"Ah, I don't know what to say," the small woman said as she approached, and I pushed out a chair for her.
"Sit," I said, smiling. "Trent won't bite. It's Ivy you have to worry about, and she's in the shower."
Her milk shake hit the table, and she sat. The heavy-magic detection amulet on my bag started to glow, but the lethal one remained dark. It didn't go unnoticed by Vivian, and she took a sip of her drink while Trent resettled himself. I couldn't help but be reminded of the last time I'd sat with her and had coffee. It had been in Mike's, actually, and she'd been prepared to shoot me if I hadn't gone with her. But that had been before she'd watched me stand next to a demon and try to save her mentor, Brooke.
"Ivy said you were at the airport," I said, taking a sip of coffee and probably getting Jenks's glitter on my lips. "You're not going to kill me, are you?" I asked, and Trent choked on his tomato soup.
Eying Trent, she shook her head, her eyes red rimmed and tired looking. "They're hoping you do something demonic on the way, and if so, I'm to report it," she said, nervous until Trent stopped coughing. "Not that everyone isn't pretty much set on how they are going to vote already. Except for whoever they elect to take Brooke's spot. Oh, anything you say to me is going to be used against you in the vote."
Vote? I thought, my gaze going to Trent as I realized he'd been right. They were going to try to put me away despite what Oliver had promised. "This was a done deal!" I said, then lowered my voice. "Oliver said if I dropped my claim that the council is corrupt, you'd pardon me!" I almost hissed.
Vivian shrugged as she sucked on her straw, and Trent wiped his mouth, red faced but finally under control. "Ms. Morgan is somewhat naive when it comes to world powers," he said.
"Why? Because I expect them to keep their word?" I said darkly.
Looking innocent drinking her milk shake, Vivian sat back, her blue eyes downcast. The diamonds on her watch glittered, and the time was off. "It would help a lot if you brought back Brooke. She'd vote for you then."
I couldn't stop my rueful laugh. "No, she wouldn't."
Trent had gone back to his soup, watching us both. It made me feel like I was on trial not once, but twice.
"And we're not corrupt," Vivian said, almost as an afterthought.
Why is she saying this crap? I thought, rolling up a second pancake and taking a bite. It was like she was reading a script. Maybe she was afraid of what Trent thought? Maybe she was bugged and this entire conversation was going to end up in someone else's ears?
Regardless, I couldn't let that one go without a rebuttal, so, taking a huge bite of pancake, I mumbled, "Right. Okay. Let's just say the coven is lily-white, but Brooke was dabbling in demonology." Swallowing, I added, "She summoned Big Al all on her own, knowing that's who she was going to get, not me. She didn't pay or threaten anyone into doing it, she did it herself. I warned her not to. I went out of my way to try to stop her. Burned my synapses and fried my brain trying to jump a line to get to her in time. If I'm to be shunned, then she should be, too."
Sure enough, Vivian didn't look appalled or insulted. Though we were alone, we were not unheard. "Can you..." She looked at Trent, hesitating.
"No," I said, knowing where her thoughts were. "I can't rescue her. Brooke summoned Al. He broke her circle because she didn't know what she was doing. I'm sorry. I know you think I control him, but I don't. I'm just trying to stay alive here."
Vivian bent her head back over her milk shake. "I had to ask," she said, her thin fingers looking cold on the glass.
The table grew quiet. I kept shoveling pancake in my mouth, not knowing what to say now that I knew we were being eavesdropped upon.
"Vivian," Trent said, his attention lifting from my unused syrup as he broke the awkward silence. "What role do you have in the coven? You seem to be involved in everything."
"I'm the plumber," she said with pride. "It's traditional for the junior ley-line magic user."
Plumber was a nice way of saying that she plugged information leaks and kept the crap moving. And I almost laughed at the junior tag. Junior or not, she could smear my face in the playground dirt with her white magic.
"I fix things," Vivian added to make sure Trent understood. "Make things run smoothly. That's why I..." Her words faltered, and she looked embarrassed as she took another pull on her straw.
"Got this gem of an assignment," I said, and she nodded. "Sorry about that."
"It's what I like," she said, shrugging. "Usually."
The last was said rather dryly, and I wondered if it was for our listener's benefit.
"Just be careful," I said, not entirely in jest. "That's what Pierce was before they cemented him into the ground."
Trent was still eying my syrup, even as he scraped his spoon to get the last dregs of the soup, and I pushed the little container to him.
Vivian's face showed her disgust. Pierce had beaten her up last spring, and that was not easy for the self-assured woman. "Pierce," she said, mouthing his name like it tasted bad. "He was dead. You brought him back."
I could almost hear her think black witch, and my jaw clenched. Why was everyone so fixated on labels? Across the table, Trent dunked his clean fork in the syrup, pushing the little container back after he'd tasted it. If he didn't like it, then Jenks wouldn't, either, and I left it as I put my napkin over my last pancake. I was done.
"I didn't bring Pierce back to life," I said, not seeing what difference it made, but wanting to clear it up. "He was in purgatory, and I accidentally woke him while using a white spell to talk to my deceased father for some parental advice. Did it on a dare. I got Pierce instead. Al was the one who made him alive again so he could use him as a familiar. Dead witches can't tap lines, and they make lousy familiars."
I sipped my coffee, trying not to think about it. Pierce was living out the rest of his life in another's-a dead man's-body. It gave me the willies, and I only hoped I'd never find myself facing such a decision. It was hard to blame the guy. I just wished he had given me a chance to find a better way before he'd given himself to Al until death do them part.
"But you woke him first?" Vivian said intently, her eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep.
"It's a white spell," I said, glancing at Trent. He had known for a while that I could do this. "And it doesn't work on the dead, only on those in purgatory."
Vivian moved her straw around to remix her milk shake. "I know it's white," she said. "I've tried it. You got it to work when you were how old?"
Oh. That. Uncomfortable, I looked out the window at my mom's car. "I don't remember," I lied. I'd been eighteen and stupid, but clearly there was someone under the grass Vivian wanted to talk to. "Pierce started haunting me last year. He was buried in my churchyard." I started to warm, getting angry. "It was your precious coven that killed him."
"I know," Vivian said, as eager as if she was talking about someone from a history book, not a real person I once had breakfast with, hid in a little hole with, owed my life to. "I read up on him after he...after we met," she said slowly. "He was a coven member gone bad. They had no choice but to kill him."
Trent was silent, drawing back as I pointed a finger at her. "He wasn't just killed. He was buried alive."
"Because of Eleison-" Vivian said, eyes alight as if discussing a long-argued point.
"Eleison was a mistake," I interrupted. "It wouldn't have happened if he had known even the basic defensive arts for demonology. Your coven turned on one of their own. Gave him to an ugly rabble instead of trying to understand what he was warning them about." Frustrated, I leaned forward. "Vivian, this lily-white crap the coven sticks to can't protect you anymore. It took five of you to subdue me, and I didn't use a black curse. A real demon would have. You saw how easily Al took Brooke."
"Rachel-" Trent said, and I cut him off.
"Knowing how to twist curses doesn't mean that you're evil," I said, hoping I believed it myself. "Using demon magic doesn't necessarily mean you're bad. It just means you created a whole lot of imbalance."
"You," Vivian said hotly, "are rationalizing. White is white. Black is black."
Trent picked up both bills, pulling a wallet from his back pocket and dropping enough cash on the table to cover them both. "Madam Coven Member disagrees with you," he warned me, and I frowned, my gut tensing.
"Look," I said, aware that I was probably sealing my fate, but this might be my only chance to actually say anything in my defense. "Knowing demon magic has saved my life. I never use curses that require body parts or ones that kill..." Shit, I thought, hesitating. "I've never killed..." Sighing, I paused once more. "I've never used it to kill anyone who wasn't trying to kill me first."
Vivian's lips parted, and her fingers slipped from the condensation-wet glass. "You admit you killed someone? With black magic?"
Trent's expression was questioning as he sat back down. My shoulders slumped, and I grimaced. "The fairies your precious coven sent to kill me," I admitted.
"No," Vivian said, shaking her head. "I mean people."
"Fairies are people," I said hotly. "I saved the ones I could, but-" Frowning, I shut up, glad Jenks hadn't heard.
Vivian was silent, her milk shake gone and her fingers damp as she dried them on a white paper napkin. "Well, I have to use the little girls' room," she said, looking uneasy. "Don't leave until I get out, okay?" she said hopefully. God, she didn't even know why I was insulted.
"No promises," Trent said as I continued to steam. "The road calls."
Vivian stood, her chair bumping on the floor. "I'm going to pay for this little chat when this is over," she said as she flicked the amulets around her neck. "See you at the finish line."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Vivian," Trent said, standing as well, his hand extended, and I huffed when they shook. Vivian, though, was charmed, beaming at him.
She turned away, and I cleared my throat. "You going to vote for or against me?" I asked bluntly, and the woman's eyes pinched.
"I don't know," she said softly. "Thanks for breakfast."
"Our pleasure," Trent said as he sat back down.
Vivian paused, looking like she wanted to say more, but then turned for the short corridor with RESTROOMS over it. She turned a corner and vanished with a squeak of a hinge.
Trent wrapped his hands around his mug and took a sip. "I don't understand you," he said. "I truly don't. You know they were listening, right? Editing it and putting it on the closed-circuit TV at the convention hotel?"
"I know," I said, depressed. "The sad thing is that she's probably the only coven member who might side with me, and I think I just alienated her." Disgusted, I pushed my plate away, trying to shove my dark thoughts along with it. Looking up, I caught the waitress's eye and pointed to my coffee cup, signaling another one for the road in a to-go cup. "You want another coffee?" I asked.
"No. Mind if I shower next?" he asked, and I gestured for him to have at it.
"Be my guest," I said, hoping he left me more than a hand towel.
Trent tapped the table once with his knuckles, hesitated, then left. The Weres at the end of the bar watched him as he walked to the door. There was a flash of light and a jingle as he opened it, and then the restaurant returned to a dim coolness.
The waitress sashayed to my table, a jumbo disposable cup in her hands. It was Were size, and if I drank it all, I'd be stopping to pee more than Jenks. "Thanks. That will wake me up," I said, reaching for my bag and wallet as she set the cup down.
"We're good," she said as she picked up the bills Trent had left behind and smiled.
Standing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and lifted the huge cup of coffee. It took two hands. This thing was not going to fit in my mom's cup holders, and I walked carefully to the door, opening it by leaning against it and walking backward.
The heat and light hit me, and I carefully let the door slide off me and close. This time-zone jumping got to a person. Two hours in one day was hard. Squinting, I shuffled to the car, now parked under the gas station overhang with a hose stuck into it. Trent wasn't anywhere, but Ivy was standing halfway across the lot, confronting a heavy, grungy trucker who looked not scared but concerned.
Her long hair, wet from her shower, glinted, and I paused at the car to set my coffee down and sigh at how much it took to fill the tank. Ivy had changed her clothes, her long legs managing to make the retro bell-bottoms look work. Her white shirt set off her figure nicely, and the short sleeves were going to make her day a lot cooler. She looked upset, and a faint feeling of unease tightened in me.
"Ivy?" I called, and she spun, the fear on her face striking me cold. She was moving fast-vampire fast-and her eyes were fully dilated in the bright sun.
"He's gone," Ivy shouted across the lot, and the fear dropped and twisted.
"Who?" I said, already knowing.
"Jenks," she said, eyes wide.
Coffee forgotten, I ran across the lot, squinting when the sun hit me. "Gone! Where?"
The trucker looked forlorn in a bearish sort of way, clearly wanting to help us but not understanding why we were upset. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, holding his hands like a fig leaf. "I don't pay much attention to the little winged critters unless they hit my windshield. They're a bitch to get off."
God help me, I thought, panicking.
"I don't know if it was pixies or fairies," the man said, "but a whole mess of noise of 'em just rose up, taking a little fella in red with them. He didn't look like he was hurt any."
My heart was thudding, and I backed up, sharing a terrified look with Ivy. Oh God, we were in the desert. There was nothing between me and the horizon but wind, sand, and scrub. Pixies could fly faster than I could run and in every direction.
We'd never find him.