The Undead Pool (Page 3)

A tiny throat clearing pulled my attention up. Jenks was sitting cross-legged on the top of the bag’s rim, an infuriatingly knowing look on him. “Shut up,” I said as I curled my fingers into a fist to hide the damage like a guilty secret. He opened his mouth, sparkles turning a bright gold, and I smacked the bag to make him take to the air. “I said shut up!” I said louder, and he laughed as he darted out of the rattling cart, sparkles showing his path as he flew ahead.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kalamack. Interspecies intolerance is not tolerated here,” Kevin said, clearly still upset. “I wish you’d file a formal report. There are enough witnesses that Limbcus will be put on probation.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kevin. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t, and I held on against the unexpected dips, silent as we made our way back. I’d been watching Trent deal with the crap I’d grown up with ever since he’d come out of the closet as an elf. It had caused him to be less confident in himself, more inclined to deliberate before acting, and his usual calm not as sure—and I felt for him. One would think his being wealthy would’ve eased the transition, but it only made people envy, and envy leads to hate.

“Mr. Kalamack?”

Trent looked up, a new pinch of worry at his brow. He was now firmly in the “them” camp, and it wore on you after a while. But as I watched, his professional smile became deeper, almost believable. “Mr. Kalamack, I’m truly sorry about this,” Kevin said as with a last lurch, we found the pavement of the parking lot and slowed to a stop. “You have every right to protect yourself, and as you said, he has a history of dropping his ball into the players ahead of him.”

“We’re fine.” Trent’s hand unclenched from the support bar as he stepped out into the sun, his feet unusually loud in his spiked shoes. “Retreat is better than standing my ground and possibly having him pull his entrance fee. I’m going to need my usual tee time next week. Just myself and one other. No cart. Can you arrange it for me?”

The man’s relief was almost palpable as he sat in the driver’s seat. “Of course. Thank you for understanding. Again, I apologize. If it were up to me, you’d be the one finishing your game and Limbcus would be cooling his heels.”

Trent laughed, and hearing it, Jonathan, Trent’s driver among other things, got out of one of the black cars. I liked the man better when he’d been a dog—Trent’s version of a slap on the wrist for having tried to kill me. Seeing me take Trent’s clubs from the cart, he opened the back of the SUV and waited, a sour expression on his face. I didn’t like the man, his tall personage lean and full of sharp angles.

Uncomfortable, I whispered, “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d gone bowling. They let you use magic in bowling.” Kevin hesitated, and as Trent shifted from foot to foot in an unmistakable signal of departure, I extended my hand to the golf course employee. “Sorry about breaking your field. I can come back this afternoon and help you fix it.”

His smile was uneasy and his palm was damp. “No, our people need to do it,” he said as Trent took his clubs. “Ahh, Mr. Kalamack, I’m really sorry, but . . .”

Jenks’s wings clattered a warning, and I squinted at the regret in Kevin’s tone.

“No, it’s fine,” Trent was saying again, clasping Kevin across the shoulders and clearly trying to make our escape. “Don’t worry. It happens around Rachel. It’s part of her charm.”

“Yes, sir. Ummmm . . . One more thing.”

Kevin wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I slumped where I stood. “I’m banned from the course, aren’t I,” I said blandly, and Trent paused.

Kevin winced, but Jenks was smirking. “I am so sorry,” the hapless man gushed. “I would have done exactly what you did, Ms. Morgan, but the rules say if you do any magic on the course, you’re not allowed back.”

“Oh, for little green apples,” Trent said, but I touched his hand to tell him not to get bent out of shape. I’d been expecting it.

“You’re welcome to wait at the clubhouse,” Kevin rushed. “But you can’t go on the course.” His gaze shot to Trent’s. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kalamack. We have several caddies licensed for personal security. Your patronage is important to us.”

Trent’s clubs clattered as he swung his bag over his shoulder and squinted up at the sun. “Can an exception be made?” he asked. “Rachel wasn’t playing. She was doing her job.”

Kevin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s possible. I’ll bring it up with the rules committee. You’ve been a member since your dad gave you your first clubs. Heck, my dad sold them to him. You’re good people, Mr. Kalamack, but rules are rules.”

Yes, rules were rules, but I was tired of them never helping me.

Frustrated, Trent ran a hand over his hair. “I see,” he said flatly. “Well, if Morgan isn’t allowed on the course, I won’t be needing that tee time.”

My eyes widened, and I touched Trent in protest. “Sir . . .” Kevin pleaded, but Trent put up an easy hand in mild protest.

“I’m not angry,” he said, and Jenks snorted his opinion. “I’m simply changing my plans. For all his backward thinking, Limbcus is right about one thing,” he said, glancing at me. “If you’re going to be on the fairways, you should know how to play. I was going to teach you is all.”

My heart seemed to catch before it thudded all the louder. “Me?” I stammered, shooting Jenks a look to shut up when he darted backward in glee. “I don’t want to know how to play golf.” He wants to teach me golf?

Undeterred, Trent looped an arm in mine, the bag over his shoulder thumping into me. “I’ve got an old driving range in one of the pastures. I’ll get it mowed and you can practice your drives until this gets worked out,” he said. He turned to Kevin and shook his hand. “Kevin, give Jonathan a call later this afternoon and I’ll courier over the funds for the game.” He winced, but it was clear he was in a better mood. I had no idea why. “This is going to be expensive.”

“Thank you,” the young man said, all nervous smiles as he pumped Trent’s arm up and down. “And again, I’m sorry about all of this.”

Trent touched the tip of his golf cap and turned us around. His cleats clicked on the pavement, and my face felt hot. “I don’t want to know how to play golf,” I repeated, but Trent’s pace remained unaltered as we walked to the SUV he’d bought to cart his kids around in. Why did he want to teach me golf?

Jonathan stared at us from the open back, and I yanked myself out of Trent’s grip. It only made Trent smile all the wider, hair falling to half hide his eyes. Jenks’s laughter as he pantomimed a golf swing as he hovered wasn’t helping. God, I wasn’t stupid! Trent was going to marry Ellasbeth as soon as he was done punishing her for walking away from the altar the first time. But that kiss we’d shared three months ago hung in my memory. He hadn’t been drunk—I’d swear to it—but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been a mistake. You couldn’t be two things. I’d tried, and it didn’t work. And I wouldn’t be his mistress. I was better than that.

Damn it, I’m babbling.

“You don’t have to boycott them on account of me,” I said as we neared the SUV. Jenks darted to my car in the shade, and Trent’s posture relaxed. He liked the pixy, but Jenks was noisy.

“I’m not,” he said softly as he handed his clubs to Jonathan. “I don’t want to be out here without someone watching my back, and I’ve seen their security. That ball shouldn’t have exploded. Not with that little tap you gave it. You’re going to get it checked out?”

I nodded, and reminded it was still in his bag, I went to get it. A chill took me as I held the prickly, twisted mass of rubber and plastic, and I looked out over the overdone green luxury, glad that distance and vegetation hid us from most of the prying eyes. I’d never liked it out here, but I’d thought it was the snobby attitudes. Maybe it was more. “I’m going to ask Al about it.”

Trent jerked at the mention of Algaliarept, a new light in his eye making me wonder if he wanted to come with me. “Sa’han?” Jonathan questioned, and the look died as Trent took the dress shoes he was holding out.

“Just calling it early, Jon,” Trent said, his voice holding a new weariness. “I got a text about a misfired charm in one of the off-site labs and want to check it out personally.”

“You need me?” I asked, and Jenks’s dust sparkled from halfway across the lot. He had very good hearing.

But Trent only smiled. “No, but thanks. Those things are almost foolproof, and I want to talk personally to the man who got burned. Make sure I’m not being scammed.”

I nodded, my creep factor rising at the siren coming from the nearby interstate.

“I heard shouting,” Jonathan prompted, clearly unconvinced as Trent sat on the tailgate and unlaced his shoes.

“We took care of it.” Trent stopped. Hunched over his feet to look both out of reach and totally accessible, he tilted his head and eyed Jonathan, clearly wanting him to leave.

Jonathan’s thin lips screwed up as if he’d eaten something sour. Back ramrod straight, he stalked to the passenger side and got in, slamming the door in protest. Trent’s lips quirked and he went back to his shoes. Jonathan could still hear us but at least he wasn’t staring. The wind was catching in Trent’s hair, making me want to smooth it out.

Stop it, Rachel.

My car was three spaces down and across the lot, but I was reluctant to leave. Trent looked weary, the sun full on his face and his green eyes squinting as he took a cleated shoe off and slipped his dress shoe on. I remembered how he’d stuck up for me, and something in me fluttered. It had been happening a lot lately. Don’t get involved, Rachel. You know it’s because he’s out of reach.

Trent stood, cleats in his hand. “Let me know what you find out.”

“Tomorrow. Unless it’s bad news,” I said, and Trent shut the back of the SUV.

“Tomorrow,” Trent affirmed as he came closer, and my smile froze. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. “Thanks for today,” he said softly as he gave my hand a squeeze.

“You’re welcome,” I said, wanting to acknowledge it but afraid to, and his grip fell away. Professional. I was professional. He’d been nothing but professional back to me ever since that kiss, his mouth tasting of wine and me breathless and wanting to know how long it took to get him undressed. I knew that he was going to marry Ellasbeth, that he had a standard to live up to that didn’t include a local girl with a crazy mom and pop-star dad.

But he kept touching me. And I kept wanting him to.

Jenks was picking the bugs out of my car grille with his sword and shoving them off with his foot. Meeting my eyes, he made a get-on-with-it gesture, but Trent wasn’t making any motion to leave and I didn’t know what he wanted. “I’ll talk to you later, then,” I said, rocking back a step.

“Right. Later.” Head down, Trent started to go, then turned back unexpectedly. “Rachel, are you available tonight?”

I continued to back up, going toe-heel, toe-heel, not watching where I was going. There it was again. Professional, but not. My first response was to turn him down, but I could use the money and I had promised Quen I’d look after him. Jenks’s dust flashed an irritated red at the delay, and I said, “Sure. Business or casual business?”

“Casual,” Trent said, and I put my hands in my pockets. “Ten okay? I’ll pick you up.”

He was going to want to nap around midnight, so whatever it was, it’d be over by then. Either that, or it was a meeting with someone on a night schedule that couldn’t be tweaked.

“Ten,” I said, confirming it. “Where are we going?”

Trent’s head ducked, and spinning on a heel, he walked to his SUV. “Bowling!” he shouted, not looking back.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” I muttered. It didn’t matter. I’d be wearing something black and professional no matter where we went. The kite show, a horse event, the park with Ellasbeth when she came to pick up or drop off the girls and Trent didn’t want her on the grounds. Even an overnight trip out of state for business. I liked doing stuff with Trent, but I always felt like a cog out of place. As I should—I was his security, not his girlfriend.

“Oh, for sweet ever loving Tink!” Jenks complained when I got to my car. “Are you done yet? I’ve got stuff to do this afternoon.”

“We’re done,” I said softly as I slipped in behind the wheel of my little red MINI Cooper. Trent was backing up, and I waited as he leaned across a stiff-looking Jonathan and shouted out the open window “Let me know what Al says!” before putting it in drive and heading for the interstate. If Quen had been here, he would’ve insisted on driving, but Jonathan could be swayed and I knew Trent liked his independence—not that he had that much.

“Al, huh?” Jenks said, suddenly interested as I sat behind the wheel and watched Trent leave. “You think that’s a good idea?” Jenks asked, now hovering inches before my nose.

I leaned forward to start my car. “He can tell me if there was a charm on it,” I said, and Jenks landed on the rearview mirror, distrust and unease falling from him in an orangey dust. I was tired, annoyed, and I didn’t like the unsettled, more-than-being-said feeling I was getting from Trent. “It shouldn’t have exploded,” I added, and Jenks’s wings slowly fanned in agreement.