"I didn't know that," he said, looking like he was realigning his thinking.
He went to say something more, but Jenks had dropped down through the open roof to hover between us. "You ready to go, Rache?" he asked, looking far too bright and eager.
"Yes," I said, tired as I gathered my bag to myself again. "We need to talk. I'm going to get Trent to the coast. I'm going to need your help, and don't try to stop me."
The pixy put his hands on his hips and grinned at me. "I know."
My lips parted, and I stared at him. I know? He'd said, I know? "Who are you, and how did you kill my partner?" I said, and Jenks spilled a silver dust.
"Cookie farts is right," he said. "Neither of you will make it out there without the other. And me, to help."
A huge sigh came from Trent instead of the expected bad temper at the slur. His eyes were closed, and when they opened, there was hope-it made him look more powerful yet. "We can leave within the hour," he said, opening the door. "They won't be expecting that."
I wondered if he meant they as in the Withons or they as in the coven.
Trent was gone, his door thumping shut. Jenks shot out of the roof. Scrambling, I worked the door and got out, blinking as I emerged in the sun. "They won't be expecting it because it's a stupid idea," I said, seeing Trent beside Ivy and Quen. "I need to go home and pack again," I said, striding to the trunk of my mom's car. "Jenks needs to find a babysitter."
Ivy shifted my garment bag to show two suitcases, my old blue one and the other I'd seen in the trunk of Trent's car. It had to be Trent's. What was my old suitcase doing here? And Trent's? That was Trent's, wasn't it?
"You've got your dress," Ivy said as I stared. "And everything you packed for the airplane is in your blue bag."
"Wha-what was in my checked luggage?" I stammered.
Ivy gave me one of her few full smiles. "Magazines," she said matter-of-factly. "They weren't going to let you get on that plane," she said coaxingly when my brow furrowed, "so sue me for thinking ahead. I just moved everything you packed to a different bag. I thought we'd hit the train station next, but this is better."
Not believing this was happening, I looked at everyone in turn, feeling like I'd been manipulated. "What about Jenks and his kids?" I asked.
"I called Jih," Jenks said as he landed on the raised trunk, his wings going red in the reflected heat. "Bis is going to watch them at night, and Jih is going to watch them during the day. Her husband wasn't going for it until I agreed that Jih could bring home whatever she wanted from the graveyard." His wings hummed and he took flight, warm again. "Ivy's going to bring me my good sword and some toothbrushes."
"You're coming?" I asked Ivy, not seeing her suitcase in the trunk.
She shrugged. "I'm going to close up the church and fly out to join you. You can get to St. Louis by nightfall. I already have my ticket."
Oh God. The one she'd bought today? Feeling used, I dropped back, eying them in disbelief. "This morning was all for show?" I said bitterly.
From beside me, Trent shifted his feet. "Is this why you suggested I dress casually?" he asked Quen. "You knew I wasn't coming back?"
Jenks hummed, close, darting off when I waved him away before he could land on my shoulder. "We had to be sure Ivy could fly," the pixy said. "Now we know she can. We're taking your mom's car."
The pixy looked too satisfied to live, but I wasn't happy.
"No, we're taking mine," Trent said suddenly, and I realized he hadn't known about this, either. It made me feel a little better. Especially when Quen cleared his throat and fell into a modified parade rest.
"No, Sa'han, you're taking Ms. Morgan's car."
I turned to Ivy and Jenks, both of them smiling in the sun as if it was all just a joke. Me and Trent in a car to St. Louis? The tabloids would love it. "You had this all worked out, huh?"
"Not all of it until just now," Ivy said. "But both Quen and I like to be prepared."
From my other side, Trent muttered, "Can I talk to you, Quen? Privately?"
"Yeah, yeah," Jenks said brightly when Quen inclined his head to excuse himself. "Go complain. It isn't going to change anything."
Gravel crunched under Trent's boots as the two elves went to have an argument that I was sure Trent was going to lose. Uneasy, I squinted in the sun as I faced Ivy. "You agree with this?"
Ivy nodded, and Jenks darted away to eavesdrop on Trent and Quen. "I think this is the safest way to get you there," Ivy said, and my focus sharpened on her. "The coven won't take a shot at you with Trent in the car, and the Withons' assassins aren't that much of a threat. It's the best of a bad situation. And if he is lying and he double-crosses you, I'll kill him for you."
From anyone else, it would have been an idle threat, and I smiled, feeling loved.
"Take this for me," Ivy said, handing me her laptop in the briefcase. "If for some reason I can't get on the plane, I'll bike out and join you. With luck, I'll see you in a few hours."
I took the briefcase as the heavy door of my mom's car slammed. Nervous, I gave her a hug. Jenks flew up, dusting us as he got included in there somewhere. "Be nice," Ivy whispered as she let go, and I shivered at the feeling of her words on my neck.
Flustered, I backed up, holding the briefcase before me like a fig leaf. Quen was coming toward us, and I shifted to make room for him. Trent was in the front seat, passenger side. Huh. He was in for a surprise if he thought he was going to ride the entire way.
Worry made the creases in the older man's face deeper. Gripping my hand, Quen's expression smoothed out somewhat. "Thank you, Rachel," he said as he let go. "Don't let him do anything too stupid."
"If he does," Jenks said loudly, "we'll just leave him at a restaurant or something."
I didn't bother to hide my smile, but I shook my head to reassure Trent's security officer. I had more class than that. I think.
Quen hesitated as Ivy made motions to get back into Trent's car, then he said quickly, "Thank you from me. Ceri and me both..."
My smile grew wider, and for the first time, I started to feel good about this. "You're welcome," I said, knowing Quen couldn't leave Ceri. It was his child she was having, not Trent's. The woman could take on demons and win, but to have Quen beside her as she brought their child into the world would mean more to her than anything else.
"Bring him home safely so I don't have to mess you up," Quen added as he turned away, and my worry flowed back. I was responsible for Trent. I was responsible for keeping him alive on this magic carpet ride. Remind me again of why I said yes?
But Quen had gotten into the sleek black car with Ivy, and I did nothing as it looped forward and around, and left. The sound of the popping of gravel under tires gave way to crickets. A hot summer breeze rose, making my hair tickle my neck. My gaze went to the pale blue sky, then shifted to the cameras on the light poles.
I took a slow breath, and it was as if I could see the entire world spreading out unseen before me, making me small as I realized how far we had to go.
"How many miles is it?" I whispered to Jenks, and the sound of his wings melted into the morning, sounding right.
"One at a time, Rache."
Nodding, I dropped my eyes and scuffed my boots to the passenger side of the car. Yanking the door open, I met Trent's startled gaze. He was wearing a pair of classy, green-tinted sunglasses, and it made him look all the better. "You're driving," I said flatly.
Trent stared. "I beg your pardon?"
"I don't have a license," I said, waiting for him to get out. "The I.S. took it when I got summoned out on I-77 and plowed my car into a bridge railing. You're driving, bucko. At least until we get out of the city and no one will recognize me."
He blinked, then muttered, "For God's sake," as he undid his seat belt and slid over.
Jenks darted into the car as I got in, taking his usual seat on the rearview mirror. "You're not going to swear all the bloody Tink-blasted way there, are you?" he asked.
Feeling weird, I settled myself, my bag going on the backseat. "I've got one more condition, or this stops right here," I said, and Trent sighed, his hands on the wheel, staring at the dusty trunk of the car in front of us. Overhead, a plane roared.
"What," he said flatly, more of a demand than a question.
My thoughts went back to the enthrallment curse and him wiping the memories of Jack and Jill, and I laboriously rolled my window down. My mom didn't trust electronics, and they were the old crank style. "You do nothing but drive," I said. "Got it? No wiping memories, no enthrallment, and no fighting if there's trouble. Nothing. You sit in a bubble and play tiddledywinks."
Jenks made a scoffing sound. "You're not good at this, greenie weenie, and you're going to slow us down if you try."
"You don't like my magic?" he said, a thread of pride in him.
"No," I shot back, stifling a shiver at the memory of his wild, elven magic. "I don't. Calling on the divine for strength is risky, and you never know what you're going to get. Keep it to yourself, or I'm going to zip-strip you."
His eyebrows rose mockingly. "Not a good feeling, is it? Knowing someone has the ability to do bad things and you just have to trust they won't."
"I only do black magic as a last resort," I said through clenched teeth. It was all I could do not to smack the smug, satisfied look off his face.
"Keys?" Trent said mockingly, and Jenks hummed his wings in anticipation.
Twisting, I reached over the seat for my bag, flushing when I got myself back where I belonged. Sheesh, my butt had been inches from Trent, and Jenks was laughing as I refastened my seat belt. Trent was still utterly emotionless, and I smacked the keys into his hand with enough force to bring his eyes to mine.
"She's all yours, Jeeves," I said, closing my eyes as I tried to gather my strength. This was going to be a long ride. They stayed shut for all of three seconds, flashing open when Trent revved the engine hard, jamming it into reverse and making me reach for the dash. "Take it easy!" I shouted, staring at Trent, his eyes on the rearview mirror.
"Watch where you're driving that piece of blue-haired crap!" someone yelled, and I turned to the businessman behind us, clearly hot and bad tempered as he looked for his car.
I went to shout something appropriately rude, but Trent had already yanked the wheel around and was accelerating, leaving him in a cloud of gravel dust. "When we get to St. Louis, we're renting a real car," Trent muttered.
"There is nothing wrong with my mom's car," I snapped.
Trent was silent, staring straight ahead, but I was fuming. There was nothing wrong with my mom's car. Nothing at all.