Pale Demon (Page 16)

Chapter Sixteen

The sun was almost up, and I stretched beside the car in the brightening, predawn damp, feeling all the bruises that I'd gotten in Margaritaville. There weren't many people around this time of day, either Inderlanders or humans, and a quiet hush held our voices down. It was either that or we were all too numb to say anything. Here among the buildings, the fog had retreated, but the glimpse I got of the bay on the way in said that it would be a while before it lifted and I'd get a glimpse of Alcatraz.

Squinting up at the brightening sky, I breathed deep to bring in the scent of salt, old garbage, exhaust, and the sticky smell of the petunias in the huge planters outside the hotel. The air felt slippery from the salt, and I shifted my shoulders as if trying to fit in a new skin. The hotel stretching above us looked nice, I guess. Ivy had made the reservations, so it would have to be. Trent had a room here, too, which was convenient. He was currently with Vivian and the doorman. I lifted my bag out of the trunk, then Trent's. Ivy already had her bag, and was heading in, the small carry-on rolling quietly behind her. I hurt all over, and I set the bags down with a click of plastic.

"Jenks, stay close," I said when I caught sight of the pixies tending the huge flowerpots. They looked almost militant. A traveling pixy was almost as rare as a sole traveling vampire.

Jenks darted from me to prove he wasn't scared, the overhead light glinting on his sword. "God, it feels good to be at sea level," he said, facing the unseen bay. "Smell that?"

I winced, my thoughts drifting to Alcatraz. It seemed a whole lot more real that I might end up there now. "Sure. Nice." But it did feel good to get out of the car. "You want to go in and check the lobby for lethal charms?" It might be overkill, but we did have reservations, and I wouldn't put it past the coven to hit me here-seeing that Vivian had ridden almost the entire way with us and they probably didn't want a credible witness to my death.

Giving me a thumbs-up, he followed Trent inside when the doorman returned to his station to call a cab for Vivian. She was staying down on the bay with the rest of the coven in someone's house. Glancing at Pierce, who was standing alone and looking like a doorman himself with his vest and hat, she came up to me, smiling.

"I don't know if I should thank you or not," she said, her purse over her shoulder. Her hair was mussed and her clothes were wrinkled. She was far away and distant from the trendy, polished coven member I remembered from the grocery store this last spring. The confidence was still there, though.

She stuck out her hand, and I took it, feeling an odd sense of peace when her small fingers met mine. "I'll say it, then," I said. "Thank you. For helping." Hesitating, I pulled my attention from Pierce trying to talk to the hotel pixies. "I'm glad you saw everything."

Vivian squinted as she ran a hand over her tangled, car-trip hair. "I have to tell them."

I nodded, thinking she looked positively bedraggled. "Good. Maybe they'll begin to understand the inherent problems in shunning black magic to the point of ignorance."

My gaze went to Pierce. I didn't know what to think anymore. My world had gone from black and white to shades of gray a long time ago, and there were no answers, easy or otherwise. I couldn't condemn Pierce for trying to kill Al by using magic unless I condemned myself for having tried to kill Ku'Sox with the same. Sure, Ku'Sox was bad, but so was Al. That Al was important to me wasn't a good enough reason. Everyone was important to someone.

A deep breath went in and out of Vivian, and she couldn't meet my eyes. "They're afraid. Hell, Rachel, I'm afraid. We're at such a disadvantage. They're going to want to bury everything and hope we don't have to deal with it for another generation."

My gaze flicked back to Pierce. It worked last time. Why try anything new?

Clearly having heard her, Pierce turned, a mix of determination and irritation on his face. "That's what I've abided by all along, and look where it got me."

Hands in her pockets, Vivian shrugged. She was one of six and the youngest.

I carefully lifted my bridesmaid's dress out and shut the trunk with a thump, hearing the solid sound echo. It was as if the world was still asleep, here on the verge of a new day. "They should be afraid," I said as I draped the dress over my arm. "It's not going to go away. They have to do something." I hesitated, hoisting my duffel bag in my free hand. "Besides giving me a lobotomy, that is."

Vivian rocked back as her cab pulled up and the doorman opened the door for her. "Well, thank you," she said, chuckling ruefully. "It's been an education." Her gaze went to Pierce, now standing beside me and trying to take my suitcase. "If I don't get the chance to see you alone again, good luck."

Good luck. I'd need it. "Oh! Wait!" I said as she started to turn away, and I let Pierce take my bag, then made him hold my dress, too. "I've got something for you," I said, head down as I rummaged in my shoulder bag.

Vivian paused, and I held my breath in annoyance until my searching fingers found the little Mobius-strip pin. "This is yours," I said as I handed it over, feeling flustered for some reason. "I didn't magic it or anything. I thought you might want it back. Seeing as you don't have one...anymore."

A huge smile spread across her face as she took it, pleasure and real gratitude in her expression. "Thanks," she said softly, her smooth fingers curving over the pin possessively. "I'll probably have to give it up because you touched it, but thank you. Brooke-" Her words broke off and her gaze dropped. "Brooke gave me hell for losing it."

There were new wrinkles at the corners of her eyes when she looked up, and a deep sadness. Leaning forward, she gave me a hug, her fist holding her pin, pressing hard into my back. She wasn't very tall, and I was again struck by how someone so slight could be so powerful.

"Thanks," she whispered as she stepped back, her eyes flicking to mine as if embarrassed. She had smelled like redwood, and I wondered if she had sensed the stink of burnt amber on me when she turned and headed for her cab, her eyes unable to meet mine.

The door thumped shut behind her, and she waved, looking worried as the car pulled away. The sound of the engine was muffled in the rising fog, and it was just Pierce and me standing outside a squat hotel in the middle of San Francisco, the doorman waiting for the keys so he could park my mom's car.

Pierce had my stuff, so I handed the attendant my keys along with a couple of bills, and the guy thanked me, his suspicions easing. Pierce's eyes widened at the amount, but he was probably still running on eighteenth-century gratuities, and I don't think a nickel would have done it. The car vanished in the same way as the first, and I looked at the hotel, almost losing my balance as I ran my eyes up to the brightening sky. The thought of earthquakes slipped through me, and I took my garment bag back from Pierce. It would be just like the coven to destroy an entire building to get to me.

My lethal-amulet detector hung conspicuously from the side of my bag as I headed to the double doors with my dress over my arm. It felt like I was entering a war zone.

A minor shiver lifted through my aura as I passed over the threshold, and my shoulders dropped. Pierce grunted as he felt it, too, and I was guessing it was a rather expensive calming charm, temporary, to be sure, but effective.

"This looks nice," I said as I looked over the deep reception/living room designed in solid blocks of color that were rich and sophisticated. The ceilings weren't that high, but they were decorated to hide the retrofitted earthquake support. To my right was the reception desk where the night clerk was talking to Ivy. Trent was standing before it chatting amicably to the manager. He must have been dropping hundred-dollar bills again because the man in the suit was almost bowing and scraping. Ivy, though, was having trouble, clearly not happy with the woman behind the desk. Jenks was snarling something at her, a red dust pooling on her keyboard.

"Trouble," Pierce muttered as he set my bag down and put his hands behind his back, feet spread wide as he scanned the place.

"Of course there's trouble," I said as Ivy stepped from the desk. Her eyes were black, and her motions were edging into that eerie vampiric quickness. Jenks's wings were clattering in anger, and I sighed, knowing what was coming.

"They lost our reservation!" Jenks shrilled. "The Tink-blasted hotel didn't hold the room. 'So sorry,'" he said in a high falsetto. "'Nothing we can do.' We drove two thousand miles, and we don't have a room! No one in the city does because of the convention!"

Ivy's lips were pressed tight, her anger in check. Las Vegas must have helped. "I made that reservation through Rynn Cormel's secretary," she complained.

"It was a good thought," I said as I tried to think, but I was too numb. "We'll find something." A park bench. Maybe the parking lot of the local Wally World. Yeah, that'd be safe. I could wear my bridesmaid's dress and fit right in with the kooks.

Trent ambled our way, a hotel envelope in his hand. He looked too satisfied to live. The manager with him scooped up my bag, and I felt a surge of adrenaline when he dropped it on the luggage trolley with Trent's. My protest died, though, when Trent smiled that infuriating smile of his and handed both Ivy and me a plastic key. "Ready to go up?" he asked pleasantly.

Ivy closed her eyes in a long blink, then tossed her bag onto the trolley, keeping her smaller computer bag right where it was, over her shoulder.

"Sweet mother of Tink," Jenks swore. "What did you do? Buy the place?"

"Something like that," Trent said, his smooth, suave demeanor slipping back even if he was still in jeans and a casual top. "You don't have a room because I booked the top floor for us. Can we hurry up about it? I have an appointment. I'm already late."

In Seattle, I thought, starting for the elevators when the manager, still blathering at Trent about parking and how to call for a car, pointed them out. The calming spell took hold again, and my tension slipped away.

"Thank you, Trent," I said as I hung my garment bag on the trolley and fingered the little plastic card. It was small for the amount of grief it had just saved us. "I don't know how you do it. I mean, I know, but how? They know we're together."

Trent angled in front of Ivy to push the elevator button, and I smiled. I hadn't known he was a button pusher. Jenks was, too. I couldn't care less who hit the buttons as long as we got there. "I bought the place last year," Trent admitted, then turned to look past me to the lobby. "This is nice. I should come out here more."

Jenks and Pierce were with the bellhop, who was clearly not going to accompany us but would take our stuff up through a secondary elevator. The elevator before us opened to show a lift the size of my closet. Earthquakes, I thought, balking.

"Rachel," Pierce said loudly, interrupting my sudden panic attack. "Jenks and I will mind the plunder, er, luggage. There's not enough room in the lift nohow."

I stifled a shudder as I minced into the elevator. "Okay," I said, not wanting two more bodies in here anyway, even if one could fly. "See you up there." Just get me up there and out of this box, I thought as the doors slid shut again. I wasn't claustrophobic, and I didn't mind elevators. Where was this coming from?

Trent reached past Ivy to push the topmost button, and I caught a whiff of cinnamon, heavy in the cramped quarters. The car shook as the gears shifted, and we headed up, far too slowly for my liking. I breathed deep, watching the light move.

Beside me, Ivy's eyes flashed black. She edged away from me as Trent chuckled. "I didn't know you were afraid of elevators, Rachel," he said, his voice holding a light mockery.

"I'm not," I said as I gave Ivy a worried look. My thoughts flashed back to Kisten and our first kiss in an elevator, and she pretty much flung herself into the corner, not knowing what I was thinking but tasting the memory of fear and desire flooding me. Better and better, I thought as Trent looked between us, amused.

"It's not the elevator, it's the coven," I added when the elevator finally dinged. I held my breath as I waited forever for the doors to open, but it was Ivy who was first out, brushing past me in a spicy wave of vampire incense that made me quiver.

Trent leaned in, whispering, "It's when I'm gone that you're going to have to be careful."

Oh, really? I thought, my attention on the brightly patterned carpet as I stepped from the elevator into the hallway, slowly, so it didn't look like I was bolting.

"We're on the end, there," Trent was saying as he checked his envelope, but Ivy again was ahead of us, steps fast as she strode to the end of the short hall where the big window looked out onto a fire escape. She tried the last door, and I could hear her sigh when it opened. She was inside and gone before Trent and I were even halfway down the corridor. Either she had some intestinal problem she had to take care of or my fear in the elevator combined with the memory of Kisten had hit her hard.

It felt funny walking down the hallway with Trent, both of us carrying the small items we thought were too important to risk coming up on the trolley. I caught glimpses of us in the long mirrors set next to the occasional door, looking like fake windows, and again I was struck by the idea that we were with each other but not together. Like the night on the boat when it had blown up under us, and we were the only two to survive-Trent because I had made a protective bubble around us by using the connection made through his familiar, and then me because he'd pulled my frozen ass out of the Ohio River and kept me from dying of hypothermia.

But now, as we walked down the hallway, there was a new awareness-not of kinship, but an understanding. And it made me nervous even as it was...comforting.

"Hey, Rache!" came Jenks's hail from behind us, and the rattle of the trolley as Pierce helped the bellhop at the distant end of the hall. "Top floor," Jenks said proudly. "We're in the penthouse suite. Where's Ivy?"

"Inside already," I said, and Trent ran his card and held the door open for me.

Jenks darted in, and I followed, eager to see what a penthouse suite looked like. Nice. I think the word would be "nice." Or really nice. I'd go as far as friggin' nice.

"Wow," I whispered, stopping somewhere in the middle of what I'd probably call a living room, arranged with two couches facing each other, a coffee table in between decorated with stuff to make it homey and inviting. To my right was a small kitchen, a bar with three stools making a pleasant place to eat if the small table in it wasn't enough. There were fruit and cold cuts laid out, and bread-fresh, by the smell of it. I think the maid had baked it in the oven while she tidied the place.

Looking past the living room, I could see a second living room with a bank of windows. It was on a platform and looked more plush and comfortable. There was a huge TV between the two rooms that seemed to rotate on a swivel. A wet bar took up one side of the upper living room, and it all looked out on a spectacular view of the bay. I hadn't realized we were up so high in the hills, and though it was still foggy, I could see the tops of the bridge poking through. A room with a view-of Alcatraz.

Trent dropped his small satchel on the coffee table. "This is pleasant," he said, gaze darting to the closed doors off the raised living room, which had to be the bedrooms, not closets. "Better than roadside hotels, anyway."

I would have gotten angry with him, but he was smiling, probably remembering that nasty shower I'd dragged him out of, and I couldn't help but wonder what the bathroom here was like. I was betting nice.

Trailing a silver dust, Jenks buzzed out of one room and tucked under the door of another. Ivy's faint shout to leave filtered in, and Jenks darted back into the living room. In an instant, he was at the windows, checking things out. At least we knew where Ivy was.

"I'd just about kill for a shower," I said as the trolley rattled in, Pierce holding the door for it. His eyes widened upon seeing the room, and he stumbled out of the bellhop's way.

In a burst of noise, Ivy's door was flung open. The bellhop's spiel faltered as she strode forward, grabbed her bag, and then vanished behind her door again. I flopped onto the couch with my back to the window, my gaze going to the second bedroom. I'd be willing to bet Trent would claim it even if he wasn't going to be here tonight-off doing his little elf-quest...thing.

"She's a little cranky," Jenks said, distracting the bellhop, who looked more than a bit startled as he turned from hanging my garment bag in the front closet.

"Dialing zero will get you the front desk," the bellhop started again, glancing from Trent to Pierce and then to me, clearly trying to match us up before attempting to move any more luggage. Trent's bag was headed in with Ivy until Trent cleared his throat and-sure enough-claimed the second room with little more than a nod.

"I guess I've got a couch," I said, and the bellhop simply emptied the trolley and left the luggage in the entryway. Jenks was still checking the place out, and Pierce had joined him, whistling when he found the bathroom, next to the kitchen.

"Will there be anything else, Mr. Kalamack?" the bellhop was asking when Trent bodily took him by the elbow and delicately propelled him to the door.

"Privacy," Trent said, leaving him at the door and going back for the trolley. "No deliveries. Leave them at the desk. No turn-down service. No incoming calls, except from me. A table for dinner would be pleasant, say about ten. Family style if at all convenient. Chef's choice. Heavy on the vegetables. No deep-fried anything. It's been a long trip."

"Yes, sir," the man was saying, now in the hall with the trolley. "Thank you, sir!" he added when Trent handed him a folded bill. "Welcome home, Mr. Kalamack."

Smiling and nodding, Trent shut the door in his face. He waited until the faint sound of the trolley creaking away came through the door, and then he sighed, his shoulders slumping for all of three seconds before he pulled them back up.

I could hear Pierce trying out the faucets in the bathroom, and I smiled as I draped my arms across the top of the couch. "This is nice."

Trent flashed me a look. Picking up his smaller bag, he headed for his room. "Excuse me," he said, and I would have been hurt but for the reminder that though I could relax for a while, his quest was just starting. He'd given himself three seconds to relax. That was it. Three.

From the bathroom, Pierce said, "You could wash a cow in here."

"Look, Rache," Jenks said from the windows behind me. "You can see that bridge they're always yammering about. Huh, it's not that big. The one Nick drove off is way bigger. Hey! Look! There's an island."

Oh, great. The fog had lifted. "Alcatraz?" I said, turning to see, but he'd darted to my bag, landing on it with his hands on his hips, wings moving so fast I couldn't see them. My shoulder hurt from yesterday, and I gingerly felt it. I had a pain amulet in my luggage, but it wouldn't work here. Maybe they had aspirin in the lobby.

"I gotta get changed," Jenks said as he slipped into the pocket that had been designated as his. "Trent wanted to leave, like, five minutes ago."

Pierce came out of the bathroom, immediately going into the kitchen and opening the cupboards to see what there was. In a burst of silver dust, Jenks popped from my bag. "You going to be okay here with Mr. Adventure?"

My gaze slid to Pierce, then back to Jenks. "Go have fun. Don't let him kill you, 'kay?"

Jenks nodded, then tossed his head to get his long, curly hair out of his eyes. In a flash of dust, he had darted into Trent's bedroom with a wad of clothes. I hadn't seen him this excited about a run since Matalina died, and it was depressing in a happy way.

I wasn't too keen on Jenks leaving. Every time he did, I got into trouble. That everyone would think Trent was still in the room might buy me some time-as long as I didn't leave, either. But there were worse places to be a prisoner. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I stood, my gaze drawn to the window and the newly exposed bay.

Yep, there it was. I stood for a moment, twenty feet back from the window, and just looked at the dark blob that was Alcatraz.

The small clink of Pierce at the wet bar caught my attention, and I moseyed over to the kitchen. A little sandwich of overpriced crackers and cheese would wake up my appetite, and I made four of them. "Oh, this is 'ood," I said around my full mouth, salivating as the salt and bite of the cheese hit the sides. "Pierce, you've got to try the white cheese. It's sharp."

Pierce gave me a noncommittal mmm, and I headed for Trent's room with my napkin of goodies. I didn't know where Trent wanted to be dropped. If I left it up to Al, he might leave them on top of the needle-the outside of the needle.

Trent's door wasn't shut, and I tapped on it with my knuckle. "Trent?"

I heard a buzz of pixy wings, and then Trent's distant "Come in."

It had come from somewhere deeper in the room, and after brushing the cracker crumbs off, I pushed open the door. "Hey, Trent. Where do you...Wow, this is nice."

If the living room and kitchen were well appointed, the bedroom was opulent, with more pillows on the bed than we had in the entire church. Wallpaper and metal appliques disguised the retrofit for the earthquakes, and I'd be willing to bet the canopy over the bed was sturdy enough to handle more than dust. I ate another cracker sandwich, wondering where Trent was until I heard him talking to Jenks from a room off this one.

"Trent?" I called, not wanting to walk in on him in his skivvies.

"In here."

Having that as an invitation, I crossed the room, feeling the deeper carpet and noticing the lack of even a hint of an echo. It felt nice in here. The first room I peeked into was an office, but the second was clearly a bathroom. "You decent?" I asked, hesitating at the door.

"Depends on who you ask."

Rolling my eyes, I stepped over the threshold, my toes edging the tile work. Trent didn't look up from where he was standing over a sink, leaning toward the mirror to apply something to his face. He'd changed out of his jeans, and I hesitated, drinking him in with my eyes. Damn.

He was in a skintight black two-piece of spandex and cotton. Not only that, but he was wearing it extremely well, and I stood for a moment and just appreciated what he usually hid behind his suit and tie, all lean muscle and long lines. His fair hair was slicked back, and the slightly darker color and flat look changed his entire appearance, making him look less professional boardroom and more professional bad boy. A utility belt rested on the counter, holding what were probably thief tools.

Hovering at his eye level and rubbing a dark smear under his eyes was Jenks. The two of them looked remarkably alike-once you dismissed the wings and size difference. Seeing him unaware, I could appreciate how slim Trent was, athletic, with just enough muscle in all the right places. A runner's body. I tried to keep my eyes where they belonged-then gave up, letting my eyes linger where they would-then warmed when my eyes rose to find Trent watching me in amusement in the mirror.

His smile shifted as he recognized my appreciation, the slight movement of his body an invitation to look more. God, he was teasing me, and flushing, I took my eyes off him. Ellasbeth, your name is fool.

"What is that you're putting on your face?" I asked to try to move the nonverbal communication away from how good Trent looked and how smug he was that I'd noticed. It smelled like cut grass in here-clean, refreshing, and carrying the bite of chlorophyll. I didn't think it was the toilet-bowl cleaner.

Pulling back from the mirror, Trent capped a bottle and jauntily tossed it to me. I had to move fast, almost dropping my last two cracker sandwiches as I snagged it one-handed. My shoulder gave a twinge as I caught it. "It covers my scent," he said, and I set my napkin down so I could open it. I gave the nondescript white stuff a good sniff to verify that this was where the cut-grass smell was coming from. My shoulders eased as the scent slipped into me, reminding me of summer. All this, and he smells good, too.

"You don't stink," I said as I dabbed a bit of it on the back of my hand, and from nowhere, the question flitted through me of what he had wanted to be when he grew up.

"Thank you. I appreciate that." His voice was light, teasing, and I stayed where I was as he reached for the jeans he'd had on earlier, his motions becoming tauntingly slow as he put one foot in, then the other. "I suppose I should have said it will mask any smell I'll pick up in the ever-after," he added, turning to give me a sideways view as he zipped up his pants.

The familiar sound hit me, and I jerked my gaze away, pretending to be looking at the flat-screen TV they had in here. Okay, so he'd been wearing a lot less just a moment ago, and I'd seen him just about naked in the shower, but something about seeing a guy hike up a pair of jeans followed by that distinctive sound of a zipper was so...very intimate. And the worst part? It was obvious he knew he was pushing my buttons.

Knowing it as well, Jenks sighed at me and continued arranging his hair. His long blond ringlets were oiled back just like Trent's, and I wondered if there was some kind of hero-worship thing going on. Frowning, I set the bottle down. Trent was putting on his casual shirt over his skintight top, and I didn't dare look at him as he got dressed, but his reflection caught my eye as he stretched, showing every lanky inch of himself. Damn it, seeing him getting dressed was almost more tantalizing than seeing him getting undressed might be.

"You look great," I said, unable to stop myself. "You should wear thief more often."

"How do you know I don't?" Trent teased as he sat on a bench that was in here and began to put his shoes on. No laces. Slip on, slip off. Easy. The casual clothes over a black outfit, the scent-disguising salve, shoes too soft for any real use...it added up to a break-and-take. Sure, Trent had the look and the talk, but could he walk the walk? "Ah, Trent...," I started, arms crossed as I leaned into the wall.

Trent looked up from his shoes. "Don't worry. I've practiced this."

"Nothing in that belt pack is lethal, right?" I persisted, wanting to go look. "Not that I care," I said when he eyed me. "But if you're caught, lethal usually gets you put in jail."

Smiling faintly, he stood up and looked at himself. "And if it looks like a harmless prank, they let you go. I got that part. Thanks." He buttoned another button to hide the black shirt underneath. "If they catch me, I'll be dead, not in jail."

I pushed away from the door frame. "Whoa! Hold on a sec. I told Quen I'd watch you. Just what are the risks here?"

Jenks clattered his wings, but I couldn't tell by his worried expression if this was something he'd known about before or not.

"Quen puts the odds of my being successful at eleven percent," Trent said, not meeting my eyes. "But with Jenks, I think it's much better than that."

"Eleven percent?" I echoed. The same odds Quen had had of surviving that experimental treatment last year, the same odds that Trent didn't believe were really possible.

"My risk, not yours," Trent said as he draped the utility belt around his slim waist and fastened it. I could tell he was nervous somewhere under that facade of calm he had developed in the boardroom. "It's an elf quest, right?" he said, forcing a chuckle. "You're not responsible for me once I hit Seattle. Quen knows that. I've already notified him. What happens to me from here on out is not your problem."

But I'd gotten him here, and I couldn't help but feel responsible for...whatever he was doing. What was he doing? I licked my lips and lowered my arms, trying to play the "I don't care" game. "You're serious about the dead thing?" I couldn't help but ask.

He didn't answer, and Jenks remained silent as he sat on the TV's remote, his knees almost to his ears. I grimaced, realizing that Jenks had already slipped into backup mode. He never said much when I was on a run with him, either. He wasn't wearing a scrap of red, and it worried me. Damn it, if Trent came back and Jenks didn't...I'd make him suffer. If I did nothing else in this world, I'd make him suffer bad.

Seeing me ready to call the whole thing off, Jenks blurted out, "Ready, Trent?"

Trent looked at me, his hair slicked back and his green eyes holding excitement. "Yes."

"You were just kidding about the dead thing. Right? Right?"

Jenks hovered by my shoulder. "Take a chill strip, Rache," he said. "They're faster than the pills and come in convenient dispensers. I've got this covered. He's not doing anything that you wouldn't do."

"That's what I'm worried about." Crap, I was used to beating the 11 percent, but Trent didn't believe it was possible. It was often belief that made the impossible real. Jeez, maybe I should go with them.

As if knowing my thoughts, Jenks's expression darkened. Trent took off his watch, leaving it on the counter. His wallet was next, and he took most of the money out of it and tucked it in a small slot in the utility belt before setting the smooth leather next to his watch.

I took a slow breath. If I said anything now, Jenks would be insulted. Trust. I had to trust. But it was hard. "Where do you want to be dropped off?" I asked softly.

Trent was giving himself a last look, fussing with the hair about his ears. "Train station," he said shortly. "Preferably on the platform, not the track," he drawled.

Nervous, I pushed myself into motion. "Okay. I'll call him."

I headed for the living room. Trent followed with Jenks on his shoulder. Pierce was looking through the front closet as we entered, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was what it would be like working for Trent: amicable conversations in penthouse suites in foreign cities, the excitement of a run coursing through me, and the coming satisfaction of knowing I'd done something no one else had before. Very secret agent. Was this why Nick did what he did?

I sneaked a glance at Trent as I sat on the couch, thinking he looked fantastic standing there-his color high and that calm confidence he always had tightened by excitement. Twice he had called on a demon and survived; admittedly it had been a mistake, but he'd done it. He had the guts-or stupidity-to work with wild magic, elven and dangerous. He had a pixy on his shoulder and was ready to do something clever and dangerous-something that, if he failed, would mean his death. I didn't know who he was anymore, and I felt a stirring inside.

Feeling my eyes on him, he lifted his head. "What?"

For a moment, I said nothing, tasting the emotions coursing through me as he tried to read my mind. Was I confusing adrenaline with attraction? Was I losing sight of my desire for independence, distracted by quick, clever people who didn't give a damn about whom they hurt to get what they wanted? Or was I just now seeing who he really was?

Trent's face lost its questioning expression, shades of mistrust seeping in around his eyes. Jenks buzzed his wings at me, and I shook myself. "Nothing. Be careful, okay?"

Not convinced, Trent stood beside a comfortable chair, waiting.

Pierce scrambled to catch the clothes iron as it fell. Jenks flew up and down at the noise, but neither Trent nor I even looked.

"Okay..." I breathed as I tugged my bag closer and brought out my mirror. Turning halfway to the back of the room, I shouted, "Ivy? I'm dropping Trent off. I'll be back in five minutes." I thought for a second. "Maybe ten!"

"Okay," came her muffled voice, and I felt a surge of tension.

"Wait!" Jenks exclaimed, "I have to give Ivy my phone. She's going to call my kids for me while I'm gone."

I glanced at Trent, expecting to find a tired exasperation, surprised when I found only a patient understanding. Maybe they'd been talking more than I thought. Jenks buzzed off, Ivy's closed door hardly slowing him down as he slipped through the crack.

Pierce finally got the iron back where it belonged, and he shut the sliding closet door with an attention-getting thump. "Rachel...," he warned me, and my blood pressure spiked, pushed by the adrenaline already coursing through me. His blue eyes were pinched, and his jaw was tight, reminding me of when he had once stood in the snow in a borrowed coat and tried to stop me from helping him with a run. I'd flipped him into a snowbank then, and I'd do the same here. Well, minus the snow of course.

"Don't start with me," I said, and Trent scuffed his foot on the carpet, impatient. "Al owes me for saving his life." The scrying mirror was warming on my lap, and I set a hand on it, feeling a ping of energy equalize. "Thanks for that, by the way. I might be able to milk this for years."

I'd meant it to be funny, but Pierce came closer, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite me, the coffee table between us. The table had expensive-looking picture books on it of the work of local artists, most of which looked too sophisticated for my tastes. "I don't like this," he said.

"I don't like it much myself," I said, almost laughing as I exchanged a look with Trent.

From Ivy's room came an exasperated "I got it, Jenks! Every four hours. Go away and let me sleep!"

Jenks darted out, looking browbeaten, and I turned my attention to my calling circle. It was as beautiful as ever, and I had made it. With a curse.

"Is it going to work?" Trent asked suddenly, startling me. "The salt in the air..."

I slid my fingertips to the cave of the pentagram, touching the proper glyphs. "No reason it shouldn't. It's demon, not earth magic." I looked up. "Jenks? Are we clear?"

Jenks landed on Trent's shoulder, shocking the elf. "Give me a break," he said snidely. "I checked for bugs like three seconds after I came in. What do you think I was doing? Looking through cupboards for no reason like a goober?"

Pierce grimaced, scooting to the back of his chair, looking embarrassed.

"Let's do it then," I said and reached for a ley line. My face screwed up, and I swear, my eye started twitching. An awful, metallic taste blossomed in my mouth, and my stomach twisted. "Oh God, the lines here are awful!" I said, finding one that was reasonably clean. It was as if they'd been fractured and were picking up rust and dirt. Maybe it was the earthquakes.

My gaze went to the bolts in the wall, and I forced myself to look away.

Steadying myself, I let the awful ley line fill me, reaching out and touching a finger of awareness into the ever-after by way of the calling circle. "Rachel calling Al, come in, Al," I said sarcastically. "Come in, your immenseness..."

Standing across from me, Trent raised his eyebrows in question, and I pressed my hand more firmly, finding it harder than usual to hold the divided awareness. Soon as Al picked up, the interference would vanish, but until then, I was left feeling disoriented.

Abruptly, my focus blurred, and my muscles were suddenly loose. A warm lassitude soaked into me, and I realized that though Al had acknowledged me and made a connection, he wasn't altogether conscious. He was sleeping.

Al? I pushed into his mind, only to find myself surrounded by tiny slate blue butterflies in a field of amber grass, the tips waving at my waist. Al was trying to catch them, but every time he tried, he'd open his white-gloved hands to find them crushed and stinking like carrion. The grass grew tall until it waved over my head and turned into a maze. Al kept trying to catch the butterflies, and they began vanishing through cracks in the walls.

"Al!" I shouted, disoriented, and the dream vanished. Al's panic coursed through me, confusing me even more. I felt him bolt upright, then gasped when a black magic swirled through me, burning my brain. There was a huge drop in the line I was connected to as he pulled on it through me. Al, wait! I shouted, but it was too late, and I winced as I felt him throw a ball of unfocused energy at a shadow.

"It's just me!" I shouted as Al cowered, swearing when he realized his mistake.

"Rachel?" Pierce said, leaning over the table to put a hand on my shoulder. Feeling the line burning through me, he pulled away with a disturbed slant to his eyebrows.

"He was sleeping," I said in explanation, dizzy as I tried to see both Pierce and decipher what was going on in the ever-after simultaneously. "I had to wake him up. We're good now."

The hell we are! Al swore, and I felt his surface emotions swirl around and the feel of a soft robe he was draping over himself. I blew a blasted hole in my wall! Damn it, Rachel, what do you want? I was sleeping.

"So I noticed," I said, thinking it curious that he was dreaming of butterflies. They looked exactly like the butterflies he'd once made out of snowflakes, brushing them from his sleeve to die in the snow. Except for the chrysalis still on my kitchen windowsill at home. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I have a favor to ask."

Trent cleared his throat. "We drove all the way out here, and you haven't asked about this?" he said, sounding alarmed but not surprised.

"It's not a big deal," I grumped. "If he doesn't, I'll ask Newt. I need to talk to her anyway."

What? Al said, suddenly a whole lot more awake. Ask Newt what?

I resettled myself on the sofa, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I noticed my reflection bouncing back up at me, coated in red and silver. "I need a trip through the lines for two. Trent and Jenks." Jenks buzzed his wings, proud to be counted as a person, but I'd never seen him any other way.

Al huffed in his thoughts, sending me the feeling of warm slippers being scooted onto his feet. I'm not your taxi service.

"No, you're my teacher," I said. "And I saved your life. I'm not going to bargain for favors in return for saving your life." I'm asking for some consideration, from one lost witch to a lost demon, I said silently, glancing at Jenks when he hummed in disapproval, knowing I'd said something, just not out loud.

I'm exhausted, Al thought, and I caught a glimpse in my mind of him looking into a mirror, tweaking the skin around his eyes. Can it wait? I've been in meetings all day. Yammer, yammer, yammer. And no Pierce to fix my lunch. He makes a marvelous fish sandwich. Ask him, dove.

He was using pet names-not good. "You made me take him," I said, and Pierce stiffened, knowing we were talking about him. "Al. I need this. It's not a matter of convenience." He made a noise, and I pressed my fingers more firmly until it felt like the ice of the glass was touching my bone. Look, let me dream a little longer, okay? I thought silently, not wanting to share with Jenks my low expectations of what was going to happen in the next couple of days. I know how slim a chance I have to get out of this, but it's a chance.

Al was thinking-a good sign. I'd saved his ass, and he was going to give this to me. "I need to see this through if only to be able to walk away knowing who my enemies are," I said aloud. I couldn't help it, and my eyes rose to find Pierce's. Not missing a beat, Pierce pointed to Trent.

Trent cleared his throat, affronted, but Al was talking and I had to concentrate. Growing up is hard, love. Otherwise everyone would do it.

"Spare me," I muttered. "I need a jump for Trent and Jenks to Seattle and back. I know you're going to do it or you wouldn't have gotten out of bed."

A devious spark lit through Al, making me smile. One way. It costs too much, he said.

"There's no inflation in the ever-after, Al."

Call it a recession then. One way.

I looked at Trent and smiled. He relaxed, exhaling as his shoulders dropped. "Okay, one way," I said. "But I want to see them off, so it's one way for them, two way for me."

Deal, Al thought sharply, and Jenks made a burst of gold dust, yelping.

"Holy crap!" the pixy swore, and the fractured disjointedness of San Francisco's ley lines sliced into me, jangling my nerves. I snapped a bubble of protection around my thoughts, large enough to include Jenks and Trent. I could feel Trent's flash of fear dissolve into acceptance, and Jenks readying himself, his steady courage flowing into me like a memory that wasn't mine. Surrounding us like an oily smoke was Al's presence, but I pulled most of his reeking burnt amber and selfishness to me, not wanting Trent and Jenks to have to deal with it. Embarrassed, maybe?

The train station, Al! I shouted in my thoughts, not wanting to show up in traffic. On the platform, I added. My nonexistent heart pounded, and I felt the lines grow pure around me again, the taint of salt and rust fading away to be replaced by the taste of ozone, clean, pure, and fast.

A glimpse of an immense, dirty room, not yet formed, sifted through my eyes. The presences of Trent and Jenks were with me, and I dissolved the bubble holding them as I felt their souls slip from my grasp and return to the memory of their bodies. I ached to take a breath, but as soon as I thought I might have lungs, I was yanked back into nothing, my forming body dissolving so fast I swear it hurt.

Al! I shouted, disoriented. And then it was Al sheltering my thoughts. I threw up another barrier between us as he laughed. The platform dissolved, and reality swung around. I waited for the trendy furnishings of the hotel in San Francisco to appear and gritted my nonexistent teeth to endure the fractured ley lines the witches were forced to use here, but the tinfoil-on-teeth feeling never came. Instead, the line grew warmer, comfortable. Familiar.

Crap on toast, I thought as I reached for the top of the leather wingback chair, my fingers ghosting through until I yanked them back and tried again to find them solid. I was in Al's library.

"Trent? Jenks?" I called out as soon as I had lungs. Damn it, had it all been a trap? I should have let Pierce kill him.

"Not here, itchy witch. Safe at the train station as promised," Al said, and I spun to see him in the robe I'd felt him put on, standing by the huge hearth with a bowl of marshmallows on the hearth beside him. "Come sit by the fire," he said, patting the leather seat. "We need to talk."