Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

My face went cold. "Um, I gotta go, Ivy. Talk to you later."

As Ivy yelled, I closed the cover to my phone and tucked it away. Turning to Trent, I smiled. "Kisten is blowing up Lee's boat as an object lesson. I think we need to leave."

My phone started ringing. I ignored it, and the call—Ivy?—was shunted into voice mail. Trent's confidence melted away to leave an attractive, well-dressed young man trying to show he wasn't afraid. "Lee wouldn't let anyone burn his boat," he said. "He doesn't work that way."

I clutched my arms about myself, scanning the room for something—anything—to help me. "He burned down your orphanage."

"That was to get my attention."

I looked at him, tired. "Would your friend let his boat burn and take you with it if Piscary was blamed for it? Heck of an easy way to take over the city."

Trent's jaw tightened. "The boiler room?" he asked.

I nodded. "How did you know?"

He headed for a small door behind the bar. "It's what I would have done."

"Swell." I followed him, my pulse quickening as I stepped around the unconscious people. "Where are we going?"

"I want to look at it."

I stopped dead in my tracks as Trent turned to go down a ladder backward. "You can dismantle a bomb?" It would be the only way to save everyone. There had to be a dozen people.

From the bottom of the ladder, Trent peered up at me, looking odd in his dress suit among the filth and clutter. "No. I just want to look at it."

"Are you nuts!" I exclaimed. "You want to look at it? We have to get out of here!"

Trent's upturned face was placid. "It might have a timer on it. Are you coming?"

"Sure," I said, stifling a laugh; I was pretty sure it would come out sounding hysterical.

Trent wove through the boat with a disturbing lack of urgency. I could smell hot metal and smoke. Trying not to snag my dress, I peered into the dimness. "There it is!" I shouted, pointing. My finger was shaking, and I dropped my hand to hide it.

Trent strode forward and I followed, hiding behind him when he crouched before a metal box with wires coming out of it. He reached to open it, and I panicked. "Hey!" I cried, grabbing his shoulder. "What the Turn are you doing? You don't know how to turn it off!"

He caught his balance without getting up, looking at me in annoyance, every hair on his head still perfect. "That's where the timer will be, Morgan."

I swallowed hard, peering over his shoulder as he carefully opened the lid. "How much time?" I whispered, my breath sending his wispy hair drifting.

He stood, and I took a step back. "About three minutes."

"Oh, hell no." My mouth went dry, and my phone started ringing. I ignored it. Leaning, I looked closer at the bomb, starting to feel a little unsteady.

Trent pulled on a watch fob to bring out an antique-looking timepiece and set the modern timer on it. "We've got three minutes to find a way off."

"Three minutes! We can't find a way off the boat in three minutes. The glass is bulletproof, the doors are thicker than your head, and that big purple disk will soak up any spell we throw at it!"

Trent's eyes were cold on me. "Get ahold of yourself, Morgan. Hysterics won't help."

"Don't tell me what to do!" I exclaimed, my knees starting to shake. "I think best when I'm having hysterics. Just shut up and let me have them!" Arms wrapped around myself, I glanced at the bomb. It was hot down there, and I was sweating. Three minutes. What in hell could you do in three minutes? Sing a little song. Dance a little dance. Make a little love. Find a new romance. Oh God. I was making up poetry.

"Maybe he has an escape route in his office?" Trent suggested.

"And that's why he locked us in there?" I said. "Come on." I grabbed his sleeve and pulled. "We don't have enough time to find a way off." My thoughts went to the purple disk in the ceiling. I had influenced it once. Maybe I could bend it to my will. "Come on!" I repeated as his sleeve slipped through my fingers when he refused to move. "Unless you want to stay and watch numbers count down. I might be able to break the no-spell zone Lee has on his boat."

Trent rocked into motion. "I still say we can find a weak point in his security."

I headed up the ladder, not caring if Trent noticed I wasn't wearing undies or not. "Not enough time." Damn it, why didn't Kisten tell me what he was doing? I was surrounded by men who kept secrets from me. Nick, Trent, and now Kisten. Could I pick 'em or what? And Kist was killing people. I didn't want to like a guy who killed people. What was wrong with me?

Heart pounding as if marking the reducing seconds, we went back to the gaming room. It was silent and still. Waiting. My mouth twisted at the sight of the sleeping people. They were dead. I couldn't save them and Trent. I didn't even know how I was going to save myself.

The disk above me looked innocuous enough, but I knew it was still functioning when Trent glanced at it and paled. I guessed he was using his second sight. "You can't break that," he said. "But you don't need to. Can you make a protection circle big enough for both of us?"

My eyes widened. "You want to ride it out in a protection circle? You are crazy! The minute I hit it, down it goes!"

Trent looked angry. "How big, Morgan?"

"But I tripped the alarms last time just looking at it!"

"So what!" he exclaimed, his confidence cracking. It was nice to see him shaken, but under the circumstances, I couldn't enjoy it. "Trip the alarms! The disk doesn't stop you from tapping a line and making a spell. It only catches you when you do. Make the damned circle!"

"Oh!" I looked at him in understanding, my first wild hope dying. I couldn't tap a line to make a protection circle. Not sitting on water as I was. "Um, you make it," I said.

He seemed to start. "Me? It takes me a good five minutes with chalk and candles."

Frustrated, I groaned. "What kind of an elf are you!"

"What kind of a runner are you?" he shot back. "I don't think your boyfriend will mind if you tap a line through him to save your life. Do it, Morgan. We're running out of time!"

"I can't." I spun in a tight circle. Through the unbreakable glass, Cincinnati glowed.

"Screw your damned honor, Rachel. Break your word to him or we're dead!"

Miserable, I turned back to him. He thought I was honorable? "That's not it. I can't draw on a line through Nick anymore. The demon broke my link with him."

Trent went ashen. "But you gave me a shock in the car. That was too much for what a witch can hold in his or her chi."

"I'm my own familiar, okay!" I said. "I made a deal with a demon to be its familiar so it would testify against Piscary, and I had to learn how to store ley line energy for it. Oh, I've got tons of energy, but a circle requires you stay connected to a line. I can't do it."

"You're a demon's familiar?" His face looked horrified, frightened, scared of me.

"Not anymore!" I shouted, angry to have to admit it had even happened. "I bought my freedom. Okay? Get off my case! But I don't have a familiar, and I can't tap a line over water!"

From my bag came the faint sound of my phone ringing. Trent stared at me. "What did you give it for your freedom?"

"My silence." My pulse hammered. What difference did it make if Trent knew? We were both going to die.

Grimacing as if having decided something, Trent took off his coat. Shaking his sleeve down, he undid the cuff link and pushed his sleeve past his elbow. "You aren't a demon's familiar?" It was a soft, worried whisper.

"No!" I was shaking. As I watched in slack-eyed confusion, he grabbed my arm just below the elbow. "Hey!" I shouted, pulling away.

"Deal with it," he said grimly. Gripping my arm harder, he used his free hand to force me to take his wrist in the same grip acrobats use when working the trapeze. "Don't make me regret this," he muttered, and my eyes widened when a rush of line energy flowed into me.