“That night I saw you with Al,” Ceri was saying, her expression misty with memory, “when he was going to make you his familiar? I thought I was going to die and you were going to take my place. You looked so stupid, but you really did know what you were doing.”
I cleared my throat and swallowed, reaching for the tea to wash it down. Yeah, caffeine on top of Brimstone was a great idea. “It was luck,” I said, uncomfortable. The tea had a pleasant smoothness, and I leaned back and ran a finger under the bracelet, wanting it off. It was funny how things had turned out, but Ceri was giving me more credit than I deserved.
Ceri saw me looking at my charmed silver and, with her usual bluntness, said, “You should get rid of that. I’d be able to fix your leg if you did. And you could help Winona, too.”
Feeling guilty for having been so selfishly clueless for the last five months, I jammed another cookie in my mouth. So many good things would come from taking off the bracelet. So many good things, and just one bad. “I know. That’s why I’m still here,” I said around my full mouth, nervously wiping the crumbs from the corner of my mouth as Ceri’s eyes widened.
“It’s about time,” she said, sitting oh so straight and proper, as if she hadn’t just thanked me for saving her life. “Does Trenton know? He’s been fussing in his spelling hut for the last two days.”
I shrugged. “I was supposed to come over and talk to him about it yesterday. After spending it in HAPA’s cage instead, I think he knows I want it off.” Oh God. How was I going to keep Al from blowing away every single safeguard Trent could come up with and just . . . taking me? He was a five-thousand-year-old demon, and I was not going to delude myself into thinking that Trent had anything that could prevent Al from doing exactly what he wanted.
Unaware of my panic, she patted my hand as Winona slipped from the nursery and went to the kitchen to wash a bottle. “Rachel, I’m proud of you.”
Again, I couldn’t meet her eyes. Again, she was giving me more credit than I deserved.
Sensing my embarrassment and not understanding it, Ceri let go of my hand. Trent was coming up the long stairs, talking to someone by phone, and I hunched into the cushions, hating this. I wanted the bracelet off, but it was looking harder all the time.
Pace almost . . . bouncy, Trent took the last of the stairs and stood behind and over Ceri. He’d found a pair of shoes somewhere, and I disparagingly looked at my socks. “Ready, Rachel? I’d like your opinion on the lab that was broken into.” His eyes flicked past us to the closed nursery door before coming back to us, his smile fading as he noticed Ceri’s tension.
I was such a coward. “You want me to look at a crime scene? That’s a switch,” I said as I laboriously got to my feet. Ceri rose as well, helping me to the stairs before handing me back my crutch. She was still trying to figure out what was bothering me, and Trent’s mistrust grew.
“How’s that pain amulet holding up?” he asked as he tried to take my elbow and I jerked away, almost falling. He knew the amulet was fine. He was fishing for what was wrong, and I didn’t want to talk about it.
“It’s good,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” Ceri took my arm, pinching it painfully to keep me from pulling away from her. “And don’t you let her walk the entire way,” she admonished Trent.
“I’m not going to pick her up and carry her screaming to the basement,” Trent said. “It’s a workday. Besides, she has a crutch.”
“Crutch or no, she’s hurt!” Ceri protested.
“I mean,” Trent said intently, “she can hit me with it if I do something she doesn’t like.”
Winona snickered from the kitchen, a weird sort of snuffling chuckle. I turned to her, and she had her hand over her mouth in mortification.
Exhaling heavily, I hobbled to the top of the long stairway alone and felt myself pale. Crap, it was a long way, and vertigo threatened. “Thanks,” I whispered when Trent slipped a hand under my elbow, and we took our first step down, my feet silent in my new socks. I was reminded of the night I’d been his security and he’d taken me to a casino boat, me wearing one of Ellasbeth’s slinkier dresses. We’d always looked good together, though clearly apart even when standing next to each other. That I was in a nasty pair of sweats and he was in a casual suit didn’t dispel the feeling of alone-apartness I again felt. Always alone. Both of us.
“I’m glad the amulet is working,” he said, stiff and closed even as he helped me, the scent of sour wine a hint between us. “At least you can’t be cursed.”
His voice carried a hint of mistrust, and my jaw tightened. “I’ll tell you when we get to the elevator,” I said, and his grip eased on my elbow.
“I have something I want to tell you, too, before we meet Quen and Jenks. We don’t have a lot of time. Tell me now.”
That’s why Jenks was gone. “I want the bracelet off, but there are some complications.”
“I told you I’d help,” he said, and I took another slow step down, the crutch hurting my armpit. I must have winced, because Trent’s grip on my elbow shifted.
“Good, because I’m really going to need it,” I whispered, leaning on him even harder.
Chapter Eighteen
My grip on Trent’s arm had gone white knuckled by the time we got downstairs and to the elevator at the back of the bar, just off the huge great room. I hated that he knew I was hurting, but it wasn’t as if I could hide it. There was a wheelchair beside the lift’s doors, but I leaned on the wall when Trent pried my fingers off him and pushed the down button.
“Would you rather sit?” he asked, his beautiful voice rising and falling like music, and I ignored him, almost panting through throbbing hurt slipping around my pain charm. The doors slid open, and I hobbled in, propping myself up in a corner of the opulent lift and blowing a strand of hair from my eyes. I hated wheelchairs almost as much as I hated needles.Trent had the decency to hold his opinion to a raised eyebrow as he trundled the chair in and silently positioned it next to me, locking the wheels in case I wanted to sit. With a soft sigh, he jingled a wad of keys from his pocket and brought to life the entire lower half of the panel. The keys were unusual. Trent liked his gadgetry card system, and I wondered if the recent break-in might have something to do with it.
The doors slid shut, but we didn’t move as Trent punched buttons. “I’m glad you want to take the charm off,” he said, his thoughts clearly on something else. “What complications?”
I glanced at the chair, wishing I didn’t hurt so much. “You know I put a hole in the ever-after when I made that ley line. The demons’ reality is shrinking, and if the ever-after goes, the source of magic goes with it. That’s not even touching on how angry they are about me helping you fix the elves’ genome. If I can’t keep myself on this side of the ley lines, my life is going to be a living hell.”
Trent turned from the panel as we started to descend. “Minor details. You won’t have to worry about the shrinking ever-after for a generation. As for the other, you are not going to be taken, so don’t worry about it.”
I looked him up and down in disbelief, not liking his confidence when I was the one in trouble, not him. “Don’t you dare belittle my fears!” I said, my eyes narrowing. Weight on my crutch, I held my arm up, showing him the bracelet. “I sat in a cage and watched them do that horrible thing to Winona. I was helpless. I don’t want to be helpless anymore. I want to get this damn thing off, and it just keeps getting harder!”
Trent sighed, infuriating me. “Fine. After we look at the lab, we’ll look at your options. It can’t be that much of an issue. It’s just a little imbalance. I won’t let Al take you, Rachel. Trust me.”
Right. I couldn’t stand upright anymore, and I grabbed for the handle of the chair, sullen as I sat down, my entire right side aching. “I don’t care what you have come up with to keep Al under control, he’s going to blow through it like a pixy through tissue paper, and I will be stuck in the ever-after. Again.” I looked up at his confidence. “And this time, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Thanks a hell of a lot, Trent.”
His grip tightened on my crutch. “Why are you always angry with me?”
I looked up at him, aching everywhere, frustrated that I hadn’t been able to stop what they’d done to Winona, embarrassed that I had to show my weakness in front of him by sitting down, angry with everything. “You want the short list or the long one?”
“I’m tired of it,” he said calmly, but the rims of his ears were red and his motions to prop the crutch in a corner were too fast. “Ever since camp you’ve been picking at me and my ideas.”
Picking at him? “You are the one doing stuff to irritate me,” I said, heart pounding. “Shall I start with today and go backward? You hit me with a pain charm—”
“You got in the way. I apologized for that,” he interrupted, his green eyes squinting.
“You put me in a cage. Made me fight for my life in the rat fights!”