The Undead Pool

Ellasbeth turned her back on the rising, shrill “Noooo!” from the living room. “Trenton. They’re demons!”

“So is Rachel, and she saved me from a wildly driven golf ball yesterday.” He was being flippant, goading her. “I’ve ridden the Hunt with every demon alive. They all know me. Besides, I’m talking to Algali—” He changed his mind. “I’m talking to Al. Not the entire collective.”

“Sa’han. It’s an unnecessary risk.”

Trent put his foot solidly back on the floor. “Keeping good relations with possible allies is never a risk.”

Framed in the doorway, Ellasbeth put a hand on her hip. “Someone else can do it!”

“There is no one else,” Trent said calmly, but both Quen and I knew that when his hands laced together, it meant he was pissed, and the older elf sighed and backed off. “Things change, Ellasbeth. Ku’Sox is dead. I’m still officially Rachel’s familiar though admittedly emancipated. I’m as safe as you in your lab. Safer.”

There was an uncomfortable silence broken by the girls giggling and then Lucy’s shout.

“Good. We can go this afternoon,” I said to end the discussion, and Trent shot me a grateful glance, even as Ellasbeth let her hand hit her side in disgust. Yawning, I looked at the clock. It was after noon, and Ellasbeth looked dead tired. If she was on West Coast time, it was long past nappies. Trent, too, would be ready for some shut-eye. “You want to wait until after four?” I said. “I want to make some cookies first. Distract him.”

“Mine!” shrilled from the living room, followed by Ray screaming and Lucy’s wail.

“Excuse me,” Ellasbeth said tightly, turning to go into the living room. “No, Lucy, dear. Take him out of your mouth.”

Jenks flew in, looking frazzled as he landed on my shoulder leaking dust from a bent wing. “You okay?” I asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Trent leaned to look through the hall to the living room, then sat back. “We can go now if you want. My sleep schedule hasn’t been predictable lately.”

“Mine either,” I said, wishing Ellasbeth would leave. “I keep dreaming of purple eyes and wheels with wings.”

Quen’s head snapped up, and I stared at him. What did I say? “Purple eyes?” I prompted, and Quen made a curious, pained expression. “Wings?” I added, and he looked at Trent. A cold feeling slithered out from between my thought and reason, ready to smack me. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Trent said to Quen, not me, mystifying me. “But now that you mention it, it did feel like wild magic at both the golf course and the bowling alley.” Gaze distant, Trent fished his phone out from a pocket. “I thought Rachel was doing some kind of magic.”

“I think she was,” Jenks said sourly, leaking dust as he flew to the sink, and I gave him a look to shut up. Catching a drop from the faucet, he dabbed at his shirt. “But if it’s wild magic, that would explain why her aura goes white every time a wave hits it.”

Quen’s eyes widened, and I pulled myself straight. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I said, feeling the conversation spiral out of control. “Jenks, are you telling me that wave is wild magic?” Why is wild magic leaking from my line? And what does that have to do with wheels and wings?

“Sa’han,” Quen protested, but Trent was scrolling rapidly through his numbers when Ellasbeth came to the kitchen archway. Ray was on her hip and Lucy’s hand firmly in her grip. There was a book in the little girl’s hand, and she’d been crying. Ray just looked mad.

“Jenks, you say Rachel’s aura went white?” Trent asked, his intentness scary, almost.

“As white as her ass,” Jenks said, and Ellasbeth walked stiffly between us, pointedly sitting down with the girls and the book. That book is going to last about thirty seconds.

“The waves can’t be wild magic,” I protested.

“I did promise the Goddess two goats I’ve never delivered on.”

“Sa’han,” Quen protested as Ellasbeth looked up from arranging the book before the two girls. “Cincinnati is not plagued with misfires because you haven’t sacrificed two goats.”

Trent tucked his phone away. “No, of course not. But that these waves might be natural phenomena is easier to believe than living vampires preying on the undead. We need more information. Quen, I want you to get ahold of Bancroft’s assistant as soon as you get back to my office. I don’t have his number with me. Invite him out to help me settle a debt with the Goddess and tell him—and only him—what’s going on here, including the undead’s inability to wake up. Offer him the use of a jet to get him here. Oh, and arrange for two goats.”

Suddenly the idea that this might be a natural event didn’t thrill me. Wild magic? Al was going to be pissed.

“You cannot be serious!” Ellasbeth protested, prompting Lucy to begin to bounce, mimicking the woman’s cadence perfectly.