Kim Harrison - The Undead Pool

To be honest, I was worried—worried about him and his money. He’d never had to go without it, and the bigger the corporation, the faster it starved to death when the funds were cut off. He was a CEO of billions, but it wouldn’t mean anything if his assets were frozen. He’d be okay, sure, but what about all his employees with no work, no pay for the year or two this was going to take to sort out?

Leaning over and behind the girls, he whispered, “I have insurance for this. Relax.”

Startled, I drew back. “God!” I exclaimed softly. “I hate it when you do that.”

He was smiling, the wind shifting his hair about his eyes, and I felt warm when he helped Lucy, now crying over an ice headache. Slowly his smile faded, damped by Jonathan at the ATM. The tall man had Trent’s card in hand and was on the phone.

“Actually, this took longer than I thought it would.” Concerned, he pulled his phone from a back pocket, elbows on his knees as he pushed a few buttons.

“Sorry.” Ray was distressed at the red dripping down her hand, and I rewrapped the bottom with a new napkin.

“Mmmm.” His brow furrowed even more. “Maybe we should head home.”

Home, I thought, leaning to look at the tiny screen. He’d brought up one of his news sites, which showed a well-groomed woman sitting next to a downward-sloping graph and the words Kalamack Industries. Seeing me looking, he upped the volume.

“ . . . as the Kalamack investigation continues to come up empty. Though employees questioned are denying Kalamack Industries conducts any genetic research outside of legal parameters, allegations of illegal genetic tinkering and trade of genetic products persist. In a related story, claims that the chain of subtropical islands owned by the Kalamack family were really a powerhouse of Brimstone fields have evaporated into the sound of wings. Investigators at the site found only open fields and thousands upon thousands of cocoons of a rare butterfly on the verge of extinction. When asked, Trent Kalamack made this statement.”

The picture shifted to one of Trent, looking calm and collected in his usual suit as he stood beside a podium at his gatehouse media room. “Our intent in replanting the cane fields was twofold, not simply helping a vanishing species to recover, but advancing the local population into more well-paying jobs and fostering new opportunities. Changing the local harvest to a more sustainable product, in this case, the trade of tourism, we would achieve both goals. A cane field will employ a family, but tourism brings in dollars from around the world and employs not just farm workers to maintain the butterflies’ life cycle, but also promotes far more skilled labor and the cottage industries that tourism fosters.”

I looked at Trent, remembering the conversation he and Quen had in my back living room over bugs in the Brimstone field. “Well played,” I murmured, realizing that he had distributed the butterflies to all his fields, effectively eating the evidence.

Trent cleared his throat nervously. “Thank you.”

“Regardless, Kalamack stock continues to plummet,” the newscaster continued as she reappeared, and Trent sighed. “Whether the claims are groundless or rooted in truth, it seems more and more likely that Kalamack Industries has seen the last of its golden years.”

“Sorry,” I said as Jenks’s dust blanked out the screen. I’d heard his wings an instant before he dropped to my shoulder, and a knot of worry eased in me.

“Enks!!” Lucy shrilled, and the pixy darted out of her sticky reach. “Pixy, pixy, pixy!”

“Yeah, I’m buying up Kalamack stock as fast as Rachel’s rent check clears,” Jenks said as Lucy dropped her ice, her hands outstretched as she jumped. “Watch out, cookie maker, or I’m going to own you.”

Clearly amused, Trent put his phone away. Jonathan was still on the phone. Apparently Trent had a lot of accounts to check. Eyes intent, Ray watched Jenks, a brown, icy cold water dripping out the end of her cone unnoticed.

But then my head came up as a familiar scent tickled my nose. “Ah, Jenks? Why do you smell like burnt amber?”

The sound of Jenks’s wings hesitated, but it was Trent’s suddenly bland expression that rang the alarm bells.

“I gotta check the perimeter,” the pixy said, darting off much to Lucy’s dismay.

Catching her hand before she ran after him, I dug out the little packet of Handi Wipes from my bag. “Jenks!” I shouted, but he was gone. Eyes squinting, I turned to Trent. “What have you two been up to?”

Trent took the packet and pulled one out. “Mmmm. I’ve been helping Newt with Red,” he said as he worked at getting the blue off Lucy’s fingers. “I asked Jenks to watch my back.”

My lips parted, and I looked into the pergola, knowing he was up there somewhere, the chicken. “And why would you think you had to keep that from me?” I asked, but I couldn’t keep the frown off my face.

Lucy twisted and squirmed, and he started on the other hand when I gave him a clean wipe. “I don’t,” he said, wincing. “But she saw you ride Tulpa and she’s embarrassed that she can’t get on Red.” His lips curled into a smile as he let Lucy go and the girl ran to jump in the dust Jenks was sending down. “That stupid horse is balking at everything, and Newt is oblivious to how to handle her. It’s going to be a while before she can get on her.” He chuckled, using the last of the wipe to clean his own hands. “It’s going to be a while before she can touch her.”

I wondered where Newt had the horse, then decided she had enough room. It would be the feed I’d be worried about. “So you’re under investigation for drug trafficking, illegal genetic research, and whatever else they can come up with, and you decide to go to the ever-after? Without me?”

“Of course not.” Trent gave me a sideways glance. “Newt and Red came to me. The animal needed to see the moon. That’s half the problem if you ask me. Soon as Red associates Newt with clean grass, she’ll settle down.”

I rolled my eyes, shifting my leg to sit properly as Ray set her uneaten cone down and went to stand just outside the circle of sparkles sifting down. “Oh, that’s much better,” I said, hoping they had a hidden glen to do this in. “You’re giving riding lessons to demons.”

He rubbed his chin as he watched his girls. “In exchange for storage space for a few machines I don’t want to lose.” Eyes rising, he looked at me. “I could do this for a living. I like horses. I like demons. It’s a perfect fit.”

He was joking, but there was a grain of truth to it, and I threw away Ray’s cone before I reached for the wipes. “I’m sorry. I don’t think they’re going to stop until you lose everything.” Angry, I cleaned my hands, thinking I should have thought this through a little more. We could have done something different, maybe. Tried to hide it. Put off the inevitable. But as Trent took my damp hand in his to still my frustrated motions, I knew that to try to hide it would have only made it worse when the truth came out.

“Not everything, no,” he said. “But I’m not the only one giving things up. I know it was hard abandoning the mystics.”

My jaw clenched, and I tried to quash my gut reaction of heartache. I knew he saw it when his grip tightened. “Does it show?” I said, miserable. I’d been able to see around corners. I’d had thousands of voices telling me of whispers halfway across the city. I’d had a million defenders, ready to turn my wish to reality. It had been godlike. Even if keeping them would’ve made me crazy.