Ever After (The Hollows #11)(118)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Son of a bitch . . ." I whispered, feeling the ring heavy on my finger. "This just keeps getting better and better."

"It was the only way you’d reinvoke them!" he said loudly. "Rachel, it’s my only chance of getting out from under Ku’Sox’s boot."

"What, so you can kill him?" I yelled, and Bis dug his claws deeper into the back of the chair, clearly upset.

"No." His face scrunched up in embarrassment, and he glanced from Quen to me. "Rachel, the slavers work both ways."

Confused, I set the water bottle down. "Excuse me?"

Quen cleared his throat, his voice cutting off as Trent raised his hand.

"Shut up, Quen," he muttered, shocking me. "I should have listened to my gut and included her in my decision from the first. We tried it your way, and it failed miserably. She isn’t a tool. If she was, it would have worked."

"W-what . . ." I stammered as he dug in his pocket, and my pulse hammered as he jiggled what had to be the master ring.

"I’m sorry, Rachel," he said as he took my wrist, lifting my hand to slide the master ring over the slaver. "I should have trusted you."

"Damn right you-" My voice cut off as the rings touched. A wash of heat flooded through me, and Bis opened his wings and made an odd burble of sound, clearly happy.

Still holding my hand, Trent shifted his grip to become more gentle, less possessive. I looked at my hand, seeing two rings on my finger. I was hardly breathing when Trent easily slid both the rings off.

"I’d rather be your slave than Ku’Sox’s," Trent said, and I wavered where I stood as he put both rings in my hand and curled my fingers over them.

Shocked, I looked up at him, seeing in his downcast expression his regret, his embarrassment, and his anger at himself. My distrust wavered, threatening to break apart like fog under the heat of truth. I needed to listen with my heart, not my hurt feelings.

"Sa’han," Quen pleaded, and Trent frowned as he turned away. Bis, though, beamed, the tip of his tail quivering.

"I was wrong," Trent said, and a flash of righteous hurt lit through me.

"Damn right you were wrong!"

"I should have told you."

The rings felt warm in my hand, and I clenched my fist tighter. "I know!"

Trent looked up, leaning slightly to keep his weight off his one foot. He looked tired, fatigued, and the barest hint of relief colored his eyes. "If I had a plan that included slavers, I should have told you so you could have made a more informed decision as to which rings you were going to reinvoke."

There was a lump in my throat, and I swallowed hard. He was becoming what his people needed, and I wasn’t part of that-except perhaps at the fringes, where a demon always was. "And?" I prompted, voice shaking.

"And I’m sorry," he said, the tiniest hint of pleading hidden behind his calm voice ringing through me. "I’ll do better next time."

Next time?

He reached across the small space between us, and as Quen quietly voiced his protest with a dramatic sigh, Trent turned my fist over and opened it up. His touch was warm on my wrist, and then my palm as he nudged the smaller slave ring from the other and . . . slipped it over his pinkie.

"Trent, no!" I said, reaching out, but he hid his hand behind his back, his eyes daring me to try to take it. "What are you doing?"

Determination tightened the corners of his mouth, and he stood poised as if surprised that nothing had changed. But then it wouldn’t until someone claimed the master ring. Quen’s head was down, and I wondered if this was Trent’s perverted way of saying he was sorry. That if I could take being a slave, he could, too.

"We need to try it again," Trent said, and I closed my hand when he reached for the master ring.

"I’m not putting that thing on," I said, face hot as I backed away. "Even if it is the dominant one. It’s foul. It needs to be destroyed."

"I couldn’t agree with you more." Trent’s confidence was a thin shadow. He was scared. I could see it, and still he came forward and pulled my arm out from behind me. "But if you dominate me with the old, very wild magic that you rekindled, Ku’Sox can’t force me to be his familiar."

Quen dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. Hesitating, I squinted at Trent, gauging his resolve in the slant of his eyes. My fingers twitched, and I let him open my palm. "Really?"

"I think so. That was my first idea. Quen wanted to try it the other way first. It was the only way he would arrange for Riffletic’s rings to be pulled. That was a bad idea. That, and not including you in my-our-decision."

I shivered as he touched my shoulder, his other hand still cradling mine with the ring. Was he serious, or just trying to make me not so mad at him?

"You are not a tool, Rachel. I’ve never thought of you that way."

I broke eye contact, staring at the ring instead. "You should have told me," I said, only realizing now that I’d forgiven him already. I was so stupid. But he was right. Al had said Trent was the better match. With Trent’s help, I could do this. We could do this.

His hand fell from me, and Trent took the suit jacket that Quen stoically handed him. "Yes, I know," he said as he let it drop and took up the lab coat instead.

I felt Bis move before he shifted a wing, and I stood waiting when he made the short hop to me, landing upon my shoulder, his tail curving across my back and up under my arm. It was a far more secure position than around my neck, and I let the awful horror of the lines race through me. There was a hint of purity in them, and it gave me hope.

"Where to?" Trent asked, and I slipped the master ring onto my finger.

Trent’s knees buckled, and both Quen and I reached for him. "My God!" Trent gasped, as he caught himself against the desk, a hand to his forehead.

"Sorry," I whispered, trying to be as innocuous and undemanding as I could. Bis’s tail tightened, and I wondered if some of it might be the lines, though he’d felt them through Bis before.

Eyes watering, Trent gestured for Quen to back off. "The lines are . . . indescribably awful," Trent managed, pulling himself to his full height, looking shaken but undeterred.

"That’s why the gargoyles are upset," I said as I linked my arm in his, and he started. "If you don’t like it, you can bubble your thoughts. You think it’s bad now, you should have heard it before Bis fixed your line."

"Can we go?" Bis almost whined. "The sooner we fix another, the better I’ll feel."

I took a deep breath and nodded my farewell to Quen. The sun would be up far too soon. I had to finish it by then. "Then by all means, let’s go."