The Undead Pool

“Oh God, Ivy,” I said as she sniffed, and I went to her.

“I almost quit a hundred times,” she said as she smiled at me, eyes beautiful and black. “But you thought I had it in me and I wanted to prove I was as good as you thought I was, and now Nina is in jeopardy and you’re helping me . . .”

“Ivy, I’m so proud of you,” I said, dropping down to give her a hug. “Nothing is going to change.” My eyes closed, and I felt her arms go around me, the strength in them holding a frightening loyalty though we’d never be more than we were today. And that was enough. “We will get Nina out of this,” I promised, and she sniffed again, pulling back to wipe a tear away. “She’s a beautiful person. A little crazy, but good for you.”

Her head bobbed, and I scooted back to sit on the coffee table. “Do you . . .” She hesitated, jaw tightening, clearly determined to be out with it. “Do you think Jenks would be mad if I moved out?” My eyes widened, and she rushed to add, “Not right away. Maybe in a month or two?”

“Um,” I said, standing up at the soft sound of Quen’s shoes in the hall. “Honestly? Probably. But it’s nothing he won’t get over.”

Why does she pick the worst times to do stuff like this? I thought, my mind swinging back to Quen as he walked in. He was not a dumb man. Even if Trent hadn’t been up front about his feelings for me with him, the way Trent must have blown out of his estate without his phone or a way to reach him would not go unremarked upon.

Sure enough, Quen’s expression was tight with a sour annoyance. I gave him a confused smile as I tried to wrap my head around Ivy’s possibly moving out, feeling it slip from me at the man’s hard stare—as if I should have known better. Trent had that same preoccupied, tension-filled expression I’d come to associate with him trying to handle six things at once. The folder in his hands was leaking papers, and he immediately sat down and spread it open.

“How did you get through quarantine?” I asked when Quen noticed Ivy’s wet eyes.

“Rachel,” he almost drawled. “Ivy,” he said with a little more professionalism.

“You can get past the blockades any time you want, can’t you?” I accused Trent, and a faint blush marred the rims of his somewhat pointy ears.

“For the moment.” Trent leafed through the small stack. “Though I’m finding things have a tendency to change fast. Here.” He held out a stapled group of papers. “You might be interested in this. I’ll have a copy sent over every week if you like.”

Jenks’s wings hummed as he came to sit on my shoulder as I took it and sat down on the couch. Ivy shut her laptop with an accusing snap. “Ooooh, figures and data!” I said sarcastically, and then brightened as I flipped the page of chemical compounds, numbers, and graphs over to see a fussing infant. “Oh! The Rosewood babies!”

Trent was smiling when I looked up, and a warm feeling kindled in my middle. The infants’ continued survival was the first decision we’d come to together, one that would need decades to see through. I knew it meant a lot to him, even if I’d chosen the path he hadn’t wanted.

Seeing my expression, Quen slumped in exasperation.

“Don’t start,” Jenks said, his wings tickling my neck. “I think this is a good thing.”

Did we have to talk about this? So we had had sex. So what? We’d been “dating” for almost three months. They all knew my track record. Where was the big surprise here?

“That’s because pixies think with their hearts,” Quen said, ignoring Trent’s peeved expression. “This decision is already causing problems.”

“Most warriors think with their hearts,” I said, telling the mystics to back off and that I wasn’t angry with anything they could crush or explode. “It’s what keeps them alive through the crap they have to deal with to keep the rest of you safe.”

For a long moment, no one said anything, then Trent cleared his throat. “The Rosewood babies are doing fine, both in development and security. So far, no demon activity has been noticed, but I think all of them have been marked. If you think it prudent, I’ll move them again. I don’t want to rely on good luck to keep them safe.”

Good luck would be a nice change, I thought, which started a new line of argument among the mystics. I figured I was probably glowing like a friggin’ lightbulb by the way Jenks was looking at me, but at least I wasn’t speaking in tongues.

Trent reached for the papers as I nodded, and I handed them over. “Watch this one,” he said to Quen as he flipped through and circled something. “I don’t like his levels. Try that new permutation, see if we can’t even out his metabolism a little more. If there’s no dramatic shift, I want a detailed report in three months. If it works on him, it might boost self-repair in the others.”

“Yes, Sa’han.”