The Witch with No Name

Behind me were people stinking of fear and nylon. I could feel the give of rubber tread from heavy boots, and the chill being lifted off from skin too long in the cold. None of them was my sensation. The mystics had brought them to me, eager to become a part of something again. I’d gambled and lost. The demons would never listen to me now.

But he had threatened Trent . . .

Swallowing hard, I sank back into my chair to try to hide my shaking hands. Damn it, I loved Trent. I’d risk everything and all to keep him alive. It made me strong but vulnerable to manipulation at the same time. Love sucked.

“You okay?” Trent’s voice was low, and my chest hurt at the new fear in him, one born from the heart. He knew the mystics had found me again. Blinking fast, I reached to touch Trent’s hand on my shoulder. He was still holding on to the line, and he started when the pure energy from the mystics washed through him as they used his connection as a way to get back to the line and ride it like an ocean current. The power in me lessened, and I breathed easier.

“Ask me tomorrow,” I whispered, and his grip tightened in understanding. I didn’t feel good. People in suits and smelling of vampire surrounded Cormel. Our eye contact had been broken, and I wanted to leave.

“Tink’s a Disney whore, Rache!” Jenks exclaimed as Cormel began to slowly distance himself. “He’s as scared as a tick under the bed.”

Yeah. Me too. I’d been ready to kill Cormel to keep Trent safe. And though Cormel had been shocked to find my hand around his throat, I couldn’t shake the growing feeling that he’d almost been expecting it. Even as he bent his will to survival, a part of him wanted to die. Looked for it. Ached for it. Maybe that’s why he was so adamant about getting his soul?

“Rache?” Jenks called, his excitement faltering as he dropped down to search my face. “You’re okay, right?”

My head came up as I recognized Ivy’s voice. Jenks spun where he hovered, darting to the door as she elbowed her way in. “Get out of my way!” she exclaimed as she fought her way through the growing crowd, and Trent’s hand tightened on my shoulder when I smiled at her. Thank God she was okay.

Nina was hot on Ivy’s heels, the jealous little vampire scowling. I watched her visibly catch herself as the scent of frightened vampire hit her. Eyes lowered, she concentrated on the floor. Ivy, though, pushed through it as if it wasn’t there.

“Rachel,” she all but breathed as she reached me, and I rose to give her a hug. “I-I . . . ,” she stammered, and then, “Are you okay?”

I almost missed the flash of guilt that crossed her. It wasn’t reflected in Nina, as much as sanctioned by the crafty woman’s smug expression. “I’m okay,” I said, my suspicions tightening. Something had happened . . .

Feeling it, Ivy let go. “Trent texted me that you might need some help.”

“Trent?” I hadn’t seen him on the phone. Surprised, I turned to Trent, stifling a shudder at the sensation of mystics peeling off me to dance in the pheromones and guilt she was giving off. “When did you have the time?”

Trent shrugged, the rims of his ears reddening as he watched Cormel’s thugs begin to leave. “I type fast.”

“Like a fourteen-year-old girl!” Jenks exclaimed, a happy ball of dust at his shoulder.

Cormel was putting his coat on with a formal stiffness, clearly not liking being watched by the admittedly proud but helpless FIB. We weren’t done yet, but I’d given him something to think about as he sulked in his hole in the ground.

“Too many people in here,” Nina muttered. She was doing really well despite the fading stink of frightened vampire. And then it struck me how good Ivy looked, a flush to her cheeks and moving better than she should for having been in intensive care less than two days ago. My eyes jerked to hers, and a flash of self-loathing and guilt crossed her before she turned away. Even having access to Trent’s full-strength Brimstone shouldn’t have her looking like this.

“Ivy?” I questioned, and Jenks rose up, clearly pleased when Edden walked in, glancing at us as he shook Cormel’s hand and held the door for him.

“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” the pixy smart-mouthed. “Trent, you call him, too?”

“Yes,” Trent said from behind me. Fingers trailing reluctantly from me, he went to Edden, the stocky FIB captain making his slow way to us. The gray looked a little heavier, the worry wrinkles a little deeper, but his eyes were just as sharp and his smile inviting when he saw me.