The Undead Pool

Probably with the same sword Bancroft was tucking back in his robes, I thought. Trent, though, was grimacing. I wondered if it was at the thought of killing an animal with his bare hands, or the question of it really being a sacrifice if someone other than the Goddess benefited from it. Recalling Jenks telling me about how Trent had slit the throat of an attacker, I guessed it was the latter.

The ice was long gone from my tea, and I wondered if I went to get more if I could trash my hot dog with no one the wiser. I went to stand, dropping back at Quen’s quiet clearing of his throat.

“I wanted to thank you for giving Trent the space he needs to focus on his duty,” he said, his melodious voice reminding me of earth and shadow.

Focus on his duty? Was that elf-speak for ignoring that Trent was making the biggest mistake of his life? Leaning back, I stabbed a couple of macaroni. “You’re the one who asked me to watch him.”

“Thank you for that, too.”

He was nervous. It wasn’t obvious, but it made me wonder if he knew about Trent’s and my “date.” Probably. Trent didn’t keep much from him. I concentrated on my salad, stifling a shiver as the memory of that kiss we’d shared blossomed. Newt’s warning echoed in me, and I ate another chip. What did it matter anyway?

“So, he and Ellasbeth getting along better?” I asked, smiling when Lucy finally broke from Ellasbeth. Running to Trent, she begged to be picked up. Last time the girls were here, he could have managed them both, but now they were too big.

“Yes, but it’s mostly her efforts to change. She’s not an unkind woman.”

I looked at Ellasbeth rising up in her skimpy bathing suit and cover-up that didn’t live up to its name. She was smart, sexy, and everything a man would like, and I suppressed an unexpected flash of jealousy. “She’s peeved at being asked to do something she doesn’t want to do. I get that.” The salad tasted flat, and I set my fork down. How far should duty rule a person? I asked myself as Ellasbeth went to the table and took both Lucy’s and Trent’s discarded plates. They worked well together, and knowing Trent, duty was everything.

My eyes met Jonathan’s. The nasty man had turned the grill off and was setting everything on a tray to take inside. He smiled evilly at me, and I smiled evilly back. As proper looking in his white-and-blue-striped cooking apron as he was, there was no way I was eating that hot dog now. Too bad, because it looked perfect with chili, mustard, relish, and even a sprinkling of parmesan.

Sighing, I set my plate aside, and as Ellasbeth gracefully took her seat at the large, canopied table, Trent beckoned me over. “Here we go,” I whispered, both eager and dreading Bancroft’s pronouncement.

“Let me help you with that,” Quen said as he took my plate, and I reluctantly passed it to him. I’d get rid of the hot dog somehow.

“Thanks.” Feeling awkward, I crossed the patio as I tried to decide where to sit. There was an empty place beside Trent, but that was out of the question with Ellasbeth smiling thinly at me. The chair beside Bancroft was not a good option. Neither was the chair beside Landon.

“Here, Ms. Morgan,” Landon said as he stood to pour out the wine, and my choice was made for me.

“Rachel, please,” I said as I sat down and pushed my empty wineglass away to make room for my iced tea. “We’re being so informal today.”

At least some of us were, I thought, glancing at Ellasbeth in her swimsuit. Trent was business casual, as was Quen. I didn’t know what Bancroft and Landon were, but they seemed professional. And I, of course, was trying to impress everyone with how businesslike I could be with my black slacks and white top. Boring, boring, boring.

Quen silently slid my plate with my untouched hot dog before me, and I winced.

“Are you perhaps vegetarian?” Landon asked as he set the bottle down. “And no wine?”

My eyes flicked over the table, embarrassed that I’d telegraphed so much. “Just not hungry. And the sulfites in the wine give me a headache.”

“A demon with a sulfur intolerance?” Bancroft said in disbelief, his dramatic drawl temporarily stilling Lucy’s babbling.

Trent reached across the table to take my plate and hand it to Quen to remove from the table. “Rachel is not your usual demon,” Trent said with a smile, and I felt a wash of gratitude. His eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly in question, and I glanced at Jonathan. Frowning, Trent held Ray closer as he watched Jonathan take his apron off. Ellasbeth’s jaw was clenched at our silent communication, and she forced a smile when I noticed.

“What a shame!” Landon pushed back with his glass of red wine and eyed me over it. “To not be able to fully enjoy the fruits of the earth. You must make up for it in other ways.”

His words were innocent enough, but the way he said it made me feel as if I were naked.