Kim Harrison - The Undead Pool

“But how did they find out so fast!” I exclaimed, then flushed. This wasn’t because we had done the horizontal fandango, as Jenks would have said. It was because Trent had walked away from his voice in their enclave to have a voice in my life. Not to mention I’d survived where their highest authority, their grand pooh-bah of their religion, had died. They were scared. And Trent was the one taking the hit.

Quen jerked the paper out of Ivy’s reach when she leaned forward for it, the man stoically folding it and putting it back in the envelope. “You’re under investigation for collaboration with her in endangering the stability of the Goddess and threatening the religious power structure. You’ve been requested to appear at a summons next week to explain yourself. Shall I bring Charlie into this?”

Charlie was his species-law lawyer, and I huffed, arms over my chest. They’d be lucky if we even had a next week.

“Well?” Jenks said, landing on the table before me. “Isn’t that kind of what you are doing? Collaborating?”

He was right, but it wasn’t as if we had any choice. No one else could do anything about the mystics, and since it was my aura they were attracted to, I felt responsible.

“Quen, here’s what I want done,” Trent said, and the smaller man seemed to come to attention. “Abandon the relocation efforts at the Brimstone fields. Let them have it. I’d rather have one less endangered species than a Brimstone field anyway. Besides, with Cincinnati’s and the Hollows master vampires out for the week, demand has taken a hit. No layoffs, just shift everyone over to the secondary output.” His focus blurred. “The world needs more windmills.”

“Yes, Sa’han.”

He wasn’t writing anything down, but Quen was like one of those waiters who could remember everyone’s dinner better than the girl who used a notepad and numbers.

Ivy’s eyebrows were high. “You have more Brimstone fields, right?”

“What about the decree?” I said, still angry.

Trent’s eyes slid to me. “A decree is nothing more than something someone is afraid to tell you to your face. Until they do, I’m ignoring it.”

That made Quen even happier, and his expression twisted into a stiff mask. “If there’s nothing else, Sa’han?” he said dryly.

Trent’s head went back down over the open folder. “No. Thank you.”

With a soft hush, Quen slowly spun on one foot. “Ivy, Jenks. Rachel . . .”

“You’re not staying?” I said as Jenks flew up to escort him to the door.

Finally Quen’s bad mood cracked, and he inclined his head, smiling. “I have to take Ellasbeth to the airport.”

“See?” Jenks said loudly. “Not even one day into it, and we already have one good thing happen because Trent and Rachel had sex.”

“Jenks!” I shouted, but Trent barely glanced up, a smile quirking his lips. “Where are the girls?” I asked, wondering if Trent would have to leave as well.

“Jonathan.” Trent closed the folder and leaned back in the chair. “He’s an excellent babysitter. The girls love teasing him.”

I wasn’t too sure about that, but I understood the teasing part.

“Ma’am,” Quen said, looking right at me as he almost clicked his heels together.

I scowled at him. “Call me that again, and I’ll take care of your family planning for you.”

Quen smiled, deep and full. “Rachel,” he amended, then headed into the hall. “Jenks, a word?”

“What the hell is it with you people?” Jenks griped as he followed him out. “Can’t you make a decision without talking to the pixy?”

“Warriors build empires around the kernel of truth that others overlook,” came Quen’s soft voice, and then there was nothing but his steps going fainter until the boom of the church’s front door. Jenks didn’t come back, and at the far end of the couch, Ivy eyed me.

Excitement settled deep in my core and spread out until it seemed as if my fingertips were tingling. Within me, the mystics rose up like leaves in the wind, excited and scared when I told them they were going home.

“So which one of you has the layout of the mortuary?” I asked, and Ivy smiled, leaning forward to push her laptop to where we all could see.

T he church was quiet as Trent and I waited for Ivy and David to bring back a “borrowed” van. The pixies were out somewhere, and if I cared to listen to the mystics, I’d be able to hear photons zinging about, crashing into things to make them glow with the energy my brain understood as color. I was more interested in watching Trent do a final check on his belt pack. He looked as calm and collected in Jenks’s thief black as he did in a two-thousand-dollar suit. But I already knew that. He was doing this with me, and it felt more than good; it felt right.

Bis shifted his wings from high up in the sanctuary’s rafters, leaning to look out the colored squares of stained glass at a cop car zipping by, lights and sirens going. The soot he’d drawn under his eyes worried me. The kid could go almost invisible with his color shifts, but he wanted to fit in with Jenks, now sporting half-moons under his eyes to break up his pale face. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but it wasn’t as if I could make him stay home. Frankly, I needed his help. Bis wasn’t going to let me out of his sight, saying that my aura shifted with the number of mystics behind it and that he couldn’t reliably find me anymore. Which begged the question of how the mystics kept finding me. Maybe they were homing in on the soul behind the aura.

Curfew was in full swing, and the I.S. cops from Columbus were being vicious about it this side of the river with blockades and armed officers. The pervading sentiment was unless it was on fire, it could wait, and much of the burning stuff was being left to those who cared to put it out. The church had no water pressure at all. We’d either have an easy time getting to the mortuary, or one full of trials. I was betting on the latter.

The siren was fading as Trent went to the window and put one foot on the low sill to look out and tie his shoe. Nice butt, I couldn’t help but think, and then flushed at the memory of Trent’s and my earlier escapade and the feel of his skin tightening under my fingertips. My blush deepened when Trent seemed to feel my eyes on him and he turned.

Guilt pushed to the forefront and I looked away. He was being summoned before the elven courts because of me. I’d known there’d be repercussions, but I’d thought his money would shield him from the worst of it, leaving me to deal with the demons. Seeing my distress, Trent’s posture slumped. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you? About us?”

My lips parted in shock. “How do you do that!”

His smile returned, and a thrill ran from the soles of my feet to my middle. “I know your tells.”

“God, save me from lovesick elves,” Jenks moaned, his dust a cheerful silver as he went to talk to his kids. There were yammering about something, and Belle stalked into the sanctuary, fist on one hip, bow clenched in the other. Clearly there was an issue in the babysitting rules.

But Trent had moved to stand before me, a rare hint of vulnerability in the back of his eyes. “It’s my fault,” I said, gesturing at nothing. “The summons, I mean. If you hadn’t told Ellasbeth to get out . . .”

Trent checked his watch. “I believe that was my decision, not yours.”