Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

“I tried,” I said, gaze shifting to my mom and then the I.S. van. “It got complicated.” I scooted out of the car, awkward until he took my shoulder to balance me. Turn-blasted zip strip, I thought, and suddenly the wristband gave way with a little pop. Surprised, I rubbed at my wrists. “Thanks,” I said as I sighed in relief.

“For coming down here? It was a calculated risk.”

“No, for taking the zip strip off.” Trent hesitated, and a cold feeling slipped into me. “Ah, didn’t you just snap it?” I hadn’t felt anything, but if he’d been quick about it, I wouldn’t, seeing as the strip blocked you from all line contact.

“No.”

Worried, I turned back to the car to find it. Uric must have put it on too tight and it just broke. But a cold feeling slipped into me when the backseat and pavement were bare. “It’s got to be here,” I said as I dropped to my knee and looked under the car.

“What?”

“The zip strip,” I said, not seeing it. “One of the I.S. guys zipped me, and it just snapped.” Worried, I dug down between the seat and the back to find an old pen and a plastic cup lid, but no zip strip. “You sure you didn’t break it?”

Trent shook his head, and my heart seemed to stop. The strip hadn’t broken. I had destroyed it. I had destroyed it with a wish, with a want, and I’d done it without access to the ley lines. There was only one way to do magic without access to a ley line, and my jaw clenched.

I had mystics in me. I might not be able to hear them, but they could hear me. And I think Al knew it. Was counting on it, maybe. He wanted me to close the lines, and it would take magic to open them back up again.

“Trent—” I started, then scrambled to grab my phone when it began humming again. It was Ivy, and I thumbed the answer tab, fingers shaking. “Ivy! Where are you?”

A velvety, angry voice flowed out, chilling me. “Don’t wait too long,” Uric said, and the phone clicked off.

Trent’s tiny car was plush, the fan pushing a warm breeze over me, making my hair tickle against my neck. My hands were on the wheel, but we were parked in one of the few spots on the street right outside the I.S. building. It had been a good hour since leaving the square, and Ivy was probably in there by now, settled in whatever cell they’d picked out for her.

Fidgeting, I tapped my nails on the wheel. I’d chipped one somewhere, and I ran my thumb over the rough edge as I looked at Trent drowsing, slumped against the window on the passenger side. Jenks was in the back window doing the same. I didn’t want to wake either of them, but if I waited much longer, Cormel would start tormenting Ivy. I had one shot at getting her out, and I was lucky Trent was with me, sleepy or not. His bangs shifted as he breathed, and I stifled my urge to arrange them.

He shouldn’t be here. He’s too important, I thought, but Trent had flatly refused to leave. And I could use his help—a lot—so I sat here in his car hoping something would happen and I wouldn’t have to risk Trent’s life in order to save Ivy’s.

Love stinks.

My attention flicked behind me to a car beeping as someone locked it. Trent stirred, quickly placing himself and straightening with a soft sound and a stretch. From the back, I heard the hum of wings. “How long have we been sitting here?” Trent asked, fuzzy with sleep.

“About five minutes,” I lied, then shot a look at Jenks to shut up when the pixy darted into the front, his dust a tattletale orange. “You were tired. I was thinking.”

Trent frowned as he looked at his watch and then to a smug Jenks. “About what?”

About the mystics in me, I thought, then decided to keep lying. “How good that island you offered me three years ago sounds.”

“Yeah, Rache, but think of all the stuff you would have missed lounging on a beach with an umbrella drink.” Jenks parked it on the dash and ran a hand over a wing, looking for tears.

Trent’s smile took on a touch of longing. “Mmmm, yes.” He began gathering his things to get out, and I just sat there, not moving. We had a plan, but I didn’t like it. He hesitated, glancing at Jenks before settling back. Taking my hand, he pulled me to him across the small space. Eyes inches apart, he earnestly said, “We either go in under our terms, or they come get us when the sun goes down.”

“I know,” I said, thinking of how little I had in my shoulder bag. I needed his help, but I didn’t want to risk his getting hurt—or worse.

Trent’s grip on me tightened. “Ivy is down there,” he said, and I almost pulled away. “Fighting our way in and out is chancy. This gets us halfway there.”

“I know.” Damn it, I’d worked hard to stay out of Cormel’s grip.

“That is where we need to be,” Trent said, and I blinked fast. He’d said us. He’d said we.

“This isn’t your fight,” I whispered.

“Rachel . . .” Trent squeezed my hand, bringing my eyes to him. “It is. This is more than Ivy, and even if that’s all it was, I’m not about to let you walk into Cormel’s office alone. Cormel knows Landon is lying about giving him his soul. He needs you alive to give him what he wants.”

Jenks was watching us solemnly. “How does that make this your problem?” I asked, and Trent’s eye twitched.

“He needs me, too. He just doesn’t know it yet. I have to make him aware of it before he tries to kill me again,” he said, and Jenks frowned.

Sighing, I looked past Trent and to the lobby door wishing I knew how to play this political game better. I’d spent two of the last three years of my life hating Trent and the last six months realizing it hadn’t been hate at all. “I fail to share your optimism about our intrinsic worth to a master vampire,” I said dryly, and Trent ran a hand over his stubbled cheeks, a flicker of surprise crossing him at the rough feel.

“Landon is trying to find enough support to close the lines,” he said. “It’s the only way to keep the surface demons in reality. If the lines close, magic ends . . .” He hesitated, unable to look at me. “. . . for the most part. If it happens, we need to be in a position to open them back up again.”

My lips pressed in disbelief. “And we get that seven stories down in the earth?”

Trent nodded, shrugging helplessly. “If that’s where you are, then yes.”

He wasn’t going to let me out of his sight. The soft snick of Jenks sharpening his sword seemed loud. “I still say that’s a bunch of hooey, so I’ll let you come with me,” I said, and Trent smiled, leaning across the space to give me a kiss. His lips met mine, warm and tasting of cinnamon and wine. My eyes closed, and my heart gave a thump, almost an ache for how much he loved me—I loved him.

“There’s that, too,” he whispered as he pulled back, his fingers leaving tingles. “Ready?”

I was going straight into the devil’s lair, but at least I had company. “Okay, you can come,” I said as I looked behind the car for traffic and reached for the door handle.

Trent’s touch pulled me to a stop, and I turned to see his worried smile. “Thanks,” he said, and I choked back a bitter laugh before I got out, scared for Ivy, scared for me, scared for Jenks and Trent.

But I did get out, breathing in the good Cincy air as I sent my eyes up the imposing facade. Trent and Jenks were waiting for me at the curb, and I hustled forward. “Thanks for driving,” he said as I came even and I hooked my arm in his. “The nap did me good.”

“Me too, Rache,” Jenks chimed in, and I tossed my hair so he could land on my shoulder.

“No problem,” I said, playing along with the idea that we could actually do this. I wasn’t leaving without Ivy and Nina, and my fingertips tingled as I strengthened my hold on the lines and filled my chi, then spindled even more in my head.