The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(59)
Author: Kim Harrison

“Thanks for coming over,” Trent said as he edged me away from Ellasbeth for a private word. The memory of our last kiss flashed through me, and I flushed, feeling guilty with Ellasbeth watching, but damn it, we hadn’t done anything! “I’ll see about getting your car to you tomorrow.”

“I’d appreciate that,” I said, seeing Ellasbeth watching me with a long face. “Dinner was great,” I added, waiting until Bancroft finished arguing with Landon before popping out.

Smiling, he ducked his head and Ellasbeth came close, asserting her presence. “Sorry about the hot dog.”

I made a snort of laughter, and Bis’s tail tightened. “I’m sure it was fine.”

Behind him, Landon took on an aggressive stance as he talked to Bancroft. “I think it worth finding out. When will we have another opportunity like this? It’s my risk, not yours!”

“Fine!” Bancroft exclaimed. “I’ll ask her!”

Ellasbeth took Trent’s arm and leaned in. “Was there something wrong with the hot dog?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Trent muttered, then turned to include Bancroft and Landon as they approached, the former slightly soused, the latter having a quiet urgency I didn’t trust.

“Morgan,” Bancroft drawled firmly. “Would you be willing to assist us on a matter?”

I could tell it was just about killing him to ask for my help, and I touched Bis’s clawed feet, his toes carefully spread so he didn’t pinch me. “Depends. What do you want?”

Bancroft glanced at Landon, then back to me. “My assistant wants to determine if the mystics currently coating your aura are from repeated contact with the waves itself, or if you’re picking up free-ranging mystics, and if that is the case, if they’re crossing the line to find you.”

Landon pushed forward. “If they are, then a simple way to end the waves and wake up the masters would be for you to temporarily maintain a presence in the ever-after.”

My first impulse to deny, avoid, and ignore swirled into simply avoid and ignore. I kind of wanted to know myself, but to voluntarily stay in the ever-after? “How?” I asked suspiciously.

“Ahh . . .” Bancroft hesitated, and Landon jiggled on his sneaker-covered feet.

“Rachel,” Landon blurted. “I’d like to take twin readings from, say, here to Cincinnati? One meter in reality, one in the ever-after. We could go cross-country and avoid roads.”

“At night?” Trent exclaimed, and Ellasbeth’s eyes widened.

“In the ever-after?” I said, as appalled as her. “Do you know what happens after sunset?”

“Demons.” Landon’s eyes were unreadable, but his voice held a thread of challenge.

“Sometimes, sure,” I said, tugging my shoulder bag higher. “It’s the surface demons I’m worried about. I know most of the demon demons, but surface demons are like big, smart, hungry rats. You walk anywhere for any length of time, and they’ll find you.”

Trent was shaking his head. “Bancroft, I see your reasoning, and I agree the information would be invaluable, but Rachel is right. I’ve been there after sunset, and if you’re not prepared, it is like, well . . .” He looked at me. “Like summoning a demon without a circle. It can wait until morning.”

“Twelve hours might make a huge difference,” Landon said, undeterred. “You have two meters. One team could travel through the ever-after, the other in reality. We’d take readings all the way, determining natural levels, her levels, and if the mystics will cross realities to find her.”

Bis’s grip on me had tightened, and I touched his foot again.

“Whoever is doing this is unable to collect one hundred percent of them,” Landon said persuasively. “The entire Cincinnati area is simmering with untapped energy. If nothing else, it would give a tremendous insight into how the Goddess sees, ah, magic practitioners.”

Yes, I was a demon, but a slow slog home through the ever-after wasn’t my idea of fun.

“I volunteer to be on the ever-after team,” Landon said, and Trent looked thoughtful. “If we go by horse, we can outdistance a surface demon, and if the team in reality is on horseback, they can evade the roadblocks.”

It was starting to sound marginally reasonable, and Ellasbeth made a sound of negation as I looked at Trent for his opinion. “Trenton, this is not acceptable,” she said firmly. “You have a family, children, responsibilities.”

A fiancée, I added silently as he grimaced.

“The risk is minimal if I’m on the reality-based team,” he said, and Landon’s green eyes brightened in the dimming evening. “This has merit.”

“Quen can go,” she protested, and Trent took her hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Ellasbeth. This is my job. This is what I do. Let me do it.”

My lips parted as his words fell from him, firm as he pleaded for understanding and acceptance. It was exactly what I had told Kisten, Pierce, and Marshal.

She dropped her head, defiance in her as it lifted. “Ellie, this will foster goodwill if nothing else. And I’m curious myself.” Letting her go, Trent turned to me, and my heart seemed to skip at his look of anticipation. “Rachel?”

The ever-after? On horseback at night? With Landon? I looked at Bis, and he lifted his wings in a shrug.

“Sure. Why not?”

Thirteen

The cheese was tangy, rich with flavor and clearly minimally processed. The bread was even better, with a crackling crust and the body textured and soft. Leaning against the rack of saddles, I wiped my mouth with a pinkie, the last bite of the sandwich still in my hand. I didn’t think I’d ever had a cheese sandwich until just this moment. “You sure?” I said into the phone, and Ivy’s sigh came back to me.

“It’s easier at the safe house,” she said, the background noise unfamiliar. “Nina’s condition is common enough to have people who know what to do. It’s okay.”

She was already there, which made me feel both better and like I’d let them down. “I should be there,” I protested, but there was little to nothing I could really do.

Landon, dressed now in jeans and borrowed boots, walked by with Ceri’s old horse, and I felt a twinge of sadness. She’d been happy that morning. I was glad my last memory of Ray’s real mother was of her in the dappled sun, content and crabbing at me to be true to myself.