The Undead Pool

The cameras were snapping; I wasn’t the only one who liked Trent’s new look. He took a breath to speak, only to be cut off by Edden. “Another wave is passing through Cincinnati,” the captain said tersely as he tried to get us moving again. “The alarm system is working. I’ll make a statement at the arena as soon as we’ve been over the data.”

“Or like never,” someone muttered. The crush of people was oppressive, and I stifled a surge of panic. Trent’s hand landed on me, steadying me with his calm as if I were one of his horses.

“Captain Edden! Any progress on finding the Free Vampires?”

Another officer had reached us to force a path, but it wasn’t enough. The sound of pixy wings zipped through me, and Jenks darted down.

“Is David okay?” I said as he landed on Trent’s shoulder, and he held up a hand for me to wait, out of breath as he put his hands on his knees and his wings hung flat. We were surrounded by hundreds, but I felt alone. “Is he okay?” I asked again.

“Yeah, but you gotta move,” the pixy panted, and Trent’s brow furrowed, having heard him as well. “He’s got them pinned down, but he’s alone. The pack is at a good old-fashioned Were and vampire riot at the arena. Edden’s men are out, too. Whoever gets there first wins.”

Crap on toast. How was I going to get through this? Trent looked over the crowd, knowing as well as I that we’d never get out of here in time. Finally one of the other officers got to us, face pale as he whispered in Edden’s ear. I watched, alarm pooling in me as Edden’s expression became even grimmer.

“It never rains but that it pours,” Edden grumbled, starting to push his way through again, our pace faster now that we had help. “We lost everyone headed to the coffeehouse. There’s a riot at the arena, which leaves just us. Damn it! We’re going to lose them!”

Frustrated, I took Trent’s arm as someone jostled us. “Rache . . .” Jenks whined, waiting for direction.

One of the reporters saw me holding Trent’s arm and I let go when her eyes lit up. “Mr. Kalamack?” she said, turning her back on Edden and elbowing herself some room. “Tammy Gavin from the Hollows Gazette. Are you and Morgan officially a couple?”

Like flowers to the sun, every single face turned from Edden to us. There was a moment of silence, and then the questions started up again. Trent’s confusion vanished as he put a hand to my shoulder to give me a gentle shove back the way we’d come. “Go,” he said between his unmoving, smiling lips. “I got your back.”

“I got her back, not you,” Jenks said irately.

“What?” I said, and Jenks took off from his shoulder like a shot.

“It’s your job,” Trent said, almost hiding the hint of bitterness as he stepped between me and the crowd. “Go.”

Heart pounding, I edged backward as Trent eased forward, drawing the crowd around me and away. “Tammy, was it?” Trent said brightly. “Ms. Morgan is my security. Who better than a day-walking demon to keep a person safe?”

Jenks was a bright spot of sun in the shade of the building across the blocked-off street, and I took a step back. Trent stood alone surrounded by the cameras and mics, the sun dusty in his hair—and I felt a pang of loss. He’ll be okay, I told myself, but it was harder than I expected to take another step back.

Seeing me slipping away, Edden began to follow me. That is, until Trent turned to the reporters, smiling as he said, “A wave-induced magic misfire took the life of Sa’han Bancroft this morning.” Edden jerked to a horrified halt, and Trent added, “He was attempting to contact the entity we believe is trying to communicate through the wave. He died a hero’s death.”

“Ah, that’s not confirmed,” Edden said, but the reporters loved it.

“Sahhon Bancroft. Is that with one H or two?” a reporter asked.

Trent became solemn. “That’s Sa’han. Capital S, lowercase A, followed by an apostrophe and then lowercase H, A, and N. It’s a nongender-specific elven title commensurate with sir or madam, not a given name. Bancroft was the highest authority in the study of ancient elven religious beliefs, and his wisdom will be sorely missed.”

I was clear of the crowd. Tension vibrated through me as I hitched my bag higher, my head down as I walked for the shadows.

“Then that was elven magic?” Tammy asked, and Edden started waving his hands to get Trent to shut up.

“You know your elven history, Ms. Gavin,” Trent said, beaming.

“Elves have always fascinated me, Mr. Kalamack,” the woman flirted, and I was gone.

The shadow of the building covered me. I felt guilty for leaving Trent behind, but I didn’t look back, striding forward in a near run. Jenks . . . I thought, then caught a sparkle of pixy dust from the traffic control box at the nearest crosswalk. I quickened my pace. He didn’t have to watch for traffic, but I did, and just before I reached the crosswalk, the light suddenly changed.