Chapter Twenty-seven
I flipped my splat gun out of my waistband, letting it spin like a gunslinger's pistol before aiming it at the distant door. The scratching there had quit hours ago, shortly after the sound of a large rock hitting the pavement shook the dust from the ceiling. Apparently, the gargoyles were still around. That had made me feel secure enough that I'd managed to grab a few winks a couple of hours ago while Trent stood guard.
The watch - on loan from Ivy - about my wrist said it was twenty minutes to sunrise. Twenty minutes before all hell was going to break loose, and here I was playing gunslinger. Trent would be able to pop out when things got rough with his freaking "magic word," but I had a circle drawn beside the altar for Jenks and me to hide in if worse came to worst. It ought to hold until Newt showed. My spelling supplies to take Al's name were in it, just waiting for the focusing object. I was going to work the curse as soon as Jenks found the demon's DNA. If I didn't survive, at least everyone I cared about would be safe. Hurry up, Jenks.
"Bang," I whispered, then pulled the gun back to me and tucked it in at the small of my back. I was dying to go out and see what had hit the street before the front door. Tired, I glanced at the statue, then Trent sitting slumped with his back against the defiled altar. He had nodded off for a few hours around midnight, trusting I'd keep him safe.
This was taking it right to the wire - and that was assuming I had a ride home. Crap, I was tired of this. The theoretical charm shop Jenks sometimes mocked me with was looking mighty good right now. Sure, I had been all spit and indignant righteousness when I told Trent that Jenks hadn't used my ride home to get to the ever-after, but the last few hours before sunrise were dragging deep across my soul, and I feared that I was living in a fairy tale if I expected Minias to accept that Jenks was a hair scrunchy and deserved a free ride.
Trent felt me looking at him and woke up. His eyes were puffy from the grit and tired, and his face showed his strain. I looked away and stretched for my hat, dropping it onto my head and pulling it low so I couldn't see him. Exhaling, I forced the tension out. Maybe I could figure ley line traveling out if there weren't demons breathing down my neck like the last time. Until Jenks came up with Al's cellular sample, there was nothing else to do. I'd been trying to piece it together all night.
My eyes shut and I made my muscles relax. If Jenks was right, ley lines were what kept the ever-after connected to reality. All I had to do was learn how to use them, and Jenks and I would be home free. Sure. Easy stuff.
Like I had a hundred times already tonight, I reached a thought out to the nearest line but didn't tap it, afraid a demon would sense me doing it. I lingered there, feeling the energy rush past my consciousness like a red-sheened, silver ribbon. It suddenly occurred to me that the energy was flowing one-way, into our reality. Was the ever-after shrinking? Its substance flowing into our reality like water is drawn to puddle up from a small drop into a larger one? Maybe that was why the ever-after was all broken up.
Tension filtered back, tightening my muscles one by one as I tried to remember what it had felt like when I'd been carried along the lines of energy. The thought of Ivy had brought me home once.
My face warmed. Newt had said I loved Ivy more than the church. I wasn't going to deny it, but there were all kinds of love, and how shallow would I be if my anchor to reality was a hunk of real estate? It was the people who were there that made it mean something.
The flush cooled as I remembered the feeling of my soul breaking apart and how Newt had held my consciousness until I had a body again. Had the shift between realities fractured my soul or just my body?
I moved my knees to feel they'd stiffened. My eyes opened, and I stared at the new rings of dust under the chandeliers. I couldn't even smell the burnt amber on me anymore, and that bothered me. I jumped when Trent sat down beside me. I had forgotten he was here. Pulse pounding, I shifted down an inch or two, wondering what he wanted. Getting antsy, was he?
"I, uh, want to thank you," he said, when it was obvious I wasn't going to break the awkward silence.
Surprised, I glanced at Ivy's watch. Tickity-tock, Jenks. "You're welcome."
He pulled his knees up, which made him look odd in his black jumpsuit. "Don't you want to know what for?"
Expression neutral to maintain the facade that everything was going according to plan, I gestured at the broken cathedral. "For keeping you alive on this magic carpet ride?"
He looked at the shattered room. "For stopping my wedding."
Blinking, I cautiously offered, "You didn't love her."
His gaze had dulled, and his hair was white with dust. "I didn't have the chance to find out."
Trent wants to love someone. Curious. "Ceri - "
"Ceri wants nothing to do with me," he stated. He let his knees fall to stretch his legs down the stairs, his usually collected features scrunched up. "Why do I need to marry someone anyway? It's politics, that's all."
I stared, seeing him as a young man in a position of power being asked to marry, have children, live a nice quiet life of hidden intrigue and public showmanship. Poor, poor Mr. Trent. "That didn't stop you with Ellasbeth," I said, pushing for more.
"I don't respect Ellasbeth."
Don't respect or don't fear her? I ran my gaze up from his boots to his cap. "You're welcome," I said. "But I arrested you to put you in jail, not to save you from Ellasbeth." Jenks had helped Quen steal the evidence that Trent had murdered the Weres, and the FIB had to let him go. And yet Trent was taking the last ride out of the ever-after instead of sticking around and helping us bargain for two more trips. Ah, well. It really wasn't his problem, was it.
A faint smile quirked his lips. "Don't tell Quen, but the jail time was worth it."
My smile grew to match his, then faded. "Thank you for bringing Jenks home," I said, then added, "And my shoes. Those are my favorite pair."
Looking askance at me, he almost smiled. "No problem."
"But I don't appreciate you putting my future kids on the demon radar," I said, and his expression became questioning. God, he didn't even know he had done it. I don't know if that made it better or worse. Jaw tight, I added, "Telling Minias my kids will be healthy and possibly able to kindle demon magic?"
His jaw dropped and I clasped my knees to my chest. "Idiot," I muttered. He hadn't even known what he had done.
My gaze slid to my watch, then the foam-covered windows. The light outside would be growing red and sickly, the wind rising. The gargoyles might have been able to keep us safe in here at night, but as soon as the sun rose, they would be dormant. Even worse, not only was I not going to have time to do the spell, I was likely not even going to get the sample. I had a bad feeling Minias would show up the moment he was free. Come on, Jenks.
Trent's boots scraped the decayed carpeting to show the wood underneath. "Sorry."
Yeah. That makes it all better.
"If there's only one trip out, I'll try to get you back," he said suddenly.
Surprise washed through me, almost a hurt, and I jerked my head up. "Excuse me?"
He was staring at the front door, looking as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. "We couldn't have done this without Jenks. If Minias considers him a person, I'll try to arrange two more trips out. If I can."
I took a breath, having forgotten to breathe. "Why? You don't owe us anything."
His lips parted and closed, and he shrugged. "I want to be more than...this," he said, gesturing to himself.
What in hell was going on?
"Don't get me wrong," he said, glancing furtively at me and away. "If it comes to sending you home and being a hero, or being a bastard by sending myself home and saving my species, I'm going to be a bastard. But I'll try to get you home. If I can."
My breath came and went, and I tried to wrap my thoughts around what had changed in him. It had to be Ceri. The woman's complete disdain for Trent was starting to get to him; she didn't excuse his actions and saw right through his surface attempts at making up for his past - thinking the attempts made him worse, not better. Her soul was black, her past filthy with unimaginable deeds, but she carried herself with a noble strength, knowing that though she broke the law with impunity, she was loyal to those she owed allegiance to and loved. And perhaps Trent was seeing it for the first time as a strength, not a weakness.
"She's not going to ever love you," I said, and his eyes closed.
"I know, but someone might."
"You're still a murdering bastard."
His eyes opened, a spot of green in the dusty gray surrounding us. "That's not going to change."
That I could believe. Needing to move, I rose and went to stand before the statue. "Jenks?" I shouted. "We're running out of moonlight!" It was too late to do the curse. We were down to snatch and run.
"You aren't so lily white yourself," Trent said. "Stop throwing stones."
Stiffening, I spun. "I got my demon smut trying to save my butt. Nothing died."
With a soft huff, Trent pulled his knees to himself and turned on the top stair to face me. "Such a nice friendly witch, helping the FIB and little old ladies find their familiars. How many bodies are at your feet, Rachel?"
Heat hit me, and my breath caught. Oh. That. There were bodies in my past. I lived with a vampire who had probably killed people and I willingly accepted that. Kisten's hands hadn't been clean either. Jenks had killed to keep his children alive, and would do so again without thought. I had intentionally killed Peter, though he had wanted to die.
"Peter doesn't count," I said, hip cocked, and Trent shook his head as if I were a child. "You murder people outright," I said indignantly. "You killed three Weres for business last summer and were going to let my friend take the blame. Brett only wanted to belong to something." That it still hurt surprised me.
"We are exactly the same, Rachel. We're both prepared to kill to protect what we care for. It simply comes up a lot more often with me. You murdered a living vampire to protect your way of life. That he wanted to die was simply a pretty bow around it."
"We are nothing alike," I said. "You kill for business and profit. I did what I had to do to keep the balance between the vamps and the Weres." Full of indignant anger, I looked down at him as he sat on the stairs. "Are you saying I shouldn't have?"
Smiling beatifically, Trent said, "No. You did the right thing. Exactly what I would have done. What I'm saying is that the rest of us would appreciate it if you would stop working against the system and start working in it."
"With you?" I said caustically, and he shrugged.
"Your talents, my contacts. I'm going to change the world. You can have a say in it."
Disgusted, I turned my back on him, arms crossed over my chest. Demons were about to chew our noses off, and he was still trying to woo me into working for him. But here I was, doing just that. God, I was such an idiot. "I already have a say in it," I muttered.
"Rache?" came a warbling call from the statue, and my heart jumped. "I got Al's."
I backed up a step, pulse fast when Jenks burst from behind the statue trailing a thin ribbon of gold dust. "I looked for your sample," he said, dropping a pinky-nail-size ampoule of black sludge into my grip. "But you don't have one. I guess you weren't Al's familiar long enough. If Al ever tries to reverse the curse, he's going to have to get a sample from you."
"Thank you," I said, dizzy as I looked at the little drop of nothing in my hand that was Al. I'd risked my life for this. Heart pounding, I looked at Ivy's watch - ten minutes to sunup. I was going to use it now.
"Get Trent's sample," I said, lurching to the circle already scribed out on the wooden floor where the carpet had been burned away. I wasn't going to tap a line and set it unless we were interrupted. At that point, it wouldn't matter if I rang the damned bell.
Trent followed, and I almost smacked into him as he tried to get a look at Al's blood. "That's it?" he said, and I pulled back from his reaching hand. "It's over five thousand years old. It can't be any good."
Jenks's wings snapped aggressively. "It's magic, you big cookie fart. If you can read a DNA sample off a nasty mummified elf corpse, then Rachel can use a five-thousand-year-old drop of blood for a demon curse."