Trouble with the Cursed, page 40
“Stef is not my familiar,” I rasped, pulse hammering. “She is my friend.”
He laughed, but his smile vanished as he noticed the drop of gold between my hands, staining his perfect circle. “Your own mole is at the curb to bring you in for selling your students to a demon, and soon for detaining Constance against her will. You will be in jail by the end of the night, Alcatraz by the end of the week, and that is even without Constance pushing for it. Oh, how you have fallen, Rachel Morgan. You are done. And I am gone. Stephanie? I’m going to show you how easy it is to catch a demon. Rachel makes everything so difficult.”
“No!” Stef twisted her arm until his grip broke. Expression ugly, Hodin yanked her back.
“I have a third option, Hodin,” I rasped, and he turned, his mocking confidence cracking as my hands shook against his bubble and my soul seemed to burn. “I don’t need help to put you in a freaking bottle. I will do it myself.”
Groaning, I pushed everything I had into my hands, my throat going raw as I fought for control of his circle. Energy funneled through me until it went from fire to ice, and then, with a startling ping, I had it. His circle was mine.
Hodin’s brow lifted as his circle flashed a brilliant gold of my aura. “Fool just like the rest,” he muttered.
I had an instant of question, and then my smug satisfaction vanished as the energy in his circle rebounded. The line refused to take it, and it all came flooding to me, threefold.
“No!” I shrieked as I dropped the line, but it only made it worse. He had hidden a spell in his circle. I couldn’t let go of the line fast enough to escape it. My outer synapses were singed, preventing a quick dump, and I spindled it like mad, pulling the energy deeper instead of trying to force it out, desperate to give the energy somewhere to go. I sensed it crest . . . lapping at my extremes . . . and then I had it. I had it all.
Groaning, I dropped to the cool tile, my eyes closing as the line energy peaked in me, then reversed, flowing over my burn and back into the line through long-established channels. Finally I was empty. The overwhelming power was gone, and I lay where I was, helpless.
“Rachel!” Jenks cried out. His dust was warm, but I was cold without the heat of the line, and I exhaled, in no hurry to inhale again. It felt good to not move. At least I’m out of his damned circle.
“Touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Jenks threatened, and I took a slow breath when the draft from his wings pushed the hair from my face. Stef was crying, but I couldn’t even lift my head.
“Let me go!” Stef exclaimed. “Let go! Rachel, I’m so sorry!”
Hodin’s confident harrumph shook me. “One too many bad decisions,” he said, but I couldn’t even groan when he wedged a foot under my ribs and rolled me over. “At least you would have been alive if you had joined with me,” he said, and then Stef’s crying vanished.
They were gone.
“Ow,” I whispered. I tensed to sit up, then decided not to as the world tilted.
“Rachel?” I heard close to my ear, and then I pried my eyelids apart when something poked my nose. “She’s okay!” Jenks exclaimed, and I struggled to focus, his shape blurry from a thick silver dust. “Getty, she’s okay!”
I took a deeper breath, afraid to see what I’d done to my synapses. “I don’t feel so good,” I said as I rolled over to put my face on the cool, cool floor. “Jenks. Call Ivy and Pike. Hodin might try to take the city with Finnis. I gotta ’ake a nap,” I slurred as I closed my eyes.
Everything else could wait.
CHAPTER
26
I was warm and somewhat . . . damp. The unhurried sound of Trent’s breathing was familiar, and I stretched, a cool draft hitting the small of my back when the blanket slipped. But it wasn’t until the faint scent of vampire incense intruded that my eyes flew open to see the dark timbers of Piscary’s front room.
“Trent?” I whispered as I sat up, pulse fast. My hair was still damp as I tucked it behind an ear, and it smelled like pool water. The room was lit with a soft electric glow, the unused fireplace a black hole as I swung my feet to the oak floor. Someone had put me on the overstuffed couch. Trent, presumably, since he was slumped on the chair beside me.
“I’m here,” Trent said, his feet hitting the floor as he started awake. Blinking, he reached for my hand. “You’re safe.”
“Why are we at Piscary’s?” I asked, scanning the rafters for pixy dust. “Constance . . .”
“Is fine,” he said as he drew a small cage from beside his chair and set it on the coffee table between us.
I leaned closer, my damp clothes catching. Glints of jewelry glittered from around the neck of the little gray mouse. It was Constance, but where had she found such a tiny necklace?
“Ivy and Pike?” I said as the mouse squeaked and flipped me off. “Hodin needs Finnis if he is going to take the city.”
Trent stretched where he sat, a contented groan slipping from him. “First, they are okay. Second, Jenks’s message was about thirty seconds too late. Hodin has him.” He collapsed in on himself and sighed. “Popped in, grabbed him, and popped out. Sorry about that, but at least Ivy and Pike are unhurt. Do you want some coffee?”
“God, yes. Thank you.” Frowning, I eased into the cushions and plucked at my damp shirt, wondering if I’d ever get a change of clothes. My bag was close, and I leaned to get it and find my phone. Eleven thirty? Crap on a cracker, the sun is down. The world could have ended while I was sleeping.
Trent stood, yawning before he headed for the bar and the state-of-the-art coffee maker. Coffee would be great, but what I really wanted to know was how I got here.
Is it okay that I still miss you, Kisten? I thought as I tucked my phone away and looked over the quiet, lamplit space. Pike had nearly returned it to the original restaurant, and I gazed at the elaborate bar, melancholy rising high. Someone had painted Pike’s diamond logo on the long mirror to give the entire room a feeling of protection. The tables were empty and bare, and two high-back chairs sat before the unlit fire as a place of importance. The old register at the end of the bar was gone, and I eyed the host stand with its built-in tablet with mistrust.
The room felt odd, an air of waiting hanging over the empty tables and stocked bar shelves. I finally found the mixed-population license over the fireplace, and I fought the desire to move it to where it had always hung behind the bar.
And with that, memories of Kisten swam up, blurring my vision as the sound of laughter and the crack of pool balls echoed in my thoughts. I had found acceptance here among Cincinnati’s forgotten children. Piscary’s being up and running would be a good thing, even if the reminder hurt. Pike was right.
Until an even more pressing thought brought me up cold and my focus darted from the locked front door to Trent. It was Trent, wasn’t it? Hodin would have simply killed me, right? “Ah, what am I doing at Piscary’s?” I asked.
“Hiding from the I.S.” The sound of coffee chattering into two mugs was loud, and I tugged the blanket up over me. “You were out cold on your kitchen floor. I’ve only been that scared once before. I don’t know what . . .” He hesitated, his shoulders hunched. “Jenks told me what happened,” he continued. “Doyle showed up while I was trying to wake you. Jenks diverted Doyle upstairs while I snuck you out the front. Brought you here,” he added as he crossed the room and handed me a black coffee mug full of blessedly hot brew. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I took a sip, the smooth, nutty flavor almost tasteless as I studied him. Hodin, if this is you, I swear, I’ll part your head from your neck and make your skull into a birdhouse. “Where are Ivy and Pike?”
He sat beside me, and I moved back when our weight slid us together. “Out searching for Finnis.” His hand brushed my hair from my face, and he forced me to look at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? Jenks said you collapsed after breaking Hodin’s circle.”
And Jenks was nowhere to be seen. Pulse fast, I inched farther away, my expression carefully empty as I saw the question in him. If it was Hodin, I was in trouble. I doubted I could work the ley lines at the moment, burned from taking down his circle. “Trent, what’s the name of Newt’s horse?”
His lips parted. “The Goddess help me. You think I’m Hodin?”
I stood, afraid to tap a line. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to. “What’s his name?”
Trent put up a hand. “Her. And it’s Red. Rachel, it’s me.”
My shoulders slumped and I sat down, feeling silly as his arm went around me and he gave me a heartfelt hug. “It’s me,” he whispered. “God, this is going to be hard.”
I nodded, starting to understand why Al wanted Hodin dead. How do you deal with a demon who pretends he’s someone else in order to bring you down? Coward. “So, I’m hiding from Doyle, eh?” I said.
“Yes, but if you can prove that it was Hodin who took your students to the ever-after . . .” I shook my head, and he sighed. “We’ll figure something out,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss. My arms went around him and I breathed him in, reluctant to let go. “Hungry?” he asked, and I nodded, my cheek pressed against his chest. “Sandwiches for your birthday dinner was not my intention.”
I managed a slight smile as my arms eased their grip. “Sounds good, though. I’m starving.” Together we stood, and I shook out the blanket as he went to the bar and slipped behind it with a slight frown. Hesitating briefly, he began to rummage about in the tiny fridge. “I, ah, singed myself breaking Hodin’s circle,” I said, and Trent winced in sympathy. “He had a secondary charm nestled in it, and after I seared my upper thoughts breaking his circle, I wasn’t able to shunt the excess energy back to the line the way I should have. It was stuck. If I hadn’t been able to spindle the entirety of it to break the bottleneck, I probably wouldn’t be standing here now.”
Trent set a tiny jar of small-batch mustard and an enormous bottle of mayo on the counter, followed by a plate of cold cuts and sliced cheese. “How badly are you burned?”
“I haven’t looked yet, but my head doesn’t hurt, so that’s a good sign. Where’s Jenks?”
“Doing a security check. Ah, I’d feel better if I knew you could at least set a circle.”
Nodding, I steadied myself before slipping a tentative thought to the nearest line. Energy raked uncomfortably across my senses. I winced as it bubbled and frothed, filling my chi with a new warmth. It was rough going but possible. “I can spell,” I said, and he nodded as he began layering meat and cheese on four slices of bread. One for me, one for him.
“He’s got Stef,” I said softly, and his smile faded. “Three slashes on her wrist.” It used to be a mark of slavery, and unless I did something about it, it would be again.
“Jenks told me. She should be okay for a while.”
I finished folding the blanket and dropped it on the couch. “I almost killed her. I thought she was Hodin. Trent, I have to put this guy away, and not simply to stop him from taking over Cincinnati. I’m going to go nuts if I don’t know if I’m talking to you or Hodin.” I carefully picked up Constance and moved her to the bar, and the vampire mouse hissed at me, long fangs bared. Nice . . .
“My reactions won’t be fast enough if I’m questioning if it’s him or he’s disguised as someone I love.” I hesitated, using my finger to doodle nothing on the mahogany bar.
Silent, Trent used a huge knife to cut the sandwiches, making two long rectangles out of his, and two triangles from mine.
“I’m just glad my first impulse isn’t to kill what’s irritating me,” I muttered as I pulled the plate with the triangles in front of me. “Or Stef would be dead now.”
But my first bite hesitated at the sound of pixy wings. “Face it, Rache,” Jenks said as he flew in, looking no worse for wear. “If you killed what irritated you, half the I.S. agents and all of Cincy’s bus drivers would be dead by now.”
“Not all of them,” I said around my full mouth. Mmmm, he’d put marmalade on it, and the bittersweet flavor was perfect with the cheese and roast beef.
“But you didn’t, and she isn’t.” Trent frowned at one of the below-bar monitors. “Is that a news van?” he asked, and Jenks nodded, landing on the open jar of marmalade to use his chopsticks to help himself to a chunk of sweetened orange peel.
“Yeah, but we got at least fifteen minutes until they figure out why they can’t reach a communication tower.” He chuckled. “Hey, any honey back there?”
“No,” I said flatly, and Trent pulled his reach back. “Jenks, how many pixy names does it take to make a good demon password?”
The pixy blinked, then smirked. “Four,” he said, convincing me that it really was Jenks. “Ain’t no one able to be me but me, Rache. You should know that.”
“I do.” I fiddled with my sandwich. “Are you sure you’re okay? You hit that wall hard.”
Jenks darted to the cheese, sword flashing to cut off a wedge. Poking the tip of his sword into it, he extended it through the bars to the grasping mouse. “Getty . . .” he said, and I glanced up as his voice broke. “Ah, Getty fixed me up,” he finished softly. “I gotta check on something.” And then he was gone, his wings humming a dull note and his dust a somber blue as he flew out.
Trent looked up from where he’d been fiddling with the camera angle, clearly surprised. “Is there something here I’m not getting?”
Uncomfortable, I fed Constance another chunk of cheese. “Where’s Getty?”
“The church.” He leaned an elbow on the bar, expression wary. “She’s got the fairies organized and guarding the place. She cried when I took you out, embarrassed that she hid from Hodin and didn’t tell you he was there.” His gaze went to Jenks’s fading dust. “Is that why he’s upset?”
I took a big bite, needing to think about how to answer. “In pixy culture, it’s the wife’s task to keep her husband flying,” I said after I swallowed. “Once he left his mother, Matti was the only person to care for him other than Belle. I think he could look past Belle cutting his hair and fixing his scrapes because she was a fairy, but Getty?” I met Trent’s eyes. “He likes her, and I think he’s worried that’s a betrayal of everything he shared with Matalina.”
Trent sighed heavily. “Oh.”
“How much time before the media knocks on the door, you think?” I said as I stood and leaned over the counter to try to see the monitors. “I can’t believe how stupid I was.” Flexing my sore hand, I dropped back down on my stool, and my focus blurred as I thought about Bis. If he hadn’t been comatose, no circle on earth could hold me. “I’ve got to make some changes,” I whispered.
The soft gurgle of Trent refilling his coffee mug drew my attention. “Why don’t the other demons go for him now? Seeing as you rescinded your promise to protect him,” he said as he gave me a new mug.
“I haven’t. Not exactly.” Constance was extending an arm past the bars for some coffee, and I let a drop fall into her cupped hands. “I never said I wouldn’t put him in a bottle, but I still have to protect him against their actions or lose every ounce of credibility I have with the demons for the rest of my life.” Pausing, I took a sip. “They can’t help me. Besides, if I can’t do this without them, I have no teeth to demand that Dali stop making people into familiars and release those he tricked into it. I should have been expecting this. They have been free for just over a year. They are bored to tears.”
But boredom didn’t give them the right to break the laws they agreed to abide by. That was the funny thing about demons. Their word was absolute, but they only followed the rules that you could enforce. I was not going to break mine by asking them to help me take care of Hodin.
“The past four months with Hodin have been one long setup,” I grumped, and Constance delicately belched and held her hand out for more coffee. “I alienated Al,” I said as I gave the vampire another drop from my finger. “Put Pike in a bad spot.”
Trent smiled as he took my crumb-laced plate and set it in the bar sink. “You’re talking with Al again. Pike put himself in a bad spot, not you.”
“Sure, by listening to Hodin. I ruined your business effort.”
“No, you didn’t,” he said, surprising me with his good mood.
“What was it, anyway?” I asked, and his expression became positively smug.
Elbow on the bar, he took a sip of his coffee. “You are looking at the new owner of Carew Tower.”
“What?” I sat straighter, lips parting in surprise. Constance, too, seemed taken aback if her shaking the bars of her cage meant anything. “The entire building? I thought you were buying a couple of floors.” Clearly the sum he’d given them was earnest money, not the purchase price. Damn . . .
“Everything but the restaurant,” he said. “So do your best not to get banned from it. You were right about not moving in with me because it was too far out in the country.”
“Oh,” I said, my excitement suddenly falling flat.
“Working outside the city might have worked for my father—seeing as most of his endeavors were illegal—but it’s not working for me. I need a downtown office, complete with an apartment so the disruption to the girls’ lives is minimal.”
“Ah.” Crap on toast, my face-saving excuse for not moving in with him was disintegrating before me.
“Unfortunately you are too expensive for my insurance to cover,” he said, and I blinked, unable to tell if he was serious or not. “So you can’t move in with me.”
“Oh, really . . .”
Beaming, he leaned across the bar and gave me a long, languorous kiss that went right to my middle. “Really,” he said as our lips parted.
I laughed, feeling loved, and his smile widened. “That’s better,” he said in satisfaction. “Okay. What are we going to do about Hodin?”
