Kim Harrison - The Witch with No Name

I’m so sorry, Ivy. I keep trying to help you, and I only keep making things worse.

“Rachel has already pioneered and patented the white curse needed to capture an undead soul,” Al said, his expression almost beatific as he gazed at the uptight professor. “I’d be delighted to explain it to you. How are you at making coffee?”

Professor Anders looked him over. “I make excellent coffee, but you’re making your own.” She hesitated, shifting away from him for the very first time. “I don’t trust you.”

Unperturbed, Al stood and extended a hand for her. “That is what makes it interesting,” he almost crooned. “Shall we go to your lab? Or mine?”

“Al and Anders, sitting in a tree—” Jenks sang out, then yelped at the twin pops of magic exploding under him, one from Anders, one from Al.

Eyes squinted in mistrust, Professor Anders stood and placed her hand in Al’s. The demon beamed, and she gasped as they just . . . vanished. Both their coffees went with them.

Trent shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, that was something I hadn’t expected. Vivian, where are you staying?”

It sounded like things were wrapping up, and there’d been no decisions, just ideas that weren’t going to work. “What about Landon?” I asked.

“I’m staying downtown at the Cincinnatian,” Vivian said, tucking her notes away in a tiny purse that had to be bigger on the inside than the out. “Give me until noon.” She hesitated as she stood. “Ah, make that three. They might not be up yet. I’ll have a better idea of what the coven will do.”

But I already knew they’d back Landon, and I slumped.

“Good.” Trent leaned his chair back on two legs with his hands clasped behind his head, looking pleased with what we’d learned. “I’ve found a few pieces of support in the dewar. Perhaps we can pool our resources if you find enough dissent.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Vivian gave me a nod. “See you when it’s done, Rachel. Try not to destroy Cincinnati like you did San Francisco.”

“That was Ku’Sox!” I said as she nodded to Jenks and Ivy, both of whom looked as happy as I felt—that is, not at all.

“David, you want a ride somewhere?” Vivian asked, and David pulled himself out of his thoughts with a grunt and reached for his phone.

“Sure. Thanks.”

Trent’s chair came back down onto all fours. “Actually, David, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

David perked up, hiding a sly smile that had Vivian putting a hand on her hip. “What are you planning?” she accused.

“Ah, just the local distribution of the packs to minimize disruption to services,” Trent lied, and Ivy sent Jenks to get a croissant. We might be here awhile. “The same thing the packs did the last time the vampires panicked.”

“Yeah, okay,” the smart woman said, and then seeing that no one was going to say anything more while she was standing there, she stomped out to the rental car she’d driven them all here in. “I don’t want to know, anyway, do I!” she called back over her shoulder before the door shut.

Excited, I sat up. All the busybodies were gone, leaving those who had the guts to actually do something. “What are we going to do?”

Trent smiled at my enthusiasm, then sobered at Ivy’s calm, deadly anticipation and David’s expectation. Outside, Vivian raced the car’s engine and left. “Vivian will try, but the coven is going to side with Landon to banish the undead souls and drain the ever-after for the energy to reinstate the lines,” Trent said.

“It’s unethical,” Ivy said bitterly, and I thought of the demons, facing their own maybe demise. It hurt that no one seemed to care.

“I agree,” Trent said in placation, “but fear will convince the coven and the dewar to follow him. Our number one priority is to find Landon.” Trent smiled at me, and finally my shoulders started to ease. “We have until tomorrow at sunset.”

Jenks made a burst of dust in worry. “What’s to stop him from doing it tonight?”

“It’s the equinox,” I said, only now remembering it. “Tomorrow, about an hour before sunset. If he’s going to break the lines, that’s when he’s going to do it. All things will be equal.”

Trent was nodding, and Ivy exhaled as she slumped back. “At least we have some time to plan this one,” she said sarcastically. “Tomorrow?”

Hell, I didn’t need a plan, just a direction.

“The thing about a collective curse is that it can be broken if the person orchestrating it is, ah . . .” Trent’s voice trailed off as he searched for a word.

“Killed?” Jenks suggested, striking a pose and stabbing the sugar packets.

“I was going to say distracted,” Trent said, and Jenks held his cup under the tiny stream of sugar spilling out.

“ Killed works for me,” David said. “I’m all for live and let live, but this guy is knowingly hurting too many people.”

“Take Landon out and they’ll just find someone else to do it,” Ivy said glumly.

“Perhaps, but they will have to wait an entire six months. And if we can’t convince Landon to cease, we might be able to work a clause into the curse that will shift it to our liking, but we have to find him first.”

My eyebrows rose. “You can do that?”

Trent shifted uncomfortably. “With some planning. It’s how the elves originally turned the curse around and trapped the demons in the ever-after instead of us. Landon won’t be looking for such subterfuge, but we have to physically be involved in the casting of the curse to break the lines, and for that, we need to find him.”

“Ivy, I can use your help with that,” David said, and the despairing look Ivy had been wearing since I walked in finally eased.

“Jenks can keep us clean,” Trent said, and the pixy’s sparkles turned a bright silver. “Which will leave you and me, Rachel, to twist the curse to our liking.”

“And maybe Mark to make us a couple more coffees while we figure out how to do all that,” Jenks said.

I couldn’t help my smile. That totally worked for me.

This tastes like moldy mulch,” I whispered as I set the tiny potion vial down and stifled a shudder at the gritty feel of it as I swallowed. The recipe made seven portions, and as I reached for another, I decided that I’d leave the last four for Trent. Elves had an affinity for blending into shadows, but the spelled ability to become virtually invisible seemed prudent. I didn’t know if elves could store potions like demons could, but we figured it was worth a try. I was finding out they were more alike than different, which was about par for the course. The more I knew, the more I realized everything I’d been told was probably wrong.

Trent’s breathing was slow and even as he napped on the cot, the light blanket pulled up almost over his head. He’d once told me that he envied the way most people could stay awake through the entire day, but I’d always thought it more effective to never need to sleep more than four hours at a go instead of an interminably long eight hours at a time. The world could end in eight hours and you’d never know until it was too late.

I hadn’t been surprised when Trent had suggested coming out here to spell. The hut was hard to find notwithstanding its being mere steps from his back office, even with the fire going and giving off a telltale thread of smoke. There was no running water or electricity, which made it a very secure place to spell, if a little small. The table I was working at was actually a fold-up job, slipped out from under the cot.

And I liked it here, away from the polished simplicity of most of Trent’s rooms. It was only here that I felt comfortable among the softer, earthy parts of Trent’s nature carefully hidden away from casual bruising. Here he kept his favorite books—the ones that had helped shaped his ideas of right and wrong. A small shrine to his mother glowed with candlelight next to the summoning circle set within the ley line that nicked the inside corner of the building. Mementos from camp and college were cheek by jowl with scientific awards, the layer of dust an accurate determination of when he’d won them. Thank-you letters and pictures from people he and his father had saved with illegal genetic medicines were shoved in drawers along with brochures of places he’d never have time to go. The hut held everything that was dear to him, everything too precious to have where people could see it. That the mantel now held Mr. Fish and that black chrysalis from Al made me feel more than good; it made me feel like I belonged.