The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(61)
Author: Kim Harrison

He brought his eyes back from the empty corridor, Trent’s voice still echoing down it. “I appreciate you agreeing to do this. I know you have other obligations.”

His mood bothered me, and I took up the currycomb and brushed Red some more. “No biggie. My previous obligations are settled and I’ve got the time.” Red was picking up on my unease, the high-strung Thoroughbred bobbing her head. Trent could probably ride her just fine, but not me. I knew my limits.

“Can I ask you something?”

A warning flag rose when he came into the stall. Red backed up, and I went with her. I’d been around powerful men before, men who believed they were above the law either by birth, gender, or position, and something in his tone told me he was going to ask something that was probably none of his business, asking my permission so he could feel justified in being offended when I refused to answer. Slime, I thought, then reined in my emotions. This wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t Bob, Joseph, or Mathew. “Sure.”

But I didn’t like that Red kept flicking her nose up, warning him off.

“You meet with demons on a regular basis?” he asked, moving to Red’s other side, right where Trent had been. My eyes met his, and his smile became predatory. “I only ask because your aura holds more smut than I’ve seen on any free person.”

Is that so? “Not that it’s any of your business, but I work to increase my proficiency just like anyone else with a skill. It leaves a mark.”

“Mmmm.” I looked up as I set the brush away. “Then you admit to practicing black magic on a regular basis.”

Affronted, I checked Red’s saddle pad for sticks or twigs. It was clean. I knew it would be, but I didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Smut is a show of created imbalance. It’s not an accurate measure of morality.”

“And you haven’t answered my question.”

I stared at him, the expanse of Red’s back between us. Was he serious? “Yes,” I finally said, because it was public knowledge. “I meet with Al. He’s a demon. Some of what he teaches me are curses, but none of them are black.” Mostly.

“Curses are black by definition.”

“Then the definition is faulty, created by fearful men and women relying on hearsay instead of fact.” Peeved, I put Red’s saddle on her. It was a comfortable heaviness, and Red blew out her breath as the weight hit her. She was eager to run, and I cinched her loosely, planning on tightening it later.

I knew Landon was reading my “shut the hell up” signals just fine, but he had another question in his eyes when I turned around. “Then you admit you conscientiously apply yourself in learning black magic?”

Ticked, I reached for Red’s bridle. “No. I don’t. Excuse me, you’re in my way.”

He moved, but not as far back as I would’ve liked, and I unclenched my jaw, trying not to telegraph my mood to the horse. Red took her bit easily, and as Landon reached to do the strap, I jerked my hand back before we could touch. “Your aura is covered in smut. The mystics attracted to your aura can’t hide it. Don’t lie to me that you don’t know black magic.”

I yanked away, telling him to back off with my eyes as I finished the buckle.

“And you’re tainting Trent with it,” he continued, brow low. “When was the last time you did a black spell, Morgan?”

I looked at him, pissed. “Smut is imbalance, not a mark of evil. Most demon magic causes it, but not all demon magic is black, smut or not, and if you and your holier-than-thou religious zealots would pull yourselves out of your collective asses and actually look at it, you might figure that out!”

But he reached forward as I went to flip Red’s reins over her head, and I started as a dart of ever-after shocked through me, hazing me like a second skin for a brief second.

“Hey!” I yelped, shoving him back, and he fell into the low wall of the stall, eyes smoldering. Red snorted and backed up. “What in hell are you doing?”

He wrung his hand as he got to his feet, expression dark. “Taking a detailed reading of your aura. You might have fooled Kalamack, but the dewar believes what we see, not what we wish, and you are black, Morgan. Back off from Kalamack. He’s already lost the support of half the enclave because of you.”

What? A widening of awareness expanded in me, and Red tossed her head as Bis swooped in, landing among the saddles across the corridor. His pushed-in face was tight in anger, and his feet clenched his perch hard enough to make the wood creak.

“I am not a black witch or a black demon,” I said, rigid in anger. “Demon magic makes smut, and I don’t do the bad stuff. Ask anyone in Cincy or the Hollows who does, and you’ll get the same answer. Now take your white-bread ass out of Red’s box before I throw you out.”

A soft scuff drew my attention to the end of the hall. Trent stood there, and my face warmed. Had he lost political power because of me? Because I worked for him?

“Landon?” Trent’s voice sounded icy cold and angry. “Would you help me with Bancroft. His balance is chancy.”

With a final warning glance, Landon nodded. “Absolutely.” He turned to me as if to say something, changing his mind when I pulled on the line in a silent warning to not touch me. He was lucky all I’d done was shove him. Seeing my hair beginning to snarl under the line’s energy, he nodded, as if I’d confirmed his claim, and left.

I backed up to soothe Red, though to be honest, I was the one who needed the soothing.

Trent watched Landon go past him in search of Bancroft, and I shook my head when he wordlessly asked me if he wanted me to intervene. Mood bad, Trent followed Landon, and I busied myself with Red. Damn it, I could have probably handled that better.

“You okay, Ms. Rachel?” Bis asked, and I closed my eyes in a long blink.

“Fine,” I said, my hand brushing Red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you in here.”

Bis shifted his feet. There were dents in the heavy wood. “He’s a jerk. Forget him.”

But I couldn’t. He wasn’t just a jerk, but one with the power to cause a lot of trouble. I’d known my working as Trent’s security was going to raise eyebrows, but he hadn’t seemed to care. He’d probably care now; the enclave was the political house of the elves, and therefore important. “He shouldn’t have touched me.”

“I know. That’s why I came to check.”