The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(37)
Author: Kim Harrison

“Ah, we still have no clue as to why the wave is making the undead sleep,” I said, retreating until the center island counter was between me and Ellasbeth. “But Ivy has been over the raw data from the misfires, and when you figure in my location, there’s an indication that it is ah, attracted to some degree to, ah . . . me.”

Trent swore softly. Quen started, and I nodded, feeling ill. Ellasbeth brought her attention back from the too-quiet living room. “Jenks thinks it’s because my aura has the same signature as the line it’s coming from,” I said. “Whatever it is, it’s not too bright. It went right past me when we were at the golf course, continuing on until I’d moved my location, so maybe it’s more like a delayed magnetic response.”

“Interesting.” Trent took Ivy’s chair, sitting down with a thoughtful look.

“Trent,” Ellasbeth prompted when the girls began to fight over something.

“They’re fine,” Trent said distantly. “The room is baby-proof and Jenks is in there.”

But Jenks let his kids tease bumblebees, knowing a sting might mean their death. Uncomfortable, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter. “David thinks the wave might be caused by a vampire faction that promotes a masterless lifestyle.”

“Free Vampires?” Trent said, surprising me.

“That’s them.” I pushed the flyer to him, and he took it. “There’s been a big jump in their numbers since, ah, Kisten died.” Which was sort of embarrassing, but at least they hadn’t tried to make me a saint’s concubine.

“I looked them up this morning.” Trent’s lips were quirked in an almost smile, knowing firsthand about the playboy living vampire. “They didn’t seem that well organized.”

Ellasbeth sniffed. “David? Isn’t that your insurance friend, Rachel?”

I took an irate breath, words cutting off when Trent interrupted me, saying, “You’d be surprised at the amount of sensitive information insurance companies gather, Ellie. If David says there might be a connection, then it’s worth giving more than a little consideration.”

Miffed, she fiddled with the strap on her purse.

“Personally?” I said, feeling the weight of her stare on me. “I’d rather believe that it’s a natural phenomenon, even if it’s coming from my line and tracking me like a slime mold, because if vampires are doing this, they’re getting the magic to control it from somewhere.”

“Demons,” Trent whispered.

“Well, it wouldn’t be witches,” I said sourly. “I’m scared to even wear a makeup charm.” Especially after seeing what one did to the face of that poor woman at the theater. “There’re easier ways to get rid of vampires. Ways that don’t cause this much fallout.”

I wanted it to be a natural artifact so bad, but with that Kisten look-alike on the bridge, Felix being awake, and the Free Vampire graffiti . . . The living didn’t prey on the undead. It was the other way around. “I was thinking about talking to Al today,” I said hesitantly.

Immediately Trent brightened. “You think he’d tell you if it was demon mischief?”

“No, no, Lucy!” Jenks yelled from the living room. “Don’t put that in your mouth. Hey!”

I shrugged. “I want to look at my line again before I tell Edden about the Free Vampire angle, but honestly, he probably already knows. Their graffiti is everywhere,” I said as Ellasbeth glared at the men to do something about their children. “I should probably tell Edden the waves are following me, though.” Telling Al might be a mistake. Maybe I should take the afternoon and drive out to Loveland and look at my line myself.

The screams from the living room grew more strident. No one moved, and finally Ellasbeth stood, her chair sliding dramatically. Trent touched Ellasbeth’s hand in thanks in passing, then turned to me. “Mind if I come with you?”

Ellasbeth’s pace jerked to a stop, and I blinked. To Al’s? Was he serious?

“A-Ah, why?” I stammered as I pushed up from the counter. “I mean, I don’t mind . . .” I hesitated, remembering how Trent’s freedom seemed to be halved when Quen was around. “Sure. Jenks can’t be in the ever-after when the sun is up, and I’d appreciate the company.”

Quen’s face lost its expression and Ellasbeth stiffened, ignoring the increasing pixy panic from the living room.

“I’ve not seen Algaliarept for over three months,” Trent said, clearly trying to head off their coming protests. “I want to keep the lines of communication open. And I need to thank him for a few things. Or I could just use the vault door and pop over.”

“Sa’han,” Quen said, warning thick in his tone, and Trent leaned confidently back in his chair, ankle coming up to rest on a knee. When done in his office surrounded by his things, it was effective. Here in my kitchen on a hard-backed chair—not so much.

“I’ll be fine,” Trent said confidently. “You and Ellasbeth can mind the girls for a few hours. I’m perfectly safe over there.”

Ellasbeth turned her back on the rising, shrill “Noooo!” from the living room. “Trenton. They’re demons!”

“So is Rachel, and she saved me from a wildly driven golf ball yesterday.” He was being flippant, goading her. “I’ve ridden the Hunt with every demon alive. They all know me. Besides, I’m talking to Algali—” He changed his mind. “I’m talking to Al. Not the entire collective.”

“Sa’han. It’s an unnecessary risk.”

Trent put his foot solidly back on the floor. “Keeping good relations with possible allies is never a risk.”

Framed in the doorway, Ellasbeth put a hand on her hip. “Someone else can do it!”

“There is no one else,” Trent said calmly, but both Quen and I knew that when his hands laced together, it meant he was pissed, and the older elf sighed and backed off. “Things change, Ellasbeth. Ku’Sox is dead. I’m still officially Rachel’s familiar though admittedly emancipated. I’m as safe as you in your lab. Safer.”

There was an uncomfortable silence broken by the girls giggling and then Lucy’s shout.

“Good. We can go this afternoon,” I said to end the discussion, and Trent shot me a grateful glance, even as Ellasbeth let her hand hit her side in disgust. Yawning, I looked at the clock. It was after noon, and Ellasbeth looked dead tired. If she was on West Coast time, it was long past nappies. Trent, too, would be ready for some shut-eye. “You want to wait until after four?” I said. “I want to make some cookies first. Distract him.”