail. I wasn't saying his methods were justified, just that I understood them. He was lazy like a wish, taking the easy way, not necessarily the lawful, harder way. But asking Glenn to hide information in order to prevent an Inderland power struggle wasn't on a par with killing your head geneticist to keep him from going to the authorities and turning you in. Was it?
Delaying my answer, I took off my T-shirt, the cool air hitting my flush hard as I shoved the soft cotton into my bag to help hide the focus. "Why?" I said flatly. "Quen's better than three of me."
Angular face showing a hint of strain, Trent handed me a returned invitation. I glanced at it, seeing the YES checked and a handwritten note under that saying whoever it was was looking forward to being his best man. "Yeah? So?" I said, handing it back.
"Look at who it's from," he said, extending it over the seats to me again.
Gut tightening, I gaped at the harmless, obscenely expensive linen paper between Trent's sun-darkened fingers. The rumble of going over a railroad track jarred me, and I took it, turning it over for an address. "Oh, crap," I whispered.
"That's nearly what I said," Trent muttered, his gaze on the small businesses and homes we were passing by.
Mouth dry, I looked from Trent to Quen, but they were silent, reading my reaction. Slowly I handed the invitation back. It was from Saladan, and it was dated four weeks ago.
"Lee can't be on this side of the ley lines," I said, then turned the air down.
Trent's fear of demons was well hidden, but clear to me. "Apparently he is," he said wryly.
My head moved back and forth. "He's Al's familiar. He can't be this side of the lines."
"It's his handwriting." Trent tossed the invitation. With a soft hush, it landed on the rich leather where I would have been sitting.
Things started to click, and I stiffened. Okay, now I knew why Trent wanted me not only at the wedding but working up front, standing next to him every single stinking moment. "Oh, hell no," I said loudly. "I'm not standing up at your wedding if there's the chance that Al is going to show up as Lee's guest. I do not deal with demons, I do not like demons, and I won't put myself in a position where I have to defend myself or anyone else against one. No. Absolutely not."
"The wedding and rehearsal dinner are after sunset," Trent was saying, his voice far too calm. "That's where the most risk is. But I'd like you to come to the rehearsal as well, seeing that you're posing as a bridesmaid. The rehearsal and dinner are on Friday."
"This Friday?" I said, scrambling for an excuse. "That's my birthday. No way."
Trent's expression shifted. "You are responsible for Lee's being abducted, Ms. Morgan," he said coldly. "I'm sure the demon has an ulterior motive for allowing Lee to cross the lines for something as frivolous as a wedding. The least you can do is try to get him back."
"A rescue!" I yelped, spinning to see him face-on. "Do you know how hard it is to survive a demon, much less trick one's familiar from him? "
"No," Trent said, his dislike for me coming through very clearly. "Do you?"
Well, I did, but I wasn't going to tell Trent that there was another elf of pure descent living across the street from me. He'd use her badly in his biolabs.
Pulse fast, I braced myself when Quen stopped short at a light. We were almost to my neighborhood. Thank God. "Why should I help Lee?" I said angrily. "I don't know what you heard, but he took me into the ever-after, not the other way around. I tried to get us both out of there, but your friend wanted to give me to Al, and since I like where I live, I fought back. I warned him, and after Lee beat me to a pulp, Al took him instead - the better witch. I will not take the blame for that. Trying to give me to Al to pay off his debt was inhuman."
Trent's face lost none of its hard accusation. "Isn't that what you did to Lee?"
Teeth gritted, I held my arm out, palm up so he could see the demon scar on my wrist. "No," I said flatly, shaking for showing it to him so plainly. "I'm sorry, Trent. He was going to give me to Al, and I fought back. I didn't give him to Al. Lee did that to himself through his own mistaken beliefs. I didn't gain anything but my freedom."
Trent's breath came out softly, the sound seeming to wash away all his tension. He believed me. How about that? "Freedom," he said. "That's all anyone wants, isn't it?"
I looked at Quen to figure out what he felt about all of this, but his expression gave no clue as he drove through the city's quiet residential area, eyes ranging over the small houses and tidy yards with blow-up pools in back and fallen bikes in front. Most humans were surprised at how normal an Inderland neighborhood was. Old habits of hiding die hard.
"I'm not judging you, Rachel," Trent said, pulling my attention back to him. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping you could free Lee from the demon - "
"There isn't enough money in the world for that," I muttered.
"I want you to be in my wedding in case there's an attack against me or my fiancee."
I flopped back around, feeling the cushions enfold me.
"Rachel..." the elf started.
"Stop your car and let me off right here," I said tightly. "I can walk the rest of the way."
The car kept going. After a moment Trent said slyly, "It would really grill Ellasbeth's tomatoes if she was forced to make you one of her bridesmaids."
A smile flickered over me as I remembered the tall, icily beautiful, professional woman seething when she found Trent treating me to breakfast in his robe after I had pulled his freaking elf-ass out of the frozen Ohio River. They didn't even pretend to be in love, and their marriage was happening only because she was probably the purest-blooded elf out there for Trent to marry and have little baby elves with. I wondered if they'd been born with pointy ears and had them docked.
"It would cheese her off no end, wouldn't it?" I said, my mood lightening.
"Five thousand for two evenings."
I laughed, and beside me Quen's grip on the wheel tightened. "Not even if it was ten thousand for one event," I said. "And besides, it's too late to get the dress."
"They're in the trunk," Trent said quickly, and I cursed myself for even bringing it up as an excuse, since it implied that all he needed was to find my price.
Then I did a double take, turning to look at him. " 'They'?" I questioned.
Trent shrugged to shift from powerful drug lord to frustrated fiance. "She hasn't decided between the two of them. You're an eight tall, right? Long in the sleeves?"
I was, and it was flattering he remembered. But then so was Ellasbeth. "What color are they?" I asked, curious.
"Ah, she's narrowed it down to a modest black shift and a full-length sea green," he said.
Unflattering flat black and cucumber-puke green. Grea-a-a-a-at. "No."
Quen gently applied the brakes and put the car in park. We were at the church. I grabbed my bag to look into it and make sure I still had the focus. They were elves. I didn't know what they could do. "Thanks for the ride, Trent." The tension rose as I unbuckled myself. "It was nice seeing you, Quen," I said, then hesitated, meeting his green eyes as he sat with his hands on the wheel and waited. "You... ah, aren't going to show up tonight to convince me, are you?"
Breaking his stoic expression, he met my gaze levelly. "No, Ms. Morgan. The danger is real this time, so I respect your decision."
Trent cleared his throat in a nonverbal rebuke, and I gave Quen a thankful nod. The security expert had enough clout to defy Trent if his reasonings were sound, and it made me feel good that someone could say no to him - though I doubted that it happened very often.
"Thanks," I said, but instead of feeling relieved I only found myself more worried. 'The danger is real this time? Like it wasn't last time I worked for Trent?
The moist heat and the sound of cicadas hit me when I got out, the old trees that blocked the sun serving to trap the moisture as well. I glanced across the street to Keasley's house, hoping Trent and Quen would just leave. I didn't like them being this close to Ceri. I didn't know anything about elves. Hell, they might be able to smell each other if they got close enough.
I pulled my attention back to Trent as I hitched my bag higher and started for the church. There was a van at the curb, and I frowned at the sign proudly proclaiming WE SPECIALIZE IN EXORCISM. Great. Ju-u-u-u-ust great. Now the entire street knew we had a problem.
I spun when the sound of a car door closing thumped through the muggy air. Trent was out and was circling to the limo's back. My blood pressure spiked. "I said no," I repeated loudly.
"Having a problem with your church?" he asked, lifting the trunk when it popped open.
My lips pressed together, and I stood so I could see him and Ceri's house both. I didn't like this at all. "We had an incident. Look. I'm not doing it, so just leave, okay?" I felt like I was talking to a dog who had followed me home. Bad dog. Go home.
I boldly turned my back on him and, feeling the hair on the back of my neck prickle, strode to the stairs. Not wanting him to follow me in, I paused two steps down from the landing.
"Ten thousand for two nights," Trent said, pulling two garment bags from the trunk.
"Your rehearsal is on my birthday. I have plans. Reservations at Carew Tower." A thrill went through me at the admission. It was going to be a date to remember.
But Trent squinted, looking as if the heat couldn't touch him. "Bring your date along." He gently pushed the trunk's lid down. The motor engaged and the trunk whined shut. Adjusting the garment bags over his arm, he came forward. The closer he got, the more nervous I became.
"You may have breakfast in the Carew Tower every Tuesday," I said, "but I've never been up there, and I'm looking forward to it. I'm not asking my date to change it."
"Thirty thousand. And I'll get your reservations changed to whatever night you want."
He was a step down, and his eyes were even with mine. "Everything is so easy for you, isn't it?" I said, disgusted.
A tired, haunted look showed in his green eyes, and his hair shifted in the breeze to ruin his professional carriage. "No. It only looks that way."
"Poor baby," I muttered, and his jaw tightened. Carefully arranging his hair, he returned to his callous self.
"Rachel, I need your help," he said with an irritated acceptance. "There're going to be too many people, and I don't want an ugly scene. Your being there might be enough to stop any trouble before it starts. You won't be doing this alone. Quen has his entire staff - "
"I don't work under anyone's direction," I said, my gut tightening as I looked past him to Ceri's house. I wanted him gone. If she came out, everything would go to hell.
"They'd work around you," he persuaded. "You're there if something slips by them."
"I don't play well with others, and I run with loaded guns," I said, taking a backward step up to distance myself from him. "Besides, Quen is better than me," I said shortly as the wind mussed his hair again. "There's no reason for me to be there."
His free hand smoothed his bangs as he saw me look at it. "You sat in the front. Why?"
"Because I knew it would bother you." The sound of unfamiliar voices in the sanctuary came out through the transom windows along the side of the church. I took another step up, and Trent stayed where he was, confident though I was now taller than him.
"That's why I want you there," he said. "You're unpredictable, and that can be the difference between success and failure. Most people make decisions in anger, fear, love, or obligation. You make decisions to irritate people."
"You're just chalking up the points here, Trent."
"I need that unpredictability," he continued, as if I hadn't said anything.
Agitated, I focused on him. "Forty thousand for a night of unpredictability is expensive."
His face shifted, and with sly delight he echoed, "Forty thousand?"
I cringed inside as I told him my price, then decided to go with it. "Or whatever it takes to get my church resanctified," I countered.
Trent took his eyes from me for the first time, sending his gaze up the length of the steeple, squinting at it. "Your church lost its sanctification? What happened?"
I took a breath, backing up on the landing. "We had an incident," I said sharply. "I gave you my terms. Take it and leave, or just leave."
Eyes gleaming, Trent countered, "I'll pay five thousand if all three functions are incident-free, and forty thousand if you're required to intervene."
"Fine, I'll do it," I muttered, glancing across the street. "Just get your elf ass off my walk before I change my mind."
Then I froze, shocked when Trent lightly ascended the steps between us, the relief and genuine appreciation turning him from a successful, confident businessman into a normal, everyday guy, a little worried and unsure of his future. "Thank you, Rachel," he said while handing me the garment bags. '"Jonathan will call when she finally chooses a dress."
The garment bags settled over my arm with the scent of perfume. Crap, they were made from silk, and I wondered what the dresses looked like. I felt odd having Trent thank me. He wasn't moving, though, and I prompted, "Well, good-bye."
He hesitated, eyeing me as he found the sidewalk. He went to say something, then turned away. Quen had the door for him, and, his steps quick despite the heat, Trent headed for the limo and slid in with a practiced grace. Quen gently shut the door. Watching me, he went to the front of the car and got in. Guilt pricked at me. Was I doing Ceri an injustice by not introducing her to Trent? I didn't want him using her, but she could take care of herself, and, if nothing more, she could find others of her kind. Trent probably had a Christmas card list.
I exhaled in relief when they pulled from the curb and accelerated down the street. "Thank God," I muttered, then frowned. I was going to be in Trent's wedding. Swell.
I turned to the door, and Ivy's voice echoed out. "That's not what your ad says!" she exclaimed, shortly followed by Jenks's voice, too faint to understand.
"It's not that I don't want to," an unfamiliar masculine voice protested, becoming louder. "I don't have the equipment or skill to fix it."
I hesitated, hand on the latch. The man had sounded embarrassed. The door swung open, and I jumped back, stumbling to catch my balance. A young man almost walked right into me, jerking to a halt at the last moment. His clean-shaven face reddened, and the purple sash of his faith draped around his neck and flowing down his front looked funny with his jeans and the casual polo shirt embroidered with his business name. An expensive-looking cell phone was clipped to his belt, and he carried a locked toolbox.
"Excuse me," he said in annoyance. Jiggling on his feet, he tried to get around me. I took a step to get into his way, and his eyes rose to meet mine.
Ivy was glowering behind him, Jenks hovering at head height with his wings clattering in anger. Her eyebrows went up when she saw the silk garment bags, then, catching her thought, she said dryly, "Rachel, this is Dr. Williams. He says he can't resanctify the church. Dr. Williams, this is my partner, Rachel Morgan."
Almost hiding his irritation, the man moved his toolbox to his left hand and extended his right. I shifted my garment bags and shook it. I felt a rise of stored ley-line energy try to slip between us to equal out our balances, and I snatched the force back before it could make the jump. God, how embarrassing.
"Hi," I said, thinking he looked cute and had a nice grip. The heady scent of redwood flowed from him, stronger than I'd winded in a long time. He was a witch, and an educated one, and when his brown eyes widened, I knew he knew I was the same. "What's the problem?" I said, letting go of his hand. "If it's the financing, I just took care of it. I can have cash for you by Monday next."
It felt damn good saying that, but Jenks dropped three inches and groaned, and Ivy glanced at the garment bags in understanding. "Rachel, you didn't..." she said, and I flushed.
"I'm working a wedding and a reception," I said tightly. "How bad could it be?" Really bad. Really, really bad.
But Dr. Williams was squinting at his van and shaking his head.
"Your financing came through fine. I simply can't do it. I'm sorry. If you'll excuse me..."
Crap. The first guy to come out here hadn't been able to either.
The man tried to leave, but Ivy moved with a vampire quickness, surprising all of us. Giving me a tight-lipped look, she muttered to me, "We're going to talk about this," and then to Dr. Williams, blinking at her suddenly before him, "Your ad says - "
"I know what the ad says," he interrupted. "I wrote it. I told you we don't have the experience for your situation."
He got another step down before Ivy was in front of him again, a dangerous thinning of brown around her pupil. He stopped, angry as he took off his purple ribbon. His disregard for the danger she represented surprised me, until I decided that if he could sanctify ground, he could probably take care of himself. I ran my eyes over him again, new thoughts sifting through me.
"Look," he said, dropping his head. When it came back up, there was an expression of warning in his gaze. "If it was just resanctifying it, I could do it, but your church has been blasphemed."
My lips parted, and Ivy crossed her arms over her chest in an unusual show of worry. I twisted a demon curse on blasphemed ground without the protection of my aura? Great.
"Blasphemed!" Jenks exclaimed, silver sparkles sifting from him. In the bushes there was a high-pitched call from a winged eavesdropper, quickly hushed.
The man looked from the bush to me. "From the bedrooms up to the front door," he said, clearly resigned he wasn't leaving until I was satisfied. "The entire church is contaminated. I'd have to get the demon smut off first, and I don't know how to do that."
His lack of fear seemed to give Ivy something to tie her emotions to and bring them back under control, but Jenks clattered his wings aggressively. He was getting ready to pix the man, and their attitudes were starting to tick me off. If Dr. Williams couldn't do it, he couldn't do it.
"Jenks," I admonished, "backoff. If he can't do it, it's not his fault."
The doctor's grip on his tackle box tightened, his pride clearly feeling the sting. "It's usually the coroner who is called in to cleanup failed demon summonings, not me."
Ivy stiffened, and before she could get all vampy, I interjected, "I didn't call the demon. She showed up on her own."
He laughed bitterly, as if he had caught me in a lie. "She?" he mocked. "Female demons can't cross the lines."
"Can't, or won't?"
That made him pause, his expression taking on a hint of respect. Then he shook his head and his expression became hard. "Demon practitioners have a life expectancy of months, Ms. Morgan. I suggest you change your profession. Before your state-of-aliveness does it for you."
Dr. Williams took a step down, and I shot after him, "I don't deal in demons. She showed up on her own."
"That's my point." His feet were on the sidewalk, and he stopped and turned. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Tamwood, Jenks..." His gaze lifted to me. "... Ms. Morgan, but this is outside my current abilities. If the ground hadn't been cursed, there would be no problem, but as it is... ?" Shaking his head again, he headed for his van.
I shifted my garment bags to my other arm. "What if we got the ground cleaned?"
He stopped at the back of his van to open it and set his toolbox in it. He slammed it shut, his purple ribbon still in his grip. "It would be cheaper to move the bodies out of the cemetery and build a new church on hallowed ground." He hesitated, his attention flitting to the copper sign above the church door, proudly stating VAMPIRIC CHARMS. "I'm sorry. But you should count yourself lucky you even survived."
Shoes scuffing the pavement, he disappeared around the side of the van. The sound of his driver's-side door shutting seemed loud in the quiet street, drawing attention to the tinkling of an ice cream truck. As his van drove away, Ivy sat on the second step down. Saying nothing, I sat beside her, draping the bags over my knees. After a moment of hesitation, Jenks landed on my shoulder. Together we watched the ice cream truck trundle closer, its merry tune sounding especially irritating.
In an eyeball-hurting, shrill cloud, Jenks's kids flocked over to it, diving in and out of the man's windows until he stopped. He had been coming down here every day since the first of July to sell a two-dollar snow cone to a family of pixies.
Jenks's wings shifted my hair in the breeze as he lifted off. "Hey, Ivy," he said confidently, "can you float me a couple of bucks? "
It was an old pattern by now, and, shoulders hunched, she got to her feet. Grumbling under her breath, she slipped into the church for her purse.
I knew I should be worried about the church and sleeping on blasphemed ground, but I was ticked about working for Trent for no reason-seeing as we couldn't resanctify the church. And on my birthday, too.
While Jenks yelled at his kids to decide on a flavor and get it over with, I dug my phone out of my bag and hit the speed dial. I had to call Kisten.
Chapter Eleven
The sound of heavy plastic was soothing as I hung up my new outfit beside my two bridesmaid dresses on the back of my closet door. The black plastic with the Poison Heart logo looked garish next to the silk: garment bags, and I touched their smoothness just to prove that someone had actually spent money on something so extravagant.
Shaking my head, I ripped the plastic off my new purchase, wadded it up, and tossed it into a corner, where it slowly unfurled, the sound of it clear in the silence that held the church. I had just come from the mall by way of the bus, and I was eager to show somebody what I'd bought for Trent's wedding rehearsal and dinner, but Ivy was out and Jenks was in the garden. The Poison Heart was an exclusive shop, and I had thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon of guilt-free shopping. I needed this outfit for my run. It was tax-deductible.
The night was humid. My chemise was sticking to me, and since our central-air funds had become our resanctify-the-grounds funds, it looked as if the most we'd be doing this year would be a window unit somewhere. All the windows were open, and the shush of an occasional passing car mixed comfortably with the sound of Jenks's kids playing June-bug croquet.
It was as bad as it sounded, and Ivy and I had spent a hilarious evening last week watching his kids divide into two teams and, by the light of the porch lamp, take turns whacking the hapless beetles to very fat toads. The team whose toad hopped away first - stuffed to the gills - won.
My smile widened at the memory, and I brushed nonexistent lint from the snappy short black jacket, the beads sewn into it glinting in the overhead light. Smile fading, I looked the outfit over again - now that I was free of the clerk's enthusiasm. Maybe the beads were a little over the top, but they went well with the glitter on the stockings. And the shortness of the hip-hugger skirt was offset by its subdued black. It had come with a nice top that would show my midriff, and I had the jacket in case it got cold.
Shuffling in my closet, I pulled out a pair of flat sandals I could run in. Ellasbeth wouldn't be wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Why should I slum it to make her look good?
I dropped the sandals and stepped back in thought. Some jewelry would finish it nicely, but Ivy could help me with that.
"Hey, Jenks!" I shouted, knowing if he didn't hear me, his kids would and go get him. "Come and see what I bought!"
Almost immediately there was a clatter of wings at my window. I had sewn up the pixy hole in the screen a few days previous, and I stifled my smile when Jenks ran into it.
"Hey!" he shouted, hovering with his hands on his hips and a soft glow of gold sifting from him. "What the hell is this? "
"A little privacy," I said, fluffing the lace about the skirt's hem. "Use the door. That's what it's for."
"You know what?" he snarled. "I oughta - Oh, for the love of Tink!"
I turned at his wonderstruck tone, but he was gone. In an instant he was in the hall, laughing as he drifted backward. "Is that it?" he said. "Is that the dress you bought to wear to Trent's wedding rehearsal and dinner? Damn, woman, you need some serious help."
Following his gaze, I looked at my outfit. "What?" I said, warming. My nose tickled, and I muffled a sneeze, the heat and humidity starting to get to me.
Jenks was still laughing. "It's a dinner, Rache. Not a dance club!"
Worried, I touched the jacket's sleeve. "You think it's too much?" I asked, working hard to keep my tone noncombative. I'd had this conversation with ex-roommates before.
Jenks landed on the hanger. "Not if you're going to play the part of the town whore."
"You know what?" I said, starting to get ticked. "Being sexy doesn't come naturally, and sometimes, you have to go out on a limb."
"Limb?" he choked. "Rache, if that's the way you dress for a wedding rehearsal, it's no wonder you spent high school fighting off bad boyfriends. Image, girl! It's all about image! Who do you want to be?"
I went to flick him away, and he darted to the ceiling, a trail of silver dust drifting down like a ribbon of thought he'd left behind. At the window a cluster of his kids were giggling. Flustered, I closed my curtains. Rex, drawn by the sound of Jenks's voice, padded in from who knew where, settling herself in my threshold with her tail curled about her feet and her eyes on Jenks. The pixy had landed on Nick's file, now shoved in among my perfume bottles, and I hoped the idiotic cat wouldn't jump up there after him. I felt a slow buildup of a tickle in my nose, and I scrambled for a tissue, startling Rex into skittering out to the hall when I sneezed.
Looking over my tissue, I watched Jenks's head go back and forth. "It's a nice outfit," I protested. "And I didn't buy it for Trent, I bought it for my birthday date with Kisten." I touched the beaded sleeve again, feeling melancholy. So I liked to dress up. So what? But maybe... maybe my image could use a little more class and a little less party girl.
Snorting, Jenks gave me a long, knowing look. "Sure you did, Rache."
Bothered, I turned off the light and headed into the kitchen, scooping up the two bags of tomato stuff for Glenn that I had left in the hall. Still laughing, Jenks followed, landing on my shoulder in a show of apology.
"You know," he said, and I could hear the smile on his face in his tone, "I think you should wear that dress to the rehearsal. It will cheese off that witch of a woman."
"Sure," I said, starting to get depressed. I'd wait until Ivy came home, then ask her. What did Jenks know? He was a pixy, for God's sake.
I elbowed the rocker switch as I entered the kitchen, all but tripping on Rex when she darted between my feet. The ungraceful motion turned into a sneeze. I felt it coming but didn't have time to warn Jenks. He was catapulted off, and, swearing, he went to the window.
"Sorry," I said when he lit next to his sea monkeys. According to my mother, it was bad luck to sneeze between rooms, but it was Jenks's questioning look that had me worried.
Wincing, I looked at Rex, her cute little kitten face turned up as she sat before the sink and gazed lovingly up at her four-inch master. Jenks followed my attention to her, and when I set the bags down to wipe my nose, his wings stilled in understanding. I had been sneezing off and on since yesterday. Crap, there are charms for it, but I don't want to be allergic to cats.
"I'm not allergic to cats," I said, wrapping one arm around my middle. "Rex has been here for the past two months, and this is the first time it's been a problem."
"Okay," he said softly, but his wings weren't moving when he turned his back on me to wrestle with the vial of sea-monkey food.
It was too quiet in here. I wanted to turn on some music, but the stereo was in the sanctuary, and to crank it loud enough to be able to enjoy it in the kitchen would bother the neighbors. Working up a really good pity party, I pulled out one of my newest spell books and set it thumping on the center island counter. Sneezing, I thought, hunched as I thumbed through the index. I wasn't allergic to cats. My dad had been, but I wasn't.
The only spell in the book that had to do with sneezing was one for cat allergies, and as I debated trying it, I felt a tickle start. Eyes watering, I held my breath. It didn't do any good. I sneezed, accidentally tearing the page.
"Damn it!" I swore, looking up to see that I had startled Jenks into the air. "I'm not allergic to cats! It's a summer cold. That's all."
I felt the urge again. Exasperated, I closed my eyes and tried to stop it, making an ugly noise when I couldn't. I knew I had seen a spell for sneezing that didn't revolve around cats. Where the devil was it?
"Oh, yeah," I said softly, crouching down to get my old ley line textbook out from between The Big Cookie Cookbook and my copy of Real Witches Eat Quiche.
"Rache?" Jenks said, coming to stand on the counter when I opened it up to the index.
"What?" I snapped.
"You need any help?"
I stopped what I was doing and looked to find him standing miserably before me with his wings drooping. Rex was twining about my ankles, and if I knew it was anything other than misplaced affection, I would have been charmed. Slowly I exhaled. "I don't think so," I said, flipping to page forty-nine. "Ley line charms are pretty easy. I'm getting better at them, and if it does the trick, then we're all set."
He nodded and flitted up to the ladle, his favorite spot in the kitchen, where he could see me, the door, and a good slice of the garden.
I quickly read over the instructions to grow more confident. I didn't particularly like ley line magic, having been classically trained in slower, but no less powerful, earth magic. Earth magic used potions and amulets, finding the energy to perform the spell in plants, who ultimately pulled it from the ley lines themselves. The energy was filtered and softened, making earth magic more forgiving and slower than ley line magic, but ultimately more far-reaching - the changes wrought with earth magic were generally real rather than illusion, as much of ley line magic was. I wouldn't just look shorter under the right earth charm, I would be shorter.
Ley line magic used incantation and ritual to pull the energy to change reality right off the line. It made this branch of magic faster and flashier, but there were ten times more black ley line witches than black earth witches. Apart from hitting someone with a hunk of ever-after to short out his or her neural network, changes were illusion and could be surmounted with willpower.
Before dying, my father had taken steps to direct me into earth magic. It was a decision I totally agreed with, but I had some skill in the ley line arts, and if it would stop me sneezing, where was the harm? And while going over the white charm before me, I decided the five-hundred-level spell was well within my grasp.
Pleased, I started to gather what I'd need. "White candle," I murmured, briefly considering the pack of birthday candles in my shoulder bag that I'd picked up along with the lilac wine. But then I pulled out a nicked taper from my silverware drawer where I kept it. It was blessed, and that was all the better. "Dandelion?" I questioned, looking up at Jenks.
"Got it," he said, cheerfully vaulting from the ladle and through the pixy hole in the kitchen window screen.
I had dried dandelions from last year, but I knew he'd appreciate the chance to harvest something for me. He was back almost immediately with a dew-wet, closed flower, and after shooing his kids from the window, he set it next to the lopsided pentagram I had sketched on my mobile chalkboard. It was the size of a laptop and had a cover to protect a design in transit.
"Thanks," I said, and he nodded, lifting briefly into the air to land on the textbook.
"You going to set a circle?" he asked, looking slightly nervous, and when I nodded, he added, "I'll... um, watch from the windowsill."
Hiding my smile, I moved all my stuff to the other side of the island counter so I could both work and see him. "It's a medicinal spell," I explained. "Why take chances?"
Jenks gave me a mild, "Ummm." I knew he didn't like seeing me under the influence of a line. He said it was because there was a shadow on my aura that wasn't there the rest of the time. I didn't like it because my hair got staticky, moving in the wind that always seemed to be blowing in the ever-after.
My pulse quickened in anticipation, and I glanced at the clock. It was way before midnight - lots of time. You could work white magic after midnight, but why push your luck? Grabbing a handful of salt, I sprinkled it over the line etched in the linoleum.
Jenks's wings shifted fitfully. When I stretched out my awareness to touch the small, underused ley line running through the graveyard out back. My breath came in fast, but by the time I had exhaled, the energy flow was balanced. A faint tingling in my fingertips and a heavy sensation in my middle told me my chi was full, and I didn't pull more off the line to spindle in my head. I wouldn't need more than this to work the spell.
Uncomfortable, I wiggled my shoulders as if trying to fit into a new skin. It used to be that it took several moments for the strength to equalize. Practice had shaved it to almost nothing. My hair was floating already. I tried to flatten it, and my skin prickled where my muscles flexed. If I cared to, I could open my second sight and actually see the ever-after superimposed on reality, but it gave me the creeps.
"Whoops," I said, remembering I didn't have my candle lit yet, and went to the gas stove to get a burner going. Using a bamboo skewer, I lit the vanilla-scented candle I cleared the air with when I burned something. I shook the stick out and carefully carried the candle to the center counter, where it flickered in the muggy breeze coming in the window.
A last look at the instructions to be sure I had everything at the counter, and I kicked off a sandal. "Where's your cat, Jenks?" I said, not wanting to trap her in with me.
He took to the air. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..."he called, and with a chirping trill, her orange face appeared at the hall archway. She was licking her lips, but Jenks wasn't troubled.
"Rhombus," I said softly, touching my toe to the salt circle. The single word of Latin invoked a hard-won series of mental exercises that condensed the five-minute prep and invocation of setting a circle into an instant. I stifled a jerk as the circle closed with a snap. Jenks's wings whirled as a molecule-thin sheet of ever-after rose up between us to keep any influences out while I worked the medicinal-class ley line charm. I was impulsive, not stupid.
Rex padded in, rubbing against the barrier as if it were covered in catnip. I'd take that as a sign that she might want to be my familiar - if she didn't run every time I tried to pick her up.
I grimaced at the ugly black sheen of demon smut crawling over my bubble, discoloring the usual cheerful gold of my aura. It was a visual display of the imbalance I carried on my soul, a reminder of the debt I owed for having twisted reality so far out of alignment that I could become a wolf and Jenks grew to human size. The discoloration was nothing compared to the thousand years of demon-curse imbalance that Ceri carried, but it bothered me.
All but the smallest amount of ever-after energy I had tapped had gone into maintaining the circle, but there was the tingle of a new buildup of force filtering in. It would continue to grow until I let go of the line completely. Many witches were said to have gone insane from trying to stretch what their chi could hold by allowing the pressure to build beyond what they could safely contain, but when my chi overflowed, I could spindle the line energy in my head. Demons could do the same, and their familiars. Ceri and I were the only two people this side of the lines who could spindle line energy. That we had survived Al with the knowledge intact hadn't been the demon's intent. Ceri had taught me the basics, but Al was the one who'd stretched my tolerances and made the skill second nature - by way of an excruciating amount of pain.
"Ah, Rachel?" Jenks said, green-tinted sparkles slipping from him to pool in the sink. "It's worse than usual."
My good mood vanished, and I frowned at the demon smut. "Yeah, well, I'm trying to get rid of it," I muttered, then pulled my sketched pentagram forward.
Taking up a stone crucible I had bought at a ley line shop up in Mackinaw, I set it in the lowest space between the bottom of the pentagram and the circle surrounding it. Fingers still touching it, I murmured, "Adaequo," to set it in place and give its presence meaning.
I felt a small surge from the line and twitched. Oh, it was one of those spells. Great.
My nose tickled. I stiffened, realizing I hadn't brought any tissue in with me. "Oh, no," I said, my voice rising. Jenks looked panicked, and I sneezed. He was laughing when I brought my head up. Looking frantically for something to wipe my nose with, I settled on a scratchy paper towel, managing to tear off twice what I needed and getting it to my face just in time for the follow-up sneeze. Crap, I had to finish this spell fast.
The big-ass, symbolic knife I had gotten at Findley Market from a cheerful woman went in the center space with the words me auctore, and a feather was given meaning when I placed it with the strength of lenio in the lower left-hand leg of the star. My nose was starting to tickle again, and I hurriedly checked the textbook.
"Iracundia," I said, holding my breath as I set Jenks's dandelion in the other leg of the star. All that was left was the candle.
The force in me had been building with every word, and with my eye twitching I set the blessed candle carefully in the topmost section of the star, hoping it wouldn't fall over and spill wax on my chalkboard so I'd be spending tomorrow cleaning it with toluene. This one wouldn't be set with a place-name until I lit it, and with that in mind, I plucked the bamboo skewer from where I had left it, setting it aflame again from the vanilla candle.
Wiping my free hand on my jeans, I shifted from foot to foot and transferred the flame to the blessed candle. "Evulgo," I whispered, wincing as a surge came in from the line. My eyes widened. Oh, God, I was going to sneeze again. I didn't want to know what it might do to my spell if it wasn't cast yet.
I moved fast. Grabbing the feather, I dropped it into the crucible. I snatched up the knife, and before I could get uptight about the ugly symbolism, I pricked my thumb and squeezed out three drops of blood. I would rather have used one of my finger sticks, but ley line magic was based on symbolism, and it made a difference.
The knife went back into its little spot, and I peered at the text, thumb in my mouth so I didn't get blood all over the place. "Non sum qualis eram," I said, remembering it from another spell. Must be a generic phrase for invocation.
My urge to sneeze vanished, and I jerked in surprise when the crucible was engulfed in flame. There was a whoosh, accompanied by twang through me. The cheerful red-and-orange flames flashed to a weird gold and black that matched my damaged aura - and went out.
Wide-eyed, I pulled my gaze from the soot-blackened crucible to Jenks, hovering over the sink. There wasn't anything in the bowl but a smear of ash stinking of burnt vegetation.
"Was that what was supposed to happen?" he asked.
Like I know? "Uh, yeah," I said, pretending to look at the text. "See, I'm not sneezing."
I took a careful breath through my nose, then another, more relaxed one. My shoulders eased, and I let myself smile. I loved it when I learned something new.
"Good," Jenks grumbled, taking to the air to hover before the bubble, still up and running. " 'Cause I'm not getting rid of my cat."
With a small thought, I broke my connection with the ley line. The circle vanished, and Jenks flew in to land next to the crucible, his tiny features wrinkled in distaste. Content, I closed the textbook and started to clean up my mess before Ivy got home. "I told you I wasn't..." My words cut off as my nose started to tickle. "I'm not..." I started again, feeing my eyes widen. Jenks stared at me, horror in his expression.
Eyes watering, I waved helplessly. "Achoo!" I exclaimed, hunching over, my hair falling to hide my face. It was followed by another, then another. Ah, crap, I'd made things worse.
"The Turn take it," I gasped between sneezes. "I know I did it right!"
"Ivy's got some pills," Jenks said. I could hear his wings, but I was too busy try ing to catch my breath to look at him. He sounded worried. I knew I was. "In her bathroom," he added. "Maybe they'll help."
I bobbed my head, then sneezed again. Ivy had caught a cold last spring when we'd come back from Michigan. She had moped around the church for three days, coughing and blowing her nose - snarling at me every time I suggested making her a charm. She had taken pills with her orange juice every afternoon.
My breath came in little pants, and my nose tickled. Crap. Lurching to the hallway, I sneezed again. "I'm not allergic to cats," I said while I groped to turn the light on. My reflection looked terrible, my hair all over the place and my nose running. I opened the cupboard, uncomfortable rummaging in her things.
"This one!" Jenks said, tugging at a thin amber vial.
I sneezed three more times while I fumbled to get the stupid thing open, trying to read that I was to take two pills every four hours. Why in hell had I tried to use ley line magic? I should have known better than to self-administer a medicinal charm. The aides in Emergency were going to laugh their asses off if I had to go in for a counterspell.
I stared at Jenks. My eyes widened; another sneeze was coming, and it felt like a big one. Not using water, I took two pills, looking at the ceiling and trying to swallow them.
"Water, Rache!" Jenks said, hovering over the tap. "You gotta take them with water!"
Waving him out of my way, I swallowed them down dry, grimacing. And, like magic, the urge to sneeze vanished.
Not believing it, I took a breath, then another. Jenks was having a fit over the wax cups, so I filled one, dutifully swallowing the lukewarm water to feel the pills slide down. "Damn!" I swore in admiration. "Those are great. Caught it midsneeze." I set the cup down to pick up the vial, turning it over to read the label. "How much are these anyway?"
Jenks's wings clattered, he and his reflection slowly falling. "They don't work that fast."
I glanced at him. "Really?"
He looked worried, his feet gently touching the counter and his wings stilled. He took a breath to say something, but a soft pop jerked both our heads up. My pulse went into overdrive, and I felt someone tap the line out back. It startled me, and, gasping, I fell into Ivy's black porcelain toilet, slipping. I went down with a little shriek, and my butt met the tile. "Ow," I said, holding my elbow where it hit something.
"Witch!" a resonant voice echoed, and I tossed my hair aside, taking in the robed figure in the threshold. "Why, by Cormel's gonads, does my coffee taste like dandelions!"
Ah, crap, it was Minias.
