Kim Harrison - Black Magic Sanction

He huffed, tugging his sleeves, making his cuff links twinkle. "That action requires a full quorum, which we won't have until the next public meeting and we reestablish our number."

Public meeting... the witches' conference? Nice stall. "Give me something," I said, "or my next conversation will be with the press and it will come out that not only does a schism exist in the coven, but that some of you are corrupt and summon demons."

"We're not corrupt!" Oliver exclaimed, making Trent wince. "No one will believe you!"

My eyebrows rose. "Talk to Brooke lately?"

Oliver's bluster evaporated. Honestly, they needed to pick these people more carefully. He might be a crackerjack witch, but he was telegraphing his entire thought process, and my estimation of the coven dropped more.

"I didn't know what she was doing," Oliver said slowly. "And Vivian, as a minor coven member, had her hands somewhat tied. Brooke has been officially shunned, stripped of rank."

I dug into my subgum, saying, "Good thing she's in the ever-after, or you'd brick her in the ground alive, huh? Who'd ever think being a demon's lackey would be a good thing?"

Looking up, I caught Oliver's shocked look. "We will deny everything," he said, and Trent sighed loudly. "The words of a shunned witch are unheard!"

"How about the words of a coven member?" I asked. "I have a recorded conversation of Vivian telling me you did know of the attacks, that you were reassessing my case, and that action might be taken against my family if I didn't submit to chemically neutering my ability to have children and work magic. It's on my phone, Ollie. I think she's pissed you called her a liar."

The man looked aghast, and Trent cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the man's ineptness. I was kind of embarrassed, too, and I picked past the broccoli to find a squash slice. This was what our yearly dues bought?

"This is how it works," I said, trying not to sound irate. "I give you something, you give me something. We all go home happy." Seeing him silent, I added, "This is what is going to happen. If you don't rescind my shunning and agree to stop trying to kill me, I'm going to demand a fair trial of my peers, thanks to this pile of paperwork here. And the press running with the idea that the coven is corrupt means I'll get it. TV coverage, radio, everything."

Oliver was eying my papers, and I rested my hand on them protectively. "Even if you do manage to refute my claim that the coven is corrupt, the truth will come out that our history is based on ancient elf propaganda and our beginnings are rooted as stunted demons, the result of an elf curse. Ought to do wonders for our public image, both witches and elves." I glanced at Trent. "Not that anyone thinks they're still around, but hey, there it is. I'll probably end up in jail, but any time I want, I just talk to my demon teacher, and I'm out of there, leaving you to deal with the fallout."

"You wouldn't!" Oliver said, appalled. "It would mean genocide!"

"She would," Trent muttered, clearly not pleased I'd brought the elves into it.

"I will," I said, putting my dinner aside. "Thanks to you gentlemen, I've got nothing to lose. You put me in this place, and I'm going for broke. If I'm going to be persecuted solely on the basis of being a stepping-stone between witches and demons, then I'm taking you down with me." I glanced at Trent. His public persona was cracking, and he looked pissed. "And if you don't go along with it, Mr. Kalamack, I'll tell them how I got that way."

His focus on me sharpened. "My father saved your life," he said bitterly.

"Which doesn't give you the right to run it." Tired, I fingered the fortune cookie's advice. I didn't want to bring this up in front of Oliver, but why not? "Trent, I'd appreciate it if you would drop your attempts at trying to make me your property, okay? If you've got a problem you want help with, come talk to me. If you give me five minutes' notice, I'll even make sure the pixies are in the garden."

Trent uncrossed his legs, the rasping silk loud in the hush. "I didn't tell the coven, but I'll be damned if I don't capitalize on it. I am not anyone's familiar."

"Trent... ," I almost whined. "I'm not going to make good on that. Will you let it go?"

Brow furrowed, he leaned forward, flicking a glance at Oliver. "Listen this time. You claimed me. I don't care if you never enforce it. There is a mark on my shoulder. It matches yours. Get it annulled."

My hand crept up and touched it, hidden under someone else's shirt. Slowly my face became empty of emotion. He was right. The truth of the matter was, I'd been enjoying the little bit of power I had over him—like Al had over me. "You're right," I said, hating to admit it. "But I've been mad at you for a long time." I put my hand on the table and met his gaze. His green eyes were intent, fixed on me with frustration, irritation... but nowhere did I see the hatred in him that I had when he hammered my head into a tombstone and tried to choke the life out of me. Maybe it was time to stop taking enjoyment from making him angry and... grow up.

"Trent, I need to know," I said, gaze fixed on his. "The Pandora charm you gave me was modified to not break cleanly, and I almost suffocated. Is that what you intended?"

Trent frowned, and his gaze flicked to the hallway, where Jonathan waited. "No," he said, looking exceptionally pissed. "I apologize, and I'm taking care of it."

Feeling oddly satisfied, I leaned back in my chair. Jonathan. Son of a bitch. "Thanks," I said, believing him. I'd find out about the ley-line door later when Oliver wasn't around. I took a breath, gaze flicking to Oliver and back. "I'll ask Al how to break a familiar bond. If there's a way without hurting either of us, I'll do it. But you need to stop trying to make me your slave in all but name, okay? And maybe stop telling people I can invoke demon magic? Can you do that? Give me my life back?"

Head shaking, Trent leaned forward. "I never told anyone, Rachel. It wasn't me."

Oliver snickered. "It was Nick Sparagmos, children."

My heart seemed to stop. I stared at Trent, reading his own surprise and anger. I couldn't remember how to breathe, and I forced my lungs to work. Nick? Nick had told them?

My thoughts jerked back to the circle in his apartment and the two strikes on the demon mark on his shoulder. Undoubtedly that was how he found out. God! Nick must have thought I was a fool when I asked for his help to steal from Trent. And Trent had looked even more stupid, trying to do an end run with Nick to catch me. Nick had played both of us off against each other, not once, but twice.

"You're both idiots," Oliver said, as if delighting in the fact that we were so dumb. "Two people so intent on getting the best of each other that you can be manipulated into anything."

Damn it, he was right. My eyes closed in a long blink, and I loosened my clenched jaw, trying hard not to show my growing anger. Maybe I'll have to make another excursion into Trent's compound tonight and find Nick.

"Nick is gone," Trent said, voice hard as he answered my unspoken thought. "He slipped my guards yesterday before I... went for my evening ride."

Before he rode for me, I thought, shivering as the anger Trent felt for Nick landed on me.

"I never—I didn't know," Trent almost whispered, clearly upset as his fingers twitched. Stilling his hands, he flicked his gaze to the statue at my elbow. "I'll give you until the witch conference to resolve the issue of the mark between us," he said suddenly. "If my mark isn't gone by then, this starts up again."

I swallowed my own anger at Nick for later. "Fair enough," I said, feeling stupid and mad at myself.