A Perfect Blood (The Hollows #10)(88)
Author: Kim Harrison

Then there was silence. Slowly the wonderful scent of coffee slipped into me.

My breath went in and out, and I looked up to see that we were in Trent’s office. The fake sun was coming in the huge video screen showing this year’s foals standing to take in the last of the warming rays, but it felt warm on my feet and looked real enough to me. Trent was sitting behind his desk, his feet up on his daily planner, his fingers steepled as he watched me, a curious tilt to his head, his fair hair almost in his eyes. Between us on a wooden tray was a pot of what had to be coffee and two empty cups with the Kalamack logo ghosted in silver.

"Are you okay? You kind of spaced out." He put his feet on the floor and leaned over the desk, an excitement I’d never seen before sparking in his eyes, making them almost . . . mischievous? "I’ve never said that before. Spaced out. But that’s exactly what you did."

Still feeling numb, I looked at the carafe of coffee, then my silver bracelet, the Mobius strip with Latin etched into it wrapped around me, shining in the sun. "Did I?"

My voice trailed off as he got to his feet and came around to the front of the desk, his motions still having a quick edge. "You started to go into shock. I thought my office would be better than a roomful of helpful Ceri." He hesitated. "Unless you want her in on this, too?"

Having her here would be like asking someone else to take my bullet. No. I was done with that, and I shook my head as he poured two cups and offered me the first. It wasn’t the shock of injury, but the realization that the bracelet was going to come off, that everything was going to change. I was going to be a demon for real, the power, the responsibility . . . If people were going to die from my decisions, it would no longer be because I was too afraid to act. But to kill someone . . . I didn’t know if I could do that. I desperately didn’t want to be that person.

The sound of the coffee chattering into the second cup was loud as I brought mine to my lips, my hands shaking. The mug was warm in my fingers, and the coffee slipped into me, both bitter and rich, shocking me awake. "Thank you," I said softly as he sat back on the edge of his desk with his own cup.

He inclined his head slightly, looking as fabulous as ever, more appealing than before because I had no idea what he was going to do, what he was capable of.

"Don’t do that," I said, my gaze going everywhere but to him.

"Do what?" He sipped from his mug, one long leg draping to the floor, the other pulled up slightly.

"Sit on your desk and look sexy."

Trent hesitated. Clearing his throat, he slipped from the desk, fidgeting as he looked at his chair, behind his desk. It was obvious he didn’t want to sit there, and looking somewhat sheepish, he used his foot to shift one of the leather chairs in front of his desk so that it faced me more fully. "I’ve never sat in one of my own chairs before," he said as he eased back into it, slowly, as if testing it out. His eyes roved over his desk, taking it in from a new point of view. He might not have any idea what it meant to me – that he wasn’t behind his desk and in a position of power – but then again, he probably did.

More nervous yet, I held my coffee with two hands and sipped, afraid of what was coming.

"You’re ready?" Trent said, and I flicked a glance at him.

Crap, he looked even sexier now, more relaxed, more accessible – more off-limits. I swallowed my coffee and rested the cup against me, warming my middle. "Yes." My voice didn’t even quaver, but I was a wreck inside. Al was going to take me. He was going to take me and stick me in a little box. And that was if I was lucky. This was a dumb idea.

"Mmm." His foot was twitching, and he stilled it as he saw me notice. "I have a room set up. Lots of circles, protection. We should break the charm now before the sun goes down so we have a chance to prepare for him popping over."

My breath came fast. If we waited, Ceri would get involved. "No."

"No?" I felt his eyes land on me, his almost subliminal fidgeting stop as he probably weighed his chances of changing my mind. Sighing, he stretched for his phone. "Give me a moment, then. I’ll get some charms sent up that might contain him for a few moments – "

Alarm was a wash of adrenaline, waking me up almost more than the coffee. I might never see Ivy or Jenks again . . . "We’re not going to trap him when he shows."

"You’re joking."

We, I thought, my pulse quickening. I had said "we," and it had sounded right. Scooting my rolling chair back, I looked up at him, breathless. Trent had a ley line running through his office. I’d used it once to find the resting site of a murder victim in his stables. I could see and talk to Al through a ley line even if the sun was up – and duck out of it if he tried to abduct me. "Am I in it?" I asked him, knowing he understood when his frown turned severe.

"No. Rachel – "

"How about now?" I said, shifting backward. I could feel nothing from the line, and I suddenly wanted the bracelet off, knowing it for the manacle it was. How had I allowed this? Was I so thoroughly ruled by fear? Oh God. My mom . . .

"No." Trent stood, and I rocked him to a halt with a raised hand.

"I promised Al . . ." I said, my voice catching when it rose. Taking a steadying breath, I tried again. "I promised Al that I wouldn’t ever summon him into a circle," I said, my voice low to keep it from breaking. "Trust is going to keep him calm long enough to listen."

Almost laughing in disbelief, Trent put all his weight on one foot. "I thought you were going to be smart about this," he said, calm but mocking as he stood before me in his thousand-dollar suit. "Nothing is going to keep him calm. He’s a demon. You can’t trust him."

"You’re asking their entire species to trust you to give them a cure, not a death sentence," I said, then glanced at the closed door and the knock that Trent ignored. "I won’t let you offer them a cure in a way that prevents them from accepting it." Trent was scowling, and I shrugged. "Look, I understand if you want to leave the room and let me handle it."

"I’m not chickening out," he said, affronted as he just about read my mind. "I’m pointing out that a little preparation will make the difference in walking or limping away from this. Why are you making this difficult?"

I extended my coffee to him, and he took the half-empty mug as if unsure of what it meant. "Even with the promise of a cure, you’ve grossly overestimated our chances," I said matter-of-factly, shaking inside. "I’d prefer to contact Al immediately after taking the charm off, but if you can take it off for me right now, I’ll wait and call him when I get home. He’ll probably sense me and be waiting for me in the line by then." I’m never going to make this work. Never.