Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

Trent dryly cleared his throat, but I fixed my eyes on Cormel, daring him to look away. His lip had curled up to show a little more fang, making me wonder if I should back off.

“Landon is doing exactly what I want,” the vampire said. “We will not perish but be stronger for our souls after we . . . adapt. Can you imagine it?” he said, eyes alight. “The power of the undead with the strength of the living?”

I thought of Nina, swaying the crowd with just that. “It’s a dream, Cormel.”

A flicker of unease crossed him. He knew, and yet he still persisted. Why? Steepling his fingers, he said, “Indications show that with enough time the emotions will fade.”

“Guilt takes forever to fade.”

“We have forever,” he shot back, and agitated, I turned to the man bringing in three cups of coffee. It smelled wonderful, and no one said anything as he gave Cormel his first, then Trent, and finally me. The man practically backed out, and my eyes narrowed at his fear.

“To live forever will elevate us, make us strong,” Cormel said, his attention on the tiny spoon as he sifted what was probably salt into his coffee. I’d be willing to bet it shifted the flavor more to a mug of warm, salty blood.

“Ask the demons how great forever is,” I said, deciding to skip the coffee.

“Yet you’ve given Ivy hope,” Cormel said. “You must believe it’s possible for the undead to survive with their souls if you gave Ivy a magic to capture hers.”

Shit, he’d found the soul bottle. “If you took it from her,” I threatened, wishing I hadn’t pushed my chair up so close. It was Ivy’s, damn it! He had no right.

“I didn’t take her magic,” Cormel said. Expression blank, he sipped his coffee. “You’ve failed to convince me of the danger. I’ll trust Landon a little longer.”

“Then you’re going to die!” I exclaimed, frustrated as he gestured for someone outside the office. “The longer you’re dead, the more wrong things you do to stay alive, and the harder it is to survive the guilt in your soul. It’s only the newly undead that might make it.”

“There is no wrong!” Cormel shouted, suddenly standing. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

I said nothing, not having even seen him move. Trent, too, was a little disconcerted, and I grimaced, not wanting to have Cormel at my throat but needing to make him understand.

Cormel edged from his desk, a hint of confusion marring his confidence. “They gift me with their blood, their aura, their soul. How can it be wrong?”

“It is,” I said softly. “That’s why you weep when you get your soul back. You can’t have everything you want.”

“Remember that,” Cormel said as the door to the hall opened and Landon was shoved in. He looked disheveled, in the same robes I’d seen him wearing on TV. I figured he was about as happy as we were to be here, but the shimmer of satisfaction in the tilt to his head gave me pause. Slowly I stood, not wanting to be at a disadvantage. Trent remained seated, his fingers steepled and his ankle across one knee. You shouldn’t be here, I thought, worried.

Landon pulled himself straight, seeming official in his purple and green robes and that hat that Newt favored. “Rachel,” he said, giving me a nod. “Trent,” he added sarcastically before turning to Cormel. “I told you it wouldn’t last if they’re alive. Kill them or the surface demons remain in the ever-after.”

My gaze flicked to the two thugs just inside the door and back again. “We didn’t send them back. Your spell fell apart.”

“Rachel tells me you’re lying,” Cormel said, and Landon’s expression blanked. “And I believe the actual wording of our agreement was that I’d remove them from power.” He gestured to Trent. “I sent them fleeing to the West Coast. They returned and I isolated them. They have no power,” he said, smiling pleasantly. “Bring back our souls. Now.”

“The dewar is split because he lives,” Landon said, but he was sweating. If I could see it, every vampire on the floor could smell it. “I won’t bring your souls back until I have control.”

“Won’t, or can’t?” Cormel sat down, leaving Landon and me standing.

“You’ll not survive this, Landon,” Trent intoned, and Cormel turned to him in speculation. “You’ll die by your own hand. I’ll have no regrets.”

It sounded poetic, and I hid my shiver by moving to stand behind his chair. It was a good eight feet away from the desk, and I breathed easier. I didn’t like his being here. Despite everything he’d said, I’d never forgive myself if he suffered because of me.

“It’s business,” Landon said dismissively and turned to Cormel. “Well?”

The vampire leaned back into his chair, making it creak. “The living are fascinating,” he mused aloud. “You both seem to think you have leverage. You don’t.” He licked his lips to show his teeth. “I don’t trust you, Landon.”

“You didn’t kill them!” Landon shouted, and I shrank back when Cormel stood.

“ You are lying !” he thundered, and the guards outside in the hall came in. “I’m not going to kill them. I don’t have to. All you need is control of the dewar, yes?”

Cormel wasn’t going to kill us. Great. Somehow that didn’t thrill me. Trent paled, and I put a hand on his shoulder. The stored energy in his chi tingled through me, and I felt our balances equalize. Neither of us could make a circle, but we had at least one good spell each.

“You will stop lying to me,” the vampire said, motions smooth and controlled as he ghosted out from behind the desk.

Landon backed up, jerking when one of Cormel’s thugs shoved him forward. Cormel closed the gap. “I know you lost control of our souls,” the vampire said, reaching to arrange Landon’s collar. “You didn’t force them back because Rachel and Trent still live. You let them slip away. Blaming them to cover your error is disturbing.”

I barely breathed as Cormel leaned in toward Landon. “If you have control of the dewar, can you bring them back?” Cormel asked. “The truth.”

“Y-yes,” he stammered, and Cormel smiled, giving his face a little pat. “But the dewar won’t side with me while he lives.”

Cormel turned his back on us to retrieve his coffee. “And the demons?” Smiling, still smiling, he leaned against his desk, looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

Landon’s attention shifted between Cormel and Trent, clearly nervous. “I can force all of them except Rachel back to the ever-after,” he said. “I can then close the lines so the ever-after will collapse, taking the demons with it.”

He wants to kill the demons, too? I shook my head in disbelief. “You’d end all magic?” I said softly. “What in hell are you afraid of, Landon?”

Trent was the only one still sitting, and it made him look like he was in control—when he clearly wasn’t. Or was he?

Landon sneered, telling me he was afraid. “Don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t end magic forever. With the entire dewar and enclave backing me, we can reinstate the Arizona lines.”

Jaw dropping, I followed that through. He’d hold the entirety of Inderland hostage with the threat of destroying the lines if he didn’t get what he wanted, when he wanted, whenever he wanted. Beside me, Trent made a small noise of appreciation, and I tightened my grip on his shoulder. Okay, it was a great idea, but not for us.

“The lines are dead. You can’t reinstate them,” I said quickly, wondering if Cormel had us down here to affirm or deny Landon’s claim. “Why are you listening? He wants you dead.”

Expression ugly, Landon took a step away from the thugs. “Nothing is impossible.” He turned to Cormel. “And nothing happens until I control the dewar.”