Copyright

HarperVoyager

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2014

Copyright © Kim Harrison 2014

Cover Layout Design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014

Cover Illustration © Larry Rostant.

Kim Harrison asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007555345

Ebook Edition © September 2014 ISBN: 9780007555352

Version: 2014-08-12

Dedication

To Tim, the “guy in the leather jacket”

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Acknowledgements

Also by Kim Harrison

About the Publisher

One

Neck craned, I squinted up between the shadowed apartments. High in the sun, dragonflylike wings threw back the glow with the transparent sheen of glittery tissue paper. The sporadic traffic at the end of the alley was enough to cover the sound of Jenks’s wings, but I could hear them in my memory as the pixy hovered before a pollution-grimed window.

The moist-dirt smell of damp pavement was a hint under the light but growing scent of frightened vampire coming from near my elbow. I doubted Marsha was having second thoughts, but disobeying your master vampire could have lethal consequences.

Still watching Jenks, I surreptitiously edged away from Marsha’s tense, middle-class office professionalism. Her heels were this year’s style, but she wouldn’t be able to run in them. Her hair was a luscious handful that spilled over her shoulders in an ebony wave—again, it made her an easy target in a close fight. A curvaceous figure sealed the deal that she was beautiful. But as a living vampire, her looks had been selected for over the last two generations, and not for Luke’s benefit, the man she’d unfortunately fallen in love with. But she knew she was vulnerable. That’s why Ivy, Jenks, and I were here.

My neck was getting a crick, and I dropped my gaze to the passing cars, confident that distance and recycling bins would hide us from casual sight. A tight hum jerked my attention back in time to see Jenks dart from a winged shadow. A blue jay squawked, and the tips of five feathers spiraled down between the buildings. Flapping wildly, the sheared bird managed to get across the street before thumping to the sidewalk.

Having already dismissed the bird, Jenks cupped his hands around his face and peered through the window. His skintight, thief-black tights and knit shirt helped him blend into the shadows, and the red cap was to tell rival pixies that he wasn’t there poaching, a real issue this close to Eden Park. So far, no one had bothered him, but birds were a constant threat.

“I shouldn’t have to do this,” the woman at my elbow complained, oblivious that a third of the team here to keep her alive had just had a narrow miss. “It’s my apartment!”

I took a slow breath when Jenks lifted the flap to the bathroom vent and vanished inside. “You want to risk running into Luke?” I said, and she made a sound of frustration. Yes, she did, but to do so would mean her death.

A lingering sensation that something was off dogged me, despite—or perhaps because of—the ease of the run so far. Restless, I resettled my shoulder bag. I wasn’t a slouch when it came to looks, but next to this woman’s structured beauty, my frizzy red hair and low-heel boots fell flat.

Ivy’s confident steps against the hush of the side-street traffic tightened my gut. The vampire next to me stiffened at my increased pulse, and I gave Marsha a look to pull herself together. “Stay here,” I said, not liking that Jenks was still inside. “Jenks will tell you when you can come in.” Hiking my shoulder bag higher, I headed for the sidewalk.

“The hell I will,” Marsha said, then stepped as if to follow.

Spinning, I shoved her shoulder, sending her thumping back against the wall. Shocked, the woman stared, not a hint of anger thanks to a lifetime of conditioning. “The hell you will,” I said. “Stay here until Jenks says you can move, or we turn around and walk. Right here. Right now.”

Only now did her anger show, her pupils widening and the scent of angry vampire prickling my nose. Wanting to nip this show of dominance, I stretched my awareness out and tapped the nearest ley line. Energy flowed in, making the tips of my hair float as it spooled in my chi. My skin tingled, and I leaned into her space, proving I wasn’t scared of her little fangs or her greater strength. “You’re under a conditional death threat, sweetheart,” I breathed. “Once I verify that Luke isn’t in there, you can come get what you want. But if all you’re looking for is a way to die that doesn’t invalidate your life insurance, do it on your own time.”

Sullen, Marsha dropped her eyes, the rim of blue around her pupils returning to normal.

I rocked back, thumbs in my pockets, satisfied that she’d wait. It was unusual for a vampire to listen to anyone outside her camarilla, but she had come to us. Nodding, I looked up and made a sharp whistle. Immediately, Jenks peeked out of the bathroom vent and gave me a thumbs-up. “Park it,” I muttered, and the woman shrank against the Dumpster and out of sight.

Appeased, I started for the front entrance. The run had sounded simple enough when Ivy had brought it up over grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup last night. Helping a woman get her things out of her apartment was a no-brainer—until she told me the separation was being forced by two rival vampire camarillas and if Luke and Marsha didn’t comply someone was going to end up dead. No way was Ivy going to do this one alone.

This was doing nothing to bolster my already low opinion of the undead vampires, the masters who manipulated everyone and everything in their decades-long games. Once they noticed you, the only way to avoid being a victim was to die and become a player yourself.

But not Ivy, I thought as I emerged from the alley and she angled toward me. I wouldn’t let that happen to her. Unfortunately, the harder you squirmed, the more they squeezed.

Ivy’s pace hid a thread of tension I never would’ve noticed if I hadn’t been sharing living space with her for the past three years. Sleek in her black slacks and top, she strode forward with her arms free and swinging. Her long black hair was up in a hard-to-grab bun, and even from here I could see the rims of brown around her eyes were nice and steady. She jumped at the distant sound of a door closing two streets over, though. She’d noticed something was off, too.

Her shoulders eased as she fell in beside me, and we took the steps up to the front common door together. “Luke’s car is still in the lot,” she said as I pulled the door open and we walked into the foyer of the old apartment building as if we belonged. “By the smell of it, it’s not been run for two days.”

“So he’s doing what he’s been told and is still alive.” I glanced up at the camera. Jenks had been through the common areas, and according to him, they were fake. The scuffed tile floor was dirty in the corners, and I leaned against the stairway as Ivy leafed through Marsha’s mail, pulling out everything she might want before putting the rest back in.

“They won’t let one of them die without killing the other,” Ivy said as she made keep and toss piles. “Otherwise the dead will claim the living as his or her scion.”

Which wouldn’t do at all, I thought, looking up the dimly lit stairwell. It reminded me a little of my first place. “I don’t like this.”

A rare smile came over Ivy, and the letter box snapped shut with a click. “You worry too much. These two aren’t that important.”

My eyebrows rose. Despite my comments, Marsha was gorgeous. It would be hard for a master to let that much beauty go. “Worry? I only worry about you. I don’t like this run.”

Ivy handed me Marsha’s mail, and I tucked it in my bag. “You just don’t like the undead,” she said, and I pulled my splat gun out and checked the hopper.

“Golly, I can’t imagine why.”

Making a soft sound of agreement, Ivy started up the stairs. I knew she wasn’t interested in the mail, but it had given us a chance to stand at the foot of the stairs while she breathed the air and decided if anyone was waiting for us on the way up—Jenks’s assurance or not. “Relax,” she said as I fell into place behind her. “They agreed to not see each other. We go in, get her stuff, get out. End of story.”

“Then why did you ask me to come with you?” I said, rounding the first landing.

Not looking back, she whispered, “Because I don’t trust them.”

Me either. The door downstairs clicked open, and I spun. My hold on the ley line zinged through me, but it was just Jenks and Marsha. I put a finger to my lips, and she closed the door behind her to seal out the shush of cars. Even three stories up, I could see a new, healthy fear in her. Maybe Jenks had talked to her.

The pixy’s wings softly hummed as he rose straight up in less than a second. “We’re clear,” he said, the silver dust slipping from him making a temporary sunbeam on my shoulder.

Clear, sure, but he couldn’t detect charms unless they were active. “Keep her in the hall till I say,” I asked. “And let me know if anyone pulls up.”

Jenks nodded, dropping down to where Marsha was trying to creep up the stairs without her heels clicking. Ivy was waiting for me at the end of the hall, and I closed the gap quickly, eyeing the new detector charms on my bracelet. It had been a pain in the ass to make them that small, but if they were on my bracelet, I could watch them and point my gun at the same time. The wooden apple detected lethal spells, and the copper clover would glow in the presence of a strong charm. The two were not always synonymous.

Ivy was starting to smell really good, a mix of vampire incense and leather. I tried to ignore it as I gripped my splat gun tighter, amulets clinking. Marsha’s front door had a corkboard for leaving notes, decorated with flowers and a smiley face with fangs. I could hear the woman’s heels scrape on the stairwell, and I grimaced. It was noon, a time when most day walkers would be at work and the night walkers safely underground—but there were ways around that.

The amulets were a nice steady green and I nodded, splat gun level as I crouched opposite the door’s hinges. Ivy worked the key and pushed it open to stand in the opening. Jenks flew in, confident that his first look was sufficient, but I listened as Ivy tasted the air, running it through her incredibly complex brain. “Hi, honey. I’m home,” she said, and I followed her in.

I had to walk right through Ivy’s scent, and even with my breath held, I shivered at the touch of pheromones she was kicking out—wafting over my skin like the memory of black silk. Though still sharing our investigation firm’s letterhead, she’d been pulling away from me the last six months or so. I had a good idea why, and though I was happy for her, I missed working with her on a more daily basis.

My old vampire bite tingled at the obvious aroma of amorous vampires that permeated the one-bedroom, open-floor-plan apartment. Or maybe I just miss the intoxicating mix of sexual thrill and heart-pounding adrenaline she pumped into the air when she got tense. Frowning at my own shallowness, I looked over the small, plush, well-decorated sunlit apartment and the evidence of their love. I knew what it was like having people tell you who not to fall in love with, and my thoughts pinged on Trent before spinning away.

“Stay there,” I said to Marsha, now at the door. My amulets were still green, but I was only five feet into the place. “There could be person-specific spells.”

Person-specific spells: a nice way of saying a bullet with your name on it—and Jenks couldn’t detect them. They were a necessity when making lethal, illegal charms. Vampire politics would keep the hit quiet, but if the spell took out an innocent, they’d track down and jail the black witch who’d made the lethal charm.

Senses searching, I did a quick walk through the living room before checking out the small kitchen. Ivy was in the bedroom, and I slowed, eyes on the amulets. It was easier to hide stuff among the gleaming metal and new appliances, but if there was anything here, it’d show.

“Hey!” Ivy exclaimed, muffled from the walls. My head snapped up and I lurched to get in front of Marsha. Shit, I’d been right.

“Jenks!” Ivy shouted, exasperated this time. “Why didn’t you tell us about the dog?”

I slid to a stop, peeved as Jenks dusted an embarrassed red. Marsha had come in, eyes alight, and I waved for her to stay where she was.

“Sor-r-r-rry!” Jenks said as the jingle of a dog collar became obvious. “It’s just a dog.”

No one had been here for two days? The place smelled like candles, not dog crap.

“Buddy!” Marsha called out, exuberant as she pushed around me to drop to her knees, and I eyed the small, scruffy pound puppy that timidly walked, not trotted, into the living room. “Come here, baby! You must be starving. I thought Luke had you!”

My eyes narrowed. I’d never had a dog, but I knew they generally underwent the throes of delight when their owners came back after checking the mail, much less two days. “Ah, Marsha?” I said as the dog took a hesitant step in, his tail just hanging there.

“I think we’re good,” Ivy said as she came out of the back room. “You want to sweep it with your charms?”

“Sure,” I said slowly, something ringing false.

“Buddy?” Marsha called again, and the dog gave me a sideways look as he passed me, a mix of excitement and hesitancy I wouldn’t expect from an animal.

At my wrist, an amulet flashed red.

“Shit, it’s the dog!” I shouted.

Marsha looked up, her beautiful little mouth in an O of surprise. Her hands were outstretched and the dog was almost to her. I’d never get there in time.

“Rhombus!” I exclaimed as I pulled on the ley line, feeling it scream into me, harsh from my demand. The energy pooled and overflowed, and I shoved it out again, my word tapping into a hard-won series of mental handsprings that harnessed the energy into a molecule-thin barrier. It took the easiest form—a sphere with me in the center—and the dog predictably ran into it.

But instead of the expected yip of surprise, the energy levels spiked.

It was the only warning I got, and I cowered as a bright flash of energy exploded inside my circle, coming from the dog! The loosed power reverberated, making my circle chime like a sour bell, and I froze, skin crawling as the illegal death spell flooded over me, then fell back into the dog when it didn’t find its intended victim.

“Buddy!” Marsha screamed as Ivy shoved her into the wall, covering her with her body.

“Get her out of here!” I shouted, afraid to move. The spell had been invoked, but it hadn’t fastened on its intended victim. It was a loose cannon, and it was trapped in here with me.

“That’s my dog!” the woman protested, wild with fear as Ivy manhandled her into the hallway. “Buddy! Buddy!”

Slowly I realized I was unhurt. Buddy, though … Wincing, I looked at the dog, prostrate and beginning to shake. He wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t a dog. It was her boyfriend, Luke.

I hate vampires, I thought, realizing what had happened. Someone had turned Luke into a doppelganger of their dog and tacked a secondary spell on to him that would kill them both when Marsha touched him. Luke was halfway gone, but until the spell found Marsha, it wouldn’t invoke fully. I had a chance.

“Marsha!” I stood, carefully watching the energy flow as I broke my own circle. “Where do you keep your salt?”

“Stay put,” Ivy snarled. “Tell me.”

“In the cupboard beside the stove!” the woman sobbed from the hallway. “What happened? Buddy? Buddy!”

I ran to the kitchen and snapped on the faucet. “It’s not your dog, it’s your boyfriend.”

Maybe that had been a mistake, since the woman totally freaked out. “Luke!” she screamed. “Oh God, Luke!”

“Stay in the hall!” Ivy shouted, and the sounds of a struggle grew louder.

Salt, salt … I thought, pulse fast as I found a mixing bowl and dropped it into the sink. “Don’t let her touch him! If she touches him, they both die!”

“Luke!” the woman sobbed, and I triumphantly found the salt. I wedged a nail under the spout and ripped it right out. Hands shaking, I shook it into the mixing bowl.

“Is he going to be okay?” Jenks asked, his dust pooling on the surface and running like mercury, but I didn’t know.

“Oh God. Hurry!” Marsha begged, and I gave the salt water a quick stir, tasting it before I picked up the bowl. The woman was hovering over the dog, terrified. My heart went out to her. Vampire masters were sons of bitches. Every last one of them. “Help him!” she screamed, her perfect face twisted in terror. Ivy held her, and I moved fast, bowl of salt water before me.

“Stay back,” I warned as I stood over the little white dog and dumped it. Water splashed, and Marsha backed up, white faced and breathless. I had no idea if the entire concentration was optimum for breaking earth charms, but there’d be enough to not just turn him human, but to break the lethal charm as well.

As expected, the dog vanished behind a thick puff of brown-and-blue aura-tainted energy. “Luke!” Marsha screamed, and Jenks frowned at her. He’d seen enough spells break to know this was normal. I backed up, tense as the cloud grew to man size. Slowly the mist broke up to show a naked, bruised, and beaten man huddled on the soggy white carpet.

Luke took a sobbing gasp of air. He was going to make it—for now, and I eased back to sit on the edge of the cushy couch, elbows on my knees and head dropped into my hands. The amulets on my bracelet clinked, and I sighed. The salt water had ruined them. I’d tack it on to Marsha’s bill, but I didn’t think she had the money. Besides, she was going to be a little busy trying to survive.

“You can touch him now,” I said, realizing that Marsha was still hovering over him.

Frantic, she dropped to her knees. Water squished from the carpet, and she pulled him to her. “Oh, baby!” she gushed, oblivious that he was covered in salt water. “Did he hurt you?”

By the bruises, clearly someone—probably his own master—had, but he raised a shaky hand and brushed her cheek. “I’m okay,” he rasped, a flash of ugly memory finding me at the sight of him, his black hair plastered to his face and his eyes not quite open. It hurt like the devil to shift with earth magic, but his toned, athletic, and beaten body covered in easily hidden scars looked as if it was used to pain.

Crying, Marsha cradled his head to herself and rocked him. I wondered how many scars were hidden behind Marsha’s expensive clothes. This sucked. Vampires looked as if they had everything, but it was a lie. My eyes shifted to Ivy, seeing her inner struggle. A big fat ugly lie.

The clatter of Jenks’s wings was a short warning as he landed on my shoulder. “He looked like a dog to me,” he grumped.

“That’s because he was one.” I plucked at my wet shirt, sticking uncomfortably to me. The question wasn’t how, but why. Why had two minor vampire camarillas spent this much on a double-whammy spell like this on a simple Romeo and Juliet? It was expens-s-s-sive.

Ivy was in the hall to convince the neighbors nothing was going on. It didn’t take much. Clearly they were familiar with the situation. Not happy, Ivy shut the door and stomped into the kitchen to turn the faucet off.

“I’m sorry, Marsha,” Luke was saying, and the crying woman stretched for a blanket to cover him. “When they told me I couldn’t see you again, I went to a witch. She said she could turn me into a dog so I could be with you. No one would know it was me.”

I watched as Ivy pulled the living room blinds. Her expression was empty, hearing far past what the man was saying. Closing the last, she sat across from me in the shadow light, worried.

“I didn’t care if I was a dog,” Luke continued, his eyes still not open as his hand gripped hers. “I knew you wouldn’t leave Buddy.” His eyes opened, and I stared. They were the clearest shade of blue I’d ever seen. “I love you, Marsha. I’d do anything for you. Anything!” Crying, he pulled himself into a ball in her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

My God, they’d tricked him into buying the charm that would’ve killed them both. Ivy and I exchanged a worried look. This was bad, but we couldn’t just walk away. Jenks, too, was looking ill, and he moved to the decorative bowl of pinecones on the coffee table. He’d loved and lost more than Ivy and me combined, and this wasn’t sitting well with him either. But it wasn’t one master vampire we’d have to outwit, but two.

Ivy was still silent, and I sourly thought of my bank account. “You think we should help them?” I said softly, and Jenks’s dust shifted to a hopeful yellowish pink.

Ivy didn’t look at me. The couple on the floor was silent.

“You think we should help them,” I said again, this time making it a statement.

Ivy’s eyes flicked up. I could see her tremendous need to give, to make it right. She’d done so much wrong, and it chewed on her in the small hours. My heart ached for her skewed view of herself, and I wished she could see herself as I did. This would rub the guilt out—for a time.

“Okay, we’ll help them,” I said, and Marsha gasped, her tear-wet eyes suddenly full of hope where there’d been only despair. Jenks’s wings hummed his approval, and I sat up, gesturing weakly. “But I don’t know what we can do.”

“You can’t,” Marsha said, voice harsh as she held Luke. “They know everything.”

Unfortunately, she was right. We couldn’t simply set them up in a nice house out of state and hope that they wouldn’t be found and made into an even bigger example. Ivy had been trying to wiggle out from her master her entire life only to become more entangled, so much so that they’d ensnared me, too. Trent, maybe? I thought, but as it was, he was struggling to keep his head above the political sharks.

“Maybe,” I said as Luke sat up, muscles beginning to work again. “Changing into a dog was a great idea.” Actually, it had been a lousy idea, but unless you practiced magic, you wouldn’t know how easy it was to circumvent it. My gaze went to the soggy carpet. Obviously.

“We’ll run,” Marsha said, tensing as if ready to walk out that exact second.

Ivy shook her head. “You won’t get past the city limits.”

“Marsha, sweetheart,” Luke whispered. “You know that won’t work.”

But I’d given her hope, and the woman wouldn’t let go. “We can use the tunnels!”

Ivy looked toward the shuttered windows at the sound of a horn. “They built the tunnels.”

“I can’t live without you. I won’t!” the distressed woman cried out, and I wondered if the place had been bugged. But if it had, Jenks would have heard the electronic whine and disabled them. We had a moment to catch our breath, and then we’d have to move.

It wasn’t as if we could stake their two master vampires; there were laws against that kind of thing. Unless Marsha and Luke could come up with ironclad blackmail, they were stuck.

“Okay,” I said, feeling the need to get moving. We’d been here too long. “There might be some law or something you can tap into. Ivy’s going to need access to every document your names are on. Birth certificates, property deeds, insurance, parking tickets, tax returns, everything.”

Marsha nodded, that same glow of hope back in her eyes hurting me. This wasn’t going to work, but we had to try something.

Ivy rose to look out through a crack in the blinds. “Do either of you have a safe house?”

“None we trust anymore,” Luke said, and Ivy let the blind fall.

“I’ve got one,” Ivy said, coming back to help Luke stand. “You should be okay for a few days. Especially if you help out a little with the other guests coming in.”

Wrapped in the blanket, Luke awkwardly got to his feet, pale and shaking. “Anything. Yes. Thank you.”

Jenks took to the air, humming out under the crack in the door to check the hallway. Almost immediately he darted back in with a big thumbs-up.

“We can’t just walk out with them,” I said, and Ivy gave me a glum smile.

“They won’t try anything new until sundown,” Ivy said, catching Marsha’s arm before the woman went into the bedroom and shaking her head to leave everything. “They’ll want to be present the next time.”

God help me. I hated vampires. “Okay, let’s move out.”

“But he needs his clothes,” Marsha was saying as I collected my splat gun from the counter. Ivy was almost carrying Luke to the door, and tears began to slip again from Marsha. I totally understood. The entire place was a perfect blending of their love. It was sucky when happiness became this costly. But if they’d fought this hard for it, then it would last their entire lifetime. I just hoped that lifetime would be longer than a week.

The hallway was quiet, smelling of dust and old carpet. Eyes were watching through peepholes, and it made me edgy. Marsha took Luke’s elbow to help him shuffle down the stairs in his blanket, and Ivy dropped back to talk to me.

“Jenks, you’re going with Ivy, right?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t tell me the address of her safe house, much less take me there. Jenks, though …

Jenks’s wings hummed into invisibility, and he rose up a hand width. “Yeah.”

“No,” Ivy said, frowning, and he made a face at her. “You’re not coming, pixy.”

“Tink’s a Disney whore, like you could stop me!” he shot back.

Smiling, I edged around Ivy to keep Marsha and Luke from heading out without us. “I’ve got my phone on,” I said, pushing them back to the mailboxes until I could look at the street.

“I’ll be fine. See you at home,” Ivy said, ignoring Jenks and his sword pointed at her nose. “Hey, you doing anything tonight?”

“Listen to me, you broken-fanged, moss-wiped excuse for a back-drafted blood bag!” Jenks said, a silver-edged red dust slipping from him.

I looked back inside from the street, thinking this had been nice, even with the near miss. I liked working with Ivy. Always had. We did well together—even when it had gone wrong. “I’m working security for Trent,” I said, lips quirking as I saw her mentally smack her forehead. “You want me to bring you back something? It’s probably going to end somewhere with food.”

“Sure. That’d be good,” she said, turning to give Marsha and Luke some last-minute instructions on how to get from here to there alive. “I’ll call if I need help.”

I touched her arm, and her eyes met mine in farewell. Smiling, I turned away remembering something Kisten had once said: I was there when she had her morning coffee, I was there when she turned out the light. I was her friend, and to Ivy, that was everything.

“Jenks, I’ve got this!” I heard, and then I shut the door, my steps light as I headed for my car. Ivy would get home okay. She was right that the masters would want to be there when they brought their children in line. Besides, everyone in Cincinnati with fangs knew Ivy Tamwood.

Head up, I stomped along, eyeing the few pedestrians. Slowly my good mood was tarnished. Love died in the shadows, and it shouldn’t cost so much to keep it in the sun. But as Trent would say, anything gotten cheap wouldn’t last, so do what you need to do to be happy and deal with the consequences. That if love was easy, everyone would find it.

I turned the corner, my head coming up at the clatter of pixy wings. “She said no, huh?” I said as Jenks landed on my shoulder, his wings tickling my neck as he settled himself.

“Tink’s little pink rosebuds,” he muttered. “She threatened to dump insecticide on my summer hut. Besides, she’s got it okay. God! Vampires in love. The only thing worse is you mooning over Trent.”

My smile widened. Maybe I’d make cookies. The man loved cookies.

He made a rude sound, his silence telling me he was unhappy. “Sorry about the dog.”

I lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have.”

I didn’t answer, thinking about my date tonight with Trent. Well, not a date exactly, but I had to get dressed up as if it were one. I was still trying to decide whether to put my hair up or wear it down. Chocolate chip is his favorite.

“Oh God,” Jenks moaned. “You’re thinking about him. I can tell. Your aura shifted.”

Embarrassed, I halted at the crosswalk, waiting for the light. “It did not.”

“It did,” he complained, but I knew he crabbed because he couldn’t say he was happy for me lest he jinx it somehow. “So it’s been like what, three months? Does he still curl your toes?”

“Totally,” I said, and he made a rude noise at my blissful smile. “He’s a total toe curler.”

“Awww, this is sweeter than pixy piss,” he said with false sarcasm. “All my girls happy. I can’t tell you the last time that happened.”

My smile widened, and I pushed the walk button as if that might hurry it along. “I think it was when—”

The unmistakable sound of tires screaming on pavement iced through me. My breath caught, and I turned. Jenks was gone, his white-hot sparkles seeming to burn an airborne trail back the way we’d come. A woman screamed for help, and I jumped back when a black sedan roared past me, the front fender dented. Somehow I knew, like when a picture falls off the wall, or the clock stops ticking.

“Ivy,” I whispered, then turned and ran.

Two

The thumps of my feet on the pavement jarred up my spine. Dodging people turning to look, I followed Jenks’s fading dust. My heart seemed to stop when I turned the corner and saw Ivy crumpled in the street. Marsha and Luke were standing looking down at her, dazed. A car stopped even as I watched, and a man got out, white faced, his phone in hand.

“Call 911!” I shouted as I slid to the pavement beside Ivy. Shit. Ivy. She had to be alive. I shouldn’t have left you.

Jenks was a frantic, darting shape as he dusted the blood from a scalp wound. She’d hit her head. Her chest moved shallowly, and her legs were twisted. I was afraid to touch her, and my hands hovered over her, reminding me of Marsha standing over Luke.

Pain charm! I thought frantically as I searched my bag. Fingers fumbling, I dropped the charm over her head. I was putting a Band-Aid on a concussion, when she took a clean breath.

“Did you call 911?” I exclaimed as a pair of Meris dress shoes scuffed before us.

“No hospital.”

Her voice was soft, almost not there, and both Jenks and I looked at Ivy. She was pale, and pain pinched her still-closed eyes. That was good, right? She wasn’t unconscious, even if her eyes were closed. Damn it, I should have learned how to make a healing curse! But Al was gone and it was too late.

“Ivy.” I brushed her hair back, my fingers trembling. They came away warm and red, and my fear redoubled. She’d hit her head badly enough that Jenks’s dust wasn’t stopping it. “Ivy!” I called when her eyes didn’t open. More people were ringing us. “Look at me, damn it! Look at me! Can you move your fingers and toes?”

“I think so.”

Her eyes opened as I took her cold hand. The pupils were fully dilated, scaring me. I wasn’t sure if it was from head trauma or my fear. The circle of people around us whispered, and when a smile of satisfaction edged over her pain, panic took me. “Ivy?”

Her hand squeezed mine, and she moved her legs, wincing as she straightened them. She could move, and I remembered how to breathe.

“Marsha and Luke are gone,” Jenks whispered as he hovered by my ear.

Like I freaking cared?

She was trying to sit up, and I gingerly helped her as the heat from the stopped car bathed us. “Little fish,” Ivy said, hair coming out of the bun as she held her middle. “They weren’t after them. Oh God, I think I cracked a rib.”

“Don’t move,” I said, stiffening as a siren lifted into the air. “The ambulance is coming.”

“No hospital.” Her black eyes fixed on mine, and she went whiter still as she tried to take a deep breath. “No safe house. I’ve been marked.”

Marked? Her gaze went to the pain charm around her neck, and she gripped it tight, shocking me. She never used my magic. Avoided it. “You need a hospital,” I said, and she hissed in pain as she tried to turn her head.

“No.”

“Ivy, you were hit by a car!” Jenks had dusted her cuts until they were only a slow seep, but her eyes were dilated and she hadn’t taken her other hand off her middle.

“Cormel,” she said softly, hatred temporarily overriding her pain. “I told you Marsha and Luke weren’t worth all of this. I wasn’t supposed to walk out of that apartment alive. That charm was aimed at me, too. He wants me dead … so you … will figure out how to save the souls of the undead. The car was a last effort to salvage their plan before going back with failure.”

My heart seemed to catch, then it raced as I looked at the surrounding faces for anyone watching too closely—their eyes holding fear. Ivy moaned as she breathed in my alarm, but I couldn’t let go of it. I couldn’t distance myself. The lethal charm had been aimed at all three of them. If I hadn’t been there to break it, Ivy would be dead and I’d be getting a call from the second-rising morgue.

“I don’t want to become a dead thing,” she whispered, then clenched in pain. “Rachel?”

I closed my eyes. Ivy groaned, her pain doubling as my panic pulsed through her, bringing her alive even as she struggled to stave off death. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be her scion. But I knew I would if it came to that. Cormel had grown tired of waiting for his soul. If Ivy was dead, me finding out how to return the undead their souls would move way up on my to-do list.

We had to get out of here. Even the safe houses held death, and the hospitals would only make her passing smell of antiseptic. Why had I worked so hard to save their miserable existences? I wondered as I found my bag and looped it over my head. But it hadn’t been just the undead in the balance when I’d freed the mystics last July, it had been the entire source of magic.

Jenks dropped down as I gathered my resolve. “They’re everywhere, Rache,” he whispered, his fear easy to read on his narrow, pinched features, and Ivy nodded. Surrounded by onlookers, we had a small space to breathe, but we couldn’t stay here.

Slowly I began to think. Trent. He had a surgery suite, one that wasn’t staffed by people who could be bought. I wasn’t sure where he was, but I could text him. Ivy was sitting. Maybe she could move. “Ivy,” I said, blanching at the blackness in her eyes when she looked at me from around a stray strand of hair. “Can you move?”

Her boots scraped as she shifted them under her. “If I can’t, I’m dead.”

A few in the crowd protested, but they backed up when Jenks rose, his fast, darting shape and the sharp sword in his grip making him a threat. My stomach turned when every hold I tried to help Ivy with only brought more pain. Teeth clenched, I tucked my shoulder under her arm and rose, staggering until we found our balance. Ivy’s eyes closed. We hung for a moment, waiting to see if she was going to pass out. In the nearby distance, a siren rose—but it brought death, not life.

“Okay, nice and easy,” I said, and Jenks kept everyone back as we started for the curb. Ivy’s head was down, and she moved in sudden, painful limps. Step, pause. Step, pause. Her weight on me was solid, and her scent was tinged with sour acid. Tears threatened, and I ignored them. I couldn’t live with Ivy if she was dead. I couldn’t be her scion, but I knew I’d do it, even as it would destroy me. I’d try to keep Ivy sane, knowing it was a bitter fallacy. I couldn’t kill her a second time as she would want me to. I was a bad friend.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy said as we reached the curb and she took her hand from her middle long enough to use the lamppost to help her step up.

“This isn’t your fault,” I barked so I wouldn’t cry. “We’ll get you to Trent’s, and you’ll be fine.” His compound was almost deserted since the serious inquiries into his illegal bio labs had begun, but he probably had a surgeon on call.

Seeing her standing to catch her breath, I dug in my bag for my phone. “Can you hold this?” I said, giving her my splat gun, and she held it loosely. My fingers shook as I scrolled for Trent. He was the last person I’d called, and knowing he might not take a call but would always check a text, I wrote 911 and Eden Park and hit send.

My stomach was twisting as I tucked my phone in my back pocket. It was all I could do. But we couldn’t stay here. Each moment seemed to weigh more heavily on Ivy. She was slipping, and her living vampire endurance would mean nothing if she gave up.

“You can’t go to the car, Rache.” Jenks hovered before us, watching us and our backs both. “They’ll run you down.”

Shit. He was right. Tears of frustration pricked, and Ivy leaned against the lamppost. Behind her, people were turning away, leaving us to die.

“Where else can I go, Jenks?” I shouted, frustrated. “Nowhere on earth is safe from them!”

He shrugged, even as his dust grew dismal, but behind him was Eden Park, and a flash of hope lit through me. Ivy sensed it, and her eyes opened, glazed with pain.

“The park.” I wiggled under her again, and we staggered into motion. “Ivy, hold on.”

“The park!” Jenks echoed in disbelief, and then he nodded, rising up to fly five feet over us where he could keep watch.

The park. There was a ley line in it, thin and broken, but it was there. I couldn’t jump the lines without Bis. He wouldn’t be awake until the sun went down, but I could shift realities if I was standing in a line. The ever-after was a poor choice, but no one could follow us there, and maybe we could walk to the church’s ley line and pop back into reality.

Ivy stumbled as we found the grass, and we almost went down. Her moan sounded almost like pleasure. Old toxins were being pulled from her tissues to cope with the pain as her body struggled to stay alive. But this time it wasn’t a master satisfying his blood urge that was killing her, and her breath quickened as she took in my fear and kindled her own long-suppressed desires.

“Almost there,” I panted, struggling under her weight as I scanned the open grass between us and the footbridge. It was exposed, but they probably wouldn’t shoot her and risk hitting me by accident. Cormel needed me alive and Ivy dead. They only had to wait.

This was partly my fault, and I felt the helpless tears trying to start as I took more of Ivy’s weight. There was no way to bind a vampire’s soul to his body once he died, and as we slowly limped across the green space to Twin Lakes Bridge and the broken ley line, a warm tear ran a trail down my cheek.

“Don’t cry,” Ivy slurred. “It’s going to be okay.”

I wiped my eyes between our lurching steps, my stomach roiling. “Almost there.”

Jenks dropped down, worry pinching his features. “Her aura isn’t looking good, Rache.”

“I know!” I shouted. “I know,” I said again, softer.

“It hurts,” Ivy said as I took even more of her weight. “It’s not supposed to hurt, is it?”

Oh God. I knew the pain amulet was outclassed, but that the damage was too much for even the vampire toxins to mutate was scary. “Almost there. Hold on,” I whispered, eyes fixed on the statue of Romulus and Remus. “You can rest when we get to the line.”

But I didn’t think we were going to make it, especially when Jenks’s dust went an angry red. “There’re two blood bags on the footbridge,” he snarled, his blade catching the light. “Keep going. Don’t stop no matter what you hear. I’ll take care of them.”

“Jenks!” I cried out as he darted away. Beside me, Ivy wheezed. Her fingers rose to touch her mouth, coming away red with blood. Immediately she curled her fingers up in a ball to hide it, but a flash of fear lit through me. Internal bleeding. My gun, too, was gone, left behind somewhere on the summer-burnt grass.

“Almost there,” I said again as we moved another few feet, but inside, I was despairing. There were no hospitals in the ever-after, only demons who didn’t care. I didn’t think we’d make it all the way to the church. If Trent didn’t show, I might have just killed Ivy by trying to save her.

Ivy’s breath became labored, and the sudden shouting at the bridge yanked my attention up. With a quick flurry of motion, a woman swung wildly at Jenks, falling down the embankment and into the water, harried the entire way by the pixy. Suddenly she was screaming as Sharps, the resident bridge troll, rose up, swamping her.

Without a second look, the other vampire continued toward us, leaving her to sort herself out. He was vampire-child, beautiful, graceful, and sure of himself—and when he looked at me, I shuddered.

Jenks darted in and away, distracting him.

“Move faster, Ivy,” I begged, knowing Jenks couldn’t hold off a determined vampire. Eyeing the statue of Romulus and Remus, I brought up my second sight. A faint haze, ill looking and sporadic, hung at chest height. It was Al’s line, half dead because of the shallow pond someone had dug out under it, but unable to die because the other half of it lay in the dry, desolate ever-after. It reminded me of the demon himself, having given up on life but clinging so tightly to the memory of a love he had once had that now he couldn’t live or die.

He would never help me. Not now. And an old guilt pulled my brow even tighter.

From the water came a gurgling scream as the woman fought to be free of Sharps. Ivy moaned and I dropped my second sight. My eyes jerked to the controlled anger and grace striding toward us despite Jenks’s darting flight and bloodied blade. The vampire knew the line was there and was trying to cut us off.

Crap on toast. I wasn’t going to make it. I’d have to beat him off.

Ivy hung on my shoulder as I came to a heart-pounding halt, her head down and her breathing frighteningly raspy. A lousy twenty feet was between me and the line, and the suave man smiled when he rocked to a silent stand before us. He was the expected eight feet back, his hair moving in the light breeze as he assessed my determination, feeding off my fear even as I found a firmer stance. Eight feet. He’d fought magic users before. It was just far enough that he could dodge anything I might throw at him.

Fine. He was between me and the line, but I could still pull on it, and I allowed the line’s energy to funnel down to my hand and gathered it in a tight ball of frustration. He was stunning in his black suit, but it was more than his sculpted, carefully bred-for beauty. It was his attitude of a complete and utter lack of fear. He was wearing sunglasses, and an old scar on his neck said he was someone’s favorite. Behind him, the woman screamed at both Jenks and Sharps as she tried to get out of the water.

“Morgan,” the living vampire said, his voice holding layers of emotion, and Ivy stirred, drawn awake by either the screams at the lake or the pull in his voice.

“Go to hell!” Ivy managed, and Jenks joined me. Together we faced him, my knees shaking and Jenks’s wings clattering in threat.

The man’s eyes flicked to Ivy, then back to me. “Give it up.”

Not happening, and I found a better grip on Ivy, my bellyful of ever-after waiting for direction. “Come and get me,” I mocked, trying to lure him a foot closer.

“You’re not who I’m interested in. She’s almost dead. All I have to do is wait.”

Son of a bastard … This wasn’t the original team sent to kill Ivy. It was probably the one sent to collect her body, and they’d be eager for the extra kudos killing her would bring them. Behind me, a car door slammed. I didn’t dare look, but from the edge of my sight, three more men in suits started across the grass. Damn it, I couldn’t fight off four of them and protect Ivy, too, even with Jenks.

The living vampire’s beautiful brown eyes went black as he breathed in my fear. “Let us finish the job, or we beat you up and we finish the job anyway. She’s dying her first death before the sun goes down.”

“Over my dead body.” The sun was nearing the horizon, but there were hours left in its path.

“And my broken wings,” Jenks added, dusting Ivy’s scalp again as blood began to mat her hair.

They were almost to us. I had to do something, his being out of range or not. I thought of Trent. Had he gotten my text? Was he on his way?

“Dead?” the vampire said, recapturing my attention. “No, he wants you alive. For now.”

My frustration rose. The hazy read smear of the ley line was just behind him. Twenty lousy feet. “It can’t be done!” I shouted, Jenks’s dust tingling against my skin. “Tell Cormel it can’t be done!”

“Then you owe him for the year he’s kept you both safe,” the man said. “Watching you suffer Ivy’s second life will do.”

“I already saved him once! I’m not paying the same debt twice.”

The man chuckled, motioning for the arriving thugs to circle us. I could smell them, the rising scent of vampire incense bringing Ivy’s eyes open and a new tension to her face. “You prolonged his misery is all.”

He gestured, and I moved, throwing a single burst of energy at the beautiful man before turning my attention inward. “Rhombus!” I shouted, relief a slap when Jenks, contrary to his instinct, dropped down, safe inside my circle.

The rushing vampires skidded to a halt, stymied. Before me, my black-and-gold fist-size unfocused magic slammed into the head vampire, throwing him back four feet to hit the ground hard.

Nothing could get through my barrier unless it held my aura: not bullet, not vampire, not demon—unless he was very determined and I’d left an opening. But we were trapped in it, trapped twenty feet from safety. Damn it! This was so not fair. Every other demon could shift his aura to slip into a line, but I couldn’t jump on my own, couldn’t jump a lousy twenty feet. The line was so close I could almost feel it humming.

Dazed, the vampire found his feet, his beauty ruined by his snarl. “She’s going to die in there!” he shouted, stalking forward to halt so close the barrier hummed a warning and I could see the first wrinkles about his eyes. “She’s going to die, and then she will fall on you!”

Ivy stared up at me, clearly in pain, clearly feeling the pinch of instincts and desires she had lied to herself were under control. Tears filled her black eyes, and she reached out, her hand shaking as it found mine. “I’m sorry,” she said, and anger filled me that they had brought her to this. “Please don’t let me wake as the undead. I won’t remember why I love you. Promise me. Promise me you won’t let me wake as an undead.”

My throat closed, and as Jenks’s dust sifted red between us, I dropped down, my arms going around her. She wanted me to kill her if she should die. I couldn’t do it. “I promise.”

“Liar.” She smiled at me, hand shaking as she touched my cheek.

Panic renewed, and I felt unreal, dizzy as I looked at the vampires ringing us in the late afternoon. There was no one to help me. I had to find a way.

“She won’t last an hour,” the beautiful man said, anticipation making his eyes black. “She will wake undead. You will fix her soul to her, or die at her own hands.”

Ivy shook, and I let her go, resolve filling me as I stood until the shimmer of my circle hummed just over my head. “Jenks, I need you to do something,” I said, and his face went white.

“I’m not leaving you, Rache.”

I eyed the twenty feet and four vampires that separated us from the line. “I’m going to kick some vampire ass and get to that line. Ivy and I can wait in the ever-after.”

“With the surface demons?” Jenks barked, his wings clattering harshly.

I had no choice. “Go try to wake Bis up. He can jump us to Trent’s.” I looked at the pixy, seeing his fear in his tight, angular face. He didn’t want to leave us, was terrified we would die without him. He was probably right.

“No!” His wings clattered as he understood what I was saying. “It’s hours until sunset. Don’t ask me to leave you!”

I dropped down to grab Ivy’s elbow to help her stand up. “I’m sorry, Ivy. You have to help me get you to the line.”

“But she can hardly walk!”

“Which means she still can!” I shouted, and Ivy clutched at me, halfway to a stand and heavy in my grip. “Jenks, please,” I said softly, and he hovered, helpless and angry, before us. “I can’t jump on my own and Bis can’t find me. You have to tell him where we are.”

Slowly his expression shifted from anger to a frustrated understanding. “Keep her alive,” he said, and I nodded, again making promises I couldn’t keep.

Scared, I turned to the vampires watching suspiciously. Behind them, Cincinnati drowsed in the late afternoon sun. Al could have jumped us right to Trent’s, or the hospital, or the church. But I wasn’t one of them any longer. The break with the demons had been clean—even if the jagged edges of it still dug into my soul in the quiet parts of the night.

Breath held against the pain, Ivy got her weight over her feet and wavered to a rise. I felt her clench in agony as she fought to keep from coughing, her grip on me hurting. She took one breath, then another. Head up, she stared at the men ringing us. At the bridge, the woman finally got out of the water, dripping and bleeding from scratches and with a malevolent gleam in her eye. Five now.

I sucked in the line energy, feeling it hiccup and stutter. Does Al know I’m using his line? I wondered, feeling Al’s utter abandonment of me again—jealousy, heartache, and hatred too much for him to forgive.

“Let me go, Ivy. I have to fight,” I whispered, and after the briefest of hesitations, she did, her eyes closing as she uncrimped her fingers from around my arm. I could tell it had taken all her resolve, and she swallowed her saliva back, refusing to give in to her instincts—but instincts die last and hard.

“I like it when you say my name,” she said as her eyes opened. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Shit. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. “I’m glad,” I whispered, wishing my knees weren’t shaking. “I’m going to have to kick some ass. Can you get to the statue on your own? Maybe critique me when it’s over?”

“Over a beer,” she said. Her hand wasn’t so tight against her middle. I didn’t know a charm for this. I had nothing.

Ivy slowly lost her balance and leaned into me again, unable to stand on her own. She wasn’t going to make it, no matter what happened, and I shoved my panic down deep. “Thank you, Jenks,” I whispered.

His wings clattered, and he wouldn’t look at me, that same black dust sifting from him and making my skin tingle. I held Ivy close, the chill of her pressing into me as her head hung down and her breathing grew shallow. She was close to passing out. Slowly I lifted my chin and found the eyes of the waiting vampire.

“You first,” I said, yanking a wad of ever-after into me. My breath came in with a sharp sound. Ivy stiffened in my grip, and I wondered if she felt it as I pulled everything I could handle into me. “Jenks, grab something!” I shouted as the building energy crested, lapped the top of my abilities, and, with a spasm that seemed to shake me to my core, edged into pain as I took even more. I had to take it all. All.

“Rache!” Jenks shrilled, tugging on my hair as he wound himself up in it. “What are you doing?”

I had one shot, and I wasn’t going to waste it, even if it burned my synapses to a twisted mass. “Corrumpto!” I shouted, letting the energy explode from me.

My knees buckled. I felt airy, light and unreal. The line hummed through me, smelling of ozone and stardust. A soundless wave sped out, flattening the grass and bowling the vampires head over heels, making them look like crows. Ivy shuddered, her eyes opening black and deep. Together we straightened as a distant bell rang, and then another. Across the river, the basilica’s bells tolled, and tears threatened when I recognized my own church bells ringing an echo from the force of my blast.

My skin was tingling, and I almost went down as Ivy’s weight suddenly became my responsibility. “Ivy!” I called, bringing up my second sight and looking for the ley line. The vampires were down. We had to move. “Come on! Just a few steps!”

But then panic took me, not that the head vampire was getting up off the pavement, but that the ley line was gone! It wasn’t running where it should, through the man-made ponds and beside the statue the vampire was leaning heavily against.

“Where is it?” I shouted, and Ivy sagged in my grip. Bewildered, and head humming as if it held a hive of bees, I strengthened my second sight until reality wavered under a broken landscape of dust, cracked rock, and bloated sun hazing an empty landscape and dry riverbed. The desolation of the ever-after was complete, and the gritty wind lifted through my hair even though I still stood in reality. But there was no line. What have I done?

Jenks hovered before me, blinking in shock. “You’re in it,” he said, a weird greenish dust sifting from him. “How did you move it, Rache?”

My mouth dropped open, and I spun, shocked. I moved the line? How?

“Get her!” the vampire screamed, and the present rushed back.

“Rhombus!” I shouted, staggering under Ivy’s weight as my circle sprang up heady and thick since I was standing right in the middle of the line. I’d moved it? How? I had only tapped it. But Jenks was right. I was standing in Al’s flimsy line, and it was growing stronger, no longer dampened and drained by the ponds. I’d shifted it. I had moved it to me.

The vampires slid to a halt, one of them screaming as he touched the circle and a snap of energy struck him like lightning. We were in the line. Ivy was with me. I looked past the angry vampires, knowing the line had been behind them, knowing it couldn’t be moved. But it had.

And somehow, I didn’t care that I’d done the impossible.

“Sorry about the beating,” I said as I melded my aura around Ivy’s to shift her with me to the ever-after.

“Beating?” The vampire leaned closer, not knowing what had happened. “That wasn’t a beating.”

I tightened my hold on the line, feeling it start to take us. “No, the one your master is going to give you.” Thank you, Jenks. I will keep her alive.

The man’s eyes became round, fear shimmering his motion for the first time, making him somehow more captivating with the contrasting shadows of fear and power. We’d bested him, and he was going to be punished.

“No!” he shouted as I shifted my aura and the world moved around us. The red of sunset became the harsh red of the ever-after sun. His howling cry of denial evolved, peaked, and became the scream of the gritty wind. The image of his crooked fingers reaching for us dissolved, and I saw it mirrored in the broken rock surrounding us. The sound of Jenks’s wings was gone. We were alone and the world was broken—just like me.

My heart thumped and I shifted Ivy’s weight until she hissed in pain. I squinted at the distant, red-smeared horizon, then brought my eyes closer, sending it over the remains of the Hollows, already in shadow. The spires of the basilica rose over it all, the bastion carefully preserved where most everything was left to crumble. The space where my church would have been was nothing but rock and grass. My idea to walk to it vanished. Ivy was done.

“You can rest now,” I whispered. “It’s going to be okay.” Heart aching, I eased her down against a boulder, and she gripped my arm, refusing to let go. My eyes shot to hers, and the utter blackness in them stitched all my fears into one smothering black piece. I couldn’t kill her to prevent her undead existence. If Bis didn’t find us in time … I … I didn’t know.

My throat was tight as I sat beside her and pulled her head to rest against me. She could move no farther, and this was as good a place as any, better than some. Whatever happened, we would face it together, away from the filth she’d struggled her entire life to escape.

Three

The gritty wind had rubbed the skin between my short boot and pants leg raw. I huddled closer to Ivy, trying to get into the lee of the stone, but the boulder wasn’t large enough. Ivy didn’t move as my weight shifted, and I twisted my leg almost under myself to hide it. It would be asleep in about three minutes, but the respite from the wind was worth it.

Ivy’s shallow breath came and went, her scent obvious under the choking burnt amber reek that permeated the ever-after. I listened for the clink of rock or sliding rubble that would mean a surface demon as I looked over the dry bed of the Ohio River and to the crumbled remains of the Hollows below. The sun was almost down, and the light was vanishing from the basilica’s steeple inch by slow inch. Elsewhere the shadows were already thick. Behind me where Cincinnati would be, things moved, howled, and hooted as the sun vanished.

Surface demons. The large circle I’d put around us would keep them at bay, but they were gathering. No one, not even Newt, stayed still on the surface after dark—and we’d been noticed.

The horizon was still bright, but directly overhead the sky was that peculiar ever-after shade of reddish black that reminded me of old blood. A tiny sliver of moon would set just after the sun, and it glowed an eerie silver. It was the only pure thing, but so distant as to depress rather than uplift.

Experience told me the wind might abate with the sunset, a prospect I both welcomed and dreaded. It got cold when the sun went down, and Ivy was suffering, drifting in and out of consciousness. We were both thirsty, but she’d never said a word, happy that I was here with her.

Vampires suck, I thought, not for the first time as I rested my head against her shoulder and closed my eyes against the upwelling grief. How had we gotten here, playing a deadly game of waiting where Ivy’s life hung in the chance between time and pixy wings?

Black traces of smut ran over the gold glow of my aura hazing my protection circle, arching like electricity between poles. The surface demons were gathering outside, not so patiently waiting for my circle to fall. One of them stood so his silhouette would be obvious against the darkening sky. He was taller than the rest, and the way he held his staff made me wonder if he was the same one Newt had tormented last summer in her calibration curse.

“You should go,” Ivy whispered, and I started, not having realized she was awake.

I tugged her coat closer around her, careful not to hurt her. “No,” I said simply, and she turned her black eyes to me, unblinking and catching the faint light from the sky.

“I’m going to die compromised,” she said, as if she were talking about cutting her hair. “Without medical intervention, I’ll wake hungry and incoherent. You should leave. I don’t want to hurt you.”

My thoughts flashed to the one time we’d tried to share blood. She’d mistakenly taken her feelings of love from it and had nearly killed me. I’d seen the beast of hunger in her before, and she hurt me because I would hurt her to stop it. “No,” I whispered, and she sighed.

Silent, I watched the tall surface demon elegantly swing his staff to drive another from his rock, and the smaller demon scuttled sideways. “Bis will be awake soon,” I said, but it sounded like a prayer even to me. Ivy wasn’t shivering anymore, scaring me. “It will be okay. Jenks went to get Bis. He can jump you right to Trent’s surgical suite. It won’t be long now.”

But I knew she heard the lie as well as I did.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy slurred, and a lump filled my throat. “I know you wanted things to be different.”

I stared ahead, trying not to blink. They weren’t going to make it here in time. Forcing a smile, I adjusted her blood-stained coat. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“I’m scared.”

I eased closer, not liking the chill she had. “I’m not going anywhere.” Damn it, I didn’t have anything to help her. Nothing. She was going to die, and all I could do was hold her hand. The tears slipped down, cold in the chill wind. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Sensing the end, the surface demon with the staff moved, easing down from his rock to hunch just outside the barrier. He looked like an Aborigine, wise, gaunt, and cautious where his kin were simply thin and hungry.

“Promise me you won’t be my scion. I want Nina to do it.”

Surprised, I stilled my hand against her hair. I’d thought she’d been sleeping. “Nina?” My voice had been bitter, and I couldn’t help but wonder if some of this was Nina’s fault. The young woman liked risks, was clever, and was in love with Ivy—and so addicted to the sensations that her master vampire could pull through her that she’d do just about anything to escape him even as she crawled back for more. If Ivy was an undead, she could claim Nina as her scion. At least that way, someone Nina loved would be abusing her instead of a half-mad, dying undead. Felix was insane from the sun already, and his children would soon be orphaned, vulnerable in the extreme unless another undead claimed them. No one would contest it.

“I can’t do that to you,” she said, and heartache filled me when I realized she was crying. “I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life trying to keep me from walking into the sun. If you can’t end my second life, then promise me that you’ll walk away. That you won’t try to help me. Understand that I’m lost.”

Throat tight, I held her close. “I promise,” I lied. The wind gusted and died, making the surface demon’s tattered clothes shift. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“I’m feeling better,” she said, her breath becoming shallower. “Really.”

“That’s good,” I said, my hand moving against an unbloodied part of her hair. My throat was tight. She’d tried so hard to be the person she wanted to be. She’d given me friendship, kept me from pain, sacrificed her goals to keep me alive. And I couldn’t stop this. I couldn’t give her anything back. I could only hold her hand.

Maybe it’s enough, I thought miserably. The smallest things meant the world to her.

But then the head surface demon jerked straight. In a breath, he turned and vanished, rocks clinking to mark his passage. Another was an instant behind him. Tense, I pulled myself up, tasting the gritty night wind. Something had scared them off.

“Bis?” I whispered, the sound of my voice echoing back off the flat, rocky earth. But the sun was still up.

“I should have known,” a bitterly proud and slightly accented voice said. “How did you do it? Elf magic?”

My pulse thudded. Breath held, I sent my eyes searching. A soft glow blossomed, and I found him. Just outside my circle and between me and the ruins of Cincinnati, Al stood in a soft puddle of light. His velvet frock coat was elegant, and his stance sure. The glow leaking from the archaic lantern hardly made it past his silver-buckled shoes, but I knew it was all that could get through the thick layer of smut on his soul—and I knew it bothered him, for once he’d been able to light an amphitheater to bright noon.

“Do what?” I whispered, not moving—hardly breathing. Al had tried to kill me. Okay, he’d tried to kill me a couple of times, but this last time I think he’d really meant it.

“My line is no longer in that stinking puddle of water,” he said, nose wrinkled. “I came to find out why before the sun set. It was you?” Lip curling, he dusted a nearby boulder with a silk cloth and set the lantern down. “Trying to curry favor makes you weak.”

“Al …,” I breathed, and pain flashed across his face, ruddy from the setting sun.

“Do not call me that. My name is Gally.”

“Al, please,” I said again, carefully extricating myself from Ivy, hoping she would remain asleep. The heartache of his bitter abandonment hit me hard, my emotions already paper thin because of Ivy. I felt new tears threaten, hating them. “It was an accident. I was trying to …” My throat closed up. Ivy slumped behind me, but he wouldn’t help, and that hurt even more.

“Oh-h-h-h,” he said in mock distress. “Your sad, sad little friend is dying.”

He could save her with a word, but I remained silent, standing before him, hating his bitter callousness. He was better than this. I’d seen it in unguarded moments.

“You smell like carrion,” he said, nose wrinkled. Behind me Ivy stirred but didn’t wake. “Butterflies like carrion.” He paused as if in speculation. “No, that’s elf. I can smell the stink from here, even over the putrid reek of burnt amber.”

Nothing in him had changed. I knew it wouldn’t have. My finding love with Trent hadn’t hurt him this bad. I was a symptom, not the core of what brought this hatred out. The fear that he might kill Trent just to spite me was real, though, and I backed up a step.

“Silent?” He sniffed, looking disgusted. “Miracles do happen.”

Why is he still here? I heard the scrabbling of claws and I glanced at Ivy. “I could use your help,” I whispered, knowing he never would.

“Demons don’t help,” he said bitterly. “Demons torment. Can’t you tell the difference?”

“That’s not how I saw you.”

Al eyed the thin bands of smut crawling over the surface of my circle, his lips twisting in jealousy. “You did at first.”

“Because that’s all you showed me,” I shot back. I’d thought he’d understood me. I’d trusted him, and he’d turned his back on me because Trent was an elf, the same as the woman he’d once loved and hadn’t been brave enough to fight for. “What did I ever do to you?”

Al uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, anger shining from his eyes. “You hurt me!” he yelled, giving in and punching my circle.

With an inward rush of energy, my circle fell into him with a pop.

Not expecting it, Al lurched, his hat falling off as he stumbled back and caught his balance. I stared at him in shock as his hat rolled to a stop almost at my feet. There’d been an instant of connection between us, an undeniable spark. He looked just as surprised, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“H-how?” I stammered, then renewed the circle as claws scraped in the ugly red light.

His lips parted to show his blocky teeth. Al put a careful finger to my bubble. The black crawled to him, and when he touched it, my circle fell.

“Stop that!” I shouted, heart pounding as I set it anew, but he was already across it and in here with me. Something was wrong. He’d broken my circle, and he hadn’t even tried.

“That little bitch!” Al shouted, and Ivy stirred.

I gasped as Al strode to me, halting with an unexpected shortness when I raised my hand in threat. “She changed your soul, yes?” the demon demanded, fidgeting and so close I could smell the smoke from his fire on him. “Newt changed it so that puking elf goddess couldn’t find you by your aura?”

I nodded, not breathing until he took three steps back. Okay, he was pissed, but he wasn’t choking me.

“The crazy bitch changed your aura to mimic mine!”

My mouth dropped open. Horrified, I looked at my circle. Jenks had said my aura was different, but he never said it looked like Al’s! But then, mine wasn’t covered in as much smut and probably looked brighter. That’s why the demon had been able to drop my circle with a touch. Great. Now I had nothing to block his spells with!

“She patterned your new aura after mine. The bitch!” Al wasn’t looking at me, hands on his hips as he watched the surface demons throw rocks at the lantern he’d left behind until it shattered and Al’s globe of light rolled in the dust. “That’s how you were able to move my line.”

“But why?” Had it been the crazy demon’s perverted attempt at a joke? Or maybe she thought it would bring us back together. But then a new thought sparked through me. “If our auras are the same, then Treble can teach me how to jump the lines.”

Al spun, coattails furling. Expression hard, he pointed a finger at me. “I share my soul resonance with no one!”

My skin was prickling. He was pulling on the line, gathering energy to him. Our eyes met, and he grimaced when he realized I could feel it. He took a breath, and frantic, I dove for cover. “Knock it off!” I shouted as a ball of black-tinted energy exploded against the ground, peppering me with bits of rock. “It wasn’t my idea!” I added, scrabbling to my feet.

But he was already deep in a chant, a glowing mass of forced power stretching between his fingers. Crap on toast. He was using old battle magic. “Al!” I protested, then stiffened when Al’s lantern light rolled into my circle and it fell with the sensation of sparkling tingles.

“Ivy,” I whispered, turning to see a surface demon creeping to her.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. Ignoring Al, I dove for her. Howling, I pulled a massive wave of energy from the line. Al lurched to get out of my way, his goat-slitted eyes wide when I threw the unfocused energy at the surface demon instead of him. The surface demon skittered back, scuttling away with an evil chatter.

“And don’t come back!” I shouted, shaking as I reinstated the circle. “Or I’ll give you more of the same!”

My skin prickled. I spun back to Al. But the demon wasn’t even looking at me. Relieved, I turned to Ivy, seeing her eyes black and beautiful. “You okay?” I asked her, and she smiled.

“I’ll miss watching you work,” she said, more alive than I’d seen her in two hours.

Pissed, I pulled the hair out of my mouth and glared at Al. “You’re a prick for standing there when I need help, you know that?” I said, then ducked as something flew over my head.

“Rachel!” Bis called, the cat-size gargoyle winging in a tight circle to drop down onto the rock Ivy was slumped against. “Jenks said you were going to walk to the church. Hold on. I’ll be right back. Trent’s at the wrong line.”

Trent? I took an elated breath, but the little guy was gone. The sun had gone down unnoticed, and his pebbly black skin was hard to see against the night. I’d hardly recognized him before he’d vanished.

My knees were shaking, and I turned to find Al was gone. Coward. “You left me!” I shouted. “And I can love anyone I want!” I added, but there was no one there but Ivy to hear me.

“Son of a bastard,” I muttered, hope a quick flash as a figure stepped from nothing in the soft sound of displaced air. There was the quick pulse of leather wings, and Bis was gone again.

“Nina!” I had expected Trent, but it was Nina, the athletic woman in her classy dress suit and black nylons bolting to Ivy with a vampiric quickness despite her high heels.

“You’ve been here for hours!” Nina exclaimed, black eyes angry as she fell to kneel before Ivy and covered her with her jacket. “Why didn’t you give her any blood?”

It hurt when she said it like that. “She doesn’t want any,” I said, my relief overwhelming.

Ivy pushed weakly at Nina, eyes slipping shut. “No. I’m okay. Rachel did what I asked.”

“She doesn’t want blood. Stop forcing her,” I said.

Hunched over Ivy, making her Hispanic elegance into a frightening shadow, Nina all but hissed, “This is what she is. What she wants means nothing when it comes to keeping her alive.”

But if she quit striving for who she wanted to be, Ivy might as well be dead.

I took a breath to tell Nina to back off, startled when Bis jumped back into existence. The little gargoyle was on Trent’s shoulder, and he immediately popped back across the lines, for Jenks, probably.

Thank you, God. Trent shuddered as the stink of burnt amber filled his lungs, and something flip-flopped in me. My eyes darted to where Al had last been to be sure he was gone. Trent was here. I didn’t have to do this alone. He wouldn’t let Ivy die. We’d be in time.

“Rachel.” Trent’s usual slacks and dress shirt looked out of place, sheened with red from the glow in the sky. His dress shoes slipped on the dust, and he caught his balance effortlessly. His pace crossing the dust was fast, and his eyes were quick. Sunset, even in the ever-after, was truly his best time. “Thank God you’re all right. Jenks told me what happened. Is Ivy okay?”

“She’s hurt bad,” I said as he reached me. Nina was trying to get her pearl button undone from a silk cuff, but Ivy wouldn’t let her, insistently promising she was okay. “She’s got internal injuries and a concussion.” I hesitated, surprised at the sudden lump in my throat. “I probably shouldn’t have moved her, but I had to get to a line …”

“Why the hell am I always last!” Jenks complained, joining us in a bright flash of pixy dust. His bright sparkle sifted down like a temporary sunbeam over Ivy, making her smile and lift her hand to give him a place to land. She was whispering to Jenks, comforting him when it should have been the other way around.

Bis landed on the rock above them, clearly anxious to start jumping us out. His lion-tufted tail wrapped around his feet, looking both submissive and protective—dangerous even as the white tufts on his ears made him cute.

We had to go—but I nearly lost it when Trent pulled me close, smelling of green things and spice, his touch real and loving, reminding me of everything I wanted but was afraid to call my own. Suddenly I was fighting the urge to cry as fingers strong from pulling in unruly horses and tapping out keyboard commands gentled me closer. I’d had to keep it together, and now there was someone to help. Ivy was going to make it. She’d make it! She had to.

“You did the right thing,” Trent whispered, the deep understanding in his voice bringing my defenses down. I’d never have expected it a year ago, but now … after seeing him lose everything to follow his heart, I could. I could accept his comfort, show my vulnerability—even if it might not last. The undeniable truth was, he was meant for better things than me. One day Ellasbeth would have him, and I’d be left with the memory of who he had wanted to be.

“Rachel?”

But I’d be damned if I didn’t take what I could of the time we had. Catching my tears, I wiped my face, giving Trent a thankful smile as I pulled back and looked for Bis. The little gargoyle had his wings draped around him, looking like a devil himself. “Bis? Can you jump her to Trent’s?”

“Not until I give her some blood!” Giving up on her sleeve, Nina used her little teeth to rip the button off. “She can’t be moved yet,” the living vampire said as she pushed her sleeve up. Her naturally dark skin showed the scars even in the dim light, and her panic at finding Ivy this close to death obvious. “I can’t believe you let her sit here on the cold ground!”

“Easy,” Trent said when I stiffened, and he lifted my chin, reading the strain I’d lived with for the last few hours, the fear. “Why is it harder when those we love are in danger than when it’s just us?” he whispered, and I blinked fast. I wasn’t going to cry, damn it. I wasn’t!

“No,” Ivy said again, her eyes black as she found Nina’s. “No,” she said more stridently, and Nina hunched over her, aching with her need to help her.

“Ivy, sweetheart, please. Let me make you stronger so we can move you.”

Bis waited, wings half open, unsure and unwilling to do anything that might hurt Ivy. Trent, though, was grimacing. He knew it for the lie it was as well as I. Oh, I was sure blood would help stabilize her, but it would be an unredeemable step backward, back to where Nina, in all her expensive perfume and trendy clothes, was—back to where Ivy was striving to pull Nina from despite Nina’s assurances that she wasn’t allowing Felix into her mind anymore. The clever woman was too in control most days not to be.

“No.” Ivy’s voice was stronger. “No blood. Not like this. I’d rather die twice.”

“But, Ivy …,” Nina protested, breaking off when Ivy fumbled to pull Nina’s sleeve down and kissed her fingertips. Frustrated, Nina knelt over Ivy. “It doesn’t have to be this hard!” she begged, but Ivy only smiled lovingly, feeling good that she’d resisted, that she’d won again for another day. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

I turned away as Ivy patted Nina’s back, comforting her. In Ivy’s eyes, Nina was the one who needed help.

“Bis. Go. My surgical staff is waiting,” Trent said, and the gargoyle awkwardly hopped from the rock. “We need to get out of here before the surface demons find us.”

“Too late.” My eyes lifted to the surrounding rocks, glad they hadn’t shown themselves yet as they evaluated the threat Nina and Trent might be.

“I thought so.” Trent sighed, turning to watch my back. “I’m sorry about the church.”

“My church? What’s wrong with the church?”

Jenks’s blur of wings shone against Trent’s fair, almost transparent hair, glowing red as it picked up the red ever-after dust. “The pixy-piss vampires have overrun it,” he almost snarled. “Stinking up the place and stomping everything like fairy maggots looking for spiders. They thought you might jump to the line in the garden, and they’ve got enough manpower there to make Piscary puke—if the putrid pus pile of vampire piss were still alive.”

Ivy chuckled, the laugh choking off in a pained sound making Nina’s eyes go black again. Bis carefully reached a clawed foot out to touch her, and when Bis and Ivy winked out of the ever-after, the tight knot around my gut finally began to ease.

Nina hunched over the space Ivy had been in for a moment before rising to lean dejectedly against the rock. Slowly her expression changed as she realized where she was. Tension wound through her, turning her from uneasy to a threatening shadow, smeared red with the remaining light in the sky. When I’d first met Nina, she’d been lively and eager for anything new. Now, after almost a year under a failing master’s warped attention, she was still looking for thrills, but she was also twitchy and unpredictable—her jealousy of any attention I might show Ivy becoming increasingly violent. I didn’t believe for a second that Felix was ignoring her, but every time I brought it up, Ivy got mad, wanting her happy lie rather than the inconvenient truth.

“Word got out you were finding undead souls,” Trent said softly.

“That’s not true!” I exclaimed, but he was nodding as if already knowing it.

“Even so, every undead vampire in the city now believes you can,” he added. “Especially after what happened last July. In their minds, they don’t understand why you haven’t done it.”

No wonder they were camped out at my church. “I don’t think you can tie a soul to a mind when the body is dead,” I said. “That’s why souls leave after the first death.” I was tired, but I didn’t dare relax, and I strained for any clink of rock, any sliding of dust.

“They don’t want to believe that.” Trent cupped my elbow. Tingles spread from there to the small of my back where his other hand had gone to pull me closer to him. “We’ll figure this out. I’m not entirely penniless, you know.”

That he was there to help without my asking was a guilty relief, but I didn’t know how he could. He’d lost almost everything in discrediting the truth of his illegal manufacture of genetic medicines and the very drug that the vampires depended upon for survival. It didn’t sit well that both the vampires and the elves had gone after him because of me, and I bowed my head when I realized I’d done the same thing to Al, bankrupting the demon before he’d had enough and left. I was an albatross, pulling down those who meant the most to me. Maybe I should leave before I brought Trent down, too.

Trent’s arms were around me, but I couldn’t speak, unwilling to breathe in his clean scent and feel the whisper of wild magic that sometimes rose from him like aftershave. But the guilt of him losing almost everything because of me was a sharp, insistent thorn.

“He still cares for you,” Trent said, and I looked up, confused. “Al, I mean. He was here, wasn’t he?”

Oh. That. Grimacing, I turned in Trent’s arms, feeling his grip ease as I looked at Al’s line, knocked off its path by my desperate pull on it. Al’s jealousy wasn’t born of affection, but from a weird kinship and maybe a little envy. I’d stood against the demons to keep who I loved, and Al had worked within the shadows of their hatred for a thousand years for the same reason, ultimately failing. He was bitter. “How can you tell?”

Smiling, Trent tucked a gritty strand of hair behind my ear. “You have that ‘I yelled at someone who deserves it’ look. He’ll come around.”

Sour, I bobbed my head and pulled entirely from him. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Bis jumped back in, and Jenks yelped, taking to the air and dodging the winged gargoyle until the bigger flier snagged him. “I’m going last!” Jenks protested. “I’m going last with Rachel, you overgrown worm!” And then he was gone. It was just me, Nina, and Trent.

The scrape of wood on rock jerked my eyes to a surface demon, its gaunt shadow rising up black against the still-darkening horizon. And the surface demons, I thought, setting up a new protection circle and wondering if it was too late.

Behind me, a rock clinked. Slowly Trent moved to put his back to mine.

Yep, it was.

“Rachel?” The air tingled at the pull Trent drew on the ley line.

“There,” I said, flicking a tiny pop of energy at a swiftly moving shadow. Shit, there were two of them in here. Heart pounding, I turned to the first. “Detrudo!” I shouted, and he pinwheeled back, crashing into the inside of my circle. His staff lay on the dirt, and I ran forward, scooping it up before running back to Trent.

Hissing, the larger surface demon jumped from rock to rock, looking alien as he circled us. Nina was white faced, pressed up against that rock, and I beckoned to her. Scared, she inched closer, but she was moving too slowly, and there was a demon creeping up behind her.

“Nina! Get down!” I shouted, leaping to get between them. Without thought, I pulled on the line, sending it from my chi to my hand, condensing it as it took fewer and fewer pathways until it finally reached my fingertips and ran down the staff. “Dilatare!” I shouted as it exploded from the end, the rod acting like a rifle bore to focus it into a finite point that slammed into the surface demon with a thunderous ache of release.

Nina screamed as she dropped, the burst of light showing surface demons doing cartwheels into the rocks and pebbles. The shock echoed back up my arm, and the staff fell from my senseless fingers. Shaking, I looked at it, wondering what the thing was made of.

And still … a hunched shadow found its feet, not giving up as it began to creep forward again, low to the ground and hissing.

Slow with surprise, Trent helped Nina up before coming to stand beside me. His jaw was set, and he looked fantastic, eyes bright and a glow of magic about his hands. Seeing him as he wanted to be, not the careful businessman he was so good at being and that others had forced on him, I felt my heart swell. I’d had something to do with it, and I was proud of him for finding the courage to be what he wanted. Why can’t it last? I thought, aching.

“Together?” I said, and Trend nodded, eager to blend our strengths into one. I quashed the fear that Al was watching. If he’d known Trent was here, he’d be trying to kill him.

Pale, Nina scooped up the staff, holding it inexpertly. My hand found Trent’s, and my breath came fast as his energies mixed with mine like shades of gold twining together. The rank taint of burnt amber eased, overpowered by the clean scent of grass and trees and sweet wine. My chin rose. This wasn’t wrong. I didn’t care that the demons and elves said it was. This wasn’t wrong!

The surface demon hissed, his ragged clothes hanging like a tattered aura. He hunched, preparing to jump, and Trent and I gathered our power.

“Now!” I shouted, exhilarated as our joined energies wound together and struck the demon, sending it rolling back into the darkness. Trent’s eyes were alight, his hair almost floating as he inhaled, bringing with it a wash of sparkles through me. My God, it was almost better than sex with the man.

Nina’s scream iced through me, and we spun. The second demon was on her, the staff the only thing keeping it from her neck. Snarling, the twisted form fought to wrench the staff away. My heart thudded. I reached out, fingertips aching as I made a fist, unable to use my magic for fear of hitting her. “Nina, get him off you!” I shouted. “Let him have the stupid staff!”

But she couldn’t let go, afraid. Her gasping breaths cut through the air, and I jumped when Trent blasted the first surface demon behind us. Jaw clenched, I ran for her, feeling as if my hand sank into the demon when I reached for it.

It screamed at my touch, and I stumbled back, ripping it off her as I fell on my butt.

It didn’t do much good, as the age-twisted thing went right back at her.

“Oh God!” Nina cried, and then both surface demons were on her, smelling the blood.

Son of a bitch! I stared, flat on my ass, aghast and panicking as they covered her. I could not go back to Ivy and tell her Nina died in the ever-after.

“Trent!” I shouted, head hurting as I pulled in a massive amount of ever-after. This was going to end right now.

“Get! Off!” Nina thundered, and I froze, halfway to her, when first one, then the other surface demon flew through the red-tinted air to land in the rock-strewn shadows.

Someone touched me, and I jerked, pulling my energies back when I saw Trent. “Trent …,” I started, words failing when I realized he was dragging me away from Nina.

My eyes darted to her, and my mouth went dry.

I didn’t think it was just Nina anymore.

She’d rolled to her feet, hands still holding that staff as she hunched into a ball and bared her teeth at the surface demons still shaking off the fall. Her eyes flicked to Trent and me, and I shuddered as I recognized the second presence smothering her psyche. It was Felix. And it had happened far too fast.

In a smooth, unhurried motion, Nina rose, her feet placed wide to bind the skirt about her knees. An almost visible charismatic power spilled from her in the new dark. Black eyes glinting, she whirled the staff in a dangerous arc, making it smack into the earth in a clear threat.

Anger tightened my resolve, and I pulled myself straight. Nina had lied. She had outright lied to Ivy, telling her she’d made a break from Felix. There was no way the master vampire would’ve known she was in danger if she hadn’t already had him in her, balancing her emotions and soaking in her thoughts of sunlight and love.

From the darkness, a surface demon hissed.

Trent spun, his shoes grinding the grit as his magic tugged at my energies. The smaller demon was running at her, Nina screaming at it, egging it on, whirling the staff again as if it were a sword.

But it never reached her as that second, larger surface demon plowed into the first.

“Look out!” I cried, pulling Trent back as the demons rolled in the dirt, grappling, hissing and howling, clawing at the tatters of their clothes and gouging each other’s eyes.

“Get back!” Trent said when, with a scream of outrage, the larger demon finally beat the first away. Standing between Nina and the darkness, the tall surface demon raised his hands to the sky, howling as if making a claim. His cry echoed against the flat spaces, dying away to leave the demon staring at us, his chest moving up and down as he panted, thin hands clenched.

Trent’s fingers tightened in mine, his uninvoked charm hovering just under his skin. “Wait,” I said as the surface demon spun to Nina. “No, wait!” I demanded as the silence was broken by the soft clicks of rock and the whisper of dead grass as the surrounding surface demons skulked back, leaving us. “I think he drove the rest off.”

With a high-pitched whine, the tall surface demon fell prostrate before Nina, burbling and groaning, the tattered remnants of its aura smearing the dust to leave patterns. Nina/Felix stared, inching backward.

“What is it doing?” I whispered as the demon closed the new gap, his wizened arm black with age or disease, stretched out as if wanting to touch her but afraid to.

Bis popped in, winging up for altitude when he saw the surface demon writhing at her feet, gibbering like a monkey. I’d never seen anything like it, and the noise it made crawled up my spine like ice.

“Go away, you putrid thing,” Nina threatened, her voice dropping into the lower ranges. It was Nina, but not, and I started when Bis landed on my shoulder to wrap his tail around my back and under my arm for balance. He wouldn’t dare jump her out. Hell, I think he was scared to touch her, much less share mental space with her.

But the surface demon cowered like a beaten dog as it couldn’t move forward, couldn’t move back, snatching glances at Nina and the blood dripping from a scratch under her eye. I’d never been this close to one before and not been fighting for my life. It was almost as if I was looking at him through a fog. His features were indistinct, but gaunt, as if starved. The tattered remnants of his clothes gave no indication of color, and as soon as I looked away, I couldn’t remember if his hair was long or short. Again, I was struck by the feeling that he was there, but not, and I shuddered at the memory of how it had felt when I had pulled it off her.

“I said, go!” Nina/Felix shouted, and the surface demon scuttled back at her swinging foot. Feet spread in a way no woman in a skirt ever would, Nina threw the staff after it to clatter into the dust.

My circle was long gone, but it didn’t matter. The surface demons had left, even the ones at the outskirts. I exhaled, relieved. But another part of me was seething in anger. Felix had taken Nina over far too easily. The woman had been lying to Ivy, lying for three whole months. The worst part was, I think Ivy knew it.

“I ought to leave you here to rot,” I said, talking to Felix, but if I did, Nina would be the one to suffer.

Nina stiffened, her lip curling to show tiny pointed canines. She wouldn’t get the extended fangs until she died, which—if I got my way—would be tomorrow.

“Rachel,” Bis whispered as his feet pinched my shoulder in worry. Trent, too, wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. Not yet. The son of a bastard was playing Ivy for a fool.

“Get out of Nina,” I said, shaking off Trent’s hand and moving a step closer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nina said, foolishly trying to hide the fact that it really was Felix, but young women in dress suits do not tug their sleeves down in agitation.

“Do we have to do this right now?” Trent said, eyes on the darkening shadows.

“Yes,” I said, coming another step closer. “Felix, get out of Nina. Get out and don’t come back. Right now, or I’m telling Ivy.”

The woman bared her teeth, dark eyes going darker. “Ivy? She doesn’t matter!”

“Maybe not to you,” I said shaking from the spent adrenaline. “But if Ivy knows, she might give up on Nina.”

“That’s fine with me.” Nina’s eyes narrowed, making the woman look dead already in the last of the light.

“Me too,” I said, heartsick for Ivy even as I hated Felix. “But if she does, Nina is going to find the balls to kick you out for good.”

Beside me, Trent made a sound of understanding. Nina’s expression twisted up in a snarl, hearing the truth of it.

“Love is funny like that,” I added.

Nina’s expression darkened, anger bubbling up until she was as ugly as the monster seeing the world through her eyes, wallowing in Ivy’s love as if it was his to have. My chin lifted, and seeing my determination, he suddenly left her.

Nina staggered, collapsing like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Sobbing, she huddled on the ground, exhausted and hyped up on the hormones Felix had pulled into her blood system. She touched her face, shocked at the blood, and my heart just about broke for Ivy. God, I hated the master vampires.

He might be gone, but the flash of evil intent that had crossed her left me shaking.

He’d be back.

Four

The coffee smell coming from the wax-coated cup was nauseatingly familiar, and I held it listlessly as I sat in the chair I’d pulled into the carpeted hallway. The oil-like sheen on the surface caught the fluorescent lights, showing the shake in my hand. I’d managed a few fitful hours of sleep after Ivy had come out of surgery, and though the beds in Trent’s surgical suites were comfortable, I’d been too worried to do more than doze. Besides, the smell of antiseptic and stainless steel kept waking me up.

Nina had crashed right in Ivy’s room. She was in there still, the guilt that I’d found out her secret making her noticeably passive and pliant. It pissed me off that she’d been lying to Ivy all this time, but I think Ivy had known it, her belief that she didn’t deserve anything good or lasting keeping her mouth shut and her eyes blind. I hoped that Bis and Jenks were doing better, the two of them having returned to the church to try to get the squatters out.

My breath came in with a harsh sound, and I listened to the voices echoing down from the third floor where Trent had his living quarters. I’d always wondered what took up Trent’s second floor. Now I knew. Two well-outfitted hospital suites were tucked between the ground floor and the third story, but the surgery itself was downstairs, closer to his labs.

Hand trembling, I sipped the coffee. It had no taste. I’d just been in to check on Ivy. She’d been sleeping: clean and sanitized between ivory sheets. The angry red suture lines and orange antiseptic stains had been hidden behind a cotton nightgown, but I’d seen them before I’d lost it and cried from relief. Now I just felt numb.

And yet something sparked in me at the sound of Trent’s footsteps on the unseen stairway, and I sat up straighter when Jonathan’s voice twined melodiously with Trent’s. I didn’t like Jonathan, but I’d be willing to bet Trent’s number two adviser had a singing voice that could make angels weep.

I managed a smile as the two of them came around a corner. Trent looked as confident as always with his hands in his pockets like a GQ model, his smile faltering as he took in my tired misery. His hair was free of the ever-after dust, and he was smooth shaven. I’d taken the time to shower, but I felt scruffy in a pair of jeans and clean sweater I’d left over here a few weeks ago. Jonathan wrinkling his nose at me in disapproval didn’t help, and I checked to make sure all my hair was back in a scrunchy, the frizzy red tamed with a band of elastic instead of a charm.

A lot had changed since the allegations of drug running and illegal genetic research had been levied against Trent. It had been ages since I’d seen him in a full suit and coat; his business meetings had dropped to almost zero and the research campus had been closed. On the plus side, he was more relaxed, more apt to crack a dry joke, more often smelling like ozone or his stables than the boardroom. He was doing more on his own, needing me less and less for security.

My focus blurred, and I looked into the depths of my coffee as I imagined what it would be like to go to the mall with Trent, catch a bad movie and dinner. Maybe I should ask.

The one-sided conversation between Trent and Jonathan was clearly coming to an end, and their forward progress halted. Trent gestured elegantly as he made his point, and I stood, leaning heavily against the wall as I waited. I knew he got lonely, even with Quen and the girls keeping him occupied. Falling out of high society had been good for him and his family, if you ignored the increased number of death threats and his loss of income. Trains still ran, though, and farms still grew food. He wasn’t destitute. Yet. Ellasbeth was still working on that in her effort to gain control of the girls, and through them, Trent.

Not going to happen, I vowed, but after having witnessed the four of them on a good day, the girls playing happily and both Trent and Ellasbeth as loving, though not united, parents, a questioning guilt slid through me. Quen, too, seemed to regard Trent’s and my relationship as a phase tied to Trent’s newest preoccupation with furthering his magical studies. It was irksome, but every time Trent spoke of Ellasbeth and the girls, it left me wondering why I was delaying the inevitable.

“Thank you, Jon,” Trent finally said, touching the tall, almost gaunt man on the shoulder as he gave him a grateful smile. “That makes my day a hundred times easier.”

Contenting himself with a short nod and a dry look at me, Jonathan turned and went back the way they’d come. I knew the girls loved the man, but I liked him just as much as he liked me. Which was to say not at all.

“Is Jonathan going gray?” I asked as Trent closed the few steps remaining between us.

“I haven’t noticed. But that might be why he’s cutting it so short lately.” Trent stopped before me, worry creasing his features. “You could have slept upstairs. You did sleep, yes?”

“A few hours.” I fell into step beside him when he gestured for us to continue down the hall past Ivy’s door. “I’m not a spare room kind of girl.”

“It wouldn’t have been the spare room you would have been in,” he said, matching our steps and giving me a sideways hug. “Life is too short for bad coffee,” he said, taking my cup out of my hand and setting it on a table in the hall. “How’s Ivy?”

“Okay, thanks to you,” I said, not wanting to talk about it. My arm went around him and my head fell onto his shoulder. Trent eased us to a halt and I pulled him to me, resting my head against his chest. The light scent of his aftershave was a bare hint, just enough, and my jaw finally began to relax. I could hear the sound of his waterfall downstairs, past the great room, and my eyes closed.

The relief that he came to help me in the ever-after had almost hurt, even if he’d risked his life and an already failing reputation. There hadn’t been a wisp of regret in him, and I shoved the coming heartache down because even though he meshed with my life perfectly, I did not mesh with his.

Trent had been moving toward bringing his people back from the brink of extinction his entire life. The path had been laid out. He’d willingly sacrificed for it—and he would again. The ugly truth was, I couldn’t help him accomplish what he needed to do, I could only hinder it. That was why Jonathan disliked me and Quen disapproved even as he agreed that this was the happiest Trent had ever been despite his dwindling fortune and the lawsuits piling up like cordwood. Trent was all about duty—and I was dragging him down.

“You okay?” he asked, and I tilted my head and turned the hug into a brief kiss.

“Yes.” I dropped my head again, needing to feel him next to me if only for this space of time. “I don’t like leaving her in that ugly white bed.”

“It’s going to be okay.” His voice rumbled up through me.

I didn’t want to move. Ever. “I don’t know what I would have done if she had—”

I couldn’t even say it, and my eyes warmed as the tears spilled over.

His grip strengthened, and I blinked up at him, feeling like a wimp. “But she didn’t,” he said firmly, understanding in his eyes. “You did good. You got her out of immediate danger, and more important, gave her a place to meet her future with dignity and peace. If she had died, she would’ve done so with the person she loved most in the world with her. No one can ask for more than that, even kings.”

How could he understand so clearly? “When you put it like that …” I sniffed back the tears, letting go of him to wipe my eyes. “Sorry,” I said with a sad little laugh that really wasn’t one. “I haven’t gotten enough sleep. I don’t know how you do it, getting up at daybreak like this. This is crazy.”

He eased me back into motion, heading down the hallway. “Coffee helps. Have you found the staff break room? There’s a mini kitchen. Frozen waffles …,” he coaxed.

I remembered the homemade ones Maggie had made for us. It had been the first meal we’d ever shared. “Sure, thanks.” His hand lingered about my waist, and I dropped my head onto his shoulder again, breathing him in, gaining his strength. I wished things were different. Ivy was going to be okay, but that Trent had saved her life wasn’t going to help his political standing. Keeping her alive was going to be even harder. Cormel didn’t want money, he wanted his soul.

The click of Ivy’s door brought me around, and we hesitated when Nina came out looking exhausted and rumpled—worse than the day after she and Ivy had come back from a five-day backpacking adventure in what was left of a Turn-ravaged Guam.

“Coffee?” the bedraggled woman rasped, her hair still dull with dust and hanging in strands about her creased, worried face. The scratch the surface demon had given her was red rimmed and swollen, looking worse than it probably was.

“And waffles.” Trent gestured for her to join us. “Right this way.”

Relief flickered across her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, shuffling forward in her torn nylons. She hadn’t even taken the time for a shower, and was still in the same clothes she’d had on in the ever-after. The faint scent of burnt amber lingered even now. Her clothes were a monochromatic orange from the dust, and guilt kept her head down. That was fine with me.

“We keep this stocked for the medical staff,” Trent was saying as we found the comfortable, if somewhat sterile, break room, open to the hallway. “I’m assuming that you’d rather eat here than upstairs?”

I nodded as I took in the clean counters, homey tables, and fresh flowers in vases still beaded up with condensation. Four monitors hung from the ceiling, three dark and one lit with Ivy’s vitals. An entire wall was taken up with one of those floor-to-ceiling vid screens showing a deck and a garden, and I collapsed at a table, thankful for the small comfort.

Nina took a chair across from me, easing down with a little more grace and a cautious glance. There were dirty dishes in the sink from the doctor and nurse on call. I’d put them in the dishwasher later.

I loved watching a man cook, even if it was only toast, and I collapsed my head onto the cradle my arms made on the table, exhausted, as Trent took waffles out of the tiny freezer in the top of the fridge. “If you want to come upstairs, I can make them from scratch,” he said as the door sealed with a sucking sound. “The girls are at the stables with Quen. I thought it better to keep them occupied out of the, ah, house.”

“Frozen is good.” I smiled as he ripped the box open, letting my head hit the table as the toaster went down. I liked the girls, but Lucy, especially, was inquisitive to the point of exhaustion.

“I never thought I’d ever eat anything out of a box from the freezer,” Trent said, his voice distant in thought, “but the girls want everything now, and frankly, these aren’t half bad.”

My breath was coming back stale from the table. It sounded as if he was in the fridge again, and curious, I pulled my head up as he set butter and cold maple syrup on the counter. Nina had fallen asleep in the chair, her head lolling back and her breath even.

I had said I wasn’t going to tell Ivy, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that Felix had been dipping into her Nina as if she were his personal thirty-one-flavor shop. My anger was a slow, steady burn for the lie she was living. Ivy was trying to help her, damn it. Ivy loved her. And Nina wasn’t even trying.

A muffled thump echoed through the walls, and Nina snorted awake. For an instant, we froze. Alarm slid through me at Nina’s expression. She was scared. It wasn’t fear for Ivy, it was fear for herself. What have you done, tricky little vampire?

My eyes went to Ivy’s monitor: elevated pulse. Panic dribbled through my thoughts, and I stood.

“Rachel?” Nina quavered.

Fear slammed into me, and I ran.

“Jonathan!” Trent shouted, but I was already sliding to a halt at Ivy’s door. Heart pounding, I yanked it open. Fear bubbled up, acidic and paralyzing. Ivy was on the bed struggling with a man all in white.

Jaw clenched, I silently grabbed his arm and flung him off her. His mask pulled free and he crashed into a bank of low cupboards, arms and legs askew. Ivy’s face was creased in pain. Her eyes met mine as she held her middle and slid off the bed and out of the way.

The man’s black shoulder-length hair stood out strongly against the white of his suit, and the annoyed expression on his young face ticked me off. “Who let you in?” I said, and he smirked as he got to his feet.

Living-vampire fast, he made a dart for the door. I jumped for him, careful not to hold him long enough for him to turn and get a grip. It had been years since I’d sparred with Ivy, but hard-won lessons die even harder. My foot jabbed out to hit the back of his knee. He went down, pissed when he caught himself with his palms on the floor. Tossing the hair from his eyes, he shook his head, the promise of hurt in his eyes.

He came at me fast and hard. I blocked, the sudden pain in my arm vanishing when his second strike made it go numb. I retreated, pulling the side bar from the bed and slamming it into his next swing. He hissed in pain, and I spun with it in the bare moment he hesitated. It hit him square across the temple, and he reeled backward. My heart pounded as he staggered, hand to his head. I still had my magic, and as he shook the stars from his sight, I pulled the line to me.

“Ivy!” Nina shrieked from the open door.

“No!” I cried, reaching out when the attacker dove for her instead.

Trent was a dark blur, yanking Nina into the hall and out of danger. “Celieano!” he shouted, hand outstretched, and I felt a drop in the ley line. It was a simple circle, and Ivy’s attacker ran right into it. He staggered back into the room, his nose broken and bleeding, unable to see through the blood and tears.

I dropped the bed bar. Hands in fists, I spun for momentum and sent my foot into his exposed middle. His air huffed out, and he hit the floor and slid into the built-in wardrobe.

Panting, I looked at Trent. We had to take the vamp alive, or we’d never find out who’d sent him.

The vampire, though, was finding his feet.

“Detrudo!” I exclaimed, shoving a wad of energy through my palms. It blew him back onto the bed and sent Trent stumbling into the wall. Ivy rose, shaking and pale. The vampire’s eyes widened upon seeing the needle in her fist.

“Right,” he said, and with no warning, he lunged at Trent, jabbing out in a rabbit punch at the last moment. Trent shifted to avoid it, falling when the vampire hooked his foot behind Trent’s and pulled. Trent went down, silent even as he pushed back up.

The damage, though, had been done, and the vampire dove for the hall and his freedom.

“Get him!” I shouted as I lurched past the bed. Trent was three steps faster. My breath came in with a gasp at a sudden pull on the line. Trent stopped short, and I ran into him.

“Down!” he shouted, shoving me.

We hit the hallway’s floor in a tangle. Trent’s elbow slammed into my gut even as my shoulder took most of the fall. Wiggling, I tried to shove him off, only to have him grip me tighter. I found out why when a heat-stealing wave of force pulsed over us, and was drawn back, tingling like frost in my nose. It was Jonathan, and only now did Trent slide off me.

I propped myself up on an elbow and tossed the hair from my eyes. The vampire was clenched in a ball, either in pain or from cold. Jonathan’s aura danced over him like little waves of electricity. Jonathan stood in an aggressive hunch, the charm still dripping from his stiff fingers.

Crap on toast, he’d done it again. I was sure the vampire was alive despite it looking otherwise; Jonathan enjoyed wringing information from people more than he should. I had a pretty good idea of how word got out where Ivy was, but confirmation would be nice.

“Oh God, Ivy!” Nina exclaimed, and she passed me in a wave of burnt amber and vampire incense.

I pulled my knees together and wiped my mouth. “Thanks, Jonathan,” I said, reaching up for Trent’s hand. He yanked me up, and I stood, catching my balance against a brief wave of vertigo. Felix might not be actively in Nina, but a master that skilled could lay low, take in the world without even being recognized. Damn it all to hell and back. Like it or not, Nina was a threat to Ivy’s life. I couldn’t let Ivy pretend anymore.

Jonathan lifted his eyes from the contorted vampire on the floor and tugged his shirt straight. “Why is it every time the Sa’han is with you, someone tries to kill him?”

“He wasn’t trying to kill Trent, he was trying to kill Ivy.” Ivy. Anger bubbled up as I turned to Ivy’s room. Pissed, I strode in. Nina was there, crying as she tried to get Ivy into bed.

“I’m okay. Nina, I’m okay!” Ivy protested as she slid into the rocking chair instead. She wasn’t okay. She’d sat there because it was too hard to make it to the bed.

Shaking, I grabbed Nina’s shoulder and spun her up and away from Ivy. “Get away from her!” I shouted as Nina fell back against the bed, her shock shifting to a black-eyed hatred.

“Rachel, no!” Ivy protested, but I pushed her hand off me, not caring that both vampires’ eyes had gone pupil black.

“This is her fault!” I exclaimed, my hand shaking as I pointed at Nina. “She let him in!”

“I did not!”

She wasn’t a very convincing liar, especially when she scooted across the bed to get closer to the door and away from me. “How else would Cormel know where we were?” I demanded, and Trent took her shoulders. If it was to keep her unmoving or to keep me from smacking her, I didn’t know.

“I wouldn’t help Cormel!” Nina objected, eyes darting. “I’ve not even told my sister where I am!”

But if Felix was as good as I thought, she’d never know he was there. I hadn’t in the ever-after.

Ivy’s hand was cold on my arm, her fingers making a tingling path. “You don’t have to,” I said softly, and Nina’s face went ashen. “Tell her. Tell Ivy, or I’m going to.”

“I … I …,” Nina stammered, pulling away from Trent to stand alone. She wanted to be caught in the lie. She wanted it to end. She could be innocent—but I didn’t trust her.

“Rachel …” Ivy’s voice held heartache. It ticked me off. Ivy knew she wasn’t clean.

“Tell her how you’ve been letting Felix in,” I said, and Nina dropped her head, her beauty marred by fear. “As long as he stays quiet, you’ve been letting him see the sun and remember what it’s like to love someone.”

Her head snapped up. “Stop it!” she protested, but she wasn’t nearly angry enough.

“You don’t have enough control,” I said, carefully gauging her mood as I goaded her. “He’s been doing it for you! Ivy’s been risking her life, everything, to help you get out from under him, and you’re sneaking behind her back, pretending you’re clean, but you’re nothing but a filthy vampire doll cutting lines in your own arm to suck on!”

Nina stiffened. “How dare you!” she exclaimed, eyes black.

I rocked back to put distance between us. “How dare I?” I echoed. “If he wasn’t in you now, you’d be at my throat. You don’t have enough control on your own—not with all the power he’s dumped into you. Little girl whining about how hard it is. You need to decide if you love her or him, and make your choice. Frankly, I don’t care about you, but I will not let you drag Ivy back down into that slime. He’s in you now, isn’t he? Isn’t he!”

Nina’s eyes widened, but it wasn’t me she was afraid of. Trent wisely eased back as Nina shuddered, a violent spasm taking her. I swallowed hard, tensing when her trembling ceased. I could hear people whispering nervously in the hall, and I prayed they didn’t come in.

For three seconds, Nina didn’t move, head bowed and hands clenched. Slowly, as if settling into her skin, she drew herself up into a confident stance and cold mien. When her eyes met mine, it wasn’t Nina anymore. I was starting to wonder if it ever had been.

Behind me, Ivy groaned, heartbroken.

“You’re becoming a pain in my ass,” Nina said, but though the voice was the same, the cadence was not. It was Felix: devious, soulless, politically powerful, and yet still Cormel’s ward. Cincinnati’s master vampire was required by law to chaperone him until old age and madness picked away the last of him and he walked into the sun. It looked close now. Nina would go with him. I could see no other path, and my heart ached for Ivy. She had wanted to help her so badly, saw her own redemption in saving Nina. That’s what hurt the most.

I backed down with a show of deference if only to save my skin. This was all I had wanted: Ivy to see so she wouldn’t blind herself any longer. “Get Ivy out of here. I want to talk to Felix alone,” I said, and Ivy protested as Trent helped her out. Nina shifted her gaze to Ivy as they passed, and I stiffened.

“Leave the door open,” I said softly, and Nina snorted, the sound both scornful and masculine. I didn’t care if Felix knew I was scared. I was, and I didn’t want that door shut. I could hear doctors, and my worry for Ivy eased. She’d be okay. Me, however …

Finding a firmer stance, Nina tugged the sleeves of her trendy, soiled jacket as if it was a business suit. Glancing down, she frowned at the state of her untidiness, a soft tsk-tsk escaping her as Felix noticed the hole in her nylons and that she was pretty much barefoot and filthy.

“Tell Cormel that I’m working on how to fix souls to the undead and to back off,” I said, wishing I had that bed bar in easy reach.

“I’m not your messenger boy.” She was looking at Ivy’s chart, again shaking her head. “We are so fragile.” Her head came up, and a cold wash went through me, making her eyes dilate. “And yet we cling to life long past what should be possible.”

I took a breath and held it. “If Ivy dies, I’ll never give you what you want. You can tell Cormel that, too.”

Nina twitched, and I wondered if Nina was trying to regain control. “If we don’t get what we want, Ivy dies. If we still don’t get what we want, you die. Give us what we want, and everyone lives. Why do you hesitate?”

Again, she twitched, her knees almost buckling. Hope, unexpected and almost painful, pulled through me. Nina? Ivy had never given up on Nina. Maybe I shouldn’t either.

“It’s impossible,” I said, wondering. “It can’t be done.”

Nina put a hand on the dresser, her head bowing in pain, and my pulse thundered. “That’s … what you’re good at,” Felix said through her. “Doing the impossible. Blind. The living are so blind. Why do you fight this? That you love her burns like the sun itself. You could have everything, and yet you still fear it?”

My breath came in fast, and I held it. Felix was talking about Ivy. Yes, I loved Ivy, but I couldn’t give her what she craved, deserved. The one time I’d tried, it almost killed me. But that’s not why I’d said no. “I’m not afraid,” I said, my resolve faltering when even the last rims of brown were lost behind the utter blackness of her eyes. The air seemed to haze, and my skin tingled from the pheromones he was pulling from her, sophisticated and far beyond her living-vampire abilities.

“You’re afraid to love,” she said, pushing back from the dresser and tossing her hair from her eyes. Felix was regaining control, and a thread of doubt pulled through me. “Ivy still waits for you. Nina knows it. She knows Ivy loves you best. That’s why I will win.”

“I’m not afraid to love someone,” I whispered, but the pain in my gut said he might be right. I’d said no to Ivy, not because she’d almost killed me, but because I was afraid that by saying yes, I’d lose my own dreams, my own self. Would I lose them now if I stayed with Trent?

“Shut up,” I whispered as Nina began to laugh. “I said shut up!” I shouted, and her chortling glee took on a hysterical sound before it eased into a happy mmm of sound. My jaw clenched. I didn’t care that he was feeding off my anger, relishing it. I wasn’t afraid to love someone. I wasn’t! I’d loved Kisten. And he had died.

“Nina is too weak,” she said, running an ever-after-stained finger across Nina’s neck in a motion of seduction. “Her love isn’t strong enough to best me. Leave me alone.”

“Perhaps,” I said, chin high. “But Ivy’s is strong enough for both of them.”

Nina eyes flicked to mine, her expression suddenly blank.

Seeing it, I felt my resolve strengthen. Ivy. It had always been about Ivy. “Nina,” I said suddenly. “You love her. Don’t let her think she doesn’t deserve you! She needs you, Nina, more than you need her! More than she needs me. You know that!”

“You stupid little … bitch …,” Nina choked out, suddenly wavering. She stiffened, stumbling back. “No. You’re mine. You’re mine!” Nina cried, a hand reaching as her eyes went wide. A silent scream came from her, mouth open as she gasped, and then her eyes rolled to the back of her head. I sprang forward to catch her as she went limp, her sudden weight almost bringing us both down.

“Trent!” I shouted, managing to at least break our fall. Maybe Ivy was right. Love had given Nina the strength when nothing else had.

“Oh God!” Nina sobbed, her voice high and panicked as she huddled on the floor beside the bed. “Someone help … me. Someone help me!”

“I’ve got you, Nina,” I said, wrapping my arms around the panicked woman as Trent skidded in. He must have been just outside the door, and my face flamed at what he’d overheard. “Ivy is going to be so proud of you.”

Trent reached to help us up. “Ivy’s okay. What happened?”

My foot was twisted, and I wedged it out from under me. “Nina kicked him out,” I said, truly proud of her as Trent helped me get her up. I’d call her a wimp, but what she’d done was incredible. “Upsy-daisy. That a girl!”

Her wailing suddenly ceased, and Trent’s hands sprang away as her head lifted, a snarl on her face. “I hate you!” she screamed, jerking from me. “I hate you! You don’t know anything! Leave me alone! Ivy is mine. I hate you!”

Yep, Felix was gone. She was on her own now, and out of control.

“Watch it!” Trent warned, and I danced back when she swung at me, her fingers crooked into claws. But it was only Nina, and I ducked under her arm, pinning her arms to her sides and tilting my head when she flung her head back to hit me. Ivy was at the door, eyes holding love and pride, slumped in one of the doctor’s arms. I waved her back, but she knew better than to come in yet.

“That’s better,” I soothed, trying to keep Nina facing me. The hormones that Felix had been turning on in her brain were running like a bad drug trip. He’d been keeping her calm and under control before, and now she was alone, tossed into the deep end of the pool with no life preserver. “Slow breaths. Calm down. Ivy’s right next door,” I lied.

“Let me go!” She began to twist, going limp and then wildly kicking out. “I hate you! Where’s Ivy? You can’t keep her from me! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll kill you both!”

“My God.” Trent glanced at Ivy as he jerked out of reach of Nina’s swinging foot. Tears spilled from Ivy, and she held a hand to her mouth. “Is this normal?”

Ivy nodded, still a silent witness. I’d seen this before. Actually, I’d seen worse. “Breathe, Nina,” I said, tossing my head to indicate the drugs on the side table. “No one is attacking you.”

“Ivy!” Nina raged, her voice raw.

“It’s going to be okay,” I soothed as Nina stopped fighting and began to sob. “Ivy loves you. She needs you. She doesn’t need me anymore. I’m not going to keep you apart. She’s resting. You can see her in a minute.” My face flamed. How much had Trent heard? All of it?

At the door, Ivy closed her eyes, aching. The doctor holding her upright finally stopped trying to get her to leave, and the professional woman watched with sympathy as Trent readied a syringe. I made my hold on Nina even looser as he took her arm. Those veins of hers were popping up like mole trails, and Nina watched through the tears as he angled the needle to her inner elbow. As out-of-control vampires went, this wasn’t half bad. Guilt had tempered her.

Snuffling, she said, “I didn’t mean to let him stay. I thought I had this. I wouldn’t hurt Ivy for anything. Ow! I love her. What did you give me?”

The spent adrenaline and lack of sleep were making me shake. “I know you do,” I said as Trent silently backed up to dispose of the empty syringe. “It’s going to be okay now. Take a deep breath. You want to lie down?”

She didn’t answer, the drug already hitting her. But she was looking at the pillow, so I eased her down, pulling her feet up as if she were a child and drawing a blanket over her. Eyes already closed, she clutched Ivy’s pillow, breath fast as she fell into a medically induced sleep.

Slowly and in pain, Ivy shuffled in with the help of that doctor. Worried, I stood over Nina as Trent moved the cushy chair right to the bedside. No one said anything as Ivy sank down, and I put a hand on her shoulder. The doctor fussed about getting her back into a proper bed until I gave her a dark look, and she finally left in a professional huff, leaving the door open behind her.

“Wow,” Trent said, and I took a long, slow breath. “I’m totally out of my depth here.”

“She’ll be fine now,” Ivy whispered, and Nina whimpered as Ivy intertwined her long fingers in Nina’s broken-nail, red-dust-smeared perfection. “Everything will be fine. The hard part is over.” Tears spilled from her, and she kissed the top of Nina’s hand. “I’m so proud of you.”

Hard part over? I wasn’t so sure.

It smelled of frightened vampire and the ever-after, and my neck was starting to tingle. I’m not afraid to love someone, am I? I turned away, and Trent caught my elbow.

“Rachel, I can kill the vampire virus, but I don’t know how to treat someone coming off a master high.”

“Soon as Ivy’s stable, we’re leaving,” I said, not really answering his concern. “It’s not safe here.”

Ivy nodded, and deciding they were okay for now, I went into the hall. I didn’t think anywhere was safe anymore. I didn’t know what to do, and frustration tempered with fatigue rose up, swamping me.

Turning from the closed door, Trent ran a hand over his chin in thought. “Let me ask around,” he said softly as we started down the hallway. “See who owes me a favor.”

But no one owed Trent Kalamack favors anymore. Again, sort of my fault.

My guilt thickened, and sensing it, Trent looped his arm in mine, slowing our pace. “Rachel, you aren’t afraid to love. He was saying anything he could think of to put you on edge.”

Crap. Embarrassed, I tried to quicken my steps back to the kitchen and hopefully some coffee. “I think that’s the last we’re going to see of Felix for a while,” I said with forced cheerfulness, desperately trying to change the subject.

Beside me, Trent sighed in acceptance. “I hope so. But really, Rachel, what are the chances? Twice in one night.”

My pace slowed, and I nodded at the doctor as she passed us in the hall on her way back to Ivy and Nina. “The chances were never good,” I admitted. “But it feels better now. Nina kicked him out. The longer Felix sulks, the more stable she will be when he tries again.” Because he would try again.

But thin as it was, it was still hope, and my heart ached for Ivy as we found the kitchen. Tired, I sank back down in my chair, glancing at the newly lit monitor before letting my focus blur and my head hit the table.

Trent sighed, and I heard him take the cold waffles out of the toaster. “You ever see anything like that before? With the surface demons?”

“You mean that one fought the others off?” I lifted my head. “Only when they wanted to eat me by themselves.”

“That’s not what he was doing, though.” Trent’s lips twisted as he looked at the waffles. “These are awful. I’m making you some from scratch.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said, and he turned from throwing them away, his eyes pinched.

“Coffee?” he asked, and I nodded just so he’d lose that sad look. His reach for a mug hesitated at the sound of men in the hall, but it was just Quen setting up additional security. A faint smile twisted my lips. I imagine a white-clad vampire sneaking into the common rooms had put Trent’s head of security in a tizzy. Thank God Jonathan had been there.

I blinked. Thank God Jonathan had been there? Never thought I’d think that.

Trent set three full mugs on the table, and I pulled the nearest closer, a flutter going through me as I felt as if I was a part of something—Trent expected Quen to join us, and I was a natural part of the conversation—even if Quen acted as if he was humoring us.

“What strikes me as the oddest is that the demon who defended Nina was the same one who tried to chew her face off not thirty seconds earlier,” Trent said, gaze unfocused as he held his coffee and breathed in the steam. “One moment she’s breakfast, and the next she’s a god.”

I tapped the mug with a finger, not liking the red dust under the nail. “I think I’d do a little groveling myself if I’d never seen a master vampire before.”

“True.” Trent bobbed his head. “But the rest didn’t seem to care.”

“You noticed that, too?” I took a sip, startled by the rich warmth, but my thoughts were on Ivy. She was going to be okay, but the panic of sitting with her on the cold ever-after ground, holding her hand as she died, was just under my skin. I thanked God I hadn’t had to make that choice of following her desires and killing her again before she rose as an undead.

Oblivious to my thoughts, or more probable, aware and trying to distract me, Trent said, “I’ve never seen a surface demon with a weapon before. Apart from rocks.”

“I have,” I said, turning my mug in a revolving circle. “Newt used a surface demon as a marker in a time and space calibration curse. It had a sword. That’s how she knows which one it is and how long it lived.”

Kisten, I thought, sighing. Kisten had died twice within moments of his first death. I’d been there, but thankfully I hadn’t had to make that choice.

I had held Kisten’s hand and he had died happy, telling me that God had kept his soul for him. Stop it, Rachel, I thought miserably, wiping a tear away before it could brim as I recalled Kisten’s laughing smile. God! My emotions were all over the map. I had loved Kisten. I could love someone without fear. Felix was wrong.

Trent’s eyes were pinched, and he fidgeted. “Calibration curse?” he asked, desperate to get my mind on something else.

Smiling faintly, I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Ask me some other time,” I said, remembering the pain of the surface demon living its entire existence in the span of three heartbeats. I was starting to think that surface demons weren’t much more than ghosts, living, breathing ghosts who lusted after the living like the undead only without the shackles that a consciousness imparted. How could anything survive five thousand years without magic?

Clearly relieved, Trent scooted his chair closer to mine. “You think it’s the same one? Newt’s, I mean?”

Tired, I shook my head. “Newt’s had a sword. This one used a staff.” Felix used a staff, too. Maybe that was why the surface demon liked him. But the question remained, why had it done a one-eighty and turned into a groveling love puppy? “You know, it was almost as if the surface demon knew Felix already,” I said slowly. “And didn’t recognize him at first.”

I stopped, heart pounding as I looked up. It hadn’t been Felix in the ever-after in the beginning. It had been Nina. The surface demon hadn’t groveled in front of Nina, it had groveled in front of Felix. Like it knew him. Which would be really hard since the undead never go into the ever-after.

Lips parted, I stared at Trent, a new idea sifting down through my brain. “I think I know where vampire souls go when they die,” I whispered, seeing Trent’s face as white as mine felt.

“The ever-after,” we said in unison.

Five

I’m trying to help you,” I said, phone pressed to my ear as I sat in Trent’s car, parked across from the church. “But I need to get into my church, and I need you to take the hit off Ivy. I’ve found your souls, so back off!” Calm, composed, relaxed. The litany was no help. Coming home to find my church full of vampires was harassment, pure and simple. It had scared the crap out of me, too, but that had probably been Cormel’s intent.

“You’ve had over a year to work on this.” Cormel’s New York accent fell flat, when I usually found it charming. “You expect me to believe that today, only when I threaten you, that you have a viable plan. Just like that?”

Nervous, I picked at the window stripping until Trent made a pained sound. Beyond the tinted glass of his sports car, my church looked as if it had been hosting an all-night Brimstone party with toilet paper in the trees and what I hoped were just tomatoes smeared on the stained-glass windows. Bis was a lumpy shadow on a hard-to-reach eave, and I hoped he was okay.

“How often do the undead go into the ever-after?” I asked, and he rumbled a soft agreement. “Even I wouldn’t have figured out the connection between surface demons and vampires if you hadn’t chased me there with Ivy. Nina showing up with Felix in her unconscious was the trigger.”

Cormel was silent, probably unwilling to acknowledge why Felix had suddenly become raging and erratic—freaking out over having been tossed out on his ear by Nina—and with that doubt resonating in him, I put my last card on the table, shaking and glad we had thirty miles and probably two stories of dirt between us.

“Cormel,” I said softly. “I’m not making this up. Surface demons do not defend people, they tear them to shreds. That surface demon was Felix’s soul. It recognized Felix’s consciousness lurking in Nina. I can do this, I just need time.”

“Felix has not been dipping into Nina’s mind. He has promised me. He’s working again. A productive member of society.”

“Seriously?” Disgusted, I slumped to put my knees up against the dash, then took them down when Trent cleared his throat. “Look. I need time to prep the charms to capture it and then affix it to Felix. If it works, then we can all go back to normal. If it doesn’t, I’ll tweak it until it does, but I can’t do anything if I’m protecting Ivy. I’m doing what you want, but if you kill her, this all goes away.”

I glanced at Trent, drawn by his fingers slowly tapping in concern, not all of it for me and Ivy. It was his opinion that giving the undead a soul might not have the effect the vampires were looking for. Frankly, I didn’t care. I just wanted them to leave Ivy and me alone.

“Excuse me,” Cormel said. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Cormel?” I called, but he was gone. The line was still active, and I put my phone on speaker so we both could enjoy the happy, light sounds of dulcimers that Cormel had on his hold button. What a crock.

Peeved, I set the phone on the dash and unkinked my fingers. Someone was looking at me from the belfry and drew back when our eyes met. I was glad Nina and Ivy were still at Trent’s. Ivy had a hard enough time when a repairman came over. Seeing this invasion would jerk her instincts to the breaking point.

“Thank you for waiting with me,” I said to Trent as I pulled my shoulder bag onto my lap. It was dusty from the ever-after and smelly, and it didn’t have much in it anymore.

“I wasn’t about to drop you off and leave. I’m looking to chip some vampire fang before I go.” His smile became charming. “It’s much more satisfying than my political boardroom shuffle.”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come down to that.” Worried, I rubbed the tension from my fingers. Sure, I could drive them away with a charm, but Jenks and Belle were in there.

The dulcimers cut off and I scrambled for the phone. “One hour,” Cormel said tightly.

“An hour!” I exclaimed, not bothering to take him off speaker. “Mr. Cormel, I have to wait until sunset before the surface demons even come out! I cannot, nor will I, go any further with this if I have to guard Ivy against your assassins.”

My heart pounded, and Trent and I waited, breath held.

“Ivy is safe until sunrise,” Cormel said. “I’m leaving a chaperone.”

“No chaperone,” I countered. Maybe that was asking a lot, but the last thing I wanted was an amorous vampire lurking in the corner, filling the air with sexy pheromones and innuendo.

“Then you have until midnight.” Cormel waited as I silently protested, but when I kept my mouth shut, he ended the conversation by hanging up. Midnight. I had until midnight to show real progress, or it would all start up again.

Exhaling, I ended the call. Trent took the keys out of the ignition; we could walk from here. “You think I should have gone with the chaperone and the extra time?”

“No.”

“Me either. Good thing I work well under a deadline.” Feeling sour, I reached for the door. Getting them to leave was going to be a treat, but with Cormel’s word, I had the clout.

“That was fast,” Trent said, and my head snapped up.

Surprised, I got out as the church’s double door banged open and a steady stream of thin bodies staggered to their cars and vans. There were a lot, and I hoped Jenks was okay. Our phone conversation this morning hadn’t instilled much confidence.

Motions graceful with a slow deliberation, Trent got out, his book on how to put souls in baby bottles tucked under an arm. It was an elven charm, so in theory I shouldn’t have much trouble with it.

A flash of guilt took me, and I looked back at the church—anywhere but at that book.

Doors thumped and engines raced. My neighbors watched behind twitching curtains. It was obvious by their unkempt state and untied shoes that my visitors weren’t assassins per se, but they could still kill someone—and with Cormel running the city, there’d be no inquiry, no notice. Ivy would be a warning, or worse.

“Hey!” I shouted as a woman with a bad case of bed hair shuffled to the last car. “That’s my coat!”

Head hanging, the woman stopped right in the middle of the street, took off my red jacket, and dropped it with a tired indifference. The rest of them were complaining and wanting her to hurry up, and not bothering to open the door to the car, she dove in headfirst through a back window. The car accelerated in a noisy squeal of tires.

I slammed Trent’s door, stalking to my jacket. It reeked of vampire, even worse of her perfume scented heavily with pine. I’d have to air it out for weeks, maybe send it to the cleaners. Vampire incense stuck to leather worse than burnt amber in my hair.

Trent scuffed to a halt beside me, one hand in a pocket, the other holding that book. “I think I just turned a profit on this one party alone,” he said, squinting up at the steeple, and I gave him a dry look. But my mood improved dramatically when a familiar glint of pixy dust arrowed out from the fireplace’s flue.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted as he came to a dust-laden halt before us, his sparkles continuing forward on momentum, making me sneeze. “Tink loves a duck, how did you get them to leave?”

I held my jacket like a dead rat. “Cormel gave us until midnight.”

Jenks flew backward as Trent and I started for the open front door. “And then what?”

My steps slowed. “He gets serious about killing Ivy.”

“Yesterday wasn’t serious?” Jenks said as he alighted on Trent’s shoulder, but it was obvious we were on borrowed time. My stomach clenched as Trent and I took the shallow steps, and I blanched at the smell wafting out the door.

“Nice.” Holding my breath, I went in. “What did they do? Have an orgy?”

The whine of Jenks’s wings increased as I propped the door open. “Uh, something like that. But no one died. Hey, I tried to keep them out of your stuff. I’m sorry. It was just Belle and me after the sun came up and we had to pick our battles.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your … fault …” I stopped just inside the sanctuary, lips parting as I took in the empty bowls, smeared glasses, crushed beer cans, and chips bags. The furniture had been rearranged, and someone had drawn a mustache and beard on the TV, presumably on someone’s face at the time. Kisten’s pool table had a cooler on it, and a dark stain spread under it as water dripped from the long crack running the width of the plastic. It was worse than the time my high school boyfriend had volunteered my house for the homecoming party because he knew my mom was working.

“Is Belle okay?” I said as Trent made a sorrowful noise. “Jumoke and Izzy?”

I could re-felt the table, but I knew I never would. I’d have to look at that stain on Kisten’s memory for the rest of my life.

“They’re okay.” Jenks hovered by my ear, a depressed bluish-orange dust slipping from him. “Jumoke and Izzyanna kept to the garden, but Belle was with me. I couldn’t have saved the kitchen without her. That fairy is something else.”

A faint smile found me, and I started to think again. It was a God-awful mess, but I almost didn’t care if it meant Jenks and Belle had attained a deeper level of respect. “Ah, sorry about your room,” Jenks said as I ran a hand down the smooth finish of the pool table’s bumper. “I figured you’d rather I save your kitchen, and ah, they really wanted the bed.”

Oh God. My bed. “Don’t worry about it. You saved the kitchen?” Tired, I started for the hallway. I’d send Cormel the cleanup bill if I thought he’d pay it.

Sure enough, the bathrooms were trashed. I think every vampire in the Hollows had used my shower. I’d probably just throw what was left of my soap away. Even so, it wasn’t as bad as my bedroom.

“I’m really sorry, Rache,” Jenks said as I peeked in, nose wrinkled as I hustled to prop the stained-glass window open. I couldn’t deal with this just yet, and Trent went across the hall to make sure Ivy’s window was open as well. Someone had been through my closet and my clothes were everywhere. My perfumes, too, were knocked over, most of them empty. More clothes spilled from my open drawers, and I began to get mad. Multiple someones had had sex in my bed by the look of it. There were nasty scratches in the headboard and the top of the footboard had been snapped off as if someone had kicked it in the throes of passion.

“Oh, Rachel,” Trent breathed, his words making a warm spot on my shoulder. “This was totally uncalled for. I am so sorry.”

Angry, I turned to the kitchen. “Not half as sorry as Cormel is going to be.”

Belle, looking small without Rex beside her, stood at the threshold to the kitchen. She slumped, clearly fatigued as she leaned on her six-inch bow. “Rachel.” Her lisping, raspy voice, too, lacked its usual flair. “Is-s-ss Ivy well?”

Damn it, Cormel, if your people have hurt my cat … “Yes,” I said, again finding a drop of good in the ugly. “Your sister and brothers are keeping her safe.”

Jenks’s wings cut out for a brief second. “Holy pixy piss, really?”

Trent nodded, a faint smile on his face as he put a hand on the small of my back and almost shoved me into the untouched kitchen. “I’ve let most of my security go, and at Quen’s urging, I’ve come to an agreement with the clan that’s been living in my gardens. I’ve been told that pixies would have been better—”

“Not likely,” Belle interrupted as we came in.

“But I appreciate their unobtrusiveness and good manners,” he added, and Jenks frowned.

Slowly my shoulders eased. After the disaster of the rest of the church, the dishes I’d left in the sink yesterday looked like heaven, even if everything was covered in pixy dust. Da-a-amn, Jenks must have worked his wings to bare veins to keep them out.

“You guys are the best,” I said, miserable as I stood beside the center island counter and looked at my spelling supplies hanging from the rack, the twin stoves sporting a thin layer of sparkles, and the huge antique farmhouse table shoved up against the interior wall. Ivy’s latest research was in her usual careful disarray, and the bag of cookies I’d had for breakfast yesterday looked untouched. “I can’t believe you kept them out of here.” Crap on toast, I was almost crying, and Jenks’s wings shifted to an embarrassed red.

Trent set his book on the center counter with a soft thump. A thin cloud of spent pixy dust rose and vanished into nothing. “So is the rest of the church as bad as the front?” he asked as I slid the single window open. Thank God Al’s chrysalis is still here. The church stank, far worse than if it had simply been living vampires. It had been an all-access party. The sanctity of the church had been broken by Newt three months ago. I should have gotten it reinstated, but it was expensive, and insurance wouldn’t cover it a second time. Cheaper to just move. I can’t move, this is my home.

“I’ve yet to s-s-s-survey the damage in the garden,” Belle said, having snaked up a thin line to stand on the counter. “We kept them from the kitchen, though it was a mighty task.”

I shook my head, imagining it. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I can’t ever repay you.”

Jenks looked pleased, but Belle scowled, sullen. “If I had a flight under my direction, the entire church would have been untouched.”

“They would have just burnt it to the ground,” I said, eyes on the ceiling. “You chose what I would’ve saved.” It was going to be hard to find any sleep tonight, but then again, I probably wouldn’t get the chance to sleep. My face scrunched up as I thought of my bed. No way. I was buying a new one.

“I’ll check everything out if you make coffee,” Trent offered, and I nodded. He wasn’t being sexist, he just didn’t want me to see anything until he had a chance to maybe fix it. Half of me wanted to go through the church from the belfry to the most distant tombstone and use that anger to get through the next twelve hours, but the other half just wanted to get my sheets in the washer, ignoring the rest until I could deal with it.

The cat door in the back room squeaked as Belle went into the garden. I ran a finger across the pixy dust, head coming up in surprise when Trent pulled me into an unexpected hug. I went willingly, and for a moment, we just stood there, taking strength from each other as I breathed him in, finding his cinnamon and wine scent under the chaotic vampire mashup. The sound of Jenks’s wings grew loud, then vanished as he followed Belle out. Trent’s grip was firm without being binding, and the faintest hint of energy slipped between us as our auras tried to mix.

“You going to be okay?” he said, and I nodded, pushing back even as I made sure he didn’t slip away completely. Oh, I was still pissed, but after enough people try to kill or imprison you, the stuff that can be fixed and forgotten in a week tends not to matter as much.

“Thanks,” I said, and his smile became devious. “Could you do me a favor and open the windows in the belfry first? With them and the back door open, the place airs out remarkably fast.” Most of it was surface stink. They hadn’t been here long enough for the pheromones to soak into the paint and woodwork.

“You bet.” Trent rocked back, and my hand slipped reluctantly from his waist. He was looking at my lips as if wanting to kiss me, but then he turned and headed down the hall. Just the idea that he was thinking about it was almost as good as the kiss would have been, and I found a smile. I could tell the instant the belfry windows opened as the pixy dust vanished in the fresh air. I could never repay Jenks for keeping the kitchen untouched, and as I ran the tap for warm water to make up some suds, I pulled Trent’s book closer.

It wasn’t the first elf spell book I’d ever seen, but again I was surprised that most of the charms I browsed past had the same mix of earth and ley line magic that demon magic did. I’d be willing to bet the two branches of magic had developed hand in hand despite the long-standing anger between them.

Remembering that I’d promised coffee, I set the book aside. The charm to capture a soul looked easy, I thought as I dumped yesterday’s grounds and changed the water to cold. Easy, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it without asking the Goddess for help. Lots of elves didn’t believe and still got the job done. Landon, for example, though he probably believed in her now.

Landon. My lips twisted in disgust. He’d used Trent and me to try to destroy the vampires. That the elven muckety-mucks of both the religious-oriented dewar and the political-faction enclave had disavowed any knowledge of his plot made it obvious that they’d each backed him. Though still in charge of the dewar, Landon had lost credibility. Trent had lost more.

At least no one had died, I thought, my mind going to Ivy, still at Trent’s mini-hospital.

Apart from the quiet and the vague unease, it almost felt like a normal, quiet Saturday as I measured out the grounds, the scent of it reminding me of how much I enjoyed living here with Ivy, even as hard as it was sometimes. Understanding didn’t come cheap, and I blinked back an unexpected surge of sadness at the thought that it might be ending. I wasn’t moving in with Trent, but this latest snag made it feel … over somehow.

“Stop it, Rachel,” I whispered. Nothing was really ending. Jenks, Ivy, and I had been through worse. We’d get through this, and everything would return to normal. Better even.

But how many times can we get back up as if nothing has changed?

I folded the bag of the grounds down and fastened it shut with one of Ivy’s binder clips. I wished I had a reset button. How far back would I take it? I wondered. To the day I made that deal with Cormel? Farther?

I snapped the coffeemaker on, then found a smile when I heard Trent and Jenks in the hallway. “Coffee ready yet?” Trent called loudly.

“Give it five!” I shouted back. Smile fixed, I leaned against the counter and waited for them to come in. But they didn’t, and I tiptoed to the archway, stopping when I heard Trent mutter, “I know how to wash sheets, Jenks. I’ve got two toddlers.”

He’s doing laundry?

“Hey, okay, cookie man,” Jenks drawled. “It’s your funeral if you shrink them.”

There was a hesitation, and I leaned closer. “Shrink them?” Trent asked.

“Those are one hundred percent cotton,” Jenks said importantly, “not your richy-rich linen stuff. If you use the sterilize cycle, you’ll not only shrink ’em, but set the oils carrying the vampire pheromones into the fabric. Look, Ivy’s got a bottle of no-nose up here.”

My brow furrowed. No-nose?

A cupboard creaked, loud over the sound of water filling the washer, and then Trent’s bemused “I’ve never seen this.”

“Put a splash in. It’ll take care of the vampire cooties and the pheromones, too.”

I could almost see the pixy preening in that he’d known something Trent hadn’t. Sure enough, Trent’s voice held a smidgen of humor and humility when he next spoke. “Thanks. I shouldn’t be so quick to prove I know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jenks said, and I eased back into the kitchen. “That’s why Ivy has silk sheets. Me, I don’t like silk. The dust makes them as slippery as all hell.”

Smiling, I busied myself with Trent’s book. I felt bemused and loved. Trent was washing my sheets, the one thing that I wanted most and didn’t have time for. And I hadn’t known about the no-nose, either.

The coffee was gurgling its fragrant last when they came in, the book splayed open before me as my interest in it went from pretend to real. “Smells good,” Trent said, Jenks a humming shadow behind him.

“You want the rainbows or the smiley face?” I asked, reaching for the mugs.

Trent eyed the two overly happy mugs. “Ah, whatever. You need a fresh stick of yew. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll get the yew, cookie man.” Hands on his hips, Jenks yo-yoed before him. “I want to make sure no one peed on it.”

“I can get it,” Trent insisted, and Jenks darted forward, rocking the larger man back.

“I said … I’ll get it,” Jenks said, and I rolled my eyes as the pixy bristled. “Sit and drink your coffee. If I need your help, I’ll whistle. I want to check on, ah, Jumoke, anyway.”

Eyes wide in question, Trent took the rainbows. “I’ll sit and drink my coffee.”

“Good man.” With a relieved sigh, Jenks flew out the back door’s cat flap, whistling and calling coaxingly for Rex.

Eyebrows high, Trent leaned past me to look out the window. The scent of cinnamon and wine dove deep, and I almost sighed. “Ah, why doesn’t Jenks want me in the garden?” he asked.

I sipped my coffee, thinking the scent went well with content elf. “My guess is he’s looking for his cat and he doesn’t want you to scare her off.”

“Mmmm.” Expression concerned, Trent dropped back to his heels, steaming mug behind his laced fingers. “Cats like me.”

My head slowly shook. “Nah. A pixy dancing an inch off the ground is a lot more enticing than a man she barely knows. Besides, how often do we get the church to ourselves?”

His eyes flicked to mine and held for a telling moment. Introspective, he went to the large table, turning one of the chairs halfway around before sitting sideways in it. “My cleaning crew could be in and out of here in two hours.”

Again, I shook my head. The thought of more people in my church made my skin crawl. Besides, I should wait until I knew if I was going to survive the next couple of days. Book in hand, I set my mug next to his before I shifted Trent’s arm and sat right in his lap, curving his arm around me. He grunted in surprise, holding me almost in self-defense as I dropped the book open before us. “Oh, I like this,” he said, tugging me into a more comfortable position.

“I bet you do.” Smiling, I thumbed to the proper page. I felt vulnerable, and this helped. “I’ve been looking at the charm you dog-eared. Changed aura or not, I can’t imagine the Goddess won’t recognize me if I petition for her help.”

A memory of the Goddess shivered thorough me. Al had tried to kill me because of her, believing it was the only cure for the voices in my head. I’d had to trick Newt into admitting the Goddess was real. It wasn’t my fault the Goddess’s mystics liked living in mass better than the space between mass. If they ever found me, the only way to survive would be to kill the Goddess—turn her into something new.

Trent’s fingers were tracing a delicious path along the top of my waistband, and I jumped when he found my skin. The memory of the first time with him surfaced like bubbles in my thoughts, breaking with little tingles against the top of my mind. It had been in the kitchen. Well, we’d started in the kitchen. We’d ended in the back living room.

He was smiling when I turned to him, and I let the pages shift so I could trace the outline of his ear with a slow finger. “You want to find a different charm?” he asked, a new thought hazing the back of his eyes.

I slowly leaned in and found his earlobe with my lips, tugging suggestively as I breathed him in, waves of sensation spilling through me. “No,” I whispered, shivering when his fingers gripped the back of my neck. “I want you to do it. You’ve done it before. Right?”

I hadn’t meant to put a sexual innuendo in there, but there it was.

“Sort of.”

His sour tone slumped my shoulders, and I pulled back. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, but his hands never fell from around my waist and kept me where I was. Wincing, he glanced at the book. “The charm I’m familiar with affixes souls based on aura identification. Felix doesn’t have his natural aura anymore.” My balance shifted as Trent flipped to a new page, his long fingers moving the paper like fingers over a keyboard. “We can use the first part to capture the soul, no problem,” he said when he found it, “but we’ll need to tinker with the second half to find something to affix it to, something not altogether alive and coated in someone else’s aura.”

“Al and Newt have collections of souls. I bet they have a way to affix them.”

Trent stiffened under me. “You’re not asking Al.”

“I know.” I leaned to put my head on his shoulder. It was awkward, but I didn’t care when his arms went around me again. “I’ll ask Newt unless you have something in your library.” This was nice. I didn’t want to move.

“Newt isn’t any better than Al,” Trent muttered, but we had little choice. Elves and witches seldom worked with souls, and never to affix them to a nonliving thing. The Were’s focus was kind of like a soul. Maybe I could use that curse?

Trent squirmed, and I got up knowing he probably wasn’t altogether comfortable. “We’ll find something.” I needed professional guidance, but my professional guide was pissed at me. Fidgeting, I looked at the cookies, wishing I had something better to offer Trent. I’d seen his taste in cookies, and I was a bohemian by his culinary standards. “You don’t have any more books on the subject, do you?” I asked as I pulled the bag to me and snapped one to check for staleness. Flat.

“No.”

“Maybe simply capturing Felix’s soul will buy us enough time.”

Depressed, I set the open bag down and sat in the chair next to him. He was silent, waiting until I took three cookies before he reached in and pulled out five. I swear, I didn’t know where the man put his calories. Maybe a box in his basement. “Al would know,” I said softly, and his eyes jerked to me. He took a breath to say something, then hesitated.

“Is that really how you eat those?”

I looked at the bite out of my cookie and flushed. “Yeah,” I lied, brushing the crumbs off. To be honest, I usually separated them, eating the cookie part first and scraping all the frosting into one gigantic wad. But I wasn’t going to in front of Trent.

“Huh.” Trent screwed his cookie open and scraped the frosting out with his teeth. “I thought everyone opened them up.”

Damn it, I was flushing, and saw him file my lie away for later. Trent leaned closer. “Don’t call Newt,” he said. “We’re not out of options yet. Landon owes you a favor.”

“Landon?” I said around a mouthful of crumbs. “The man is slime!” I exclaimed, and Trent bobbed his head, ruefully agreeing. “Nothing but a … politically perfect engineered piece of backstabbing elf slime who thinks only of himself and the hell with the rest.”

Leaning back and looking uncomfortable, he nodded. “I know.”

“He tricked his predecessor into suicide!” I said, hand flying up into the air.

“I know.”

Frustrated, I stood up. “Trent, I’m not asking Landon for help. I don’t trust him. If it wasn’t for him, I never would have damaged the Goddess to begin with!”

“I know. But it all worked out.”

Worked out? I sputtered, trying to find the words, and Trent took my hand and pulled me closer. “Rachel, I agree it’s risky. The elven dewar and enclave would still like to see the vampires die out—and you and me with them—but I’m not asking the elves, I’m asking Landon. He owes you, and I’ve got a little blackmail left in me.”

Expression sour, I pulled my hand from him, arms around my middle as I moved to stand beside the sink. Trent silently waited. I knew how much it had hurt Trent going from everyone’s owing him to his owing everyone. He was still making his genetic medicines in his basement labs, but now it was more to keep his customers from turning him in than the other way around.

“You think Landon knows how to fix souls to bodies?” I asked.

Sighing, Trent unscrewed another cookie, stacking the black cookie with the rest he’d already scraped clean. “Positive. If I can convince him that success will mean the end of the vampires, he’ll tell you.” Jaw clenched, he stared at nothing.

“You think he’ll believe that?”

Trent’s gaze sharpened on mine. “Why not? It’s a distinct probability.”

“But …” I thought of the chaos that had taken Cincinnati and the Hollows when the undead had fallen asleep for four days. Head cocked, I leaned back against the counter. “Remind me of why we’re doing this if you think it’s going to topple the vampires’ power structure.” Not like I really had a choice.

Trent put an ankle on his knee, looking totally yummy with that cookie in his hand. “The charm Landon would know works one to one, not en masse. One vampire going insane and walking into the sun isn’t going to have an impact on the world. And when Cormel understands that having his soul will send him into the sun, they’ll all accept that it’s not a viable way to extend their undead existence.”

I didn’t like the idea of even one vampire committing suncide because of a charm I twisted, and seeing it, Trent stood, coming to me and taking me in a hug. “Rachel, Felix won’t survive more than a few more months regardless of what happens.” Leaning back, he caught my eyes with his own. “Or it will work with no ill effects, and we’ll have a different issue to deal with. Either way, Landon will help if only for the chance to see the end of the undead.”

But I didn’t trust Landon. “What’s to stop them from just killing them all, then? I mean, after we prove it works? Elves can go to the ever-after, same as witches.”

Nodding, Trent reached into the bag of cookies. “True, but whoever was going to try would have to not only catch a surface demon, but catch the right one. It’s a miracle we found Felix’s. Besides, if elves can’t make money on it, they won’t do it, and witches know better than to try.”

He put a cookie in my hand, and I ate it, thinking it over as I chewed and swallowed. But as the only alternative beyond Landon was Al, the choice was easy. “Fine. I’ll ask him.”

Trent’s arm around me tensed. “Ah, you mind if I ask him?”

Ahhh, I thought with a smile, thinking this might be why Trent was so hot to give Landon a shot at this. If it failed, then Landon would lose face in the dewar and the enclave. “Sure.”

Immediately Trent went back to mowing down those cookies, slowing when he realized I was staring at him. What are we up to now? Ten? “Great. I’ll go give him a call,” he said, dusting the crumbs from his fingers and reaching for his phone.

There was only the faintest flicker of unease as I dunked my cookie into my coffee. Even if Landon caught a flight today, he wouldn’t be here by sunset. “I don’t like doing this by phone. Too much chance for someone overhearing it,” I said, but Trent was already scrolling for the number.

“We won’t have to.” Trent stretched and yawned, reminding me that this was his usual down time. “He’s in Atlanta trying to win his position back,” he said as he rolled his shoulders. “He can be here in a couple of hours.”

“It’s not going as well as he’d like?” I prodded, and he smirked.

“Getting old men and women to agree on anything new is like wrangling cats, and he has no practical skills.” He hesitated. “Yet,” he amended. “But things change. I get better reception outside. Back in a second.”

His hand trailing across my cheek raised tingles, and I darted my tongue out to tag a knuckle, making him jump and smile. “Wicked demon,” he muttered, and I watched him leave.

My smile faded fast. I didn’t trust Landon. The last spell he “taught” me nearly killed me. I was sure the demons would have a curse that would do the same thing, and after listening to make sure Trent wasn’t going to walk back in, I pulled my scrying mirror from between my cookbooks and spelling tomes.

The cracked glass was cool, and as soon as I set my hand atop the calling glyph, I felt the hint of connection to the demon collective. Tapping the line out back strengthened it. Heart pounding, I reached out with a soft thread of awareness, lacing my thought with enough regret to choke a horse. We had the same aura resonance, damn it. Al could at least be civil.

Al?

Rage boiled up through the folds of my brain, and I jerked my hand back as the wave crested, threatening to swamp me. His anger fell back into my mirror, and the sudden snap of the cracked glass breaking made me gasp.

“You okay?” Trent shouted from outside.

Shit. “Ah, just dropped a cookie,” I lied, face flaming as I looked at the broken shards. “I’m good!”

But I wasn’t good, and I took the broken pieces to my saltwater vat and dropped them in one by one, watching them ride the currents of their passage to the bottom. They lay there, sending glimmers of light sideways out their broken edges.

Depressed, I stared out the window and watched Trent meet Izzyanna, Jumoke’s young wife. I couldn’t help but wonder if Al was angry because Trent and I reminded him of what he’d lost long before I knew him—a woman he’d once loved enough to risk everything for, give everything for, but was too afraid to fight the anger of two worlds for. Maybe Al was angrier at himself than me.

But as I washed my hands free of the salt water, I didn’t think it mattered.

Six

The chill of the coming September evening seeped into me, the cold as real and enduring as the damp grit of the earth pressed into my fingers as I lifted the last stone and replaced it in the low wall that separated the graveyard from the more mundane garden. It had been knocked out of place, and though Jenks had permanently taken up residence in the church walls, I knew it would be something he’d want fixed.

Straightening, I wiped my hands off on my jeans and looked at the red light of sunset shining against the familiar stones I mowed around every week. Well, not every week. The grass had gotten long, catching the leaves that had shifted color and dropped early. My weekends were a lot more interesting now that Trent had more free time, and the yard was beginning to show it.

“Sorry, Jenks,” I whispered as my gaze lifted to the church. I knew it bothered him that the graveyard was going fallow apart from a small space Jumoke and Izzyanna had claimed. The garden felt empty, and my mind wouldn’t stop circling over the thought of endings. It was why I was out here moping in the garden. That, and Trent had been underfoot ever since getting up from his noon nap, driving me to distraction as he went over that charm he’d brought.

The bright sparkle of pixy dust glowed at the far side of the garden. It was joined by a second, and the twin trails of dust wound around each other in breathtaking beauty until they both arrowed to me. It was Jumoke and Izzyanna, but my welcoming smile faded when two car doors slammed on the street. Landon. Apparently he’d brought a friend.

Izzyanna reached me first. The little pixy looked about ten, a late age for a pixy to become a bride, but her eyes were as dark as well-turned earth. It wasn’t the typical death sentence that Jumoke’s hair was, but it had obviously prevented a more traditional joining age. Her smile, though, was cheerful, and her eyes shone with an impish humor that balanced Jumoke’s stoic, introverted personality. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a slight swelling at her middle. It was unusual for pixies to be born in the fall, as they wouldn’t make it through the winter. Izzy’s children, though, wouldn’t have to hibernate, and a fall birth would give them a head start in the spring.

“Rachel, your guests are here,” the pixy said, her flush spilling into her dust.

“Guests, huh?” I said, glad she was starting to slow her speech down. The first week she’d been here, I hadn’t understood a word she said. “Who did Landon bring with him?”

Please not the I.S. Anyone but the I.S.

“It’s a woman,” Izzy said, hand protectively over her middle as she hovered backward before me as I headed for the church’s back door.

“Woman?” I said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Immediately she flew away with Jumoke, winding about themselves and talking so fast and high that it might as well be another language. It wouldn’t be long until the garden was again noisy with life, and that gave me more peace than I would’ve expected. I liked beginnings better than endings.

But it wasn’t meant to last, and I jerked to a stop when I recognized Ellasbeth’s haughty voice coming through the open kitchen window. Ellasbeth? What in hell was she doing here, and with Landon?

“She is a demon!” Ellasbeth exclaimed, her tone accusing. “Your father made her!”

“He did not make her. He enabled her to survive. There is a difference.” Trent’s voice was soft in anger, and I stayed where I was, my hand reaching for the back door faltering.

“Which might get you killed if it gets out,” she huffed, and I stiffened.

“Is that a threat?” Trent’s voice was hard. “Are you sure you want to do that? Again?”

Landon cleared his throat, but the words had been spoken. Crap on toast. Trent had a ruthless streak as wide as Jenks’s. He’d once stopped me from killing Nick, claiming he wanted one clean thing in his life—me. I’d since agreed that killing Nick for the hell of it would have left a mark I didn’t want, but Trent … He felt as if he was already lost and had no such compulsion against “doing things for the hell of it.”

And Ellasbeth had just called him out.

Why is she here? Why now? Wings clattering, Jenks landed on the doorknob, probably to keep me from going in. “Hey. Eavesdropping is my thing, not yours,” he said.

“Shhh,” I demanded, leaning to the open kitchen window.

“You are forcing our daughter to associate with a demon!” Ellasbeth exclaimed. “If you were anyone else, Lucy would be mine by the child abuse laws!”

My lips parted, and I felt my face go white.

“Lucy doesn’t care what Rachel is,” Trent said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s the world I want her to grow up into, and by God, Ellasbeth, if I find out you said anything to make Lucy or Ray question Rachel’s worth, I will never let you see either of them again.”

“Then …” Ellasbeth’s voice went wobbly. “I thought … you were very clear on your stance at the zoo.”

“Ah, Ellasbeth?” Landon said, as if not liking the hope in her voice any more than I did.

“You were trying to take her by force, demanding I sell Lucy to you for a birthright that was already mine. Stop pushing me into a corner, Ellasbeth. Stop trying to control the situation. You are not in charge. I am.”

A cold feeling started in my middle. I knew who Trent was, what he was morally capable of doing, seen it firsthand and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. Don’t call his bluff, Ellasbeth. Don’t. But … if Trent and Ellasbeth found a way to make this work … Damn it, that was why she was here, I thought, seeing everything Trent and I had found ending far too soon.

“I just want to see my child,” Ellasbeth pleaded.

Jenks snorted, his dust shifting to an irate orange. “What a little squirrel sack.”

“I find that hard to believe when you show up with Landon,” Trent said, and I waved Jenks off the doorknob.

Jenks flew up, startled. “They aren’t done yet!” he protested, and I tugged the door so it would squeak. “Rache, you need to work on this spying thing. Your timing sucks fairy dust.”

“I need to get in there before he does something dumb, like open up joint-custody talks again,” I said, and the pixy snickered. From inside came a shuffling of motion. I knew my face was red, and I took a slow breath as I paced through the back living room, trying to get the ugly look off my face before I went into the kitchen.

But it was obvious I’d heard something. Ellasbeth’s cheeks were a bright red against her straw-blond hair. She sat stiffly at Ivy’s big farm table, her hands clenched on a trendy purse, knees tight together, and a cream-colored skirt showing a respectable amount of leg. Her coat was still on, and it matched her heels. If I had to describe her in a few words, it would be professional, smart, classic beauty, and probably in that order. Devious, backstabbing, and self-serving would also be on the list.

On the surface, she was a perfect match for Trent’s perfection—except he didn’t love her. It hadn’t mattered before, but after having gotten a taste of freedom, he was resisting going back. I felt a flash of pride that I’d been a part of that. But now … I wasn’t sure.

As if sensing my emotion, Trent looked at me from where he was standing at the sink. The tension rose as the silence stretched. Trent was unusually ruffled, and as soon as he looked from her, Ellasbeth frowned at his casual shoes—then my wild hair.

“I was fixing the wall,” I said, not knowing why I felt the need to explain myself. “Landon,” I added, trying not to show my distaste.

Needless to say, I wasn’t going to shake his hand, and I stiffened when the young man started forward from the fridge to do just that. Trent cleared his throat, and Landon changed his motion to stand behind Ellasbeth, placing his unworked, tan hands on the back of her chair. The center counter was more or less between us. I’d rather have it be a continent. God! I’d give a lot to know why Trent trusted him enough to do this.

Landon looked uncomfortable in a gray suit that set off his blond hair and green eyes. A traditional cylindrical hat of his clergy profession marred his young-businessman look, but it did give him an exotic air. I was sure he had an even more traditional prayer hat under it and probably a ribbon in his pocket. I knew Trent did, though I seldom saw it unless we got into trouble, and that hadn’t happened in almost three months.

Why are Ellasbeth and Landon here? Together?

Landon smiled, but the emotion behind it felt dead. “It’s good to see you again, Rachel.”

Jenks snickered as he landed in the hanging rack. “I’ll bet,” he said under his breath, and Ellasbeth’s forced smile faltered.

“Ellasbeth,” I said next, reaching for a damp cloth by the sink to clean the dirt from my fingers. “I wasn’t expecting you.” I wasn’t going to shake her hand either.

“Neither was I.” Trent’s head was down over his phone as he texted something. I’d be willing to bet it was to Quen or Jon to double security on the girls.

Ellasbeth stood as I tossed the rag into the sink, and I froze when she stood, hand extended. Great. My hands were clammy from the cloth, and I wiped them dry as she crossed the room.

“My apologies for dropping in on you like this,” she said, and I watched her face as we shook, thinking that her hair looked fake next to Trent’s transparent wispiness, and her voice had lost its musical cadence.

Her hand slipped from mine, and I said nothing. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been flanked by a dozen magic users and hired guns with the intention of forcibly taking Lucy and Ray. And Ray wasn’t even her child.

“Well, this is about as comfortable as finding a naked fairy in your eldest son’s bedroom,” Jenks smart-mouthed, a silver dust slipping down and pooling on the counter like mercury.

Ellasbeth’s eye twitched, and she dropped back a step. “Lucy is my child, too,” she said, gaze darting to Trent as he closed his phone with a snap.

“Then you shouldn’t have forced that barbaric, outdated tradition on me in the hopes I couldn’t fulfill it,” Trent said, showing more emotion than he usually allowed himself. “You brought this on yourself. The church can’t help you. It’s a legal issue, not a moral one.”

Landon cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should come back later.”

“Or not at all,” I said, frustrated. I could figure this charm out. I didn’t need elf magic. I needed someone in the ever-after to pick up the damn phone!

“Ahh …,” Trent hedged, shifting sideways until he could touch the small of my back. Ellasbeth, too, had a minor panic moment—for a completely different reason.

“Please,” she said, eyes wide. “I asked Landon if I could come with him.” Her gaze landed on Trent’s hand touching me in reassurance, and she swallowed hard. “You won’t take my calls. You refuse any dialogue. You say I forced your hand, well, you’re forcing mine!”

I saw Trent’s sigh more than heard it, but what caught my attention was Landon’s sour expression. It was more than watching Ellasbeth beg; he seemed to have an interest here. My eyebrows rose as I suddenly got it. Ellasbeth hadn’t stumbled into this meeting between Landon, Trent, and me. She’d been with Landon when the call had come in. She’d been with Landon.

Euuwww, I thought. There should be limits to how far one should abase oneself in the search for power, but if the “prince of the elves” had fallen, perhaps the head religious leader was a good second.

“I apologize for my actions at the zoo,” Ellasbeth said, pleading with an indifferent Trent. “It endangered both girls and was foolish, but you weren’t listening to me!”

Jenks sniffed. “As if you could ever hurt them while I’m around.”

“It was wrong. I was desperate,” Ellasbeth said. “Lucy is my child! I didn’t know what I was risking when I forced you into it. I love her. Please! I’ll do anything you want.”

Anything? My arms fell from my middle. “Maybe you should talk to her,” I suggested, hating myself for even saying it, but I knew I’d never stop until I got my child back if it was taken from me. That, and I didn’t think Ellasbeth would give anything, and when she balked, Trent could tell her to leave for good.

Trent turned to me, his hand making tingles on my waist. “I thought you’d be against this,” he said, and Ellasbeth took a fast breath, hope almost painful in her.

“I’m not for it, no,” I said, nervous when Landon’s eyes narrowed as he realized Trent and I were so close, functioning as a couple. “But I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life. Lucy and Ray shouldn’t either. Find out if she means it.”

“Of course I mean it!” Ellasbeth’s trendy heels ground the leftover salt from a circle into the linoleum. Her eyes were alight, and the only thing that kept me from taking it back was that it was love for her daughter. She was a tricky woman.

“I don’t trust her,” Trent said softly, his hands now holding mine. Both Ellasbeth and Landon were seeing more than I wanted them to, but I leaned into him, forcing myself to be more open with our relationship. We’d been hiding our feelings from ourselves and the public for so long, it was hard to show them in front of anyone else.

“If she’s serious about seeing the girls, she can damn well move to Cincinnati,” I said.

Ellasbeth’s breath came in a panicked sound. “Cincinnati!” she said, her face reddening. “I am not moving to Cincinnati.”

Jenks’s wing hum came loud from the overhanging rack, and I swear, Trent almost smiled as he gave my fingers a squeeze and let go. Behind her, Landon rubbed his fingers into his temple. I could nearly see the distaste coming from the woman, but Trent was warming to the idea, if only because Ellasbeth didn’t like it.

“I thought you said anything.” I put my shoulder to Trent’s to make a united front. “Talk is cheap, which might be why that’s all you do.”

Her perfectly painted lips parted in outrage, and from the rack, Jenks snickered. Ellasbeth scowled up at him. Her fingers were in a tight fist, and I was glad she didn’t know much magic. “Trent, perhaps we can take a walk,” she said stiffly, clearly wanting to get Trent alone and hopefully sway him where I wouldn’t be around to sway him back.

Trent’s shoulders slumped as he realized he was going to have to deal with Ellasbeth instead of helping me with the charm. “I’m not leaving Landon alone with Rachel.”

“I’ll be fine,” I protested, and a faint but real smile eased his features.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Trent said, and concern flickered over Landon. Trent brushed past me with the scent of cinnamon and wine. “We can talk in the back room,” he said, taking Ellasbeth’s elbow.

“It’s not very private,” Ellasbeth protested, but she was moving. “I’d rather take a walk.”

Trent glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yes, I know,” he muttered, clearly surprised I was okay with this. They left, looking good together, better than Trent and me. Slowly my jealousy evolved into guilt. I’m not self-sabotaging my relationship with Trent, I thought, cursing myself as their voices twined together.

No one wanted Trent and me together: not the elves, not the demons, no one. I didn’t give a rat’s tail about that, but the guilt … Seeing Ellasbeth here, begging to renew her ties with her child? I could do nothing to further Trent’s grand design to save his people, and he was so damn good at it. If there was the chance that he and Ellasbeth could make a go of it, I had to let it happen—if only for the girls.

But it hurt.

Jenks was hovering, waiting for direction, and I made a nod to follow them. He darted off, and my focus shifted to find that Landon had caught the motion. Uncaring, I shrugged.

“Why should Landon not want to be alone with Rachel?” Ellasbeth said faintly.

“He tried to kill her using the Goddess.”

Ellasbeth gasped, and hearing it, Landon cracked his knuckles, unrepentant as he sat sideways to the table and pulled his cylindrical hat off his head, leaving his short hair mussed. No spelling cap, but it could have been woven into the top of the ceremonial hat.

“Jenks?” Trent’s voice came, loud. “Get out.”

“Aww, for ever-loving toad piss,” the pixy complained as he flew backward into the hallway, an embarrassed green dust slipping from him. “How did you know I was there?”

“Out!” Trent said again, and Jenks flashed me a grin and vanished down the hallway to the sanctuary. He’d most likely go listen in through the flue, but at least Ellasbeth would have the illusion of privacy.

The coffeepot sat cold on the counter, an inch of old brew in it. I wasn’t going to offer Landon any. Being tricked into merging my mind with a goddess bent on taking me over had left a bad taste in my mouth.

Landon seemed to gather himself as the muted, musical voices of Ellasbeth and Trent dissolved into a rise and fall of sound. “You have a nice spelling area. You cook here, too?”

My attention flicked to his and held. “Not at the same time.”

Sucking his teeth, Landon shifted his feet. “Bis around?”

I nodded, glancing at the ceiling. “He’s sleeping, but he wakes up occasionally.” Especially when I was upset, but Landon already knew that.

From the back room Trent’s voice rose. “I’m willing to die for Lucy’s safety. I’m not about to sell her to you for a little less blackmail or my returned standing. You don’t have anything I want, Ellasbeth. Get used to it.”

My God, Trent could be callous when the situation called for it, and I propped my elbows on the stainless steel counter between Landon and myself.

David had once told me I’d saved Trent’s life, not while being his security, but by causing him to grow, to lose his at-any-cost outlook that the needs of the one outweighed the needs of the many, that the ends justified the means. I’d seen it. Hell, I’d lived it while a mink trapped in his office, watching him kill his head geneticist to preserve his secrets and his money flow. But he’d tempered himself. Because of me, if David was to be believed, and it had saved his life because, as David had said, he wasn’t going to make the world live through another Kalamack bent on elven supremacy. Perhaps Landon had risen to fulfill that role instead, and I stifled a shudder at the thought because where Trent had a conscience, Landon did not.

“Why are you here helping me?”

Landon rose, his mood guarded as he spun the book Trent had brought over to face him. “Trent told me he thinks the undead will walk into the sun if they get their souls back. I tend to agree with him. I think it’s fitting that giving the vampires what they want will bring about their end. I don’t mind being a part of that.” He hesitated, and my heart thumped at his stillness. “My question is, why are you doing this if you think it will drive them into suncide?”

“Because Ivy’s life is more important than one lousy vampire who’s already on his way out.” Uneasy, I rubbed a watermark on the counter. Fear that the vampires would take their revenge out on Ivy and me if things didn’t go the way they wanted was never far from my thoughts, coloring my hopes—and my decisions.

Landon made a sound deep in his throat, and I jumped when he shut the book with a snap. “Trent’s charm won’t work.”

“Why not?” I said, not liking that he’d startled me.

“Because it uses the auratic residue left in the mind and body to adhere itself with, and the undead have completely polluted theirs with the auras they take in to survive.”

It was exactly what Trent had said, and grimacing, I steadied myself for some major boot licking. “You have another way?”

Landon pulled his attention back from the soft conversation in the living room. “In theory. The charm dates back several thousand years. I’ve never heard of anyone trying it.”

He was lying. I could tell in the way he was standing. “So … it’s a black charm?” I prompted. Elves were reluctant to label their charms as black and white—but a white charm never went out of style. “I won’t kill anyone.”

His eyes came up, mocking. “Lucky for you you’re dealing with people already dead.”

Oh God. It was a black charm. “What does it do?” I asked, my gut tightening. I can do this without trusting him. Hell, I used to work with demons.

Landon shifted the book between us until it was perfectly square with the counter. He was thinking, and my mistrust deepened. “In theory? It fixes the soul of an elder to a newborn. It was said to have been used to extend our collective knowledge past the grave.” He looked up, jaw set. “I’ll write it out for you.”

“Let me guess. You have to destroy the newborn’s soul to do it.” Yeah, the demons probably had a version of this. Ugly. It was just ugly the things magic could do.

Neck red, he didn’t say anything, finally turning to pull a few sheets from Ivy’s printer. “Pretty much,” he said as he took a pen from his pocket and began to sketch a pentagram as I might draw a smiley face. “The original soul must be forcibly ripped away and the old soul fixed into its place. Most times, the recipient became psychotic, which only added to the mystique of being a high priest back then, I suppose.” He looked up, reading my disgust. “I did say there’s no record of this charm being performed for several thousand years.”

“But you still know how to do it,” I accused.

“Aren’t you lucky for that,” he shot back. “You can’t get a soul to spontaneously attach itself and hope it sticks, even if it’s his own soul and his own body. It left once, it will again.”

He was right, and I tried not to look so pensive. The thought occurred to me that he might be giving me a black charm in the hopes of damning me with it. It wasn’t illegal to know black magic, just to do it. And destroying the soul of a newborn so an old man might live again was about as black as it got. “No wonder the demons hate you,” I said under my breath.

“Oh, are we going to compare past atrocities now?” he said even as he began writing a list of ingredients beside the pentagram.

I cocked my hip and watched him; his penmanship was as precise as his dress. “Stealing healthy babies and substituting your own failing infants is pretty nasty.”

“So is a thousand years of slavery. Or creating a species for your own pleasure, one that necessitates acts of perverted brutality to survive, acts committed on the people you love.”

He was talking about the vampires. “No worse than destroying your enemy by attacking their unborn children.”

Landon stopped writing. “They did it first.”

But who really knew the truth? I couldn’t solve a puzzle two thousand years dead.

His motion cocky, Landon spun the paper to me. Listed was a mix of plants, objects, and ley line equipment designed to sympathetically harness intent: blood, hummingbird egg white, sunrise spider silk, aspen sap, a copper Möbius strip, silk scarf, salt—probably to scribe the pentagram with—and a familiar phrase of Latin. Tislan, tislan. Ta na shay cooreen na da.

My lips parted and a wave of disconnection flooded me as the words rose from my mind. “That’s the phrase Trent used to move my soul,” I said, my voice sounding hollow, as if from outside myself.

Landon frowned, actually doing a double take as I blinked to find myself. “Trent has done this? Are you kidding me?”

“Not this one,” I reassured him. “But he held my soul in a bottle for three days while my aura replenished itself. I remember the words.”

Ta na shay cooreen na da. It flowed through me, and I held the counter as if it wasn’t real. I’d been trapped in my mind, standing at this very spot making cookies that faded away until Trent and I worked together, a symbol of us joining our minds so he could pull me out.

“Kalamack put your soul into a bottle?” Landon said, his disbelief obvious.

My breath came in a rush, as if I’d forgotten how to breathe. “My aura was burned off when I fought Ku’Sox. My mind thought I was dead, and he kept me on life support until my body was recovered and my aura was strong enough.” It had taken a kiss to break the spell, seeing as it was a very old charm to “wake the princess” from a lifesaving coma. I was starting to think that was when I’d begun to love him.

Oh shit. I love him.

The realization fell on me hard. My knees went wobbly, and I held the counter as a surge of emotion rose. I loved Trent. Sure, I’d toyed with the idea before, but now, after seeing him with Ellasbeth and giving him the foolhardy chance to make amends with her, I knew it was true. Damn it, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be romantic, with flowers and sun or moonlight, his touch on my face, and the scent of our hair mingling as we kissed. But no. It was me in my kitchen standing before a man I loathed, listening to the muted strains of the man I loved persuading his ex to get over herself and play by his rules.

Perhaps that means it might last this time.

“Rachel?” Landon said, and I shook myself.

“He’s better at magic than you think he is.” Head down, I locked my knees. Love shouldn’t be scary, but whenever I fell in love, my life fell apart. I didn’t want anything to change, but how could I stop it?

“He’d better be,” Landon muttered, looking at me as if trying to figure out why I was so distant. “Same words? Are you sure?”

Think about it later, Rachel. “It circled my brain for three days. What does it mean?”

Head down, he crossed off and rewrote things. “Most of it is to gain the Goddess’s attention.”

Swell. “And the rest?”

“I don’t know.”

It was more likely he just didn’t want to tell me. Tislan, tislan. Ta na shay cooreen na da. It hung in the back of my brain like a whisper of awareness—slowly gaining strength.

“She is a demon,” Ellasbeth said from the back living room, her voice breaking through the singsong litany in my mind where nothing else could. “Do you have any idea what people are saying? What this does to our child’s chances at success?”

“Lucy doesn’t care,” Trent said back. “Why do you?”

Landon cleared his throat, pushing his sketch across the counter so I could see it right side up. He was uncomfortable, and I didn’t think it was because of Ellasbeth and Trent. I wasn’t keen on any charm he had to remember, but it wasn’t as if I had much choice.

“Pay attention,” the man said, cementing in my thoughts that it was his skills he was nervous about. “I agreed to help you, but I’m not going to do it, and if anyone asks, I was here with Ellasbeth helping her petition Trent for the right to see her firstborn child.”

“Sure.” His stubble was starting to show, and I could smell the cold plastic of airport on him over his faint woodsy scent. Distant, I looked down at the curse. “Did the parents know you were doing this, or did you just steal the babies, too?”

Landon pulled himself straight, the width of the counter between us. “You want to be held accountable for the sins of your forefathers? Just keep throwing stones, Morgan.” Expression closed, he looked me up and down. “I’m assuming you can get a soul into a bottle?”

I scanned the spell, thinking it looked easy. But most of the bad ones were. “Yes.” I didn’t like trusting Landon and his memory-recalled charm, but he did want an end to the vampires.

“Good.” He leaned over the counter and tapped his pencil on the instructions. I knew the moment he caught my scent when he froze, then pulled back. “The, ah, spell calls for removing the original soul from a healthy body. I skipped that part.”

“You mean killing a baby,” I prompted, and he stared at me until I looked away.

“Step one,” he said tightly. “Sketch a pentagram onto a square of silk using salt. If you can match the scarf’s color to the recipient’s original aura, that’s even better.”

“I’ll ask Nina if she knows,” I said, tucking a strand of hair back.

“Second, anoint the feet of the pentagram with the sap, and do the same for the soles of the recipient’s feet.”

“Using what?” I interrupted, shocking myself when I looked up and found him too close. “The vampire recipient is like what, lying down?” This wasn’t good. There were too many variables to remember, and he clearly hadn’t done enough magic to know what was important and what could be fudged. “Are you sure there isn’t a book it’s written down in?”

“No.” His voice was tight. “I won’t misremember it. I’ve got it okay.”

“You’ve got this okay?” I accused, and there was a sudden silence from the back room. “You said no one’s done this for thousands of years. How do you know if it’s right or not?”

“The charm is fine,” he said, face red. He was lying; they did this charm at the dewar—more often than they wanted to admit—and that sickened me.

“Then what do I use to anoint the scarf and his feet? My finger?” I asked snarkily. The reason it wasn’t written down was plausible deniability. You couldn’t be brought to justice for a black charm there was no written evidence of.

“Ahh, I would think an aspen rod,” he said, and I took the pen out of his hand and added it to the list. “I’m destroying that before I leave,” he said, meaning the paper.

No you aren’t, I thought, but was smart enough not to say it. Damn it all to the Turn and back, people were crap. How can you respect a group who sacrificed babies to lengthen their own pathetic lives?

“Aspen rod,” I said, setting the pen down with an accusing snap. “Then what?”

Landon was eyeing me in distrust, and I gave him a sarcastic smile. “You do the same with the egg white, anointing the arms of the pentagram first, and then the recipient’s palms.”

“Using the same wand?” I guessed, and he nodded, flushed. “Can I use a chicken’s egg?”

“Not if you want it to work,” he muttered, and I took that as a fact. Eggs were a symbol of rebirth, but the Mayans used to believe that hummingbirds were the souls of warriors and would make an even closer tie. I could probably pick up one at one of the more exclusive charm shops.

“So let me guess,” I said, pulling the paper to me. It looked funny seeing the clearly old charm on fresh white paper. “Step three is to anoint the point of the pentagram and his forehead with his own blood?”

He grimaced, shifting from foot to foot. “I’d use the same wand again.”

“Then what?”

Landon hesitated, as if trying to decide only now if giving me this info was a good idea.

“What next, Landon …?” I intoned, and he tugged the paper back to himself.

“Roll the scarf into a cylinder and run it through the Möbius strip. Both loops.”

Big Möbius strip, check. I had one of those. I had two of them, actually. “What’s it made of?” I asked, and I almost saw him kick himself.

“Shit, I forgot that part,” he muttered. “Copper. Yes, copper.”

My fingers drummed on the counter. “You know what? I think I’ll just go to the library and find a nice reincarnation spell. Take my chances.”

Landon glared. “I know how to do this.”

“You sure?” I snapped, and both of us looked to the hallway at a pixy guffaw. No one was there, but a tiny whisper of pixy dust was slipping down.

Landon rolled up the paper, clearly ready to take his ball and go home. It was the lure of being the one who brought down the vampires that kept him here, kept him honest. “Most of this is all just to get the Goddess’s attention. It’s the thought that counts.”

I sobered at the reminder of the Goddess. Newt had assured me that the mystics and the Goddess herself wouldn’t recognize me even if I stood in a ley line and shouted for her, but she wasn’t called a goddess because she was impotent. “Okay, run the pentagram through the Möbius strip. Then what?”

My sudden meekness bolstered Landon’s mood, and I frowned when he tucked the paper into an inner pocket and went to get his hat from the table. “The scarf finds a neutral flow from the copper ions it picks up, so now you can shake the salt out and drape the scarf over the recipient’s face, blood spot at the forehead right where you anointed him. From there, you simply open the container holding the soul. Chanting the phrase will draw it forth, and the soul should go to him and fix into place. At least until he dies again. Burn the scarf to break the pathway and prevent the soul from escaping the body.”

He put on his hat, clearly ready to go. I nodded, still uneasy in that he might have forgotten something—intentionally. “You never said where the spiderweb fit in.”

“Oh! Right.” He hesitated in the archway. “Drape it over your shoulder for protection against an aggressive soul.”

Aggressive soul. Yes, I’d run into one of those before, but Al hadn’t used spiderwebs to help protect against them. Come to think of it, I’d never seen a spider in the ever-after, and I thought it pathetic that the elves and demons had polluted their world to the point where even a spider couldn’t survive.

“Ellasbeth, are you ready?” Landon called as he stood in the threshold between the kitchen and the hallway, and I heard her ask him for a moment. Frowning, Landon leaned against the frame of the opening.

“You sure you don’t want to add anything else?” I said, trying not to look at the pocket he put the charm in. I wanted it, wanted it bad.

“No.” Mood sour, he looked into the living room, then pushed himself forward. Steps fast, he came three paces in, eyes intent as he pulled the paper from his inner pocket, taunting me with it. I jumped when he tugged on the line out back, tossing the paper into the sink and igniting it with a single word.

Son of a bastard, I thought, grimacing at the sudden rush of shoes in the hall. Trent slid to a halt when he saw Landon standing over the fire in the sink, and he exhaled in relief. Ellasbeth click-clacked in behind him, coat over her arm, and Trent frowned. “Thanks for your help. You both have a flight out of here tonight, right?” Trent asked, clearly eager for them to leave.

Landon chuckled, turning the taps on to wash even the ash into the sewer system and out of my reach. “I’ve got a reservation at the Cincinnatian. Ellasbeth tells me it’s the only decent live-in hotel in the area.”

“Even if the staff is surly.” Ellasbeth’s mood wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. Trent must have given her something, but I bet it had cost her. Suddenly I felt as if both of us had been manipulated, even if it had been us who had called them.

“Do you have what you need?” Trent asked, and I nodded. The more satisfied Ellasbeth and Landon became, the more uneasy I felt. It technically wasn’t a curse if I didn’t have to kill anyone to perform the magic. There hadn’t been any indication that it required direct contact with the Goddess to do the curse either, but he could have left that out. He had before.

Smile stilted, Ellasbeth turned to Trent. “Thank you,” she said, and my pulse hammered. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I get a permanent address.”

My expression froze. Crap on toast, the woman was moving to Cincinnati. Shit, shit, shit! Why had I gone along with this? Made it sound like a good idea?

“I’ll wait for your call.” Trent put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a cold kiss good-bye on her cheek. My gut tightened. I knew I gave myself away when Ellasbeth leaned in to accept it, her eyes on mine and a mocking smile on her thin, lipstick-red lips. The tension rose. Landon clearly wasn’t happy either. I’m an idiot. My clear conscience wouldn’t keep me warm at night, hold me when I cried, or smile when I made a joke.

“Landon,” Ellasbeth said as she held her coat out to him, and he slowly moved to settle it across her shoulders.

“Bye now,” I said as I leaned against the counter and tried not to grimace. “Thanks for the soul-stealing charm.”

Her coat on, Ellasbeth waited a telling moment for Trent to escort them to the door, but when he ignored them, she turned on a heel and stalked off, shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. Landon lurched to catch up, already digging in a pocket for the car keys.

A shower of pixy dust sifted down from the overhanging rack. I hadn’t known Jenks was up there, but I wasn’t surprised as he gave Trent a thumbs-up and darted out after them.

Trent sighed heavily, and together we listened to Ellasbeth’s heels aggressively striking the floor in the sanctuary. “That woman is plotting,” I said softly, and Trent pulled me into a sudden, unexpected hug.

“Oh God,” he almost moaned, his arms tight around me as I scrambled to shift gears. “I think you are the only thing keeping me from going insane sometimes. You and the girls.”

But he had kissed her. “Really?” I mumbled. From the front, the door slammed, making the curtains over the sink drift.

Breath catching, he nodded, still staring at the ceiling as if the words he wanted to say were imprinted up there with pixy dust. “When everything seems to impact everything and there’s no easy answer, I ask myself: Will this decision take me closer or farther from you? And then it’s so clear. Even if it doesn’t make sense at the time.”

He thought this would bring us closer? My heart thudded. He had meant that kiss as show, but fear still lingered. Ellasbeth had brought everything back that I’d been ignoring, everything that Trent had been working his entire life for and lost because of me, everything his father had begun, everything that I couldn’t help him with and she could. I could do nothing as a flash of heartache lit through me. I love him. I can say that now. “You’re going to let her see Lucy? Trent, that’s so dangerous.”

“It was your idea.” He exhaled, pulling me closer so my head was against his shoulder and I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. “You’re right, though. It would be more dangerous not to,” he said, his words making my hair move. “Besides, I’m angry, not cruel, and I’m confident that Ellasbeth is now cognizant of what she gambled and lost by casually tossing that all-or-nothing choice down before me. If she wants to see Lucy, she’s going to make every sacrifice she would’ve made if she had married me in the first place, but now all she gets is to be a part of Lucy’s life, not mine. She will hate Cincinnati for the very things I love about it. My revenge is complete.”

He’s giving her a chance to fulfill her original role, I thought, tension winding through me. Trent wasn’t seeing this as a way for Ellasbeth to wind him around her finger, but I did.

Trent gave me a squeeze, but I couldn’t get myself out of my funk. He was bringing pieces back into play to try to regain his standing. I knew he wouldn’t sacrifice me to reach his end, but there was no way he could do it if I was beside him—and someday he’d realize that. He’d grow cold, indifferent. I’d seen it before.

“I don’t trust Landon,” I said, feeling my breath come back from him as my fingers defined the lines of his back. “I don’t trust Ellasbeth, and I certainly don’t trust them together. As soon as we’re no longer useful to Landon, and she realizes she won’t get what she wants, she’ll try to gain custody with a more permanent means, you know that, right?”

Trent let me go, avoiding me. Damn it, he did know, and yet he was giving her the very chance she needed to stick a knife in his ribs. “Trent—”

“You think Landon’s charm is true?” he interrupted.

He was still holding me, and I pressed into him. “I don’t like using a charm passed down by oral tradition for two thousand years,” I said, then added, “But I think they use it enough that as long as Landon remembered it right, it will work. Are you sure you don’t have anything in your library? He could be setting us up. That charm might take our souls for all I know.”

His reassuring smile only made me more concerned. “He wants an end to the vampires more than an end to me or you. We can trust that.”

“So we’re safe until the undead vampires are dead. I should probably write it down before I forget.” I reluctantly pulled from him to get a pencil and paper from Ivy’s desk. “Even if it will be in my handwriting and not his.”

“I think Jenks has it,” Trent said, looking out at the garden. “Jenks!” he shouted, startling me. “Where’s the charm?”

Pen in hand, I turned from the table to see Trent stretching to the hanging rack to turn the few hanging pots as if to empty them. “You had him copy it? Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you—” Spent dust spilled out of one, covering Trent in silver. He sneezed, missing the postage-stamp-size scrap of paper now drifting to the floor. It had to be the copied charm, and I picked it up, recognizing Jenks’s handwriting and the glyph of a pentagram. “There it is,” he said, seeing it in my hand and smiling. “Because you aren’t used to dealing with civil servants disguised as religious leaders.”

A smile found me. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?” I tugged at his belt, pulling him to me again. My arms went around his neck, and I beamed at him, the copied spell in one hand, the fingers of my other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, stretching until I could just brush the arch of his pointy ears. Heartache swept me. How long could I hold on to him? A year? Two?

“Repeatedly, but I’m open to hearing it again,” he said, eyes alight with possibilities as he tilted his head and our lips met in a kiss.

Emotion spilled through me, heat tingling from our lips down to my middle, all the sweeter for knowing it could never last. My hand fisted in his hair, and his breath caught at the tight demand. He pulled me closer, his hands at my waist almost lifting me off my feet. The kitchen, I thought as my back hit the counter and his hand slipped under my shirt, his fingers both smooth and demanding, tracing over my skin. What was it about the kitchen that seemed to get both of us in a rush?

My eyes opened as our lips parted, but the tingling he’d started continued, making me move against him in time with his ever-moving hands, searching, rising to hint at finding my breast and send new tingles down to my spine. “You know what to do when you think of me, huh?” I said, thinking it was one of the most telling things anyone had ever said to me, making me feel loved and needed all at the same time.

“Always,” he breathed, looking at my lips.

“What are you thinking now?” I teased.

“I’m trying to remember why you haven’t moved in with me,” he said, and we slowly stilled, pressed against each other and content to just be.

Because I can’t take that hurt again, I thought, unable to say it. Because anything this good can’t last. Because I love you. Because Ellasbeth and he were talking again, and I knew that was what everyone wanted. Quen would be so-o-o pleased.

“Tink’s titties, you two aren’t pressing flesh again,” Jenks griped as he flew in at head height, saving me from answering. “God! I’m glad pixies dust instead of sweat. You should see the heat waves coming up from you.”

Trent started to let go, but seeing the doubt my silence had made, I pulled him back and found his lips, hungry almost as soon as I closed my eyes and let my fingers drift down his back to his tight, grabbable backside. Trent responded, and I don’t know what happened to Jenks’s copied spell as I suddenly found myself spun around and plunked on the counter.

“Oh God!” Jenks complained as I wrapped my legs around Trent, imprisoning him. The bare hint of stubble pricked over my fingertips as I traced his jawline. “Stop it, will you?” Jenks griped. “Just ’cause there aren’t any more kids in the church doesn’t mean you can …”

Breathless, I pulled from Trent. My lip unexpectedly caught between his teeth for a bare instant, and a flash of passion lit through me even as we parted. “Can what, Jenks?” I said, letting my feet fall from around Trent so he could turn to look at the disgusted pixy hovering before us. I’d found Trent to be a surprisingly attentive lover the last three months, the tabloids going crazy at kisses over sparkling wine at Carew Tower, and his casual touch as he tried to teach me how to golf, and though the passion had been real, I knew the intent behind the last thirty seconds had only been to shock Jenks. It made me love him even more—he was a part of my life, and I hadn’t seen it even happen. Now all I had to do was hold on until it fell apart.

Trent’s smile slowly faded as reality came slipping back, drawn by Jenks’s orangish dust and the spell in his hand. “Thanks, Jenks,” he said as he moved away. I suddenly felt alone as I sat on the counter, the bitter smell of cold coffee coming from the coffeemaker. I slid down, having to tuck my shirt in before I opened a drawer for my magnifying glass. I had like three of them, and I handed Trent the largest.

“No problem,” Jenks said as he got over his huff and set the spell on the counter. “You guys never look up, and Jrixibell had a pencil lead stashed up there already.”

Jenks’s wings seemed to slow their hum at the reminder of his youngest daughter, now out on her own and raising a family. Jax, too, had left again after only a few weeks. I intentionally bumped into Trent as we clustered over the scrap of paper, and I relaxed at the scent of cinnamon and wine hiding under Trent’s aftershave. Jenks’s sketch was more precise than Landon’s, having none of the crossed-off instructions and with the ingredients in order. Even better, it would be harder to link this to me since it was in Jenks’s handwriting.

“I’m not liking the spiderweb,” Trent said, frowning as he used one finger to hold the paper from moving from our breath. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t match from what I remember when Bancroft taught it to my mother.”

“You know it?” I exclaimed, following that through to an uncomfortable conclusion. “You know how to strip an infant’s soul from it and paste someone else’s on it? Why did you make me go through that?” But what disturbed me most was why he knew it at all.

Trent was grinning when he looked up. His expression flashed to panic as he guessed my thoughts. “Oh, Rachel, I was ten when I heard it, listening at a door where I shouldn’t have been. I’m sorry. I didn’t even remember it until seeing this.” He hesitated, and I frowned when he touched my arm. “Really, I didn’t. But I don’t remember the spiderweb.”

My shoulders eased, as much from Trent’s obvious distress as from Jenks’s shrug. “Maybe you should skip that part,” Jenks suggested as he took it and rolled it into a tube.

“Maybe,” I said, when Trent ducked his head and winced. “Aren’t spiderwebs supposed to be for protection, though?”

“Protection through concealment.” Trent dropped back to lean against the counter in thought, looking especially yummy when he crossed one ankle over the other. “I think it’s okay. I probably just forgot.” His focus shifted to me. “I still think giving an undead a soul is a bad idea, but if you don’t, Ivy will suffer. Be careful what you wish for, yes?”

“Because it might come true,” I said softly. At this point, I honestly didn’t care if they all died out, but having seen the chaos in Cincinnati when the undead had been sleeping was a stiff lesson to swallow—or whatever.

I jumped when Trent’s arm went around me. “We’ll see it through,” he said, and Jenks rose up with the charm, presumably to hide it. “No matter what it takes. Soon as we get the charm prepped, we’ll go collect Felix’s soul. It’s probably still lurking about the ley line at Eden Park. We could have this done by the end of the weekend, no problem.”

Somehow I didn’t think it was going to be that easy. “Thank you.” I turned into him, head falling to his chest as he wrapped his arms around me and held me, grounding me in a way that no one had for a long time. I felt his certainty, but my doubts lingered even as I soaked him in.

I hadn’t wished for Trent in my life, but now that I had him, I was more confused, more heartbroken than I’d ever been. Trent was willing to sacrifice everything for me, but I didn’t know if I could let him.

Seven

Ellasbeth’s light perfume lifted from Trent in the tight confines of his car. My head hurt, but if it was from that, or Cormel’s vampires tailing us, or Nina fidgeting in the back, or that I was on my way to Eden Park to capture a master’s soul with an elven black charm that Landon had given me, I didn’t know.

“So much to choose from,” I whispered, my grip on the wheel tightening as I glanced at Trent. He was slumped against the window, eyes shut and chest moving slowly in the faint light reflected from the twilight-gloomed sky. My irritation eased, and I stifled the urge to rearrange his hair. He looked charmingly vulnerable when he slept, and because of his nature, I often caught him catching a few winks around noon and midnight. It made me feel loved every time.

The scent of angry vampire was growing stronger, and I opened a vent. Behind us, Cormel’s thugs accelerated to close the gap as we neared the interstate’s off-ramp. The window would have been better, but that would’ve woken up Trent for sure.

“I shouldn’t have left Ivy,” the nervous woman said, expression tight as she looked out the window. The car following us was almost on my bumper, and I flicked on my turn signal way ahead of time hoping they’d back off a little. Cormel knew where we were going, and I thought the escort was a bit much.

“They might try to kidnap her,” Nina said, her motion vampire fast as she fiddled with her hair, pulling the heavy wash of rich black out of its thick clip and redoing it. “He said he wouldn’t kill her. He never said he wouldn’t kidnap her.”

Grimacing, I took the curve off the interstate, pumping my brakes to get the vampires behind me to friggin’ back off. Trent took a deep breath as I slowed for a stoplight, blinking himself awake. His flash of confusion vanished as he sat up, looking entirely accessible in his rumpled, relaxed state.

“Kalamack’s security has too many holes,” Nina muttered, and Trent’s smile vanished.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said as he looked out at the shadowed Cincinnati riverfront and placed himself.

“I like it when you do.” Eyes forward, I eased into motion when the light changed.

Trent’s hand landed on my leg with a contented pop. I let go of the wheel to take it, giving his fingers a squeeze even as I kept them right where he’d put them. My pulse quickened, but it wasn’t from his touch. The distance that he’d always kept between us had gradually—almost shyly—dissolved over the last three months, evolving into a surprisingly tactile nature. Casual touches and meaningful looks had become as natural as breathing. But it was different now because I wanted it to last forever.

And burn my cookies if I didn’t think he sensed the change when he cocked his head and leaned across the space between us, whispering, “What?”

The thought was still painfully new, and I shook my head, flustered. “Nothing.”

His eyebrows high in question, he glanced at Nina as if she might be to blame for my mood, and I shook my head, staring straight out the front window as we wound through Eden Park’s outer drive. I wished things were different, that my life was easier. But then I might never have had the chance to see Trent slumped against his car door, smiling as he opened his eyes and found me watching him. Good with the bad, I thought, hoping they would equal out in the end.

“Leaving her alone was a bad idea,” Nina said again, stewing as she filled the car with the scent of unhappy vampire.

“She’s not alone,” I muttered, thinking that between Quen’s security and Cormel’s promise, she ought to be safe. My mood lifted when we passed the town houses and then where I’d left my car yesterday and I saw it waiting. It hadn’t been towed, but it wasn’t as if we could stop and get it. Frustrated, I cracked my window, neck tingling as the draft pushed everything to the front. “Ivy is fine,” I grumped, glad when Trent opened his window as well and the cloud of pheromones finally found a way out. And if Ivy wasn’t fine, I was going to spend tomorrow polishing my stakes and amulets.

I had to believe that Ivy was okay—at least until midnight—and I didn’t mind at all that Nina wasn’t with her, the edgy vampire coming with us to be the bait in the Felix-soul trap. I had a lingering concern that Nina was out for what was important to Nina, not Ivy. That she loved Ivy wasn’t in question. What she’d do to keep her was.

Trent sat up as we wound up the long drive to the overlook and the limited parking. Head down over his phone as he texted, he said, “Not very subtle, is he?”

My gaze flicked to the rearview mirror and the big black car. There were at least five heads in there, maybe more. Nina’s slow growl made me more nervous than the car did.

“Where does he get off interfering like this?” the woman said, clearly feeling threatened.

I met Trent’s eyes in concern, thinking the woman was a dangerous roller coaster of emotions without Felix’s finger in her thoughts, all the power and expectations he’d left in her out of control and beyond her emotional limits. Trent’s slight twist to his lips said he agreed with my unspoken desire to get out of the car, and I took the first parking spot I could find. There were a few people up here walking their dogs, feeding the ducks, or just enjoying the first shadows spilling over the Hollows. We’d have to take the footbridge to get to the ley line, just on the other side of the tiny twin ponds. The memory of being here almost exactly twenty-four hours ago—fighting for Ivy’s life—flitted through me.

“They promised midnight!” Nina fumed, head almost touching the ceiling. “If they’re following us now, what makes you think Ivy is even safe?”

“Nina, shut up!” I shouted, and her eyes flashed black.

Trent smiled at my frustration, and I hit the brakes hard. His head swung and he reached for the dash, but his amusement was undimmed as Nina bolted from the vehicle, her heels snapping sharply on the pavement as she strode to the car following us.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, hands on her hips as she stopped them right in the middle of the road, her knees almost touching the front bumper.

“Ivy is fine,” Trent said, but I wasn’t convinced. “Shall we set up? We’ve got a few minutes until Jenks and Bis get here.”

Trent turned to Nina, standing in the headlights, her silhouette obvious and shapely as she reamed them out. “Is that Felix or Nina?”

“Nina.” It would have been easier if it had been Felix, but I’d swear that Felix hadn’t taken her over. Nina was beginning to show the power Felix had taught her. It made her dangerous, more unreliable. But we had no choice.

Sighing, I dropped the keys into my shoulder bag as I got out. Trent moved a little slower, his motions gracefully methodical as he collected the briefcase that held the equipment to capture Felix’s soul. My stomach was knotting as I stood between the car and the open door, breathing in the new night as Cormel’s vampires got back in their car, tires smoking as they backed up to the farthermost reaches of the long, narrow parking lot. They weren’t leaving, but at least we had some space.

Nina didn’t move, remaining in the middle of the street in her business skirt and collapsing hairstyle. I could tell by her bowed head and shaking hands that she was trying to bring herself back down without the help of Felix’s steadying hand. This was why master vampires seldom dropped into the living, and never to the extent that Felix had over the past few months. The reminder of what they’d lost tore at the dead. The connection unbalanced the living, forcing them to deal with emotions they had no practice in handling. The longer it went on, the more addictive and dangerous the experience was. Ivy had promised to keep Nina alive, a thin hope that was likely to fail and cement in Ivy’s mind anew that she deserved nothing good in her life.

Pity sifted through me as Nina’s hands slowly unfisted. How many times have I seen Ivy do that? I wondered when Nina looked at the sky and closed her eyes as if in prayer—just like Ivy coming back from the edge of control.

The goons at the end of the parking lot had gotten out, shouting at everyone that the park was closed and to leave, but I think it was Nina shaking silently in the middle of the street that made the most impact. No one wants to be around when a vampire loses it. Sure, there’s compensation and apologies, but that doesn’t go very far if you get bitten. A vamp scar is forever, fading in time but able to flair into full potency if properly triggered.

Trent slammed his door, and I yanked my hand from my neck, not even realizing I’d covered it. My head jerked up when Bis flew overhead, wings flashing as he awkwardly slid to a halt on one of the shadowed picnic tables. His eyes glowed red as they found me, and the cat-size gargoyle resettled his leathery wings. His skin had gone entirely black in embarrassment for the ungraceful landing, and the white tuft of fur on the tip of his lionlike tail stood out like a beacon as it flicked nervously.

Pleased, I ambled over, smiling as his skin returned to its usual pebbly gray. If Bis was here, Jenks wasn’t far behind.

“Nice of you to wait for me, snot breath,” Jenks snarled, clearly out of breath as he dropped heavily down onto my shoulder in a wash of silver dust.

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