Chapter Thirty-Two
Trent's long black car pulled up to the curb, a soft hush in the dark. In an instant, Ivy was reaching for the handle. The front passenger's door opened, and she was standing in the street, her eyes on the church's steeple. Looking back in, she glanced first at Quen, then at Trent, sitting in the back with me and Bis, Lucy in her car seat between us.
"Thanks for the ride, Trent. Quen," she said, her voice low but sincere. And then she was gone, boot heels clicking on the night-cooled pavement, visibly shaking off being too far from home for too long. Vampires truly were the homebodies of Inderland society, and it had been hard on her in ways I could never imagine. That Trent had chartered a specially designed, low-flying jet to get us home in hours, not days, had been a godsend.
"Tell your pilot his pressure control still sucks," Jenks said through the open window in parting, and then darted to join Ivy. Giving me a toothy grin, Bis hopped to the open sunroof, and launched himself after them and into the dark.
I held a hand to my head to keep my hair from flying around in the draft from his wings, and Lucy frowned in her sleep, her hand flashing out as if she was falling. Together, Jenks, Ivy, and Bis ascended the stairs in the dark, pulling the heavy oak doors open to let out a flood of light and pixies. I glanced at the headache-inducing cloud of silk and gossamer, then settled back in the soft leather, reluctant to get out-even as glad as I was to get home.
A flash of liquid light turned into Jenks darting to the steeple as he checked in with the pixy on sentry duty. I heard a sharp wing chirp and a high-pitched harangue start. Jenks wasn't happy about something. More reason to just sit for a moment.
With the sound of clicking metal, Quen undid his seat belt and got out. There were kids shouting somewhere in the next street over, and the revving of a car engine. The trunk whined open, and I shifted my new shoulder bag onto my lap. I didn't know what had happened to my old one. My phone was gone, but at least Vivian had given me my scrying mirror-for what it was worth. "Thanks for the ride home," I said to Trent softly, so as not to wake Lucy. "Don't mind Jenks. The pressure was fine."
Smiling, Trent tucked a blanket with the Disney logo under Lucy's chin. She squirmed, but didn't wake. "It was my pleasure. The honey seemed to do the trick."
"Yup." Ivy was yelling at Jenks, who had dropped back down into the church by the sound of it-something about leaving his kids alone and that they'd done okay. Angels and ass seemed to figure into the conversation. Sighing, I looked at the light spilling from the church. I was tired, and getting out of the car only meant more work.
"I know I've said it before, but thank you. For Lucy," Trent said.
I turned to Trent, then smiled at her, pouting in her sleep. My gaze flicked back to him, and I studied his love for her, honest and irrefutable on his face. He was different, less confident, softer. Or maybe I was just seeing him that way. "She's beautiful," I said, readjusting her blanket.
The thumps from the trunk were obvious, and I reached for the door.
"Ceri is due any day now," Trent said, and I wondered if he was trying to get me to stay a moment longer. "But with Lucy there first, Ceri's baby will be the second born."
I slumped back, curious. "Lucy is the ranking elf of the next generation? Not Ceri's baby?"
His new softness vanished, and he eyed me steadily. "I meant it when I said you'd have a say in it."
Tugging my new jacket closer, I tried to make light of it. "You mean, like I have to babysit or something?"
"I was thinking more like godmother."
My nervous mirth changed to alarm. Oh jeez, a demonic godmother. Feeling ill, I glanced at him. "Okay. Yes. I'd like that. Thank you. It's an honor," I said, not sure this was a good idea but gratified nevertheless. I had Trent's trust, and it was apparently an all-or-nothing affair. And I guess...he had mine.
I jumped when my door opened, Quen standing ready with my two suitcases and garment bag at the curb. They had canceled my brother's wedding since my mom had been stuck in jail while San Francisco rocked and rolled. Robbie was never going to forgive me, and I wasn't invited to the new wedding next month.
Giving Trent a last smile and Lucy a fond touch on her toes, I got out. Quen helped me arrange one suitcase over my shoulder and handed me my garment bag, never unzipped the entire trip. "Thanks, Quen," I said when his pockmarked, weathered face curled up in a smile. "Tell Ceri I said hi." Leaning in, I whispered, "And sorry about the ranking elf-baby thing."
He laughed, making the dark street seem comforting. "She doesn't care," he said. "The two of them are to be raised as sisters, though they don't share a drop of common blood." Hesitating, he looked to the church's open door as a stream of noise flowed out. "Would you like some help getting this in?"
Thinking Trent had to be anxious to get home, I shook my head. "I got it. Thanks." Leaning down, I grinned at Trent through the window, surprised he'd shifted seats and was now in mine. "Thanks for everything." I raised a hand, the circle of charmed silver catching the light. "You're, uh, a lifesaver."
Oh God. I'd said it. And what's more, I think I meant it.
Trent flushed in the dim light of the car's interior. "Thank you. I appreciate that." Then, as if he'd been waiting for the apology, he reached into an inner coat pocket and extended an envelope.
I looked at it suspiciously, shifting the weight of my small carry-on. "What is it?"
"If you don't want it-" he said, and I snatched it. Sometimes Trent's envelopes had money in them. "It's from the Withons," he said as I tore it open and saw a check. A nice check. Six months' worth of check. Damn, it would pay for a new car to replace the one I'd cracked up on the bridge and then some.
"It's restitution for the trouble they put you through," Trent said, bringing my attention up to see him smiling in a rather devious way, and I tucked the money in my back pocket. This would help a lot. Not to mention that it would be the only monetary recompense I was likely going to get for ridding San Francisco of Ku'Sox. 'Course, the demon had destroyed a huge chunk of the Tenderloin, but that area could use a little sprucing up.
"Did you make them do this?" I asked, wincing at the shrill pixy harangue filtering out. Ahhhh, it's good to be home.
Trent's expression went from sly to gratified. "You did good," he said, fingers resting gently on Lucy. "Have you given any more thought-"
"What, you still want me to work for you? I'm pretty much useless," I said, feeling the charmed silver heavy on my wrist.
"That?" Trent said, his eyes flicking to the braided bit of charmed silver. "I told you it was a choice. Just say the word, and I'll tell you the charm to break it. We can talk at Lucy's birthday party. You like clowns?"
My mouth dropped open, and Quen edged away from me. "You are not subjecting that sweet little girl to clowns!" I exclaimed.
Chuckling, Trent settled back in the car. "Take care, Rachel," he said as the window started to go up. "Don't be afraid to call me. We can teach Lucy how to ride."
Riding. Right. "You take care, too...Trent," I said, not knowing if it felt odder saying it or meaning it. The last ten days had been educational. The man was clever, intelligent, and utterly lacking in someone he could just...talk to. He was never himself, even with Ceri. It had to be a lonely way to live.
But it wasn't my problem, and I gave Quen a small wave and turned to the church. I didn't wait for them to leave, just picked up my suitcases and headed for the stairs. Jenks met me halfway up. "Fairies!" he shrilled. "In the garden!"
"Now?" I stammered, heart pounding.
"Yes! I mean, no!" he shouted, flying backward as I hesitated on the steps. "They attacked two days ago!"
"Is everyone okay?" I asked, my gaze going to the steeple, seeing Bis there now, the glint of his red eyes and his relaxed posture telling me everything was fine.
Trent's window rolled down, and leaning out, he asked, "Is there a problem?"
Concerned, I said, "Jenks says we were attacked two days ago."
Quen paused with his hand on the door, exchanging a look with Trent. Was the coven still at it? They'd pardoned me, and even though they were mad at Trent for having released Ku'Sox, they weren't going to do anything about it lest Trent retaliate with something worse.
"I was eating Tink-blasted cotton candy while fairies were attacking my children!" Jenks said, dripping a red dust.
A faint smile touched Quen's face, and giving me a nod, he got in the car. Trent, though, was still leaning out the window. "Perhaps Quen should look over your security before we go," he said, then ducked back into the car.
Quen met my startled gaze, sitting behind the wheel but with the door still open. "Sa'han?"
Jenks was a bright ball of irritation. "My security is fine," he snarled.
But Trent was talking to Quen over the seat. "It wouldn't hurt to look around," I heard him say faintly. "I'll come in in a minute. Lucy needs attention."
He wants to come in? But Quen was getting out of the car, his body language not confused but perhaps...indulgent, and it wouldn't hurt to have Quen look under my bed. "Okay. Sure. I don't care," I said, and Jenks rose up, appalled.
"Rache!" he shrilled.
"We've been gone for almost two weeks," I said as I started up the steps again. "What can it hurt?" But what I was thinking was, What does Trent want?
Quen's door thumped shut, and I waited on the threshold for him, yanking the door shut behind us and dropping the suitcase in the dark foyer. Ivy was casually standing at the pool table sorting almost two weeks' worth of mail, and I relaxed. Something felt like it was missing, though. Pierce.
"We are all fine," Jenks was saying as I breathed in the scent of Quen, seeming all the stronger for the foyer being dark. "We don't need your help."
Quen flashed a bright smile. "Mr. Kalamack would like me to inspect the grounds." His gaze shifted to Ivy as if for permission. Wise man. "Is that all right with you, ladies?"
Ivy didn't even look up from the mail. "Knock yourself out. Stay out of my room."
Quen turned to me next, and when Jenks buzzed off in annoyance, I asked him, "What is he really looking for?"
Again, he smiled, but it was softer this time. "An excuse, I think."
Great. Just friggin' great.
Quen brushed past me, a shredded wisp of cinnamon and wine lingering in his wake. "I'm telling you, we're fine!" came Jenks's irate shout as he followed him into the hallway, and then the pixy darted back, dripping a bright silver dust. "Rachel!" he whined at me, his long hair getting in his eyes. There wasn't a single pixy kid in the church, not unusual if their dad was on the warpath.
I trudged forward with my stuff. "Go with him if you want."
Jenks rose up and down indecisively as if on a string, but when he heard the back door open and shut, he darted to me, flying backward as he fumed.
"What does he want?" Ivy asked mildly as I passed her.
"I've no idea." I had none whatsoever, but I imagined that his claim of tending to Lucy was an excuse so I wouldn't see him taking the steps in his cast. He could make it all right, but he lacked his usual grace, and I knew it bothered him.
"What happened?" I asked Jenks as I smacked my luggage into the wall in the hallway.
"The kids fought them off," Jenks admitted, his dust finally starting to dampen as he followed me to my room. "Them and that fairy girl."
He had almost spat out the last, and I elbowed my light switch on to see his face screwed up in a nasty expression. "Belle?" I asked, remembering that Sidereal's daughter had remained behind to watch me. It smelled stale in my room, and leaving my garment bag and overnight case on the bed, I propped the narrow stained-glass window open. Night sounds, the scent of marigolds, and the singing of pixies seeped in. Hands on my hips, I sighed, glad to be home.
"She has a name? You knew she was here?" Jenks yelped, a burst of dust lighting my perfumes.
"Well, yeah." I took off my jacket and hung it on my bedpost. "Didn't you? Jeez, Jenks. She's been here for months."
He fumed, his wings drooping and his tiny features cross as I needled him. Relenting, I tugged my closet door open and hung up my garment bag. Unzipping it, the smell of clean fabric spilled out. "Everyone is okay, right?" I prompted, wondering if I should be more concerned.
"Yeah...," he admitted. "But..."
"Then relax." I pulled the beautiful dress from the bag and hung it at the back. "Bis!" I shouted, sensing him up on the steeple. He probably couldn't hear me, but he'd come anyway.
"You don't care!" Jenks exclaimed, twin pixies rising in my dresser's mirror. "We were attacked and you don't care!"
"Of course I care," I said, then shut the closet door hard enough to make his dust shake. "But I've been trapped in a plane with you for five solid hours. No one is hurt, and you need to chill!" He was scowling at me, and I lowered my voice. "Let me catch my breath, okay?" I pleaded.
A small scraping at the lintel brought my attention to the ceiling. It was Bis, his ears pricked and expectant. He hadn't been his usual self during the few days we'd spent recovering on the coast before flying home. There was a hesitancy between us that hadn't been there before, a feeling out of new responsibilities and expectations.
Neither of us knew what being bonded meant, but I sensed where he was most of the time, and he knew where I was. And since we couldn't ask Al or Pierce what my responsibilities were to Bis and his to me, we'd just have to figure it out as we went along. Him teaching me how to line jump wasn't an issue anymore, so maybe the question was moot.
"Hi, Bis," I said as Jenks fumed on my dresser. "You want your shirt?"
Immediately he perked up, slithering into my room and dropping onto my bedside table, wings flat to his back. "I was just going to ask you for it," he said, sending a sliver of concern through me. "Can you put it on me? I want to show the kids."
He wanted to show the kids. Subtle phrasing, but significant. He was seeing himself as less of a kid and more of an adult. I'd seen it on the jet when he settled into a watchful mode with a magazine, and how he kept an eye on the people in the airport instead of being distracted by the jets or the people staring at him. Growing up wasn't bad, but I kind of missed the old Bis and his wonder at everything. He still had that inquisitive good nature, but now it was tempered with the knowledge that life wasn't fair and that bad things happened, even if you watched for them.
"You bet," I said, opening the snaps of my overnight case. Still in a huff, Jenks landed on the open lid. We had spent a day at Disneyland before coming home, and Jenks had gone a little nuts, buying out a gift shop and generally acting like a chipmunk on Brimstone. Bis had contented himself with a tourist T-shirt, but Ivy and I sat on a curb for almost an hour waiting for Jenks to come out of the Tink history exhibit. Since then, there hadn't been a single swear word using the "Inderlander pioneer," as he now called her.
I pulled Bis's tank top out, carefully folding the brightly patterned bag with Tinkerbell on it after Jenks started making tiny, pained noises when I crumpled it up. I couldn't help but wonder if we had a little crush going. Finally I snapped the bright red shirt to get out the wrinkles and held it up to Bis. "I don't think we're going to have to make wing slits for you," I said, seeing a glimpse of his old self in his delight at the screened picture of characters in the latest gargoyle flick.
"Too cool," he said, holding his arms up, and I settled the soft cotton tank top over his head, tugging gently to get it around his ears. I tried to imagine him my size but failed. He was still a kid-and my responsibility. Damn, how had my mom done this?
"Belle says the battle was Sunday," Bis said, his voice muffled. "After I left."
"Yeah?" Jenks barked, his wings moving but not lifting him at all.
"Wings," I prompted, and Bis lifted them high so I could work the tank top around them.
"She said a passing clan thought that Jenks had died, so they attacked," Bis said, his red eyes glowing. "They didn't know what to do. The kids, I mean. Jih was across the street, and it was noon. But Belle was awake, and she saw them. Raised the alarm. They would have taken the garden and killed everyone if not for Belle."
I dropped back, thinking the shirt was perfect-even if it looked odd on him. There was the faint click of the front door opening, and Ivy's soft murmur followed by the thunking of Trent's cast on the old oak. My tension spiked. Trent was in my church. Why?
"She saved the garden," Bis said as he looked at himself in my dresser mirror. My perfumes were scattered about his feet, and he didn't hit one as he shifted and turned. "Took over the fight. Told everyone what to do. Kept the lines from breaking until Jih could help. No one got hurt except Belle. She took an arrow in the leg."
Alarmed, I turned to Jenks. "I thought you said no one was hurt!"
"A fairy?" he said in disbelief. "Since when are you worried about a fairy?"
"When one saves the lives of your children," I said, and Trent thumped to a halt at my door. My eyes fell from Trent's, and I slammed my suitcase shut. "Jenks, you're ugly when you talk like that," I said, then turned to Bis, hesitating at the sight of him in a bright red shirt. "Where's Belle?" I asked, imagining her broken and bleeding somewhere in the garden.
"Uh, the kitchen," he said, glancing at Jenks as if the pixy was going to protest.
A last hard look at Jenks, and I started for the hallway. Trent was standing in the doorway with Lucy, smelling of fresh baby powder and baby wipes, and his injured hand gently patted her as he rocked. I jerked to a stop when he didn't get out of my way fast enough, my eyes dropping to the floor as I flushed. "Come on in," I said softly. "I don't think we have anything but water, but you're welcome to it."
He awkwardly edged back, and I breathed easier. "Ivy?" I called as I strode to the kitchen. "Belle's been hurt!"
"Belle?" came from her room. "Is she okay?"
"I think so. I'll let you know in a minute."
Jenks's wings were clattering, and Bis was a bright spot as he crawled along the ceiling to get there before me. His expression worried, Jenks dusted at my shoulder, not coming to rest there like he might have otherwise. "Ivy knew, too?" he asked, and I realized his somber mood wasn't because he felt bad but because he was the last to know.
I flipped the bright kitchen lights on, squinting. Bis had said he'd talked to her; she had to be awake. "Jenks, if a fairy can hide in your garden for three months, then have the grace to help your kids survive an attack, don't you think you should rethink your attitude?" I turned to him, and his defiance faltered. "You're going to live to be forty years old. You're going to have to grow up. It's a small world after all, or didn't you go on that ride?"
Wings silent, Jenks hovered dead center in the doorway, at a complete loss. Trent edged in around him, taking in the kitchen as he stood between Ivy's farm table and the center counter. My annoyance at Jenks vanished in a flash of memory: a memory of Trent standing in my unreal kitchen, confused, irritated, and attractive as all hell as he tried to save my soul with a kiss. And then the kiss itself, burning its way through me, kindling my chi back to life. I'd been mortified when I'd woken up and discovered that the kiss had been real-which didn't negate how good it had felt, but did lead me back to Trent standing with Lucy in his arms, his eyes roving over my kitchen as if comparing it to his memory.
Flustered, I turned, seeing the chrysalis trapped under the brandy snifter where my Mr. Fish had once been. My beta was still in the ever-after with Al, and I hoped the demon would remember to feed him. Maybe Pierce would do it-if he was still alive.
With a surprising jolt, my eyes started to swim and I spun before Trent could see, hiding my tears by opening the window behind me wider and letting in the night air and the sound of pixies. Someone was mowing his lawn at half-past midnight. They don't sell lawn tractors with headlights for nothing. I didn't know if my sudden emotion was relief that I was home-really home-or that I'd said good-bye to everything in the ever-after for good.
A small touch on my shoulder shocked me, and I stiffened to find Bis standing beside the sink, his eyes wide in concern as something he had no control over had set me to shaking. But even his worry did nothing to help; he was touching me, and I couldn't feel a thing. There was nothing in my mind, nothing but a faint hum of elven magic coming from my wrist. And I missed the ley lines, even as I relished the freedom I now had.
"I'm fine," I whispered to him, then squared my shoulders and turned slowly on my heel. "Belle?" I warbled, and Jenks stared at me like I'd gone nuts when I wiped the back of my hand over my eye. Trent made no comment, but he gingerly sat on the edge of Ivy's chair, his foot in the cast tucked under it.
A ping at the rack over the center counter drew all our attention up, and Jenks flushed, swearing and dusting an embarrassed red when a tiny white-haired head showed over my smallest spell pot, the one with the dent in it. I still didn't know how it had gotten there. The dent, not the pot.
"Welcome back, Rachel" came Belle's curious hissing accent, sounding like crickets. "Have a good vacation?"
My eyes darted to Trent, thinking of the wingless fairies he now had in his garden. If he hadn't known they'd come from me, he soon would. "I've had better," I said, head craning. "Are you okay? Jenks said there was a fight."
Jenks made a small sound as a thin line dropped from the bowl and Belle snaked down it. She looked odd in a bright pink pixy dress that was too short for her, and I glanced at Jenks on the spigot, his arms crossed and standing almost sideways so he wouldn't have to face her.
"I'm fine," she said, smacking her bare leg and the bandage there. "It's going to take a few more days before I can pull my longbow with any strength, but I'll mend. If I live or die, doesn't matter. We held our territory." Her eyes went to Bis on top of the fridge, and she smiled. "I like the shirt."
"Thanks."
I did a double take at the soft shyness in his voice. Jenks had heard it, too, and cleared his throat, making Bis blush a deep black.
"Your territory," Belle amended, thinking that's what Jenks had taken offense to. I wasn't so sure.
Wings clattering, Jenks landed beside her. His eyes went to her bandage, then her face. She looked like a long-armed, sinewy Amazon next to him. "Uh, thank you," he said grudgingly, glancing nervously at Trent, but the man was more interested in the spell pots over the counter, his hand gently patting Lucy as she slept. "I should have said that first off." Belle's sparse eyebrows rose, and he added, "Thanks for telling them what to do. They're good kids, but-" He tried again. "You saved their lives. Please...stay in my garden. If you like."
Even as hesitant and possessive as that had been, I looked at Bis in wonder. The gargoyle was grinning, accepting Jenks's change of heart with a quickness only a kid could possess. I'd be a little more hesitant, but Jenks wouldn't say anything unless he meant it.
Belle's long features were pale and out of place with the pixy colors on her. "Your hair is getting long," she said shortly, her tone giving nothing away.
Jenks's hand went up to touch it. "Yeah, well, I don't have anyone to cut it anymore."
I wondered how these two warriors were going to find a way to exist together. Belle finally nodded her acceptance of his apology but clearly was withholding complete judgment.
Feeling awkward, I opened the fridge and cringed. Yep, we were down to water, ketchup, and a tub of butter. Maybe I could make Trent a virgin Bloody Mary; we had some Worcestershire sauce, too. "Anyone want to order pizza?" I said softly, wondering how long it would take for Quen to check out the graveyard.
"I do!" Bis chimed out, and I ducked when Jenks's kids swarmed in from the garden and hallway, shouting out their toppings. Their high-pitched voices woke up Lucy, and she began to wail, frightened. Bis pinned his ears to his skull and made the jump to the top of the fridge. Trent frowned as he tried to calm Lucy, but the pixy girls were humming over her and scaring her even more. Clearly they had been eavesdropping, and the lure of pizza had overridden their fear of their dad. Nasturtium blossoms?
"Jenks!" I exclaimed as I shut the fridge door, and he shrugged.
Belle, too, had sat down, her bored expression clearly saying that it wasn't her problem. "You've had nothing but pizza for a week," she complained, her voice loud to be heard over the noise. "I would have thought you'd be tired of it by now."
"Pizza?" Jenks exclaimed. "What about all the good food I put aside..." His voice faltered. "Never mind," he finished, scowling at Bis, and the gargoyle went three shades darker in embarrassment. "I want you all out!" he shouted, and the noise was cut by about half, leaving only Lucy crying. "Out and watching that elf in the garden!"
"But, Papa," one of his younger daughters complained, "he's only sitting in the car."
That figured, and I gave Trent a sidelong glance. Check out my property, huh? Make sure everything is safe, eh? What do you want, Trent? I sighed as it struck me that this was the way I'd begun this mess, standing in my kitchen and wondering what Trent wanted.
"Go! All of you!" Jenks said, pointing, and they flowed from the kitchen, a mix of complaints and shouted topping requests. "Asleep when the garden was invaded! You'd all be dead if not for Belle. What have you been doing all week? Watching TV?" Jenks crabbed as the last of them left.
Lucy's blanket was almost slipping from her, and I wanted to go tuck it back around her. Trent had given her a pacifier, and Lucy was wide-eyed in his arms, quiet but sucking on it with a vengeance, angry almost. It brought a smile to my face.
The sound of Ivy's boots was loud as she came in, having changed into lots of leather. Hand on her hip and posture screaming sexual domination, she gave Trent the once-over as he sat in her chair. The angry, frustrated baby on his lap seemed to grant him some immunity, and she turned away with only the slightest widening of her pupils. "I'm going out. You going to be okay?" she asked.
Across the kitchen, Trent's posture seemed to relax, which only tightened mine. He wanted to talk to me alone. Great. We had just spent five hours in a little tin can flying through the air. Couldn't he have brought it up then?
"Go." I wiggled my fingers for the pizza coupons stuck to the fridge, and she handed them to me.
"If you're sure," she prompted, and my eyes met hers, sending a shock of realization through me. We were home, and though everything had changed, we were still solid. Better, even.
"You really want to stay for pizza?" I asked, and she took a backward step to the hallway, smiling as well to tell me she knew it too.
"No. See you after sunup. Bye, Trent," she called over her shoulder when she reached the hallway, then louder, "Jenks! Can I talk to you for a moment about our security?"
A knot in me unraveled. We were okay. Grinning at me, Jenks rose up. "Coming, Mother!" he mocked.
Her boots clunked into the sanctuary, and I watched Belle snake down to the floor, sword ready as she braved Jenks's cat to go outside.
"I'm glad you're home, Ms. Rachel," Bis said shyly, taking his shirt off and leaving it on top of the fridge before he jumped to the ceiling and crawled out after Belle. There was a faint scrape of nail on stone, and I figured he'd slithered out through the flue in the back living room instead of using the smaller cat door.
Yes, it was a weird life, but it was mine, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Trent scuffed his foot cast against the floor, and my anxiety came flowing back. Ignoring him, I wiped the dust from the phone and scooted up onto the counter as I tried to remember what he liked on his pizza. Just in case he was staying.
The bracelet on my wrist jingled, and I breathed deeply for the faint scent of burnt amber still clinging to me. The band of silver around my wrist seemed to send sparkles into me, and I shivered. I could hear the pixies playing in the night, the near and far-off sounds of life in motion. Exhaling, I remembered the glory of the collective rolling through my mind, the power at my fingertips, and the knowledge that I could create something from nothing. It was gone. Forever.
"You could have all this, too, Trent," I said, hearing the dissatisfaction in my voice. "All you have to do is quit your job, piss off the vampires, the Weres, a stupid human who knows black magic, and let a demon loose on a major metropolitan area. Oh wait, you did that."
He laughed, but his smile faded fast. "You don't have to keep it," Trent said suddenly, his gaze going to my wrist. "I gave it to you so you'd have a choice, not to hide from them."
I cringed inside, not liking that I'd telegraphed so much. "I already made my choice," I said, but I couldn't meet his eyes.
He was silent, buying time by tucking Lucy's blanket up as she willfully kicked it off. "It was an awful lot of power to give up," he said, and a flash of anger lit and died in me.
"It was an awful lot of trouble it caused," I answered, uncomfortable as I looked over the coupons. They were expired, but the delivery guys didn't care if you tipped them enough.
"I don't know if I could make myself that vulnerable after making so many enemies," he said, his gaze on the smudged counter where we'd cut out cookies.
I looked up, wondering if he was going to offer me protection, and if I could get Lucy away from him before I smacked him in the bahoogies. "Enemies are nothing new," I said calmly. "At least no one is gunning for me. And I can still do earth magic." He looked to the dusty bowls overhead. "Maybe I can relax for a while. Rescue some familiars out of trees for a change."
His expression smoothed, almost becoming a smile. "I do believe that's why you quit the I.S., remember? Boring runs?"
I snorted, nodding as I scanned the coupons. Everything was for Alfredo pizza as they tried to curry the favor of humans. "Be careful what you wish for."
"Because you might get it." Trent gazed at the dark square of night past the window.
The memory of that kiss we shared rose up in my thoughts, and I grimaced. "I'll be fine," I said softly.
"I'm not so confident," Trent said, and he raised a hand. It was the one with the missing fingers, and I hesitated. "You're not helpless," he added, "but I've had my lawyers look into your situation, and it's not as clear cut as you want it to be."
"My situation," I scoffed. Agitated, I slid from the counter to throw the coupons away. Pizza had the appeal of cardboard right now. "There aren't any laws for demons," I said, fidgeting. "And if there aren't any laws for demons, I can't break them. I don't need a license to practice magic. I'm not shunned. I can sell stuff now. People can sell to me."
"But will they?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he gave voice to my real worry.
Probably not. "The I.S. is off my case, and the vamps. Jeez, Trent. For the first time, there is no one gunning for me, including you!" I protested.
"I'll give you that." Trent was smiling, Lucy drowsing on his lap. "But along with no legislation on the books for demons and their magic, there are no laws protecting you, either. If Rynn Cormel wanted, he could drive over here, shove you in his trunk, and drive away."
I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms over my middle. "That's the last thing he is going to do," I said, not sure I believed it.
"Probably, but he could." Trent was looking at Lucy, but talking to me. "Anyone could. A stray dog has more legal protection than you." His eyes met mine, and I stifled a shiver, knowing he was right. "That band of silver around your wrist makes you almost helpless, and anyone with enough smarts will know it. There are no laws that pertain directly to demons, and until there are, you are vulnerable."
"Vulnerable." There was that word again, and it rang through me like a warning bell. The stronger I got, the more vulnerable I was.
"You take favors from me," he said, "but you are not on my payroll. You claim to be protected by a master vampire, but you have no ties of blood, and you saw how deep Cormel's word went when he was confronted by the coven. Ivy can't protect you from everything, either. You're the alpha female of a Were pack, but you don't live with David and refuse to take a tattoo to show affiliation."
"What if I get the tattoo?" I said, hearing the truth in his words. "I didn't before because it wouldn't last through a transformation curse, but I don't have to worry about that now."
"A tattoo isn't going to fix this," he said, his eyes intently on mine. "You are a demon, but you can't perform the magic to back yourself up. I'm not telling you that you need to take that charmed silver off to survive, but I'm asking you to stay out of trouble for a while. Lay low for about six months. I'm trying to get some legislation protecting you pushed through, but it's going to take a while."
Stunned, I looked at him sitting in my kitchen with a baby on his lap, his dress pants wrinkled and his shirt almost untucked. I didn't know what to say. He was helping me? For nothing? "Why?" I asked, and he stood, agitated as he began to pace with a sleeping Lucy.
"Just six months," he said, not answering me. "David and I can't keep slapping Band-Aids on the chaos you leave behind. The lawsuits alone-"
"Lawsuits?" I asked, my arms untwisting from my middle. "Who?"
"Who doesn't matter...," he said evasively.
"Who?" I said loudly. "I want to know who tried to sue me," I said softer when Lucy's hand rose, startled by my voice.
Shifting Lucy to his shoulder, he began to rock without moving his feet, a movement new to him but as old as fire and having the grace of a thousand years. "There was one from a woman about dog theft," he said calmly. "And a couple from my wedding. That's how I got involved. Someone on a bus thought you hexed them with bad luck. Two people sued when you crashed your car into the bridge."
Hands clenched, I turned to the window, wanting to hide how disturbed I was. I owed David a big thank-you. I knew he'd been paying my lawyer, but I hadn't realized I'd been keeping him so busy. And how did Trent figure into it?
"The one concerning the Rays' fish went away when I brought it up at a party," Trent continued, answering my unasked question. "The harassment lawsuit from the Howlers for magicking their field...That was harder. That woman doesn't like me."
I shrugged. "They weren't going to pay me," I muttered.
Trent sighed. "You getting your five-hundred-dollar fee cost David several thousand," he said, still rocking, his damaged hand pressing into Lucy, holding her close. "He's not begrudging it, but it supports what I'm saying. I've got my people working on getting some laws on the books for you, but until they do, you have all the drawbacks of being a noncitizen and none of the protection. And that's not even bringing up the fact that for every person looking for monetary compensation, there will be at least two looking to take you on for the notoriety."
My head came up. "What?"
He shrugged, Lucy on his shoulder. "A demon with no magic? You are irresistible, and there will be idiots lining up to prove they're stronger than the great Rachel Morgan, demon banisher and savior of San Francisco."
I didn't like his mocking tone, but what could I say? "I understand," I managed flatly, not knowing how I was going to iron out this new wrinkle. Six months. I could do nothing for six months.
Trent relaxed, his rocking easing. "Good. Thank you. I appreciate that."
"What choice do I have?" I said, eying my charmed silver. "The check from the Withons?" I guessed, and he nodded.
"And if you ever do want to come work for me-" he started, ruining the moment.
I exhaled, now realizing why he had been blocking the lawsuits. He still wanted me to work for him.
"Shut up, Trent, before I smash your face," I said lightly, not a whisper of threat in my voice. "Do you want to stay for pizza?"
Trent sucked in his breath, and an alarmed expression filled his face. "Good God, no," he said, making me laugh.
He was tidying Lucy's blanket, showing all the signs of getting ready to leave, and all of a sudden, I didn't want him to. "Thanks," I said, standing forlornly next to the sink, not knowing what to do with my hands. "For everything." He looked at me from under his bangs, and I made a weak gesture. "I suppose I could have done without you releasing Ku'Sox, but thanks for picking up the pieces and putting me back together."
Trent was drifting to the door, moving slowly because of his cast. "You're welcome. Uh, about that kiss," he said, his voice hesitant.
I froze, wanting to ignore it. "Forget it," I said. "I am."
He hesitated a bare instant. "I was just going to say I was sorry for misleading you." Turning away, he headed for the hallway, Lucy in his arms and his head bowed. "Good night."
That was not what he was going to say, and I licked my lips in a flash of understanding as I again saw his loneliness, the space he kept between himself and the rest of the world. I knew he would love Lucy, but even then, he would hold himself apart. I'd seen him afraid. I'd seen him vulnerable and down to his last option. He had risked not just my life but his to give me a choice. And it bothered me that he was going to be so...alone. He had wanted to be a tailor when he grew up, because they had been stronger than his dad to his young-boy eyes.
"Trent?"
The word was out of my mouth before I even knew I was going to say it, and he stopped in the threshold, spinning quickly back to me.
"Yes?"
It was hopeful, and my heart beat strongly. But fear shot through me, chased by adrenaline. "Never mind," I whispered. "Have a good night."
He turned, but not fast enough to hide the light in his eyes, dimming, and it scared me even more. "You, too," he said again, his voice precise and controlled again. "I'll let myself out."
He walked stiffly into the hallway, and I swallowed hard, feeling unreal. "Bye, Trent," I said, my fingers trembling slightly as I felt my way around the center counter to sit in my chair and stare at the table. There was a new feeling trickling through me, making my breath come fast and my heart thump. It was more than having Trent off my case. The witches, too, and the I.S. if that conversation in the van was any indication. True, I was a day-walking demon and I couldn't leave Ohio or Kentucky without notifying the I.S., but the legislation would go through soon, and I wasn't shunned anymore. It wasn't the satisfaction of saving San Francisco from Ku'Sox, or having finally freed myself from Al and the rest of them, or even that I'd become a demon godmother to Trent's daughter and gotten my Saturdays back, too.
The mix of fear and exhilaration filling me grew from the undeniable fact that Trent had liked that kiss we had shared. Not only liked it but had hoped that I liked it, too.
And that was very fine information to have indeed.
