Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

“But not to this extent,” I said, and he collapsed in on himself, holding my hands between us as he chose his next words. “You can’t be the Sa’han if you’re with me,” I said miserably. “They won’t let you.”

“It’s just a title,” he said, but even I could hear the lie.

“One that gives you a voice, one that people follow.”

His lips pressed into a resolute line. “I’m not letting you go, so stop it. We’ll get through this. Besides, if the demons call me the Sa’han, then maybe that’s enough,” he said, a hint of worry tugging at the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe,” I said miserably. I will not cry. I won’t!

“The demons won’t listen to Landon, but they might me. I’ve ridden the hunt with them. Fought beside them to eliminate a threat. If that’s not being the Sa’han, then what is?”

The depth of his commitment shivered through me in the predawn gloom. “But how . . .”

“This isn’t your fault,” he said, bringing me to him again, and the tingles his whisper started racing through me. “We can do this together. I can’t do it alone. I don’t want to.”

My eyes closed as I soaked in his warmth, his hands firm without binding, their slow motion against me suddenly taking on a new meaning. I took another breath, and that fast, my desires flipped to another direction. I licked my lips and Trent’s breath quickened.

“You know, we’ve got a good ten minutes until sunup,” he said, his fingers tracing over me and the flimsy nightie I had over here. “They won’t have any real information about Cincinnati for at least twenty.”

I pulled back to see the heat in his eyes, the desire. “We can’t,” I whispered, smiling.

“Why not?”

He wasn’t confused per se, but clearly wary at my smile, and I pulled him closer, turning our embrace less amorous and more friendly. “Because someone is pinching my toes,” I said. Trent hesitated, and I almost laughed. “Really. Someone is pinching my toes.”

Realizing I was serious, he leaned to see around me. “Ray!” he exclaimed, and I held my arms out for the little girl. She was about eighteen months now, sweet with her blanket in her grip, her dark hair carefully combed and her even darker eyes solemn as she pinched my toes for our attention. She couldn’t have been there very long, and her expression was troubled.

“Daddy?” she said, her high voice clear. “Oucy no. No!” she demanded, pointing to the door, now open a crack. I hadn’t even heard her open it, but she was a quiet little thing.

Trent pulled the toddler up, bringing the scent of baby powder and snickerdoodles with her. Dressed and ready for the day, she pointed again at the door, her features tight in distress. I could hear Lucy, her sister, shrilling something in the background as I fixed Ray’s collar.

“What is Lucy doing that she’s not supposed to?” Trent said patiently, and Ray scrunched her face up, clearly wanting to spill the beans but not having the vocabulary yet. “Lucy?” Trent called, loudly, and the little girl’s enthusiastic shouts became closer.

“Daddy!” the toddler cried, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced against the wall and nearly closed again. But the blond, excited girl was already in here, a strip of toilet paper in her grip as she danced in a circle, somehow not breaking it. “Happy birthday!” she shouted, throwing it up into the air and silently watching it drift down.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet,” I whispered, and I swear Ray rolled her eyes.

Lucy clapped her hands and ran for the bed. “Hi, Aunt Achel!” she shouted, flopping against Trent’s knees, making Ray shove Lucy’s hands off him.

I pulled Lucy to me, glad that Trent hadn’t started dressing them alike. Lucy was only three months older than Ray, but their personalities made the difference seem larger. Squishy and wiggly, Lucy bounced in my lap until I penned her in with my arms, bringing the wonderful smell of innocence to me.

“Hi, Lucy,” I said, careful to not talk to her like she was a baby but a real person. “Is that toilet paper? Shouldn’t it be on the roll?”

She slid from me, running to where it lay on the floor and throwing it back into the air with a jubilant “Surprise!”

Trent looked up from playing a finger game with Ray. “There were streamers at a party, and now she won’t leave the toilet paper alone.” Ray held her arms out to me, and I took her willingly. “Ellasbeth is supposed to be watching them,” Trent said, his eyes on the door. “Though to be honest, Quen is keeping an eye on them as well. And Jon. Everyone.”

“You think she’s okay?”

Standing, Trent ran a hand over his chin, mildly concerned. “She’s still fighting jet lag. Maybe she fell asleep reading to them again. Unless she left. That’d be nice.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” I said as I arranged Ray’s very dark hair. I knew that Trent believed Ellasbeth agreed with the elven dewar’s opinion that the world would be better if we weren’t part of it, but I wasn’t so sure. “Maybe you should check on her,” I said, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. Not in my nightgown.

Trent nodded and held out his hand to Ray. “Ray, where is Ellasbeth?”

Blinking her dark eyes, Ray slid from me. Her hand looked small as it fit into Trent’s. Wobbling only slightly, she looked at the door. “Shhh. Nap,” the little girl said, and I swung my feet to the floor.

“That can mean anything,” I said as I stood and glanced at my phone. It was almost sunup. No time for a shower now. I could do it after the news.

Trent’s frown took on a shade of concern. “I’ll be right back,” he said, starting for the door. “Lucy? Where’s your mommy?”

“A-a-a-a-asleep!” Lucy crowed, throwing her toilet paper banner again and watching it drift down. “Surprise!”

Trent held out his other hand. “Show me?” he asked, and she jumped over to him, her dress flying up to show her tights.

“Come on, Daddy!” she said, dragging him off.

Ray turned before they left, and I made an open-and-closed hand wave to match hers. Ducking her head shyly, she trailed along behind Trent, leaving the door open. I didn’t mind, but I did put on a borrowed robe before I scuffed into my slippers. I could hear Quen talking to Trent, and I wasn’t quite up to more people yet. The morning garden beckoned, a gray patch of solitude and calm after Lucy’s exuberance, and after a look at my phone and the time, I shuffled to the big French doors. I wasn’t going out into the living area until Ellasbeth knew I was here.

Besides, if there was a real problem, Quen or Jon would be on it. It might look as if the girls had been wandering the upper floor unattended, but both Jon and Quen were big on letting the girls explore freely within sharply defined boundaries. Either one wouldn’t have a problem letting them walk in on me and Trent—each for different reasons.

Lucy’s shrill voice was punctuated by masculine rumbles as I hit the code at the box by the door and opened it. The first breath of morning damp cooled my flush as I recalled the pandemonium the first time I’d opened it without the code. Birdsong and what might be the clatter of pixy wings drew me out onto the sheltered patio. There was a small koi pond with steam rising from it, and tidy flower beds carefully raked and put to bed for the coming winter.

I wrapped my arms around myself as the coolness slipped up my legs. A soft scuff yanked my attention to the small patio table for two, and I jerked to a halt. “Al?” I said, fear for being coated in mystics flashing through me. I froze, unbelieving, as he stood, clearly having been waiting for me out of sight of the door. At least I hope he’d been out of sight. “What are you doing here?” I warily shuffled closer in my slippers and robe, having to trust that he wouldn’t come here, out of his way, to choke me to death. “And in a suit?” I added, thinking he looked dashing, though very different. He wasn’t trying to kill me. That was good, right?