I thought youd locked yourself out of your car, I said, and he chuckled.
No. I would have just run the rest of the way home if I had. I wanted to ask you about a pack tattoo.
My eyebrows rose. Oh? Most Were packs had a registered tattoo, but I hadnt seen the need, and David was used to standing alone.
Seeing my reluctance, David shrugged. Its time. Serena and Kally are confident enough to be on their own in fur, and if they dont have a sign of pack recognition, someone might think theyre curs. He hesitated. Serena especially is getting cocky. And theres nothing wrong with that. She has every right, but unless she has an obvious way to show her status and affiliation, someone will challenge her.
The coffeemaker finished with a hiss. I got up, eager for the distraction. Id never given it much thought, but the tattoos that Weres decorated themselves with had a real and significant purpose. They probably prevented hundreds of skirmishes and potential injuries, allowing the multitude of packs that lived in Cincy to get along with minimal friction.
Okay, I said slowly, pouring out the coffee into his mug first. What were you thinking of? I dont want a tattoo. The damn things hurt!
Clearly pleased, David took a mug when I came back and offered it. Theyve put their heads together and came up with something with you in mind.
Images of broomsticks and crescent moons danced in my head, and I cringed.
The Were leaned forward, the pleasant scent of musk giving away his eagerness. A dandelion, but with black fluff instead of white.
Oh, cool, I thought, and seeing my reaction, David smiled with one side of his mouth. I take it thats okay, then? he asked, blowing across his coffee.
I suppose I ought to get one, too? I asked, worried.
Unless you want to be rude, he admonished gently. They put a lot of thought into it. It would mean a lot to them if you would.
A breath of guilt wafted through me, and I hid it behind a gulp of scalding coffee. I hadnt done much with Serena and Kally. Maybe we could get our tattoos together. Oh, God, Im going to be a hundred and sixty with a flower on my ass.
You, ah, said I dont have a coffee date? I said, changing the subject. What do you know that I dont?
David nodded to a scrap of paper in the middle of the table, and I pulled it closer. Jenks let me in before he headed off for his nap, he said. Matalina
His words drifted to nothing, and I looked up from Jenkss note. What about her?
Shes fine, he said, easing my worry. But she was going to bed early, and there was no need for him to stay up to man the door if I was here, so I told him to go.
I nodded and turned my attention back to the note, uneasy about Matalina, but glad that Ivy and I had broken Jenks of answering the phone without taking a message. According to the note, Marshals interview had been moved from tonight to this morning, and he wanted to know if we could get together at about three instead. Plenty of time to do something before Al started gunning for me after sundown. There was a number, and I couldnt help but smile. Below it was another number with the cryptic message JOB, and Jenkss reminder that rent was due on Thursday the first, not Friday the second or Monday the fifth.
I should get home, David said softly as he rose and took another gulp from his mug. Hat in hand, he said, Thanks for the coffee. Ill let Serena and Kally know you like their idea.
Um, David, I said, and I saw his brow crease at the sound of Ivy moving about. Do you think theyd mind if I went with them when they got their tattoos?
His sun-darkened face broke into a smile, the faint wrinkles about his eyes deepening in pleasure. I think theyd like that. Ill ask them.
Thanks, I said, and he jumped at a bumping sound from Ivys room. Youd better get going unless you want to be here when she gets up.
He was silent as his face reddened. Ill lope in to work later and check out the recent claims for possible demon damage. There wont be anyone in two days before Halloween, so I wont have to explain myself.
This isnt illegal, is it? I asked suddenly. Ive gotten you in enough trouble as it is.
Davids smile was easy and a bit devilish. No, he said, shrugging with one shoulder. But why draw attention to yourself? Dont worry about it. If someone in Cincy is summoning demons, any claims will be odd enough to be flagged for investigation. At least youll know then if its a local threat. Help you narrow your suspects.
I drew my coffee closer and slumped into the hard chair. Thanks, David. I appreciate it. If I can shut down the guy summoning Al, then I wont have to take Minias up on his offer. I didnt want a demons summoning name, especially Als. Unusable or not.
A sliver of worry slipped between my thought and reason, and I forced my smile to be light, but David saw it. Coming closer, he put a small but powerful hand on my shoulder. Well get him. Dont do anything with that demon. Promise?
I winced, and David sighed when I didnt say anything. There was a soft creak of a door opening, and David started like a deer. Ill, uh, bring Jenkss sweats back later, okay? he muttered, then grabbed his hat and almost ran for the back door, red faced, as I chuckled.
Still smiling, I stretched for the phone and brought Jenkss note with the number for the potential job closer. I wasnt going to work until after Halloween, but it would be nice to have something lined up for the first of the month. Besides, I didnt have anything else to do this afternoon but surf the Net for local demon sightings and bug Glenn for his findings.
And that, I thought as I reached for the phone, would only slow him down.
Six
The muffled thump, thump, thump of the rubber seal of the revolving door overtook the street noise and turned into the echoing sound of sporadic voices as I entered Carew Tower. It had grown warm, so Id left my coat in the car, deeming jeans and a sweater would be enough until the sun went downand Id be back in my church by then. Hoping I didnt lose my signal, I tried to catch what Marshal was saying as I held my phone to my ear and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.
Im really sorry, Rachel, Marshal said, sounding embarrassed. They asked me to come in early when someone canceled, and it wasnt like I could say no.
No, its okay, I said, glad I was my own boss, even if my boss was an idiot sometimes. Stepping inside, I shifted out of the foot traffic and took my sunglasses off. I had an errand come up, so this might work out better anyway. You want to grab a coffee at Fountain Square? Three is good. Not breakfast, not lunch. A nice, safe hour with no expectations attached. The only thing is I have to be back on hallowed ground by sunset, I added, remembering. Ive got a demon gunning for me until I can figure out whos sending him to kill me and knock some sense into him or her.
As soon as I said it, I couldnt help but wonder if I was trying to drive him away. But Marshal laughed, quickly sobering when he realized I was serious. Uh, how are your interviews going? I asked to break the uncomfortable silence.
Ask me in a few hours. He groaned softly. Ive got two more people to meet. I havent kissed so much ass since I accidentally knocked a customer off the dock.
I chuckled, my gaze rising across the busy lobby to the signs directing people to the elevators. My smile ended with a flash of guilt, then I got mad at myself. I could laugh, damn it. Laughing was not saying I had cared for Kisten less. He had loved to make me laugh.
Maybe we should try tomorrow instead, Marshal said softly, as if he knew why I was suddenly silent.
Tucking my shades into my bag, I headed for the express elevators. I was meeting a Mr. Doemoe at the observation deck. Some people just love the cloak and dagger. Theres a coffee cart at Fountain Square, I suggested with a bitter resolve. I can do this, damn it. It was right next to a hot dog cart. Kisten had liked hot dogs. A memory hit mean image of Kisten in his snappy pin-striped work suit, leaning casually next to me against the huge planters at Fountain Square, smiling as he caught a drop of mustard from the corner of his mouth, the wind ruffling his hair and him squinting from the sun. I felt my stomach cave. God, I cant do this!
Marshals voice intruded. Sounds great. First one there buys. I take a grande with three sugars and a hint of cream.
Black, straight up, I said, almost numb. Hiding in my church because of heartache was worse than hiding there because of a demon, and I didnt want to be that person.
Fountain Square it is, Marshal said. Ill see you then.
You got it, I replied as I passed the security desk. And good luck! I added, remembering what he was doing today.
Thanks, Rachel. Bye.
I waited until I heard the phone disconnect, then whispered, Bye, before shutting the phone and tucking it away. This was harder than I had thought it would be.
My melancholy trailed behind me like a shadow as I went down the short hall, my thoughts slowly turning to the upcoming client meeting. The roof, I thought, rolling my eyes. Honestly, Mr. Doemoe had sounded like a mouse of a man when I called him earlier to set this up. Hed refused to come to the church, and I hadnt been able to tell by phone if he was nervous because he was a human asking a witch for help or if he was just worried that someone was out to get him. Whatever. The job couldnt be that bad. I had told Jenks to stay home since it was simply an interview. Besides, I was running errands, and dragging Jenks around when I went to the post office and FIB building was a major waste of his time.
My trip to the FIB had been productive, and I now had information on my original three witches plus an additional one from this mornings obituaries. Apparently two of the recently dead witches knew each other, seeing as they had joint prior arrests for the crime of grave robbing. I thought it interesting that the arresting I.S. officer had been Tom Bansen, the same nasty little twerp who had tried to arrest me yesterday.
This was looking easier all the time. Tom had all the motive he needed to call a demon to take me outseeing as Id told him to shove his little demon-summoning club last year. He also had the knowledge to do it, being high up in the I.S.s Arcane Division. That in itself would make his demon-summoning hobby harder to trace and recruitment easy as hed run into all sorts of black-art witches eager to make a deal. David was still checking recent claims for me, and if any of them pointed to Tom, the I.S. officer and I were going to have a chat. We might have a chat anyway.
I really didnt think it was Nick sending Al after me. I mean, I had misjudged his character badly, but actively sending a demon to kill me? My gaze unfocused in the memory of our last conversation, and as I turned the corner, I saw one of the express elevator doors closing. Maybe I shouldnt have been so bitchy with him. He had sounded desperate.
Jogging forward, I called out for whoever was in the elevator to hold it. A weathered, sturdy hand gripped the door at the last moment to wedge it open. I darted inside the otherwise empty lift, turning to the man to give him a breathless Thanks. But my words caught in my throat and I froze.
Quen! I snapped, seeing the plague-scarred elf standing in the corner. He smiled without showing his teeth, and at the hint of amusement in his eyes, it all fell into place.
Oh, hell no, I said, looking for the elevator panel for a button to push, but he was standing in front of it. Youre Mr. Doemoe? Forget it. Im not working for Trent.
The older man hit the highest button, adjusted his weight, and clasped his hands before him. I wanted to talk to you. This was the easiest way.
You mean this is the only way, cause you know Id tell Trent he can shove his problem up an orifice, I said.
As professional as always, Ms. Morgan.
His gravelly voice was mocking, and knowing I was trapped here until we reached the upper floors, I slumped in the corner, not caring if I looked sullen for the cameras. I was sullen. I wasnt going to tap a line. You dont pull a gun unless youre going to use itand you dont tap a line in front of a master of ley line magic unless you want to be slammed up against the wall.
Quens smile faded. He appeared innocuous in his long-sleeved shirt and matching black pants, which looked vaguely like a uniform. Yeah, he was innocuous. Like black mamba innocuous. The man stood only a few inches taller than me in his flat, soft-soled shoes, but he moved with a liquid grace that put me on edge, as if he was able to see me react before I actually did. I was trapped in a tiny metal box with an elf skilled in martial arts and black ley line magic. Maybe I should be nice. At least until the doors open.
His complexion was marred by the scars a few Inderlanders had come away with from the Turn, and his roughened, dark skin only added to his presence. A vampire bite marked his neck, most of the white scar tissue hidden by his high black collar. Piscary had given the scar to him in anger, and I wondered how Quen was handling the new problem of having an unclaimed vampire bite, now that Piscary was truly dead. I had one, too, but Ivy would kill any vampire who broke my skin, and all of Cincy knew it. Quen didnt have any such protection. Perhaps the bite was why he wanted to talk to meif this wasnt about a run for Trent.
Quen was Trent Kalamacks eminently skilled security officer, one hundred percent deadly, though Id trust him with my life if he said hed watch my back. Trent was just as dangerous without having earned my trust, but he did his damage with words, not actionsa stinking politician at his best, a murderer at his worst. The financially successful, attractive, charismatic hunk of man flesh efficiently ran most of Cincinnatis underworld and the northern hemispheres illegal Brimstone trade. But what Trent could go to jail for besides being a murdering bastardfor which Id gotten him incarcerated for all of three hours a few months agowas his worldwide trade in illegal biodrugs. What really stuck in my craw was that I was alive because of them.
Id been born with a fairly common genetic defect among witches, Rosewood syndrome, where my mitochondria kicked out an enzyme my body determined was an invader, the result being that I should have died before the age of two. Because my dad had secretly been working closely with Trents dad trying to save his species at the time, Trents dad had tinkered with the genetic makeup of my mitochondria, modifying something just enough that the enzyme would be ignored. I truly believe that he hadnt known the enzyme was what allowed my blood to kindle demon magic, and I thanked God the only people who knew it were me and my friends. And Trent. And a few demons. And whatever demons they told. And whomever Trent told. And Lee, of course, the only other witch Trents dad had fixed.
Okay, so maybe it wasnt that good a secret anymore.
Trent and I were currently at an impasse, with me trying to put him in jail and him trying to buy my services or kill medepending on his moodand while I could bring the house down on him if I went public about his illegal biodrugs, Id probably end up in medical confinement in Siberiaor, worse yet, surrounded by salt water like Alcatrazand hed be back on the streets and campaigning for reelection in less time than it takes a pixy to sneeze. Thats just the kind of personal power the man had.
And it is really irritating, I thought, shifting my weight to my other foot as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
Immediately I got out and jabbed at the down button. No way was I going to go through the halls to the closet-size secondary elevator and up to the roof with Quen. I was impulsive, not stupid. Quen ghosted out as well, looking like a bodyguard as he stood in front of the elevator doors until they closed again.
My eyes went to the camera in the corner, its friendly red light blinking. Id stay there until another car arrived. Dont touch me, I muttered. There isnt enough money in the world for me to work for Trent again. Hes a manipulative, power-hungry, spoiled only-child who thinks hes above the law. And he kills people like a homeless man opens a can of beans.
Quen shrugged. Hes also loyal to those who have earned his trust, intelligent, and generous to those he cares about.
And those he doesnt care about dont matter. Hip cocked, I silently waited, getting more annoyed. Where in hell is the elevator?
I wish youd reconsider, Quen said, and I jerked back when he pulled an amulet from his sleeve. After giving me a high-eyebrow look, he turned a slow circuit, attention lightly fixed on the redwood disk glowing a faint green. It was probably a detection amulet of some kind. I had one that would tell me if there were any deadly spells in my vicinity, but Id quit wearing it when it kept triggering the anti-theft wards in the mall.
Apparently satisfied, Quen slid the amulet away. I need you to go into the ever-after to retrieve an elven sample.
I laughed at that, and anger flickered over the older man. Trent just got Ceris sample, I said, pulling my shoulder bag tight to me. Id think that would keep him busy for a while. Besides, you couldnt pay me enough to go into the ever-after. Especially not for a chunk of two-thousand-yearold dead elf.
One of the elevators behind me dinged, and I backed up to it, ready to make my escape.
We know where a tissue sample is. We just need to get it, Quen said, his gaze flicking behind me as the doors opened.
I backed into it, standing so he couldnt follow me. How? I said, feeling secure.
Ceri, he said simply, fear flashing in the back of his eyes.
The doors started to close, and I hit the open button. Ceri? I questioned, wondering if this was why I hadnt seen much of her lately. She knew I hated Trent, but she was an elf and he was an elfand seeing as she had been born into royalty and he was a zillionaire, it would be foolish to think that they hadnt had some contact the last few months, whether they liked each other or not.
Seeing my interest, Quen took a more confident stance. She and Trent have been having tea every Thursday, he said softly, sneaking a guilty glance at the hallway. You should thank her. Hes absolutely obsessed with her even as her demon smut terrifies him. I think thats part of the attraction, actually. But hes starting to consider that demon smut might not equal a bad person. She saved my relationship with him. She is a very wise woman.
She ought to be, seeing as she had over a thousand years of servitude to a demon. The doors started closing again, and I hit the button for a few more seconds. Everything went to hell when Trent found out you use black magic to protect him, eh?
Quen didnt shift, even maintaining his sedate breathing, but his very stillness told me I was right.
So? I said belligerently.
So hes starting to entertain the thought that you might be trustworthy, too. Will you at least consider it? We need the sample.
The reminder of my own demon-smut-laced soul bothered me, and I jabbed at the close button. No freaking way. Get back to me later, Quen. Like a hundred years later.
We dont have a hundred years, Quen said, desperation entering his voice. We have eight months.
Oh, shit.
I pushed myself into motion, my shoulder bag catching on the doors as I shoved my way past them. Quen had moved back. His lips were tightly pressed, as if he wished he hadnt had to say that to get me to listen. What do you mean, eight months? As in one less than nine?
Quen said nothing. Didnt even look at me. And I didnt dare touch him.
He got her pregnant? I exclaimed, not caring who heard me. The son of a bitch! The stinking son of a bitch!
I was so angry, I was almost laughing. Quens jaw had clenched so tight his pox scars stood out white and stark. Will you do it? he said stiffly.
I want to talk to Trent, I said. No wonder Ceri was avoiding me. The woman was recovering from a thousand years of demon servitude, and Trent goes and gets her pregnant! Where is he?
Shopping.
My eyes narrowed. Where?
Across the street.
He was shopping. A hundred to one it wasnt for baby booties or a car seat. Remembering Marshal and our coffee date, I glanced out the cloudy window to estimate the time. It couldnt be much past one oclock. Plenty of time. Unless this was a ruse and Trent was going to try to kill mein which case I might run a little late.
I hit the down button hard, and the elevator doors opened immediately. Shopping? He was shopping? After you, I said, and followed Quen into the lift.
Seven
The thin heat from the sidewalk vanished when I turned the corner and entered the shadow of tall buildings. Where is he? I said, holding my hair out of my face when I looked to Quen. He was beside and a little behind me, and it gave me the creeps.
The quiet, powerful man pointed with his eyes across the street, and when I followed his gaze, I felt a wash of apprehension. OTHER EARTHLINGS COSTUMER, INC. Holy crap, Trent was picking out a Halloween costume?
I pushed myself into motion and headed for the exclusive costumer. Well, why not? Trent had parties to go to like anyone else. Probably more of them. But Other Earthlings? You needed an appointment just to walk in, especially in October.
Hesitating at the curb, I felt Quens presence slide up behind me. Will you stop guarding me? I muttered, and Quen made a little start.
Sorry, he said, then hastened to catch up when I crossed in the middle of the street. I caught him glancing at the crosswalk and snickered. Yeah, me bad.
After a moments hesitation at the brass BY APPOINTMENT ONLY sign, I reached for the door only to have someone from inside pull it open. The doorman looked seriously brain-dead when I entered, but before I could say anything, an older woman in a crisp peach skirt and jacket click-clacked to us, the sound of her heels muffled when they found the thick white carpet. Im sorry. Were closed to walk-ins, the woman said, her face a mix of cool professionalism and polite disdain at my jeans and sweater. Would you like to make an appointment for next year?
My pulse quickened and I cocked my hip at her obvious but unspoken opinion that hell would freeze over before Id ever have enough money to buy even a complexion charm from them. I took a breath to demand to see their hair straighteners, knowing their claim to be able to straighten any hair wouldnt be able to touch mine, when Quen settled in behind me, too close for my comfort.
Oh! Youre with Mr. Kalamack? she said, only the faintest blush marring the aged whiteness of her complexion.
I glanced at Quen. Not really. Im Rachel Morgan, and Ive got something to say to Mr. Kalamack. I understand hes here?
The womans mouth dropped open, and she came forward to take my hands. Youre Alices daughter? she said breathlessly. Oh, I should have known. You look just like her, or you would if she wouldnt spell herself down. It is such a pleasure to meet you!
Excuse me? She was pumping my arm up and down enthusiastically, and when I looked at Quen, he seemed as mystified as me.
We dont have any openings today, sweetheart, she said, and I blinked at her familiarity. But let me talk to Renfold. Hell stay late for you. Your mothers straightening charms have saved our reputation too many times.
My mothers hair straighteners? I managed, grabbing her wrist and extraditing my hand from hers. I was going to have to talk to my mother. This was so not-good. Just how long had she been making bootleg charms?
The woman, Sylvia, according to a name tag outlined in green pearls, smiled and winked at me as if we were grand friends. You dont think youre the only person who has difficult-to-charm hair? she said, then reached to touch my hair fondly as if it were a thing of beauty, not a constant bother. I will never understand why no one is satisfied with what nature gives them. I think its wonderful that you appreciate yours.
Appreciate wasnt the right word, but I didnt want to stand here and discuss hair. Uh, I need to speak to Trent. Hes still here, right?
The womans surprise that I was on a first-name basis with the eminently eligible bachelor flashed across her face. She glanced at Quen, who nodded, and with a soft This way, please, she led us through the store.
I felt better now that we were moving, even if the staff was whispering as Sylvia led us along a wandering path through racks of scrumptious clothing. The store smelled wonderfully of expensive fabrics and exotic perfumes, plus the snap of ozone that said ley line charms were made and invoked here. Other Earthlings was an all-encompassing costumer, supplying the clothes, prosthetics as needed, and charms to make anyone into anyone else. They werent online, and the only way you could get their products was to make an appointment. I couldnt help but wonder what Trent was going for, costumewise.
Quen was behind me again, and Sylvia led us past a small back counter and to a short hall with four doors. They were set back like the entries to high-class hotel rooms, and from behind the last, I could hear Trents voice.
The soft murmur of it went right to my middle and twisted something. God, he had a beautiful voice: low, resonant, and rich with unexplored undertoneslike shadowed moss in the sun-dappled woods. I was certain his voice contributed to how well he did in the city electionsif the generous donations to underprivileged children and hospitals werent enough.
Clearly not hearing anything in Trents voice but words, Sylvia knocked smartly on the door and entered without waiting for an invitation. I hung back and let Quen go in ahead of me. I didnt like being burst in upon by rude salespeople, and they did sell clothes here. And while seeing Trent in his tighty-whities would make my decade, Id found out long ago that I couldnt stay mad at a man wearing nothing but underwear. They looked so charmingly vulnerable.
The rich smell of wool and leather struck deeper as I entered. The lights were low at the perimeter of the comfortably warm, low-ceilinged room, helping to hide the open cupboards filled with racks of costumes, hats, feathers, wings, and even tailsthings that ley line charms couldnt easily create. To my right in the shadows was a low table holding wine and cheese, to my left a tall screen. Smack in the middle and under can lights was an ankle-high round stage cradled in the lee of a trifold mirror. Low racks of amulets surrounded it, the wood structures having the smoothness and color of hundred-year-old ash. And in the center of it all was Trent.
He wasnt aware I was in the room, clearly trying to fend off the overenthusiastic attentions of the witch helping him try on ley line amulets. Beside him was Jon, his freakishly tall lackey, and I bristled, remembering him tormenting me when I had been a mink trapped in Trents office.
Trent frowned at his reflection and handed the clerk an amulet. His hair flashed back to its usual transparent whiteness that some children have, and the witch began babbling, deducing that he wasnt doing well. Trent was clean shaven and comfortably tan, with a smooth brow, green eyes, that gorgeous voice, and a cultivated laugh. A politician through and through. He wasnt much taller than me when I was in heels, wearing his thousand-dollar silk-and-linen suit with the VOTE FOR KALAMACK pin well. It accented his trim form, making me believe he actually got out and rode his race-winning horses more than once every new moon when he played The Huntsman in his fenced-in, old-growth planned forest.
He gave the witch a professional smile as he refused another amulet, his unworked hands gesturing smoothly. There were no rings on his fingers, and seeing as I broke up his wedding by arresting him, it was likely it would stay that way, unless he was going to make an honest woman of Ceri, which I doubted. Trent lived by appearances, and him publicly joining with a demons ex-familiar covered in smut any witch could see with their second sight probably didnt fit into his political agenda. He hadnt seemed to have a problem knocking her up, though.