Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

Cormel sat across from me, his chest not moving as his pupils widened and the air seemed to shimmer between us. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or trying to bespell me. “Remove them,” he demanded, the hunger in his gaze breaking the illusion of a kindly political leader and laying bare his true intent. “Or Kalamack will be your whipping boy.”

Pissed, I reached across the table, fear making me stupid. Cormel was faster. His fingers encircled my wrist, as cold as steel and twice as unbreakable.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted as he darted forward, sword bared. Cormel’s eyes flicked to the pixy, and my breath came in a single, unhurried draw as I felt Trent pull on the line. I felt it flow into him, saw it almost as a bright silver ribbon that sang. A familiar tingle raked over my skin with the rustle of feathers. Purple eyes flashed open in my mind, rejoicing echoed between my thought and reason as somnolent mystics awoke, eager to dole out mischief in a splashing banquet of overindulgent intent.

Stop! I demanded, and they washed up against my will, cheerfully jumbled and riding the wave as I realized I was gripping Cormel’s neck while he pinched my other wrist. Purple eyes spun madly, wanting me to give them direction. Between one heartbeat and the next I saw the FIB arranged outside, heard the tense decisions being made beyond the constructed calm within the chilly parking lot. I felt the indecision within Cormel, the unending agony pushing him to believe what he knew to be untrue. I saw a flicker of pain, real and new in him as his thoughts, spinning in unchanging circles, widened into the possible understanding that he could not have what he most wished for.

And then my heart thudded and I realized I’d somehow crawled up onto the table, kneeling to put myself inches from Cormel’s face. His canines were bared and sheened with a slick saliva, and his breath held still within him. His fingers gripped my wrist, and my free hand remained around his neck, thumb poised and stiff to jab into his larynx. He didn’t have to breathe, but it would still hurt—not to mention impede his ability to talk for a while. Mystics wreathed us so thickly I could almost see them. They played in my hair, making it float. I wasn’t afraid. Cormel was a small thought, one already dead and spinning in circles.

Damn it, how had they found me? I thought, only now recognizing that the mystics had been in the room for a while, making Trent’s aura tingle against mine.

But Cormel’s black eyes had scummed over with a long-dead fear. Jaw trembling, he stared at me, remembering the feel of the mystics on him, knowing they could hold his death if I wished it. He’d been a master vampire for a long time, but he started out as all of them do, as someone’s toy. And he remembered being small. I’d made him feel it again. Oh God, I was deep in it now.

“You will leave Kalamack alone,” I said simply, never letting go of his eyes as more people came in, halting when Cormel waved them off. It had been my fear that had brought the mystics back, fear for Trent—and now I was really up shit creek.

Slowly I let go of him, edging backward off the table as Cormel’s thugs clustered in small knots. My wrist was tingling where Cormel was still holding it, and he let go in the sudden realization that it, too, was a conduit for the mystics. “I may be a pawn,” I said as I locked my shaking knees. “But I’ve been to the other side and survived the trip back and can move like a queen.” Pixy dust sifted over us, and my skin burned. “Don’t piss me off.”

Behind me were people stinking of fear and nylon. I could feel the give of rubber tread from heavy boots, and the chill being lifted off from skin too long in the cold. None of them was my sensation. The mystics had brought them to me, eager to become a part of something again. I’d gambled and lost. The demons would never listen to me now.

But he had threatened Trent . . .

Swallowing hard, I sank back into my chair to try to hide my shaking hands. Damn it, I loved Trent. I’d risk everything and all to keep him alive. It made me strong but vulnerable to manipulation at the same time. Love sucked.

“You okay?” Trent’s voice was low, and my chest hurt at the new fear in him, one born from the heart. He knew the mystics had found me again. Blinking fast, I reached to touch Trent’s hand on my shoulder. He was still holding on to the line, and he started when the pure energy from the mystics washed through him as they used his connection as a way to get back to the line and ride it like an ocean current. The power in me lessened, and I breathed easier.

“Ask me tomorrow,” I whispered, and his grip tightened in understanding. I didn’t feel good. People in suits and smelling of vampire surrounded Cormel. Our eye contact had been broken, and I wanted to leave.

“Tink’s a Disney whore, Rache!” Jenks exclaimed as Cormel began to slowly distance himself. “He’s as scared as a tick under the bed.”

Yeah. Me too. I’d been ready to kill Cormel to keep Trent safe. And though Cormel had been shocked to find my hand around his throat, I couldn’t shake the growing feeling that he’d almost been expecting it. Even as he bent his will to survival, a part of him wanted to die. Looked for it. Ached for it. Maybe that’s why he was so adamant about getting his soul?

“Rache?” Jenks called, his excitement faltering as he dropped down to search my face. “You’re okay, right?”

My head came up as I recognized Ivy’s voice. Jenks spun where he hovered, darting to the door as she elbowed her way in. “Get out of my way!” she exclaimed as she fought her way through the growing crowd, and Trent’s hand tightened on my shoulder when I smiled at her. Thank God she was okay.

Nina was hot on Ivy’s heels, the jealous little vampire scowling. I watched her visibly catch herself as the scent of frightened vampire hit her. Eyes lowered, she concentrated on the floor. Ivy, though, pushed through it as if it wasn’t there.

“Rachel,” she all but breathed as she reached me, and I rose to give her a hug. “I-I . . . ,” she stammered, and then, “Are you okay?”

I almost missed the flash of guilt that crossed her. It wasn’t reflected in Nina, as much as sanctioned by the crafty woman’s smug expression. “I’m okay,” I said, my suspicions tightening. Something had happened . . .

Feeling it, Ivy let go. “Trent texted me that you might need some help.”

“Trent?” I hadn’t seen him on the phone. Surprised, I turned to Trent, stifling a shudder at the sensation of mystics peeling off me to dance in the pheromones and guilt she was giving off. “When did you have the time?”

Trent shrugged, the rims of his ears reddening as he watched Cormel’s thugs begin to leave. “I type fast.”

“Like a fourteen-year-old girl!” Jenks exclaimed, a happy ball of dust at his shoulder.

Cormel was putting his coat on with a formal stiffness, clearly not liking being watched by the admittedly proud but helpless FIB. We weren’t done yet, but I’d given him something to think about as he sulked in his hole in the ground.

“Too many people in here,” Nina muttered. She was doing really well despite the fading stink of frightened vampire. And then it struck me how good Ivy looked, a flush to her cheeks and moving better than she should for having been in intensive care less than two days ago. My eyes jerked to hers, and a flash of self-loathing and guilt crossed her before she turned away. Even having access to Trent’s full-strength Brimstone shouldn’t have her looking like this.

“Ivy?” I questioned, and Jenks rose up, clearly pleased when Edden walked in, glancing at us as he shook Cormel’s hand and held the door for him.