The Undead Pool

Trent handed it back to me, and I smiled at the pictures. This was much better than gravestones—until the demons came for them and I’d have to fight for every single one of their lives. My smile faded. Difficult future or not, it had been a good decision. Nothing would change my mind. Their parents would back me up.

“And here’s the latest on the issue you wanted to move forward with,” Quen said, pulling a sheaf of paper from the small stack. “Your groves in Madagascar have been overrun with a rare species of butterfly that have taken a liking to Brimstone leaves.”

Trent’s brow furrowed, making him charming in that silk shirt of Jenks’s. “Oh. Very nice. Yes.” His frown deepened. “Quen, there’s coffee in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

Quen put his hands behind his back and stared at the fireplace. “Without intervention, their larvae can eat an entire field down to the roots in two days. Since it’s a rare species, we’ve been relocating rather than destroying, but if their numbers continue to increase, we’ll have to resort to chemical warfare to maintain a minimal harvest.”

Yep, my boyfriend was a drug lord, and I leaned to see if there was a picture, but it was all figures and data.

“Mmmm,” Trent hummed, clearly preoccupied. “Maintain current suppression methods.”

Quen nodded. “One last thing that arrived this morning,” he said, taking an envelope from his jacket’s inner pocket. “It’s an enclave decree to desist from all contact with Rachel Morgan.”

Shocked, I jerked my head up. “Beg pardon?”

“Seeing as she is a day-walking demon,” Quen finished, handing it to Trent.

Ivy’s incessant tapping ceased, and she looked up as Jenks rose on a column of silver sparkles. His dust left a glowing trail as he hovered over the paper Trent was now unfolding, and I watched the silver sparkles make a shadow where the watermark was.

“Well, I’ll be Tink’s Great-Uncle Bob. Lookie there, Rache. You’re an undesirable citizen.”

Trent finished scanning the letter and let it fall to the table. Leaning back, he steepled his fingers and stared at nothing.

“That is so unfair!” I said. “They can’t tell you who you can . . . talk to!”

Trent’s eyes flicked to mine, a surprising flash of pleasure crossing him at my outrage. “No, it’s okay. I expected this.”

“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.”

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.”