[English] THE WITCH WITH NO NAME

The Witch With No Name
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“True.” Trent bobbed his head. “But the rest didn’t seem to care.”

“You noticed that, too?” I took a sip, startled by the rich warmth, but my thoughts were on Ivy. She was going to be okay, but the panic of sitting with her on the cold ever-after ground, holding her hand as she died, was just under my skin. I thanked God I hadn’t had to make that choice of following her desires and killing her again before she rose as an undead.

Oblivious to my thoughts, or more probable, aware and trying to distract me, Trent said, “I’ve never seen a surface demon with a weapon before. Apart from rocks.”

“I have,” I said, turning my mug in a revolving circle. “Newt used a surface demon as a marker in a time and space calibration curse. It had a sword. That’s how she knows which one it is and how long it lived.”

Kisten, I thought, sighing. Kisten had died twice within moments of his first death. I’d been there, but thankfully I hadn’t had to make that choice.

I had held Kisten’s hand and he had died happy, telling me that God had kept his soul for him. Stop it, Rachel, I thought miserably, wiping a tear away before it could brim as I recalled Kisten’s laughing smile. God! My emotions were all over the map. I had loved Kisten. I could love someone without fear. Felix was wrong.

Trent’s eyes were pinched, and he fidgeted. “Calibration curse?” he asked, desperate to get my mind on something else.

Smiling faintly, I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Ask me some other time,” I said, remembering the pain of the surface demon living its entire existence in the span of three heartbeats. I was starting to think that surface demons weren’t much more than ghosts, living, breathing ghosts who lusted after the living like the undead only without the shackles that a consciousness imparted. How could anything survive five thousand years without magic?

Clearly relieved, Trent scooted his chair closer to mine. “You think it’s the same one? Newt’s, I mean?”

Tired, I shook my head. “Newt’s had a sword. This one used a staff.” Felix used a staff, too. Maybe that was why the surface demon liked him. But the question remained, why had it done a one-eighty and turned into a groveling love puppy? “You know, it was almost as if the surface demon knew Felix already,” I said slowly. “And didn’t recognize him at first.”

I stopped, heart pounding as I looked up. It hadn’t been Felix in the ever-after in the beginning. It had been Nina. The surface demon hadn’t groveled in front of Nina, it had groveled in front of Felix. Like it knew him. Which would be really hard since the undead never go into the ever-after.

Lips parted, I stared at Trent, a new idea sifting down through my brain. “I think I know where vampire souls go when they die,” I whispered, seeing Trent’s face as white as mine felt.

“The ever-after,” we said in unison.

Chapter 5

I’m trying to help you,” I said, phone pressed to my ear as I sat in Trent’s car, parked across from the church. “But I need to get into my church, and I need you to take the hit off Ivy. I’ve found your souls, so back off!” Calm, composed, relaxed. The litany was no help. Coming home to find my church full of vampires was harassment, pure and simple. It had scared the crap out of me, too, but that had probably been Cormel’s intent.

“You’ve had over a year to work on this.” Cormel’s New York accent fell flat, when I usually found it charming. “You expect me to believe that today, only when I threaten you, that you have a viable plan. Just like that?”

Nervous, I picked at the window stripping until Trent made a pained sound. Beyond the tinted glass of his sports car, my church looked as if it had been hosting an all-night Brimstone party with toilet paper in the trees and what I hoped were just tomatoes smeared on the stained-glass windows. Bis was a lumpy shadow on a hard-to-reach eave, and I hoped he was okay.

“How often do the undead go into the ever-after?” I asked, and he rumbled a soft agreement. “Even I wouldn’t have figured out the connection between surface demons and vampires if you hadn’t chased me there with Ivy. Nina showing up with Felix in her unconscious was the trigger.”

Cormel was silent, probably unwilling to acknowledge why Felix had suddenly become raging and erratic—freaking out over having been tossed out on his ear by Nina—and with that doubt resonating in him, I put my last card on the table, shaking and glad we had thirty miles and probably two stories of dirt between us.

“Cormel,” I said softly. “I’m not making this up. Surface demons do not defend people, they tear them to shreds. That surface demon was Felix’s soul. It recognized Felix’s consciousness lurking in Nina. I can do this, I just need time.”

“Felix has not been dipping into Nina’s mind. He has promised me. He’s working again. A productive member of society.”

“Seriously?” Disgusted, I slumped to put my knees up against the dash, then took them down when Trent cleared his throat. “Look. I need time to prep the charms to capture it and then affix it to Felix. If it works, then we can all go back to normal. If it doesn’t, I’ll tweak it until it does, but I can’t do anything if I’m protecting Ivy. I’m doing what you want, but if you kill her, this all goes away.”

I glanced at Trent, drawn by his fingers slowly tapping in concern, not all of it for me and Ivy. It was his opinion that giving the undead a soul might not have the effect the vampires were looking for. Frankly, I didn’t care. I just wanted them to leave Ivy and me alone.

“Excuse me,” Cormel said. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Cormel?” I called, but he was gone. The line was still active, and I put my phone on speaker so we both could enjoy the happy, light sounds of dulcimers that Cormel had on his hold button. What a crock.

Peeved, I set the phone on the dash and unkinked my fingers. Someone was looking at me from the belfry and drew back when our eyes met. I was glad Nina and Ivy were still at Trent’s. Ivy had a hard enough time when a repairman came over. Seeing this invasion would jerk her instincts to the breaking point.

“Thank you for waiting with me,” I said to Trent as I pulled my shoulder bag onto my lap. It was dusty from the ever-after and smelly, and it didn’t have much in it anymore.

“I wasn’t about to drop you off and leave. I’m looking to chip some vampire fang before I go.” His smile became charming. “It’s much more satisfying than my political boardroom shuffle.”

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“I’m hoping it doesn’t come down to that.” Worried, I rubbed the tension from my fingers. Sure, I could drive them away with a charm, but Jenks and Belle were in there.

The dulcimers cut off and I scrambled for the phone. “One hour,” Cormel said tightly.

“An hour!” I exclaimed, not bothering to take him off speaker. “Mr. Cormel, I have to wait until sunset before the surface demons even come out! I cannot, nor will I, go any further with this if I have to guard Ivy against your assassins.”

My heart pounded, and Trent and I waited, breath held.

“Ivy is safe until sunrise,” Cormel said. “I’m leaving a chaperone.”

“No chaperone,” I countered. Maybe that was asking a lot, but the last thing I wanted was an amorous vampire lurking in the corner, filling the air with ***y pheromones and innuendo.

“Then you have until midnight.” Cormel waited as I silently protested, but when I kept my mouth shut, he ended the conversation by hanging up. Midnight. I had until midnight to show real progress, or it would all start up again.

Exhaling, I ended the call. Trent took the keys out of the ignition; we could walk from here. “You think I should have gone with the chaperone and the extra time?”

“No.”

“Me either. Good thing I work well under a deadline.” Feeling sour, I reached for the door. Getting them to leave was going to be a treat, but with Cormel’s word, I had the clout.

“That was fast,” Trent said, and my head snapped up.

Surprised, I got out as the church’s double door banged open and a steady stream of thin bodies staggered to their cars and vans. There were a lot, and I hoped Jenks was okay. Our phone conversation this morning hadn’t instilled much confidence.

Motions graceful with a slow deliberation, Trent got out, his book on how to put souls in baby bottles tucked under an arm. It was an elven charm, so in theory I shouldn’t have much trouble with it.

A flash of guilt took me, and I looked back at the church—anywhere but at that book.

Doors thumped and engines raced. My neighbors watched behind twitching curtains. It was obvious by their unkempt state and untied shoes that my visitors weren’t assassins per se, but they could still kill someone—and with Cormel running the city, there’d be no inquiry, no notice. Ivy would be a warning, or worse.

“Hey!” I shouted as a woman with a bad case of bed hair shuffled to the last car. “That’s my coat!”

Head hanging, the woman stopped right in the middle of the street, took off my red jacket, and dropped it with a tired indifference. The rest of them were complaining and wanting her to hurry up, and not bothering to open the door to the car, she dove in headfirst through a back window. The car accelerated in a noisy squeal of tires.

I slammed Trent’s door, stalking to my jacket. It reeked of vampire, even worse of her perfume scented heavily with pine. I’d have to air it out for weeks, maybe send it to the cleaners. Vampire incense stuck to leather worse than burnt amber in my hair.

Trent scuffed to a halt beside me, one hand in a pocket, the other holding that book. “I think I just turned a profit on this one party alone,” he said, squinting up at the steeple, and I gave him a dry look. But my mood improved dramatically when a familiar glint of pixy dust arrowed out from the fireplace’s flue.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted as he came to a dust-laden halt before us, his sparkles continuing forward on momentum, making me sneeze. “Tink loves a duck, how did you get them to leave?”

I held my jacket like a dead rat. “Cormel gave us until midnight.”

Jenks flew backward as Trent and I started for the open front door. “And then what?”

My steps slowed. “He gets serious about killing Ivy.”

“Yesterday wasn’t serious?” Jenks said as he alighted on Trent’s shoulder, but it was obvious we were on borrowed time. My stomach clenched as Trent and I took the shallow steps, and I blanched at the smell wafting out the door.

“Nice.” Holding my breath, I went in. “What did they do? Have an orgy?”

The whine of Jenks’s wings increased as I propped the door open. “Uh, something like that. But no one died. Hey, I tried to keep them out of your stuff. I’m sorry. It was just Belle and me after the sun came up and we had to pick our battles.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your . . . fault . . .” I stopped just inside the sanctuary, lips parting as I took in the empty bowls, smeared glasses, crushed beer cans, and chips bags. The furniture had been rearranged, and someone had drawn a mustache and beard on the TV, presumably on someone’s face at the time. Kisten’s pool table had a cooler on it, and a dark stain spread under it as water dripped from the long crack running the width of the plastic. It was worse than the time my high school boyfriend had volunteered my house for the homecoming party because he knew my mom was working.

“Is Belle okay?” I said as Trent made a sorrowful noise. “Jumoke and Izzy?”

I could re-felt the table, but I knew I never would. I’d have to look at that stain on Kisten’s memory for the rest of my life.

“They’re okay.” Jenks hovered by my ear, a depressed bluish-orange dust slipping from him. “Jumoke and Izzyanna kept to the garden, but Belle was with me. I couldn’t have saved the kitchen without her. That fairy is something else.”

A faint smile found me, and I started to think again. It was a God-awful mess, but I almost didn’t care if it meant Jenks and Belle had attained a deeper level of respect. “Ah, sorry about your room,” Jenks said as I ran a hand down the smooth finish of the pool table’s bumper. “I figured you’d rather I save your kitchen, and ah, they really wanted the bed.”

Oh God. My bed. “Don’t worry about it. You saved the kitchen?” Tired, I started for the hallway. I’d send Cormel the cleanup bill if I thought he’d pay it.

Sure enough, the bathrooms were trashed. I think every vampire in the Hollows had used my shower. I’d probably just throw what was left of my soap away. Even so, it wasn’t as bad as my bedroom.

“I’m really sorry, Rache,” Jenks said as I peeked in, nose wrinkled as I hustled to prop the stained-glass window open. I couldn’t deal with this just yet, and Trent went across the hall to make sure Ivy’s window was open as well. Someone had been through my closet and my clothes were everywhere. My perfumes, too, were knocked over, most of them empty. More clothes spilled from my open drawers, and I began to get mad. Multiple someones had had *** in my bed by the look of it. There were nasty scratches in the headboard and the top of the footboard had been snapped off as if someone had kicked it in the throes of passion.

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“Oh, Rachel,” Trent breathed, his words making a warm spot on my shoulder. “This was totally uncalled for. I am so sorry.”

Angry, I turned to the kitchen. “Not half as sorry as Cormel is going to be.”

Belle, looking small without Rex beside her, stood at the threshold to the kitchen. She slumped, clearly fatigued as she leaned on her six-inch bow. “Rachel.” Her lisping, raspy voice, too, lacked its usual flair. “Is-s-ss Ivy well?”

Damn it, Cormel, if your people have hurt my cat . . . “Yes,” I said, again finding a drop of good in the ugly. “Your sister and brothers are keeping her safe.”

Jenks’s wings cut out for a brief second. “Holy pixy piss, really?”

Trent nodded, a faint smile on his face as he put a hand on the small of my back and almost shoved me into the untouched kitchen. “I’ve let most of my security go, and at Quen’s urging, I’ve come to an agreement with the clan that’s been living in my gardens. I’ve been told that pixies would have been better—”

“Not likely,” Belle interrupted as we came in.

“But I appreciate their unobtrusiveness and good manners,” he added, and Jenks frowned.

Slowly my shoulders eased. After the disaster of the rest of the church, the dishes I’d left in the sink yesterday looked like heaven, even if everything was covered in pixy dust. Da-a-amn, Jenks must have worked his wings to bare veins to keep them out.

“You guys are the best,” I said, miserable as I stood beside the center island counter and looked at my spelling supplies hanging from the rack, the twin stoves sporting a thin layer of sparkles, and the huge antique farmhouse table shoved up against the interior wall. Ivy’s latest research was in her usual careful disarray, and the bag of cookies I’d had for breakfast yesterday looked untouched. “I can’t believe you kept them out of here.” Crap on toast, I was almost crying, and Jenks’s wings shifted to an embarrassed red.

Trent set his book on the center counter with a soft thump. A thin cloud of spent pixy dust rose and vanished into nothing. “So is the rest of the church as bad as the front?” he asked as I slid the single window open. Thank God Al’s chrysalis is still here. The church stank, far worse than if it had simply been living vampires. It had been an all-access party. The sanctity of the church had been broken by Newt three months ago. I should have gotten it reinstated, but it was expensive, and insurance wouldn’t cover it a second time. Cheaper to just move. I can’t move, this is my home.

“I’ve yet to s-s-s-survey the damage in the garden,” Belle said, having snaked up a thin line to stand on the counter. “We kept them from the kitchen, though it was a mighty task.”

I shook my head, imagining it. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I can’t ever repay you.”

Jenks looked pleased, but Belle scowled, sullen. “If I had a flight under my direction, the entire church would have been untouched.”

“They would have just burnt it to the ground,” I said, eyes on the ceiling. “You chose what I would’ve saved.” It was going to be hard to find any sleep tonight, but then again, I probably wouldn’t get the chance to sleep. My face scrunched up as I thought of my bed. No way. I was buying a new one.

“I’ll check everything out if you make coffee,” Trent offered, and I nodded. He wasn’t being ***ist, he just didn’t want me to see anything until he had a chance to maybe fix it. Half of me wanted to go through the church from the belfry to the most distant tombstone and use that anger to get through the next twelve hours, but the other half just wanted to get my sheets in the washer, ignoring the rest until I could deal with it.

The cat door in the back room squeaked as Belle went into the garden. I ran a finger across the pixy dust, head coming up in surprise when Trent pulled me into an unexpected hug. I went willingly, and for a moment, we just stood there, taking strength from each other as I breathed him in, finding his cinnamon and wine scent under the chaotic vampire mashup. The sound of Jenks’s wings grew loud, then vanished as he followed Belle out. Trent’s grip was firm without being binding, and the faintest hint of energy slipped between us as our auras tried to mix.

“You going to be okay?” he said, and I nodded, pushing back even as I made sure he didn’t slip away completely. Oh, I was still pissed, but after enough people try to kill or imprison you, the stuff that can be fixed and forgotten in a week tends not to matter as much.

“Thanks,” I said, and his smile became devious. “Could you do me a favor and open the windows in the belfry first? With them and the back door open, the place airs out remarkably fast.” Most of it was surface stink. They hadn’t been here long enough for the pheromones to soak into the paint and woodwork.

“You bet.” Trent rocked back, and my hand slipped reluctantly from his waist. He was looking at my lips as if wanting to kiss me, but then he turned and headed down the hall. Just the idea that he was thinking about it was almost as good as the kiss would have been, and I found a smile. I could tell the instant the belfry windows opened as the pixy dust vanished in the fresh air. I could never repay Jenks for keeping the kitchen untouched, and as I ran the tap for warm water to make up some suds, I pulled Trent’s book closer.

It wasn’t the first elf spell book I’d ever seen, but again I was surprised that most of the charms I browsed past had the same mix of earth and ley line magic that demon magic did. I’d be willing to bet the two branches of magic had developed hand in hand despite the long-standing anger between them.

Remembering that I’d promised coffee, I set the book aside. The charm to capture a soul looked easy, I thought as I dumped yesterday’s grounds and changed the water to cold. Easy, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it without asking the Goddess for help. Lots of elves didn’t believe and still got the job done. Landon, for example, though he probably believed in her now.

Landon. My lips twisted in disgust. He’d used Trent and me to try to destroy the vampires. That the elven muckety-mucks of both the religious-oriented dewar and the political-faction enclave had disavowed any knowledge of his plot made it obvious that they’d each backed him. Though still in charge of the dewar, Landon had lost credibility. Trent had lost more.

At least no one had died, I thought, my mind going to Ivy, still at Trent’s mini-hospital.

Apart from the quiet and the vague unease, it almost felt like a normal, quiet Saturday as I measured out the grounds, the scent of it reminding me of how much I enjoyed living here with Ivy, even as hard as it was sometimes. Understanding didn’t come cheap, and I blinked back an unexpected surge of sadness at the thought that it might be ending. I wasn’t moving in with Trent, but this latest snag made it feel . . . over somehow.

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“Stop it, Rachel,” I whispered. Nothing was really ending. Jenks, Ivy, and I had been through worse. We’d get through this, and everything would return to normal. Better even.

But how many times can we get back up as if nothing has changed?

I folded the bag of the grounds down and fastened it shut with one of Ivy’s binder clips. I wished I had a reset button. How far back would I take it? I wondered. To the day I made that deal with Cormel? Farther?

I snapped the coffeemaker on, then found a smile when I heard Trent and Jenks in the hallway. “Coffee ready yet?” Trent called loudly.

“Give it five!” I shouted back. Smile fixed, I leaned against the counter and waited for them to come in. But they didn’t, and I tiptoed to the archway, stopping when I heard Trent mutter, “I know how to wash sheets, Jenks. I’ve got two toddlers.”

He’s doing laundry?

“Hey, okay, cookie man,” Jenks drawled. “It’s your funeral if you shrink them.”

There was a hesitation, and I leaned closer. “Shrink them?” Trent asked.

“Those are one hundred percent cotton,” Jenks said importantly, “not your richy-rich linen stuff. If you use the sterilize cycle, you’ll not only shrink ’em, but set the oils carrying the vampire pheromones into the fabric. Look, Ivy’s got a bottle of no-nose up here.”

My brow furrowed. No-nose?

A cupboard creaked, loud over the sound of water filling the washer, and then Trent’s bemused “I’ve never seen this.”

“Put a splash in. It’ll take care of the vampire cooties and the pheromones, too.”

I could almost see the pixy preening in that he’d known something Trent hadn’t. Sure enough, Trent’s voice held a smidgen of humor and humility when he next spoke. “Thanks. I shouldn’t be so quick to prove I know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jenks said, and I eased back into the kitchen. “That’s why Ivy has silk sheets. Me, I don’t like silk. The dust makes them as slippery as all hell.”

Smiling, I busied myself with Trent’s book. I felt bemused and loved. Trent was washing my sheets, the one thing that I wanted most and didn’t have time for. And I hadn’t known about the no-nose, either.

The coffee was gurgling its fragrant last when they came in, the book splayed open before me as my interest in it went from pretend to real. “Smells good,” Trent said, Jenks a humming shadow behind him.

“You want the rainbows or the smiley face?” I asked, reaching for the mugs.

Trent eyed the two overly happy mugs. “Ah, whatever. You need a fresh stick of yew. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll get the yew, cookie man.” Hands on his hips, Jenks yo-yoed before him. “I want to make sure no one peed on it.”

“I can get it,” Trent insisted, and Jenks darted forward, rocking the larger man back.

“I said . . . I’ll get it,” Jenks said, and I rolled my eyes as the pixy bristled. “Sit and drink your coffee. If I need your help, I’ll whistle. I want to check on, ah, Jumoke, anyway.”

Eyes wide in question, Trent took the rainbows. “I’ll sit and drink my coffee.”

“Good man.” With a relieved sigh, Jenks flew out the back door’s cat flap, whistling and calling coaxingly for Rex.

Eyebrows high, Trent leaned past me to look out the window. The scent of cinnamon and wine dove deep, and I almost sighed. “Ah, why doesn’t Jenks want me in the garden?” he asked.

I sipped my coffee, thinking the scent went well with content elf. “My guess is he’s looking for his cat and he doesn’t want you to scare her off.”

“Mmmm.” Expression concerned, Trent dropped back to his heels, steaming mug behind his laced fingers. “Cats like me.”

My head slowly shook. “Nah. A pixy dancing an inch off the ground is a lot more enticing than a man she barely knows. Besides, how often do we get the church to ourselves?”

His eyes flicked to mine and held for a telling moment. Introspective, he went to the large table, turning one of the chairs halfway around before sitting sideways in it. “My cleaning crew could be in and out of here in two hours.”

Again, I shook my head. The thought of more people in my church made my skin crawl. Besides, I should wait until I knew if I was going *****rvive the next couple of days. Book in hand, I set my mug next to his before I shifted Trent’s arm and sat right in his lap, curving his arm around me. He grunted in surprise, holding me almost in self-defense as I dropped the book open before us. “Oh, I like this,” he said, tugging me into a more comfortable position.

“I bet you do.” Smiling, I thumbed to the proper page. I felt vulnerable, and this helped. “I’ve been looking at the charm you dog-eared. Changed aura or not, I can’t imagine the Goddess won’t recognize me if I petition for her help.”

A memory of the Goddess shivered thorough me. Al had tried to kill me because of her, believing it was the only cure for the voices in my head. I’d had to trick Newt into admitting the Goddess was real. It wasn’t my fault the Goddess’s mystics liked living in mass better than the space between mass. If they ever found me, the only way *****rvive would be to kill the Goddess—turn her into something new.

Trent’s fingers were tracing a delicious path along the top of my waistband, and I jumped when he found my skin. The memory of the first time with him surfaced like bubbles in my thoughts, breaking with little tingles against the top of my mind. It had been in the kitchen. Well, we’d started in the kitchen. We’d ended in the back living room.

He was smiling when I turned to him, and I let the pages shift so I could trace the outline of his ear with a slow finger. “You want to find a different charm?” he asked, a new thought hazing the back of his eyes.

I slowly leaned in and found his earlobe with my lips, tugging suggestively as I breathed him in, waves of sensation spilling through me. “No,” I whispered, shivering when his fingers gripped the back of my neck. “I want you to do it. You’ve done it before. Right?”

I hadn’t meant to put a ***ual innuendo in there, but there it was.

“Sort of.”

His sour tone slumped my shoulders, and I pulled back. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, but his hands never fell from around my waist and kept me where I was. Wincing, he glanced at the book. “The charm I’m familiar with affixes souls based on aura identification. Felix doesn’t have his natural aura anymore.” My balance shifted as Trent flipped to a new page, his long fingers moving the paper like fingers over a keyboard. “We can use the first part to capture the soul, no problem,” he said when he found it, “but we’ll need to tinker with the second half to find something to affix it to, something not altogether alive and coated in someone else’s aura.”

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“Al and Newt have collections of souls. I bet they have a way to affix them.”

Trent stiffened under me. “You’re not asking Al.”

“I know.” I leaned to put my head on his shoulder. It was awkward, but I didn’t care when his arms went around me again. “I’ll ask Newt unless you have something in your library.” This was nice. I didn’t want to move.

“Newt isn’t any better than Al,” Trent muttered, but we had little choice. Elves and witches seldom worked with souls, and never to affix them to a nonliving thing. The Were’s focus was kind of like a soul. Maybe I could use that curse?

Trent squirmed, and I got up knowing he probably wasn’t altogether comfortable. “We’ll find something.” I needed professional guidance, but my professional guide was pissed at me. Fidgeting, I looked at the cookies, wishing I had something better to offer Trent. I’d seen his taste in cookies, and I was a bohemian by his culinary standards. “You don’t have any more books on the subject, do you?” I asked as I pulled the bag to me and snapped one to check for staleness. Flat.

“No.”

“Maybe simply capturing Felix’s soul will buy us enough time.”

Depressed, I set the open bag down and sat in the chair next to him. He was silent, waiting until I took three cookies before he reached in and pulled out five. I swear, I didn’t know where the man put his calories. Maybe a box in his basement. “Al would know,” I said softly, and his eyes jerked to me. He took a breath to say something, then hesitated.

“Is that really how you eat those?”

I looked at the bite out of my cookie and flushed. “Yeah,” I lied, brushing the crumbs off. To be honest, I usually separated them, eating the cookie part first and scraping all the frosting into one gigantic wad. But I wasn’t going to in front of Trent.

“Huh.” Trent screwed his cookie open and scraped the frosting out with his teeth. “I thought everyone opened them up.”

Damn it, I was flushing, and saw him file my lie away for later. Trent leaned closer. “Don’t call Newt,” he said. “We’re not out of options yet. Landon owes you a favor.”

“Landon?” I said around a mouthful of crumbs. “The man is slime!” I exclaimed, and Trent bobbed his head, ruefully agreeing. “Nothing but a . . . politically perfect engineered piece of backstabbing elf slime who thinks only of himself and the hell with the rest.”

Leaning back and looking uncomfortable, he nodded. “I know.”

“He tricked his predecessor in*****icide!” I said, hand flying up into the air.

“I know.”

Frustrated, I stood up. “Trent, I’m not asking Landon for help. I don’t trust him. If it wasn’t for him, I never would have damaged the Goddess to begin with!”

“I know. But it all worked out.”

Worked out? I sputtered, trying to find the words, and Trent took my hand and pulled me closer. “Rachel, I agree it’s risky. The elven dewar and enclave would still like to see the vampires die out—and you and me with them—but I’m not asking the elves, I’m asking Landon. He owes you, and I’ve got a little blackmail left in me.”

Expression sour, I pulled my hand from him, arms around my middle as I moved to stand beside the sink. Trent silently waited. I knew how much it had hurt Trent going from everyone’s owing him to his owing everyone. He was still making his genetic medicines in his basement labs, but now it was more to keep his customers from turning him in than the other way around.

“You think Landon knows how to fix souls to bodies?” I asked.

Sighing, Trent unscrewed another cookie, stacking the black cookie with the rest he’d already scraped clean. “Positive. If I can convince him that success will mean the end of the vampires, he’ll tell you.” Jaw clenched, he stared at nothing.

“You think he’ll believe that?”

Trent’s gaze sharpened on mine. “Why not? It’s a distinct probability.”

“But . . .” I thought of the chaos that had taken Cincinnati and the Hollows when the undead had fallen asleep for four days. Head ****ed, I leaned back against the counter. “Remind me of why we’re doing this if you think it’s going to topple the vampires’ power structure.” Not like I really had a choice.

Trent put an ankle on his knee, looking totally yummy with that cookie in his hand. “The charm Landon would know works one to one, not en masse. One vampire going insane and walking into the sun isn’t going to have an impact on the world. And when Cormel understands that having his soul will send him into the sun, they’ll all accept that it’s not a viable way to extend their undead existence.”

I didn’t like the idea of even one vampire committing suncide because of a charm I twisted, and seeing it, Trent stood, coming to me and taking me in a hug. “Rachel, Felix won’t survive more than a few more months regardless of what happens.” Leaning back, he caught my eyes with his own. “Or it will work with no ill effects, and we’ll have a different issue to deal with. Either way, Landon will help if only for the chance to see the end of the undead.”

But I didn’t trust Landon. “What’s to stop them from just killing them all, then? I mean, after we prove it works? Elves can go to the ever-after, same as witches.”

Nodding, Trent reached into the bag of cookies. “True, but whoever was going to try would have to not only catch a surface demon, but catch the right one. It’s a miracle we found Felix’s. Besides, if elves can’t make money on it, they won’t do it, and witches know better than to try.”

He put a cookie in my hand, and I ate it, thinking it over as I chewed and swallowed. But as the only alternative beyond Landon was Al, the choice was easy. “Fine. I’ll ask him.”

Trent’s arm around me tensed. “Ah, you mind if I ask him?”

Ahhh, I thought with a smile, thinking this might be why Trent was so hot to give Landon a shot at this. If it failed, then Landon would lose face in the dewar and the enclave. “Sure.”

Immediately Trent went back to mowing down those cookies, slowing when he realized I was staring at him. What are we up to now? Ten? “Great. I’ll go give him a call,” he said, dusting the crumbs from his fingers and reaching for his phone.

There was only the faintest flicker of unease as I dunked my cookie into my coffee. Even if Landon caught a flight today, he wouldn’t be here by sunset. “I don’t like doing this by phone. Too much chance for someone overhearing it,” I said, but Trent was already scrolling for the number.

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“We won’t have to.” Trent stretched and yawned, reminding me that this was his usual down time. “He’s in Atlanta trying to win his position back,” he said as he rolled his shoulders. “He can be here in a couple of hours.”

“It’s not going as well as he’d like?” I prodded, and he smirked.

“Getting old men and women to agree on anything new is like wrangling cats, and he has no practical skills.” He hesitated. “Yet,” he amended. “But things change. I get better reception outside. Back in a second.”

His hand trailing across my cheek raised tingles, and I darted my tongue out to tag a knuckle, making him jump and smile. “Wicked demon,” he muttered, and I watched him leave.

My smile faded fast. I didn’t trust Landon. The last spell he “taught” me nearly killed me. I was sure the demons would have a curse that would do the same thing, and after listening to make sure Trent wasn’t going to walk back in, I pulled my scrying mirror from between my cookbooks and spelling tomes.

The cracked glass was cool, and as soon as I set my hand atop the calling glyph, I felt the hint of connection to the demon collective. Tapping the line out back strengthened it. Heart pounding, I reached out with a soft thread of awareness, lacing my thought with enough regret to choke a horse. We had the same aura resonance, damn it. Al could at least be civil.

Al?

Rage boiled up through the folds of my brain, and I jerked my hand back as the wave crested, threatening to swamp me. His anger fell back into my mirror, and the sudden snap of the cracked glass breaking made me gasp.

“You okay?” Trent shouted from outside.

****. “Ah, just dropped a cookie,” I lied, face flaming as I looked at the broken shards. “I’m good!”

But I wasn’t good, and I took the broken pieces to my saltwater vat and dropped them in one by one, watching them ride the currents of their passage to the bottom. They lay there, sending glimmers of light sideways out their broken edges.

Depressed, I stared out the window and watched Trent meet Izzyanna, Jumoke’s young wife. I couldn’t help but wonder if Al was angry because Trent and I reminded him of what he’d lost long before I knew him—a woman he’d once loved enough to risk everything for, give everything for, but was too afraid to fight the anger of two worlds for. Maybe Al was angrier at himself than me.

But as I washed my hands free of the salt water, I didn’t think it mattered.

Chapter 6

The chill of the coming September evening seeped into me, the cold as real and enduring as the damp grit of the earth pressed into my fingers as I lifted the last stone and replaced it in the low wall that separated the graveyard from the more mundane garden. It had been knocked out of place, and though Jenks had permanently taken up residence in the church walls, I knew it would be something he’d want fixed.

Straightening, I wiped my hands off on my jeans and looked at the red light of sunset shining against the familiar stones I mowed around every week. Well, not every week. The grass had gotten long, catching the leaves that had shifted color and dropped early. My weekends were a lot more interesting now that Trent had more free time, and the yard was beginning to show it.

“Sorry, Jenks,” I whispered as my gaze lifted to the church. I knew it bothered him that the graveyard was going fallow apart from a small space Jumoke and Izzyanna had claimed. The garden felt empty, and my mind wouldn’t stop circling over the thought of endings. It was why I was out here moping in the garden. That, and Trent had been underfoot ever since getting up from his noon nap, driving me to distraction as he went over that charm he’d brought.

The bright sparkle of pixy dust glowed at the far side of the garden. It was joined by a second, and the twin trails of dust wound around each other in breathtaking beauty until they both arrowed to me. It was Jumoke and Izzyanna, but my welcoming smile faded when two car doors slammed on the street. Landon. Apparently he’d brought a friend.

Izzyanna reached me first. The little pixy looked about ten, a late age for a pixy to become a bride, but her eyes were as dark as well-turned earth. It wasn’t the typical death sentence that Jumoke’s hair was, but it had obviously prevented a more tra***ional joining age. Her smile, though, was cheerful, and her eyes shone with an impish humor that balanced Jumoke’s stoic, introverted personality. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a slight swelling at her middle. It was unusual for pixies to be born in the fall, as they wouldn’t make it through the winter. Izzy’s children, though, wouldn’t have to hibernate, and a fall birth would give them a head start in the spring.

“Rachel, your guests are here,” the pixy said, her flush spilling into her dust.

“Guests, huh?” I said, glad she was starting to slow her speech down. The first week she’d been here, I hadn’t understood a word she said. “Who did Landon bring with him?”

Please not the I.S. Anyone but the I.S.

“It’s a woman,” Izzy said, hand protectively over her middle as she hovered backward before me as I headed for the church’s back door.

“Woman?” I said. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Immediately she flew away with Jumoke, winding about themselves and talking so fast and high that it might as well be another language. It wouldn’t be long until the garden was again noisy with life, and that gave me more peace than I would’ve expected. I liked beginnings better than endings.

But it wasn’t meant to last, and I jerked to a stop when I recognized Ellasbeth’s haughty voice coming through the open kitchen window. Ellasbeth? What in hell was she doing here, and with Landon?

“She is a demon!” Ellasbeth exclaimed, her tone accusing. “Your father made her!”

“He did not make her. He enabled her *****rvive. There is a difference.” Trent’s voice was soft in anger, and I stayed where I was, my hand reaching for the back door faltering.

“Which might get you killed if it gets out,” she huffed, and I stiffened.

“Is that a threat?” Trent’s voice was hard. “Are you sure you want to do that? Again?”

Landon cleared his throat, but the words had been spoken. Crap on toast. Trent had a ruthless streak as wide as Jenks’s. He’d once stopped me from killing Nick, claiming he wanted one clean thing in his life—me. I’d since agreed that killing Nick for the hell of it would have left a mark I didn’t want, but Trent . . . He felt as if he was already lost and had no such compulsion against “doing things for the hell of it.”

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And Ellasbeth had just called him out.

Why is she here? Why now? Wings clattering, Jenks landed on the doorknob, probably to keep me from going in. “Hey. Eavesdropping is my thing, not yours,” he said.

“Shhh,” I demanded, leaning to the open kitchen window.

“You are forcing our daughter to associate with a demon!” Ellasbeth exclaimed. “If you were anyone else, Lucy would be mine by the child abuse laws!”

My lips parted, and I felt my face go white.

“Lucy doesn’t care what Rachel is,” Trent said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s the world I want her to grow up into, and by God, Ellasbeth, if I find out you said anything to make Lucy or Ray question Rachel’s worth, I will never let you see either of them again.”

“Then . . .” Ellasbeth’s voice went wobbly. “I thought . . . you were very clear on your stance at the zoo.”

“Ah, Ellasbeth?” Landon said, as if not liking the hope in her voice any more than I did.

“You were trying to take her by force, demanding I sell Lucy to you for a birthright that was already mine. Stop pushing me into a corner, Ellasbeth. Stop trying to control the situation. You are not in charge. I am.”

A cold feeling started in my middle. I knew who Trent was, what he was morally capable of doing, seen it firsthand and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. Don’t call his bluff, Ellasbeth. Don’t. But . . . if Trent and Ellasbeth found a way to make this work . . . Damn it, that was why she was here, I thought, seeing everything Trent and I had found ending far too soon.

“I just want to see my child,” Ellasbeth pleaded.

Jenks snorted, his dust shifting to an irate orange. “What a little squirrel sack.”

“I find that hard to believe when you show up with Landon,” Trent said, and I waved Jenks off the doorknob.

Jenks flew up, startled. “They aren’t done yet!” he protested, and I tugged the door so it would squeak. “Rache, you need to work on this spying thing. Your timing sucks fairy dust.”

“I need to get in there before he does something dumb, like open up joint-custody talks again,” I said, and the pixy snickered. From inside came a shuffling of motion. I knew my face was red, and I took a slow breath as I paced through the back living room, trying to get the ugly look off my face before I went into the kitchen.

But it was obvious I’d heard something. Ellasbeth’s cheeks were a bright red against her straw-blond hair. She sat stiffly at Ivy’s big farm table, her hands clenched on a trendy purse, knees tight together, and a cream-colored skirt showing a respectable amount of leg. Her coat was still on, and it matched her heels. If I had to describe her in a few words, it would be professional, smart, classic beauty, and probably in that order. Devious, backstabbing, and self-serving would also be on the list.

On the surface, she was a perfect match for Trent’s perfection—except he didn’t love her. It hadn’t mattered before, but after having gotten a taste of freedom, he was resisting going back. I felt a flash of pride that I’d been a part of that. But now . . . I wasn’t sure.

As if sensing my emotion, Trent looked at me from where he was standing at the sink. The tension rose as the silence stretched. Trent was unusually ruffled, and as soon as he looked from her, Ellasbeth frowned at his casual shoes—then my wild hair.

“I was fixing the wall,” I said, not knowing why I felt the need to explain myself. “Landon,” I added, trying not to show my distaste.

Needless to say, I wasn’t going to shake his hand, and I stiffened when the young man started forward from the fridge to do just that. Trent cleared his throat, and Landon changed his motion to stand behind Ellasbeth, placing his unworked, tan hands on the back of her chair. The center counter was more or less between us. I’d rather have it be a continent. God! I’d give a lot to know why Trent trusted him enough to do this.

Landon looked uncomfortable in a gray suit that set off his blond hair and green eyes. A tra***ional cylindrical hat of his clergy profession marred his young-businessman look, but it did give him an exotic air. I was sure he had an even more tra***ional prayer hat under it and probably a ribbon in his pocket. I knew Trent did, though I seldom saw it unless we got into trouble, and that hadn’t happened in almost three months.

Why are Ellasbeth and Landon here? Together?

Landon smiled, but the emotion behind it felt dead. “It’s good to see you again, Rachel.”

Jenks snickered as he landed in the hanging rack. “I’ll bet,” he said under his breath, and Ellasbeth’s forced smile faltered.

“Ellasbeth,” I said next, reaching for a damp cloth by the sink to clean the dirt from my fingers. “I wasn’t expecting you.” I wasn’t going to shake her hand either.

“Neither was I.” Trent’s head was down over his phone as he texted something. I’d be willing to bet it was to Quen or Jon to double security on the girls.

Ellasbeth stood as I tossed the rag into the sink, and I froze when she stood, hand extended. Great. My hands were clammy from the cloth, and I wiped them dry as she crossed the room.

“My apologies for dropping in on you like this,” she said, and I watched her face as we shook, thinking that her hair looked fake next to Trent’s transparent wispiness, and her voice had lost its musical cadence.

Her hand slipped from mine, and I said nothing. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been flanked by a dozen magic users and hired guns with the intention of forcibly taking Lucy and Ray. And Ray wasn’t even her child.

“Well, this is about as comfortable as finding a na**d fairy in your eldest son’s bedroom,” Jenks smart-mouthed, a silver dust slipping down and pooling on the counter like mercury.

Ellasbeth’s eye twitched, and she dropped back a step. “Lucy is my child, too,” she said, gaze darting to Trent as he closed his phone with a snap.

“Then you shouldn’t have forced that barbaric, outdated tra***ion on me in the hopes I couldn’t fulfill it,” Trent said, showing more emotion than he usually allowed himself. “You brought this on yourself. The church can’t help you. It’s a legal issue, not a moral one.”

Landon cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should come back later.”

“Or not at all,” I said, frustrated. I could figure this charm out. I didn’t need elf magic. I needed someone in the ever-after to pick up the damn phone!

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“Ahh . . . ,” Trent hedged, shifting sideways until he could touch the small of my back. Ellasbeth, too, had a minor panic moment—for a completely different reason.

“Please,” she said, eyes wide. “I asked Landon if I could come with him.” Her gaze landed on Trent’s hand touching me in reassurance, and she swallowed hard. “You won’t take my calls. You refuse any dialogue. You say I forced your hand, well, you’re forcing mine!”

I saw Trent’s sigh more than heard it, but what caught my attention was Landon’s sour expression. It was more than watching Ellasbeth beg; he seemed to have an interest here. My eyebrows rose as I suddenly got it. Ellasbeth hadn’t stumbled into this meeting between Landon, Trent, and me. She’d been with Landon when the call had come in. She’d been with Landon.

Euuwww, I thought. There should be limits to how far one should abase oneself in the search for power, but if the “prince of the elves” had fallen, perhaps the head religious leader was a good second.

“I apologize for my actions at the zoo,” Ellasbeth said, pleading with an indifferent Trent. “It endangered both girls and was foolish, but you weren’t listening to me!”

Jenks sniffed. “As if you could ever hurt them while I’m around.”

“It was wrong. I was desperate,” Ellasbeth said. “Lucy is my child! I didn’t know what I was risking when I forced you into it. I love her. Please! I’ll do anything you want.”

Anything? My arms fell from my middle. “Maybe you should talk to her,” I suggested, hating myself for even saying it, but I knew I’d never stop until I got my child back if it was taken from me. That, and I didn’t think Ellasbeth would give anything, and when she balked, Trent could tell her to leave for good.

Trent turned to me, his hand making tingles on my waist. “I thought you’d be against this,” he said, and Ellasbeth took a fast breath, hope almost painful in her.

“I’m not for it, no,” I said, nervous when Landon’s eyes narrowed as he realized Trent and I were so close, functioning as a couple. “But I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life. Lucy and Ray shouldn’t either. Find out if she means it.”

“Of course I mean it!” Ellasbeth’s trendy heels ground the leftover salt from a circle into the linoleum. Her eyes were alight, and the only thing that kept me from taking it back was that it was love for her daughter. She was a tricky woman.

“I don’t trust her,” Trent said softly, his hands now holding mine. Both Ellasbeth and Landon were seeing more than I wanted them to, but I leaned into him, forcing myself to be more open with our relationship. We’d been hiding our feelings from ourselves and the public for so long, it was hard to show them in front of anyone else.

“If she’s serious about seeing the girls, she can damn well move to Cincinnati,” I said.

Ellasbeth’s breath came in a panicked sound. “Cincinnati!” she said, her face reddening. “I am not moving to Cincinnati.”

Jenks’s wing hum came loud from the overhanging rack, and I swear, Trent almost smiled as he gave my fingers a squeeze and let go. Behind her, Landon rubbed his fingers into his temple. I could nearly see the distaste coming from the woman, but Trent was warming to the idea, if only because Ellasbeth didn’t like it.

“I thought you said anything.” I put my shoulder to Trent’s to make a united front. “Talk is cheap, which might be why that’s all you do.”

Her perfectly painted lips parted in outrage, and from the rack, Jenks snickered. Ellasbeth scowled up at him. Her fingers were in a tight fist, and I was glad she didn’t know much magic. “Trent, perhaps we can take a walk,” she said stiffly, clearly wanting to get Trent alone and hopefully sway him where I wouldn’t be around to sway him back.

Trent’s shoulders slumped as he realized he was going to have to deal with Ellasbeth instead of helping me with the charm. “I’m not leaving Landon alone with Rachel.”

“I’ll be fine,” I protested, and a faint but real smile eased his features.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Trent said, and concern flickered over Landon. Trent brushed past me with the scent of cinnamon and wine. “We can talk in the back room,” he said, taking Ellasbeth’s elbow.

“It’s not very private,” Ellasbeth protested, but she was moving. “I’d rather take a walk.”

Trent glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yes, I know,” he muttered, clearly surprised I was okay with this. They left, looking good together, better than Trent and me. Slowly my jealousy evolved into guilt. I’m not self-sabotaging my relationship with Trent, I thought, cursing myself as their voices twined together.

No one wanted Trent and me together: not the elves, not the demons, no one. I didn’t give a rat’s tail about that, but the guilt . . . Seeing Ellasbeth here, begging to renew her ties with her child? I could do nothing to further Trent’s grand design to save his people, and he was so damn good at it. If there was the chance that he and Ellasbeth could make a go of it, I had to let it happen—if only for the girls.

But it hurt.

Jenks was hovering, waiting for direction, and I made a nod to follow them. He darted off, and my focus shifted to find that Landon had caught the motion. Uncaring, I shrugged.

“Why should Landon not want to be alone with Rachel?” Ellasbeth said faintly.

“He tried to kill her using the Goddess.”

Ellasbeth gasped, and hearing it, Landon cracked his knuckles, unrepentant as he sat sideways to the table and pulled his cylindrical hat off his head, leaving his short hair mussed. No spelling cap, but it could have been woven into the top of the ceremonial hat.

“Jenks?” Trent’s voice came, loud. “Get out.”

“Aww, for ever-loving toad piss,” the pixy complained as he flew backward into the hallway, an embarrassed green dust slipping from him. “How did you know I was there?”

“Out!” Trent said again, and Jenks flashed me a grin and vanished down the hallway to the sanctuary. He’d most likely go listen in through the flue, but at least Ellasbeth would have the illusion of privacy.

The coffeepot sat cold on the counter, an inch of old brew in it. I wasn’t going to offer Landon any. Being tricked into merging my mind with a goddess bent on taking me over had left a bad taste in my mouth.

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Landon seemed to gather himself as the muted, musical voices of Ellasbeth and Trent dissolved into a rise and fall of sound. “You have a nice spelling area. You cook here, too?”

My attention flicked to his and held. “Not at the same time.”

Sucking his teeth, Landon shifted his feet. “Bis around?”

I nodded, glancing at the ceiling. “He’s sleeping, but he wakes up occasionally.” Especially when I was upset, but Landon already knew that.

From the back room Trent’s voice rose. “I’m willing to die for Lucy’s safety. I’m not about to sell her to you for a little less blackmail or my returned standing. You don’t have anything I want, Ellasbeth. Get used to it.”

My God, Trent could be callous when the situation called for it, and I propped my elbows on the stainless steel counter between Landon and myself.

David had once told me I’d saved Trent’s life, not while being his security, but by causing him to grow, to lose his at-any-cost outlook that the needs of the one outweighed the needs of the many, that the ends justified the means. I’d seen it. Hell, I’d lived it while a mink trapped in his office, watching him kill his head geneticist to preserve his secrets and his money flow. But he’d tempered himself. Because of me, if David was to be believed, and it had saved his life because, as David had said, he wasn’t going to make the world live through another Kalamack bent on elven supremacy. Perhaps Landon had risen to fulfill that role instead, and I stifled a shudder at the thought because where Trent had a conscience, Landon did not.

“Why are you here helping me?”

Landon rose, his mood guarded as he spun the book Trent had brought over to face him. “Trent told me he thinks the undead will walk into the sun if they get their souls back. I tend to agree with him. I think it’s fitting that giving the vampires what they want will bring about their end. I don’t mind being a part of that.” He hesitated, and my heart thumped at his stillness. “My question is, why are you doing this if you think it will drive them in*****ncide?”

“Because Ivy’s life is more important than one lousy vampire who’s already on his way out.” Uneasy, I rubbed a watermark on the counter. Fear that the vampires would take their revenge out on Ivy and me if things didn’t go the way they wanted was never far from my thoughts, coloring my hopes—and my decisions.

Landon made a sound deep in his throat, and I jumped when he shut the book with a snap. “Trent’s charm won’t work.”

“Why not?” I said, not liking that he’d startled me.

“Because it uses the auratic residue left in the mind and body to adhere itself with, and the undead have completely polluted theirs with the auras they take in *****rvive.”

It was exactly what Trent had said, and grimacing, I steadied myself for some major boot licking. “You have another way?”

Landon pulled his attention back from the soft conversation in the living room. “In theory. The charm dates back several thousand years. I’ve never heard of anyone trying it.”

He was lying. I could tell in the way he was standing. “So . . . it’s a black charm?” I prompted. Elves were reluctant to label their charms as black and white—but a white charm never went out of style. “I won’t kill anyone.”

His eyes came up, mocking. “Lucky for you you’re dealing with people already dead.”

Oh God. It was a black charm. “What does it do?” I asked, my gut tightening. I can do this without trusting him. Hell, I used to work with demons.

Landon shifted the book between us until it was perfectly square with the counter. He was thinking, and my mistrust deepened. “In theory? It fixes the soul of an elder to a newborn. It was said to have been used to extend our collective knowledge past the grave.” He looked up, jaw set. “I’ll write it out for you.”

“Let me guess. You have to destroy the newborn’s soul to do it.” Yeah, the demons probably had a version of this. Ugly. It was just ugly the things magic could do.

Neck red, he didn’t say anything, finally turning to pull a few sheets from Ivy’s printer. “Pretty much,” he said as he took a pen from his pocket and began to sketch a pentagram as I might draw a smiley face. “The original soul must be forcibly ripped away and the old soul fixed into its place. Most times, the recipient became psychotic, which only added to the mystique of being a high priest back then, I suppose.” He looked up, reading my disgust. “I did say there’s no record of this charm being performed for several thousand years.”

“But you still know how to do it,” I accused.

“Aren’t you lucky for that,” he shot back. “You can’t get a soul to spontaneously attach itself and hope it sticks, even if it’s his own soul and his own body. It left once, it will again.”

He was right, and I tried not to look so pensive. The thought occurred to me that he might be giving me a black charm in the hopes of damning me with it. It wasn’t illegal to know black magic, just to do it. And destroying the soul of a newborn so an old man might live again was about as black as it got. “No wonder the demons hate you,” I said under my breath.

“Oh, are we going to compare past atrocities now?” he said even as he began writing a list of ingredients beside the pentagram.

I ****ed my hip and watched him; his penmanship was as precise as his dress. “Stealing healthy babies and substituting your own failing infants is pretty nasty.”

“So is a thousand years of slavery. Or creating a species for your own pleasure, one that necessitates acts of perverted brutality *****rvive, acts committed on the people you love.”

He was talking about the vampires. “No worse than destroying your enemy by attacking their unborn children.”

Landon stopped writing. “They did it first.”

But who really knew the truth? I couldn’t solve a puzzle two thousand years dead.

His motion ****y, Landon spun the paper to me. Listed was a mix of plants, objects, and ley line equipment designed to sympathetically harness intent: blood, hummingbird egg white, sunrise spider silk, aspen sap, a copper Möbius strip, silk scarf, salt—probably to scribe the pentagram with—and a familiar phrase of Latin. Tislan, tislan. Ta na shay cooreen na da.

My lips parted and a wave of disconnection flooded me as the words rose from my mind. “That’s the phrase Trent used to move my soul,” I said, my voice sounding hollow, as if from outside myself.

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Landon frowned, actually doing a double take as I blinked to find myself. “Trent has done this? Are you kidding me?”

“Not this one,” I reassured him. “But he held my soul in a bottle for three days while my aura replenished itself. I remember the words.”

Ta na shay cooreen na da. It flowed through me, and I held the counter as if it wasn’t real. I’d been trapped in my mind, standing at this very spot making cookies that faded away until Trent and I worked together, a symbol of us joining our minds so he could pull me out.

“Kalamack put your soul into a bottle?” Landon said, his disbelief obvious.

My breath came in a rush, as if I’d forgotten how to breathe. “My aura was burned off when I fought Ku’Sox. My mind thought I was dead, and he kept me on life support until my body was recovered and my aura was strong enough.” It had taken a kiss to break the spell, seeing as it was a very old charm to “wake the princess” from a lifesaving coma. I was starting to think that was when I’d begun to love him.

Oh ****. I love him.

The realization fell on me hard. My knees went wobbly, and I held the counter as a surge of emotion rose. I loved Trent. Sure, I’d toyed with the idea before, but now, after seeing him with Ellasbeth and giving him the foolhardy chance to make amends with her, I knew it was true. Damn it, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be romantic, with flowers and sun or moonlight, his touch on my face, and the scent of our hair mingling as we kissed. But no. It was me in my kitchen standing before a man I loathed, listening to the muted strains of the man I loved persuading his ex to get over herself and play by his rules.

Perhaps that means it might last this time.

“Rachel?” Landon said, and I shook myself.

“He’s better at magic than you think he is.” Head down, I locked my knees. Love shouldn’t be scary, but whenever I fell in love, my life fell apart. I didn’t want anything to change, but how could I stop it?

“He’d better be,” Landon muttered, looking at me as if trying to figure out why I was so distant. “Same words? Are you sure?”

Think about it later, Rachel. “It circled my brain for three days. What does it mean?”

Head down, he crossed off and rewrote things. “Most of it is to gain the Goddess’s attention.”

Swell. “And the rest?”

“I don’t know.”

It was more likely he just didn’t want to tell me. Tislan, tislan. Ta na shay cooreen na da. It hung in the back of my brain like a whisper of awareness—slowly gaining strength.

“She is a demon,” Ellasbeth said from the back living room, her voice breaking through the singsong litany in my mind where nothing else could. “Do you have any idea what people are saying? What this does to our child’s chances at success?”

“Lucy doesn’t care,” Trent said back. “Why do you?”

Landon cleared his throat, pushing his sketch across the counter so I could see it right side up. He was uncomfortable, and I didn’t think it was because of Ellasbeth and Trent. I wasn’t keen on any charm he had to remember, but it wasn’t as if I had much choice.

“Pay attention,” the man said, cementing in my thoughts that it was his skills he was nervous about. “I agreed to help you, but I’m not going to do it, and if anyone asks, I was here with Ellasbeth helping her petition Trent for the right to see her firstborn child.”

“Sure.” His stubble was starting to show, and I could smell the cold plastic of airport on him over his faint woodsy scent. Distant, I looked down at the curse. “Did the parents know you were doing this, or did you just steal the babies, too?”

Landon pulled himself straight, the width of the counter between us. “You want to be held accountable for the sins of your forefathers? Just keep throwing stones, Morgan.” Expression closed, he looked me up and down. “I’m assuming you can get a soul into a bottle?”

I scanned the spell, thinking it looked easy. But most of the bad ones were. “Yes.” I didn’t like trusting Landon and his memory-recalled charm, but he did want an end to the vampires.

“Good.” He leaned over the counter and tapped his pencil on the instructions. I knew the moment he caught my scent when he froze, then pulled back. “The, ah, spell calls for removing the original soul from a healthy body. I skipped that part.”

“You mean killing a baby,” I prompted, and he stared at me until I looked away.

“Step one,” he said tightly. “Sketch a pentagram onto a square of silk using salt. If you can match the scarf’s color to the recipient’s original aura, that’s even better.”

“I’ll ask Nina if she knows,” I said, tucking a strand of hair back.

“Second, anoint the feet of the pentagram with the sap, and do the same for the soles of the recipient’s feet.”

“Using what?” I interrupted, shocking myself when I looked up and found him too close. “The vampire recipient is like what, lying down?” This wasn’t good. There were too many variables to remember, and he clearly hadn’t done enough magic to know what was important and what could be fudged. “Are you sure there isn’t a book it’s written down in?”

“No.” His voice was tight. “I won’t misremember it. I’ve got it okay.”

“You’ve got this okay?” I accused, and there was a sudden silence from the back room. “You said no one’s done this for thousands of years. How do you know if it’s right or not?”

“The charm is fine,” he said, face red. He was lying; they did this charm at the dewar—more often than they wanted to admit—and that sickened me.

“Then what do I use to anoint the scarf and his feet? My finger?” I asked snarkily. The reason it wasn’t written down was plausible deniability. You couldn’t be brought to justice for a black charm there was no written evidence of.

“Ahh, I would think an aspen rod,” he said, and I took the pen out of his hand and added it to the list. “I’m destroying that before I leave,” he said, meaning the paper.

No you aren’t, I thought, but was smart enough not to say it. Damn it all to the Turn and back, people were crap. How can you respect a group who sacrificed babies to lengthen their own pathetic lives?

“Aspen rod,” I said, setting the pen down with an accusing snap. “Then what?”