Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

Bare feet scuffing the carpet, I halted just outside Trent’s room. Trent was in the kitchen, taking Ray from Quen. The little girl was crying softly, clearly distressed. Al stood stoically beside the small breakfast nook, looking awkward in that suit from the forties. Quen was beside him, his weight on one foot and nursing a new bruise. Jon was with them, and a knot eased even if the tall, sour-looking man was red faced and furious.

But it was on Al that my attention lingered. I wondered at the shift of clothes and if what Trent had said about his making decisions based on a deeper feeling—his loss of something he now saw in me. Had he come to save me knowing he could get Lucy and Ray at his leisure?

And then it hit me. Lucy wasn’t here.

I crossed the sunken living room, stomach light and uneasy. “Where’s Lucy?”

Jon tensed, his long face becoming ugly in hatred. “He left her!” he snarled, and I reached for Ceri’s high-backed chair, my skin prickling from a heavy draw from the line bisecting Trent’s grounds.

Trent backpedaled toward the stairs, his hand protectively over Ray’s head. Quen moved forward, first blocking Jon’s outthrust, glowing hand, and then grabbing his wrist, wrenching Jon to kneel with his arm pulled behind him, almost snapping his elbow. Al stood there, suspiciously quiet, his belligerent expression hiding what I thought was guilt.

“He left her there!” Jon exclaimed, his short graying hair hiding his face, turned toward the floor. Ray’s voice rose up in distress, higher than I’d ever heard it. “He left her there with that monster of a woman!” Pain making his eyes stand out, he looked up past his bangs to Al. “Demon or no, I will kill you for that.”

My eyebrows rose as I remembered the savagery with which Jon had attacked Ellasbeth’s people when they’d threatened the girls. Perhaps I was lucky to have gotten only pencils poked into me when I’d been a mink in a cage.

Trent’s lips were a thin angry line. Ray was miserable in his arms as she clung to him. He wasn’t saying anything, so I stomped over to Al, keeping clear of Quen and Jon from a faint sense of prudence. “Hey! You lost both of them. Why did you only bring one back?”

Al’s gaze came back from Ray, his eyes flicking from me to Trent. “I have to go. My compensation, please.”

My jaw dropped. “For babysitting?” I said, glancing back to Quen wrestling Jon back into submission. “Where’s Lucy?”

Trent tried to be calm as he jiggled Ray, but his red ears gave him away. “I want to know if it’s because you’re angry with Rachel, or if you’re actually trying to work within the law. Al?”

I jerked upright, spinning to them. “Law?” I blurted out, remembering that ridiculous claim Ellasbeth was filing. “You mean that lousy scrap of paper? Al! Are you nuts? That is full of crap and you know it!”

Al’s shoulders stiffened as if taking on a burden. “She had a legal right,” he said softly, and Jon grunted in pain, almost on the floor under Quen’s nerve hold. “A legal paper and a scary woman from social services. Even a babysitter has to honor that. I have to leave. I’m late.”

I reached out, jerking my hand back when he spun at my faint pull on his sleeve. “Not yet,” I said, backing up. “You still have three minutes before you have to be at work. What do you do, Al? Are you Mickey D’s newest fry cook?”

Okay, that may have been a little bitter, but how could he honor a stupid scrap of paper that was bull to begin with?

Trent patted Ray, the little girl finally having stopped crying. “If I’m not mistaken, he works for . . . the I.S.?” Trent guessed.

“The FIB, actually,” Al said, and I sank down into a chair at the breakfast nook. “I chose the FIB over the I.S. because the I.S. currently functions on decisions from old white vampires who have lost touch with the ever-changing social structure and are slowly losing power. Progress and all.”

Thunderstruck, I blinked. “You work for the FIB?”

Al tugged his suit coat straight. “I accepted a request to investigate the damage to your church initially, but I like it and I needed a job on the rental agreement other than former emperor of China.” Trent was chuckling, but I failed to see anything funny.

“I get to push people around, poke my nose where I want, and no one stops me. At least not more than once,” Al finished with a familiar evil smile.

Tired, I rubbed my forehead. “Did they give you a bright shiny badge?”

Al flushed, but I figured they had when he touched a breast pocket. That explained the weird questions he’d asked me earlier. Maybe he’d tell me how my case was going if I asked.

“I think that’s commendable,” Trent said, and Al’s face twitched. “Quen, I left my wallet at Cormel’s.”

My God, he was going to pay the demon.

With a final pinch to tell Jon to behave himself, Quen let go of Jon. The taller man rocked into a sitting position, rubbing his shoulder as he slowly got up. Quen reached for his wallet, reminding me that my shoulder bag with my phone, keys, and splat gun were still at Cormel’s as well.

“Commendable,” I grumped. “Like me trying to get the world to accept demons.”

Trent took the cash that Quen handed him, easily jiggling Ray on his hip to have two hands free. “Who else will keep them in line?” he said as he handed most of it to Al. “You?”

Elbow on the table, I shook my head. “Heck no. Al, you can have the job.”

Trent faced the demon. “Thank you for the return of Ray,” he said calmly, but I could tell he was annoyed, not at Al, but himself.

“I can’t believe you’re paying him for that,” I grumped.

“Rachel . . . ,” Trent admonished, and I stood. Ray was reaching for me, and I went to get her. She looked miserable, far too aware of what was going on for her age.

Al looked at the folded money in his grip, never opening it to count it. “This is the damnedest way to run an economy.”

I rocked Ray, the little girl snuffling pitifully, her grip on me tight and endearing. “Better than blackening your soul.”

Al’s expression became blank. “I fail to see the difference.”

Trent gave Jon a sharp look to be quiet. “I know what you did. Thank you. I would have done the same. I’ll get Lucy back on my own.”

The demon’s face twitched. “It was an accident,” he said flatly. “If you get the paperwork that returns Lucy to you, ah, just summon me.”

Had he just acknowledged that he cared? And what was with the request to summon him? My anger faltered. Perhaps the situation was bothering him more than I realized. And besides, it was impossible to be angry when holding Ray.

“It would be an honor to work with you again.” Trent held out his hand, and Al took it, leaning in over their clasped fingers and jerking Trent off balance and into him.

“Don’t think this means anything,” Al said, then shoved Trent back. Al nodded to me, glanced at Ray, and vanished in an inward-falling haze of ever-after. A scuff behind me pulled my attention to Jon and Quen. I couldn’t tell what had happened, but both men were angry, Quen still favoring that one foot.

“Huh,” Trent said introspectively as he flexed his hand. “How about that.” His gaze clearing, he smiled at Ray, still on my hip. “It’s okay, sweet pea. We’ll get your sister back.”

I frowned as I realized the little girl had a silver flower in her grip that she hadn’t had before Al left. There was no way I was leaving Lucy where she was, court order or not. “I don’t have a problem breaking the law,” I muttered. “Quen, you want to ride shotgun?”

Quen jolted into motion, and Trent raised his hand. “Stop,” Trent said, his voice tired. “Please stop.”