Chapter Eleven
I spun to Trent. The smug brat was smirking. "Why didn't you tell me Quen was back!" I shouted, my urge to smack him hesitating when Quen dryly cleared his throat. Distracted, I looked up at the railing. Quen was there, his pox scars standing out strongly against an unusual paleness. Ray was in his arms, and the little girl clung to him. Both Quen and Trent were smiling. Ellasbeth was not.
Trent's hand went to my arm to lead me upstairs. "Why did you let me believe Quen was dead the morning he recovered from his vampire bite?" he said, and I jerked my arm away from him as we found the first step.
"I was a little preoccupied with Takata being my birth father," I said, heart pounding as I took the stairs two at a time.
Trent kept up, maddeningly graceful. "It wasn't my place to tell . . ."
My eyes narrowed. "Not your place . . . Are we even now? You little . . . cookie maker!" I exclaimed, knocking him off balance when we found the eight-by-eight landing for the first floor. Ellasbeth gasped, but Trent was laughing, even as he caught himself. Quen was here. He was okay. Finally something was going our way.
Seeing me lurch up the last of the stairs, Quen straightened to try to hide his fatigue. Our eyes met, and the older man nodded solemnly. On his hip, Ray gurgled happily. The little girl was in a sweet full-length jumper/Indian-looking robe of some sort cut from a subdued orange-and-brown paisley, her brown hair braided and looped out of the way. Hearing Jenks's wings, she pushed from her father's shoulder to find him. She was a beautiful blending of Ceri and Quen, and again I was struck by the frailty of this small family.
"Rachel," Quen said simply, and I pushed past Ellasbeth in her cream-colored business suit and matching heels.
"That's not going to do it," I said as I pulled the older man into a hug, getting Ray mixed up in there somewhere. The curious scent of cinnamon and wine that all elves had mixed with the throat-catching odor of hospital. Under it was his masculine pull, a faint hint of controlled magic and ozone to give it some interest. He smells different from Trent, I thought. Trent's magic smelled powerful, but Quen's had a darker tang than Trent's shadowed glow.
Suddenly realizing Quen's arms had gone around me in what had probably been self-defense, I pushed back, embarrassed. "They let you out? When?" I said, wincing when Ray grabbed my hair and pulled me in.
The older man made a noise of admonishment, disentangling her fingers and then, unexpectedly, tugged me back to him with one arm, turning us both to the common living room visible through the wide archway. "They didn't let me do anything. I left. It's good to see you," he said, his voice rumbling through me. "You're the one who sent those damn demon-scented petits fours, aren't you? They woke me up at midnight, and I left at two."
I grinned as I slipped out from under his arm. He looked tired but good, the injuries to his nervous system obviously repaired enough to function. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"No, but everything will eventually come back," he said, and I gave him a light punch on his arm and wrinkled my nose at Ray.
"Tomorrow morning, probably," I guessed. Three days. That's how long it took to renew an aura so it didn't hurt when you tapped a line. What had Ku'Sox done to him?
Trent was making his way to Ellasbeth. Having seen our reunion-and not being a part of it-the woman had retreated to the small kitchen behind the large sunken living room. Four doors led to four suites-Quen and Ceri's, Trent's, the girls'. The fourth had been Ellasbeth's when she had been his fiancee, and by the sound of it, it might be again.
My heart ached at the toys scattered in the living room, and a crayon-scribbled picture of horses was pasted to a door, a sad two feet from the floor. This was the closest that Trent would ever get to a normal family life, and I was angry that Ku'Sox had spoiled it.
Suddenly unsure, I followed Quen and Ray to the sunken living room, having to wave Jenks's dust out of my way. The last time I'd seen Ellasbeth was when I'd arrested Trent at their wedding. I hadn't known she'd been pregnant with Lucy at the time, and I didn't know if it would have made any difference. The well-dressed, sophisticated woman looked broken as she sat at the small kitchen table, her expensive cream-colored slacks and coordinating top and jacket rumpled. She was tired, jet lag and worry having taken their toll on her perfect makeup and upright posture. Even so, I balked as her eyes found mine.
Her strawlike, straight hair looked fake next to Trent's wispy strands, and her build was too strong to have only elf in her. She was not full blood, and it showed. Money had a way of erasing that, though, and her family was almost as influential as Trent.
Jenks's wings shivered against my neck as he took refuge, and a chill went through me. "Oh, there's trouble with a high-end handbag," he said, and I agreed.
"Ah . . . hello," I said, feeling awkward, as if she'd come home and found me naked in Trent's tub. No, wait. She had once.
Ellasbeth stood in a smooth, controlled motion of grace, and I jerked to a stop. Quen gave me a "good luck" look as he continued into the lower living room area with Ray, and Jenks abandoned me, wings clattering. Chicken. But all she did was extend her hand, a stiff expression on her face. "Thank you for agreeing to help Trent get Lucy and Ceri back."
That was not what I had expected, and I cautiously took her unworked hand in mine. Her voice wasn't inviting, but it wasn't cold, either. My thoughts returned to Trent's words in the greenhouse. She wanted back into his life? Why? Power? Parental and social pressure? Lucy? I didn't think it was to spend the rest of her life with Trent, but it wasn't my business.
"Ah, it's the right thing to do," I said, letting her hand go and forcing myself to not hide mine behind my back. Her touch had been cold, and I maintained my pleasant expression. No, it wasn't my business, but Trent would tie himself to this woman if he thought it was what duty required of him. He'd do it for everything she represented despite her having nothing he wanted.
Her smile widened, but didn't get any warmer. "Still," she said, her hands clasped before her to look like a proper 1940s wife in her monochromatic dress suit and matching purse. "It's very noble of you to risk your life when you don't have a personal stake in the outcome."
Lemon-yellow dust sifted from the light fixture. Ignoring Jenks's silent comment, I smiled right back at her. "But I do. Lucy is my godchild, and Ceri is my friend. I freed her from the demons before, and seeing her cry over having a home, husband, and children when she never dreamed of freedom makes me a tad protective of her when some demon tries to take it away."
"I see."
I see? Did she say I freaking see? "Besides," I added when her eye twitched. "If I don't help him, who will?" My unspoken you? was obvious.
From Ceri's high-backed embroidery chair, Quen cleared his throat. Trent had his back to us, busy in the kitchen making coffee, and Jenks simply sent down another shower of sparkling dust, the crystal in the fixture tinkling as it shook from his laughter.
Inclining her head, Ellasbeth smoothly sat back down. "I'll make sure you're well compensated." My smile froze as I suddenly became hired help standing before her.
Damn, she was good. "I don't work for Trent," I said, suddenly feeling outclassed. Her eyes were on my pinkie ring, and I think she'd recognized it as matching Trent's. "I work with him."
Stop it, Rachel, I thought as I realized I was in danger of arguing with an idiot. It wouldn't hurt you to be nice. She just lost her daughter, not once but twice.
Exhaling, I leaned against the counter, forcing her to turn if she wanted to keep me in her sight. "Ku'Sox won't hurt either of them," I said as Trent passed between us to hand Ellasbeth a cup of coffee. "Ku'Sox wants something, and this is the only way he can get it. Hurting them will only piss me off, and Ku'Sox knows that."
Ellasbeth's beaming smile to Trent vanished. "Can we please stop saying his name?" she asked, and on his way back to the kitchen, Trent shot me a look to be nice.
"Why?" I crossed my ankles and leaned deeper into the counter. "It's not like saying it does anything."
"Coffee, Rachel?" Trent said as he shoved a cup at me, and I scrambled to take it before it sloshed over. A faint blush was showing on Ellasbeth. Maybe that had been a tad petty.
"Ah, you have a book for me to look at, right?" I prompted, then took a sip.
"It's in the safe room. Look at it in there." Chin high, Ellasbeth pushed away the cup of coffee Trent had brought her. Out of her sight in the kitchen, Trent hung his head, his free hand rubbing his temple.
Quen rose, his motions slow and pained. Ray was slumped against him, the little girl valiantly fighting sleep and starting to lose. "I'll show you."
Jenks peeked over the fixture at me, laughing. It made me feel as if I'd lost something. Damn it, I could be nice to this woman. I didn't have to be her best friend, just not smack her while we breathed the same air. "Thank you, Ellasbeth. This is going to be a huge help," I said, but it sounded forced even to me. "We're going to get them back. It's going to be okay."
She looked up. The worry and fear of the last two days pooled in her eyes as she met mine and held them. I don't think anyone had told her it was going to be okay, and upon hearing it-even if she didn't believe it-she began to break apart. Tears welled and she quickly turned away, her posture becoming more stiff, more closed. It must be hard when the only comfort you got was from the person you most disliked in the room.
Trent set his coffee aside, the cup hitting the granite loudly. "Quen, while you're showing Rachel the safe room, Ellasbeth and I will be in the gardens."
"Why?" Ellasbeth said in distrust as she fumbled in her matching purse for a tissue. "I can help."
Trent touched the woman's shoulder, and I shoved a twinge of jealousy away. "If you're open to it, I'd like to discuss the possibility of joint custody."
Ellasbeth's eyes widened. "Trent," she said breathlessly. "I don't want to have to need a joint custody agreement at all."
From the chandelier came a tiny "Eeeeewwww."