I glanced at Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong behind him. They look like little kids plotting. I wouldn't worry about it. It would be over soon.
Finally I grew brave and looked at Ivy. Fear slid through me. She was numb. Blank and empty. I'd seen that look on her before, but never this deep. She had shut herself down. Beautiful in her elegant gray dress and a wide-brimmed hat, she looked remarkably like her mother, a pew behind her. She sat stiffly between Skimmer and Piscary. The blond living vampire glared at me jealously, clearly part of Piscary's camarilla now despite the little detail that the city had let Piscary out because of Al, not her skills in the courtroom. I had to believe Ivy would be all right. I couldn't rescue her. She had to save herself.
Seeing my pain at Ivy's state, Piscary smiled at me, mocking and confident. My breath hissed in when my demon scar sent a surge of tingling sensation through me. Damn it, I hadn't counted on that. Ticked, I mouthed at him, "I want to talk to you."
Piscary inclined his head, looking fabulous in some authentic outfit from Egypt. Apparently thinking I wanted to discuss Ivy, he lifted her slack hand and kissed the top of it.
I stiffened, suddenly realizing that Trent was watching me out of the corner of his eye. Actually, the entire church was paying more attention to me and Piscary than the couple on the stage. If Ellasbeth's clenched jaw was any indication, she was pissed.
Grimacing, I tried to find a kick-ass posture while wearing a lace dress and flowers in my hair. "Not Ivy," I mouthed. "I want your protection. Both me and Kisten. I'll make it worth your while."
Piscary seemed confused at my request, but he nodded, deep in thought. Al's amused grin went sour, and behind Takata, Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong started talking in hushed voices that every Inderlander could probably catch. Skimmer's satisfaction turned to hatred, and Ellasbeth... Ellasbeth was gripping Trent's arm hard enough to make her knuckles white.
The tinkling sounds of someone's phone burst rudely out into the solemn cadence of the holy guy's speech, and my eyes widened. It was coming from... me?
Oh, my God! I thought, mortified as I jammed my fingers down my cleavage, scrambling. It was my phone. Damn it, Jenks! I thought, glaring at the ceiling as "Nice Day for a White Wedding" played out. I had put it on vibrate. Damn it, I had put it on vibrate!
Face flaming, I finally fished the thing out. Jenks was laughing from the upper windows, and Takata had his head in his hands, clearly trying not to laugh. A nervous titter went through the church, and I looked at the incoming number. Glenn. Adrenaline hit me.
"Excuse me," I said, really excited. "I am so sorry. I had it on vibrate. Really."
Takata laughed outright, and I reddened upon remembering where I'd fished it out from.
"Ah, I have to take this," I said. Ellasbeth was furious, and when the holy guy gestured sourly for me to go ahead, I flipped it open and turned my back on everyone. "Hi," I said softly, and my voice echoed. "I'm at the Kalamack wedding. Everyone's listening. Whatcha got?" Crap, could this get any more awkward?
There was a crackle of static telling me Glenn was still on the road, and he said, "You're at his wedding? Rachel, you're one crazy-ass witch."
I halfway turned and shrugged at the holy guy. "Sorry," I mouthed, but inside I was running full out. At least Glenn had gotten my unspoken reference to people being able to hear him and would word his responses carefully.
"I've got the paperwork," Glenn said, and my tension spiked. "You can go to work."
I shifted my weight to feel the comforting bump of my splat gun, hoping I wouldn't need it. "Hey, uh, Jenks never said how much you're going to give me for this."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Rachel, I'm on the interstate. Can we discuss this later?"
"Later gets me nothing," I said, and the congregation started to stir.
Trent cleared his throat, the anger of a thousand desert sunrises in it, and I shot him a look. Behind him Quen was starting to look suspicious. I wasn't going to get my fee out of them after pulling this little stunt, and I wanted something to show apart from my satisfaction of tagging Trent.
"I want your department to get my church resanctified," I said, and a ripple of surprise shifted through the people. Nothing like waving your dirty laundry in front of Cincinnati's finest. Piscary especially looked interested. This had better work, or I was dead tomorrow.
"Rachel..." Glenn started.
"Oh, never mind," I said nastily. "I'll do this pro bono, like I always do for the FIB." Like everyone didn't know who I was talking to by now? My back was to the pews, but Jenks was watching, and I felt reasonably safe.
"I'm calling you some backup," Glenn said, and I put a hand to my forehead.
"Good," I said, around an exhale. "I don't want to haul my tag in on the bus." I heard Glenn take a breath to say something, and, catching Trent shifting from the corner of my eye, I blurted, "Thanks, Glenn. Hey, if this doesn't work out - "
"You want red roses on your grave, right?"
That wasn't it, but he had hung up. Closing the phone, I hesitated, then dropped it back down my front as I turned.
Trent was not happy. "That was a fascinating look into your life, Ms. Morgan. Do you do children's parties, too?"
Nervousness rose in me, quickly followed by a spike of adrenaline. It lit through me, almost as good as sex. My thoughts zinged back to Ivy telling me I lived my life making decisions that would put me in dangerous situations just to feel the rush. An adrenaline junkie, but at least I was making money at it. Usually.
Ivy. She was staring at me, a glimmer of fear marring her deep blankness. "Jenks?" I said loudly, and when he chirped his wings, Quen tensed.
The congregation gasped when I leaned to pull aside my dress to show my calf-high boots. Fumbling with the silk slip, I grabbed my cuffs. "Under temporary jurisdiction of the FIB, I'm authorized to arrest you, Trent Kalamack, for suspicion of the murder of Brett Markson."
A unified gasp rose like a wave from the audience.
"That's it!" Ellasbeth shouted, and the holy guy snapped his book shut and took a step back. "Trenton, I've put up with your little tart of a witch in my bathtub. I put up with your insisting she be in my wedding. But her arresting you just to stop our marriage is intolerable!"
She was royally pissed, and I yanked a pliant Trent from his groomsmen. Quen moved, then leapt backward, a flash of dragonfly wings between us. Al was laughing in big, booming guffaws, but I didn't see anything funny. Except maybe the witch-in-his-bathtub comment.
"Rachel - " Trent's words cut off, and his beautiful face went indignant at the twin clicks of metal ratcheting about his wrist. Quen tried to outflank Jenks, his pockmarked face dark with anger when Jenks stopped him, an arrow pointed at his eye.
"Try me, Quen," the pixy said, and the congregation went silent.
Trent stood with his cuffed hands before him. "Uh, uh, uh," I mocked, picking up my shoulder bag and getting ready to bug on out of here. "Trent, remind Quen what happens if he interferes with me. I've got a warrant." Oh, yeah. Turning to Trent, I said, "You have the right to remain silent, but I doubt you will. You have the right to an attorney, which I imagine Quen will be calling soon. If you can't afford one, hell has frozen over and I'm the princess of Oz, but in that case, one will be appointed to you. You understand your rights that the entire congregation of Cincy's finest have heard me recite?"
Green eyes angry, he nodded. Satisfied, I tugged his shoulder and started him toward the steps. Trent's mix of anger, shock, and disbelief gave away to anger. "Call the appropriate lawyer," he was saying to Quen as I dragged him. "Ellasbeth, this won't take long."
"Yeah, call your lawyer," I echoed, scooping up the focus.
Al's laugher echoed up into the rafters. I hesitated, waiting for the windows to break or something. There was an evil delight to it, and it seemed to free the seated people from their shock. They burst into a sudden noise of conversation, startling me. Ivy's face remained blank. Beside her, Piscary, too, was wide-eyed, trying to wrap his thoughts around this. Takata was worried, and Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong were arguing vehemently.
"Jenks!" I shouted, not wanting to walk down that aisle alone.
And suddenly he was with me. "Got your back, Rache," he said, his wings snapping with excitement, flying backward with his arrow still aimed at Quen. "Let's go."
Bag on one shoulder and focus under an arm, I guided Trent down the stairs, holding his elbow so he wouldn't trip and sue me for unnecessary roughness. Da-a-a, da-a-a, da, dum. I got the bastard now, echoed in my thoughts in a mockery of the wedding march. Someone's phone snapped a picture, and I grinned, imagining tonight's front page. I could hear sirens in the background, and I hoped they were the FIB, come to hustle me off the street, and not the I. S. to arrest me. I didn't actually have the warrant, but my contact did.
Forgotten by the altar, Ellasbeth made a frustrated sound of anger. "Trent!" she cried, and I almost felt sorry for the woman. "This is outrageous. How can you let her do this? I thought you owned this city!"
Trent halfway turned, and I steadied him on the steps with a hand on his shoulder. "I don't own Ms. Morgan, dear. I need a few hours to sort this out. I'll join you at the reception."
God, I hoped not.
As we passed Piscary, I slowed. "Would you meet me at the FIB?" I said, pulse pounding and breathless. "I have something for you."
The undead vampire kissed the underside of Ivy's wrist, making her shudder. "You are utterly inhuman, Rachel. Almost as cold as you are audaciously contemptible. It's a side to you that is... delightfully unexpected. I'm most interested in what you have to say."
Not knowing what to make of that, I nodded and pushed Trent back into motion. He was indignant, apparently figuring out that I was going to give the vampire the focus. Hell, Piscary "insured" four-fifths of the city, and David's company picked up the rest. It wasn't hard to figure out I wanted to be added to the list. Seeing Trent's understanding, I smiled. Bastard.
"Trent!" Ellasbeth shrieked. "You walk out of this church and I'm gone. I'm on the plane and I'm home! I agreed to marry you, not this... this circus you call a life."
"I don't have much choice - dear," he said over his shoulder. "Will you curb your hysterics and tend to our guests? This is a minor glitch."
"Minor glitch!" I was walking sideways, nearly missing it when she threw her bouquet at the holy guy, screaming. "Quen! Do something! That's what you're paid for!"
My eyebrows rose. I was almost to the door, and no one had tried to stop me. Shock was a wonderful tool when used correctly.
Quen looked up from his phone. "I am, Ms. Withon. I've already established that Morgan is acting within the law, and I'm calling Trenton's trial lawyer."
Al was laughing, tears streaming down his face. His hand was against the altar for balance, and the flowers on it were turning black. Being in Lee's body let him touch it with impunity, but he was still a demon, and clearly his presence was being noted.
When we reached the entry way, it hit Trent that I was really tagging him. "This is ridiculous, Rachel," he said, as I bitch-kicked the door open. Moonlight spilled in through the fog shining on the cement steps. "This is my wedding day. You are way out of line."
"Hauling your ass in is justice," I said, squinting from the flashing FIB lights. "Killing Brett was out of line. He didn't know anything. All he wanted was someone to look to."
I shoved Trent through the door before the heavy wood could arc closed, then pulled the damp, cool night air smelling of garbage and exhaust deep into me, relieved to see those FIB cruisers. Officers were all over the place, securing the area before anyone could follow me out.
"Hey! Hi!" I called while I waved, wanting to be sure they knew I was the good guy. "I got him. He's all yours! Just tell me where to put him."
I headed toward the nearest cruiser, pushing Trent before me. "Trust me, Trent," I said when we found the pavement. "You'll thank me for this someday."
"I didn't think you cared about my happiness, Ms. Morgan," he said as an excited officer touched his cap and opened the door for him.
"I don't," I said shortly. "Watch yourself." I put my hand on the back of his head, feeling a jolt of ever-after try to surge to him, checking it just in time. Shaken for my lack of control, I shoved him into the car and slammed the door shut. It was noisy, and I blinked when I realized the bus was still there. I waved, and everyone waved back, the driver tooting the horn. Satisfied, I stood a little taller and slicked my hair back out of my eyes.
Damn, when I was bad, I was good.