The Witch With No Name (The Hollows #13)(75)
Author: Kim Harrison

Trent looked pained, but I knew he believed as I did.

“As I said before, this is why you’re alive, Morgan,” Cormel said, and a thread of fear slid through me at his anger. “Fix it.”

Fix it. He made it sound so simple. “I swear, Cormel, if you go after Ivy I will hunt you down myself.”

Cormel’s expression was stoic. “Ivy is safe. Fix it.”

“Order up!” Mark called loudly, but Jenks hung where he was, over my shoulder. Cormel said Ivy was safe, but I didn’t believe him. Neither did Jenks. I thought of her at her parents’ house, knowing there was probably a crack team of efficient assassins within three minutes of her driveway. I never should have made a deal with him. Vampires and five-year-olds played by the same rules, and both threw tantrums when they lost.

Frustrated, I sat down. My cooled coffee was before me, and I reached for it, warming it up with a quick thought. “Why should I? You tried to kill us so Landon would bring back your souls.”

Trent made a pained noise, but honestly, everyone in the room already knew it.

“Your lives were reasonably safe.” With a sound of sliding linen and wool, Cormel sat down across from me, and surprised, I searched the vampire’s expression. He was a hard man to read. I didn’t know. Seeing me staring, Cormel saluted me with his salted coffee. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. The destruction of your church was a warning. A reminder of what everyone’s place is.” His eyes were pupil black when he looked up. “You will do what Landon cannot. You will send the demons back.”

I exchanged a quick look with Trent. I’d give just about anything to be able to read Trent’s mind right now, but I had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. Too bad it wasn’t what I wanted. “Yeah?” I said, leaning back in my chair. “I like them here.”

“Rache!” Jenks protested.

“Well, I do!” I said, embarrassed. “They’ve been stuck in that hole for three thousand years. Maybe if they saw the sun once in a while they wouldn’t be so crabby.”

“Crabby?” Jenks darted over, and I covered my cup so his dust wouldn’t get in it. “That’s not crabby. That’s a two-year-old on a sugar high after missing his nap!”

I frowned at him and his Peter Pan pose on the wilted flowers. “They aren’t that bad. You just need to get to know them.” Trent sighed. I found his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t like my decisions, but he’d back them up.

“You have a week,” Cormel said, and I shifted my focus past an angry Jenks to Cormel fitting a lid back on his cup. It was the universal signal that this meeting was over.

An entire week. Wow. “Or what?” I said snottily. “You gonna kill everyone important to me?” Shut up, Rachel. Your mom is in town. My eyes narrowed and I stood, knees shaking. There were at least eight vampires outside, a dozen FIB officers. I didn’t want to risk them. I didn’t want to risk Trent either. “You need me,” I said, pointing my finger at him as Trent stood as well, his calm beginning to crack. “You need me because as soon as the sun rises, every single vampire who gained his soul tonight will commit suncide, and you know it!”

“You will fix this,” he said, hammering each word into me.

Trent’s presence was a whisper beside me. “Ah, Rachel? You’re making some rather large policy statements.”

“Yeah?” I wasn’t going to do it. I’d fight them to get them to behave themselves, but I wasn’t going to force them back in that pit. But there were FIB guys in the parking lot, and I tried to calm down. “I’m not the one busting in here with ultimatums,” I muttered. “And I’m not going to make the demons go anywhere but to driver’s ed, maybe.”

Cormel sat across from me, his chest not moving as his pupils widened and the air seemed to shimmer between us. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or trying to bespell me. “Remove them,” he demanded, the hunger in his gaze breaking the illusion of a kindly political leader and laying bare his true intent. “Or Kalamack will be your whipping boy.”

Pissed, I reached across the table, fear making me stupid. Cormel was faster. His fingers encircled my wrist, as cold as steel and twice as unbreakable.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted as he darted forward, sword bared. Cormel’s eyes flicked to the pixy, and my breath came in a single, unhurried draw as I felt Trent pull on the line. I felt it flow into him, saw it almost as a bright silver ribbon that sang. A familiar tingle raked over my skin with the rustle of feathers. Purple eyes flashed open in my mind, rejoicing echoed between my thought and reason as somnolent mystics awoke, eager to dole out mischief in a splashing banquet of overindulgent intent.

Stop! I demanded, and they washed up against my will, cheerfully jumbled and riding the wave as I realized I was gripping Cormel’s neck while he pinched my other wrist. Purple eyes spun madly, wanting me to give them direction. Between one heartbeat and the next I saw the FIB arranged outside, heard the tense decisions being made beyond the constructed calm within the chilly parking lot. I felt the indecision within Cormel, the unending agony pushing him to believe what he knew to be untrue. I saw a flicker of pain, real and new in him as his thoughts, spinning in unchanging circles, widened into the possible understanding that he could not have what he most wished for.

And then my heart thudded and I realized I’d somehow crawled up onto the table, kneeling to put myself inches from Cormel’s face. His canines were bared and sheened with a slick saliva, and his breath held still within him. His fingers gripped my wrist, and my free hand remained around his neck, thumb poised and stiff to jab into his larynx. He didn’t have to breathe, but it would still hurt—not to mention impede his ability to talk for a while. Mystics wreathed us so thickly I could almost see them. They played in my hair, making it float. I wasn’t afraid. Cormel was a small thought, one already dead and spinning in circles.

Damn it, how had they found me? I thought, only now recognizing that the mystics had been in the room for a while, making Trent’s aura tingle against mine.

But Cormel’s black eyes had scummed over with a long-dead fear. Jaw trembling, he stared at me, remembering the feel of the mystics on him, knowing they could hold his death if I wished it. He’d been a master vampire for a long time, but he started out as all of them do, as someone’s toy. And he remembered being small. I’d made him feel it again. Oh God, I was deep in it now.