Pale Demon (The Hollows #9)(8)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Now will you help me?" Trent said, and I took a breath, snapping myself out of my funk. Seeing my eyes on his, Trent smiled wickedly, hands moving in a ley-line charm.

"Trent, wait…," I said.

But it was too late, and I could do nothing when I felt the line he was connected to give a lurch and he whispered, "Memoria cadere."

Again, I jerked back, setting up a protection circle around myself since I didn’t know what the man was capable of anymore. Seeing its creation, Ivy flung herself almost under the table, and Jenks darted to the ceiling. I stood tall, heart pounding as a wash of my gold-tinted aura lapped over the circle with all the subtleties of a shadowy pearlescence. Bis, on the fridge, stirred, his bright red eye cracking open to find me before it slid shut again with a little sigh.

"Damn it, Trent!" I exclaimed, furious as the assassins sat, wide-eyed, and stared at me, bewildered but clearly no longer enthralled. "What in hell are you doing?"

"You’re kidding," he said in disbelief. "You weren’t going to ask them anything, worried it might be ille-e-e-e-gal."

He drawled it, mocking me, and I squinted at him, fear of the Withons mixing with the worry of what the assassins could have told us before but now couldn’t. "You did that on purpose!" I shouted.

His head bowed slightly, and his lips quirked as he eyed me, looking both mischievous and polished. "I told you I was going to."

Anger grew in me, but I stayed where I was beside the table, sullen. It couldn’t be undone. Not easily, anyway. "Dr. Anders teach you that?" I muttered. Memory charms weren’t black; they were simply illegal as all hell. It didn’t make me feel any better, though.

On the floor, the woman felt her chin, shocked when her fingertips came back wet with blood. "Um. Whoa," she said, looking tense but harmless. "I guess that explains why I have no idea who you people are or how I got here."

Her companion nudged her to be quiet, clearly not remembering anything, either, but knowing enough to keep his mouth shut. Bad. This was so bad. Two illegal charms, and if Trent got to the West Coast, he’d probably try to pin them on me if I didn’t become his indentured servant. Damn it back to the Turn! I wasn’t going to play this game!

Jenks dropped from where he’d been checking on his kids. His hand was on the butt of his sword, and he looked ready to give Trent a lobotomy. "I had more to ask them, even if she didn’t."

"You wanted to know who sent them. Now you do. It was wearing off," Trent insisted, but I could see a hint of unease in him. "Our only other option was to kill them."

"Our?" I barked sarcastically. "There is no ‘our.’ This is your doing, not mine." I spun as Jill started to get up, her alarm obvious. "Park it, Jill!" I said, but it wasn’t until Ivy cleared her throat that both of them checked their upward motion and slid back down.

"My name isn’t Jill…" the woman started.

"It is today. So sit down and shut up until I tell you that you can leave. Got it?"

"Shit," the man said sourly as he thumped his head back against the fridge and eyed me in mistrust. "I don’t know who was supposed to pay us. Do you?" Jill shook her head. She looked too confused for it to be an act. "Awww, man!" the guy added. "I don’t even know where I left my stuff. This sucks."

"See?" Trent said confidently, but that worry wrinkle above his eyes was still there. "It worked. Now we can let them go and be on our way with their employers still thinking we are here." He smiled, and I hated him. "They won’t be expected to check in for twenty-four hours. We could be long gone by sunset."

Jenks’s wings hummed, and Ivy’s face lost its expression. "Sunset?" she said, and I grimaced. She wasn’t going to like this, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t helping Trent. Not after this. He had stood in my kitchen and performed two illegal charms, one of them black. Ceri was rubbing off on him and not in a good way.

"I’m not going anywhere with you, you little shoemaker," I said, trying to figure out what to do with these two. "Especially after that little stunt. Not in a plane, not in a car, not on a train…you’ve gone too far." I blinked. What the hell?

"Ah, Rachel?" Ivy touched me, and I jumped. "What’s this about Trent needing your help. Help for what?"

Jenks hummed his wings for her attention, smirking at Trent as he said, "Trent wants Rachel’s help. Quen won’t do it. Trent says it’s because Quen won’t leave Ceri, but I think the little cookie maker plans to speak out against Rachel at the, uh, big meeting to get her under his thumb again, and Quen refuses to be a part of it. Trent won’t have anything on her after she nullifies his familiar mark, so he has to move fast."

Jenks smiled at Trent, and Trent sighed. "It’s not like that at all," he said, but his confidence was wearing thin.

Ivy glanced quickly at me before turning back to Jenks. "Not going to happen."

Shrugging, Jenks landed on the center counter where he could watch everyone. "Or Trent’s telling the truth, and he’s afraid of the weenie assassins here."

Jack scowled, and Jill made a little huff of sound, but I was glad Jenks hadn’t dropped any names. They’d forgotten who had sent them and didn’t need any reminders.

Trent frowned, one hand behind his back as he turned to me. Shoulders stiff, he asked, "Will you do it?"

I could not believe this, and I pointed at the two assassins sitting in front of my fridge. "No!" I said firmly. "I’m not helping you. Especially now."

Trent shifted, his confident poise lost when his hand slipped from behind his back. "They tried to kill me," he said, his brow furrowed as he glared at them. "You saw them!"

"Yeah?" I spouted off. "They weren’t very good at it!"

Jenks was laughing, but I was mad and ready to throw Trent out. Throw them all out. Standing by the table, I dropped my forehead into my hands and rubbed at my temples. From the floor Jack sighed. "My old lady is going to be pissed. Her, I remember."

I pulled my head up. "Get out," I said bluntly. "Get up and get out. Both of you."

For a moment, Jack and Jill stared at me, but when Jenks clattered his wings threateningly, they slowly got to their feet. Okay, I knew who’d sent them, and it only solidified in my mind that I wasn’t leaving Cincinnati on Trent’s private jet. He was still lying to me. Son of a bastard.

"I don’t feel so good," the woman said as she held her stomach and limped forward.

Jenks laughed bitterly. "That’s because we beat you up. You cried like a baby."