The Witch with No Name

Breath fast, I looked for Ivy, not seeing her. She’d used the distraction and gotten free. From behind the crowd I heard a bang and the van holding Nina shook. Another howl rose. David? I hadn’t seen any Weres in the crowd, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been there.

My mom was grinning as she landed next to me against the cop car. “God, I love protest rallies.” Her gaze went past me to the crowd. “Yoo-hoo! Donald! Come bail me and Rachel out, will you, sweetheart?”

Oh God, the news crews were here, and I hung my head as my birth father grinned and waved his checkbook. He had a couple of groupies with him, and I figured he’d get a ride to the FIB building with no problem.

“They’re Inderland. They’re to be in my custody!” Uric was shouting, eyes black and face red, and Edden shoved his chest right back at him.

“That woman assaulted me,” Edden said, pointing at me. “She’s mine unless she assaulted you first. Did she assault you?”

Uric’s lips curled back, and I thought I saw the fear of self-preservation in him. “No, but Tamwood did,” he snarled, and then his expression became even uglier when he saw the bleeding faces and cradled arms of the men who had been holding her. “Find Tamwood!” he shouted, and everyone scrambled into motion, even the one with the bad limp. My good feeling died as Uric focused on me for a long moment before turning on a heel and striding away.

“There’s got to be an easier way to do this,” Edden said, dabbing at his bleeding nose.

“Crap on toast, Edden. I’m sorry,” I said, heart pounding. “I owe you big.”

He put a hand on my shoulder and led me away with a quickness that told me he wasn’t quite sure he had the legal authority on his side. “Don’t think I won’t call this in someday,” he said, leaning so close I could smell the coffee on his breath. “Ivy just better keep that girlfriend of hers quiet.” He glanced back over his shoulder, then dropped his head. “Damn, Rachel, don’t you know how to pull your punches?” Edden dabbed at his lip. “I bit right through my lip.”

“Sorry,” I said, then gestured for Jenks to see if he could find Ivy. Knowing her, she was probably safe already. Humming his approval, he darted off.

“How is the investigation on my church going?” I asked, hands still tied behind my back. There was an FIB car up ahead, and I guessed that’s where we were headed.

“I’ve assigned someone to it, but we’ve been kind of busy lately. What are you doing out here? It’s not safe.”

I looked back at the mess. People were being pulled out from behind the hazy field in ones and twos, the most cooperative coming first, apparently. “Yep, I figured that out. How about getting this zip strip off me?” I asked as he unlocked the back door and opened it. Takata was watching this, and I was embarrassed.

“Next time pull your punches,” Edden said as he put a hand on my head and sort of scooted me into the backseat. “Watch your head.”

“Edden!” I complained, and he hesitated, pointing for me to stay but not shutting the door. It was awkward with my hands behind me like that, and I sat sideways with my feet on the pavement. It smelled like stale man sweat, and my nose wrinkled in disgust. My mom was already free, talking to the officers and waving to Trent as his car slowly pulled under the DON’T CROSS tape. I jumped when my phone rang, frustrated when I couldn’t reach it. Damn it, it was probably Ivy.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” I grumbled, pulling at the plastic-coated silver strip. Trent had gotten out, and my heart thumped as he talked to Edden. He shook Edden’s hand before turning to me, his hands in his pockets and steps slow as he wove through the thinning crowd of officers.

“I told you to leave,” he said when he got close enough, and my frustration vanished at his smile, both glad to see me and worried.

“I tried,” I said, gaze shifting to my mom and then the I.S. van. “It got complicated.” I scooted out of the car, awkward until he took my shoulder to balance me. Turn-blasted zip strip, I thought, and suddenly the wristband gave way with a little pop. Surprised, I rubbed at my wrists. “Thanks,” I said as I sighed in relief.

“For coming down here? It was a calculated risk.”

“No, for taking the zip strip off.” Trent hesitated, and a cold feeling slipped into me. “Ah, didn’t you just snap it?” I hadn’t felt anything, but if he’d been quick about it, I wouldn’t, seeing as the strip blocked you from all line contact.

“No.”

Worried, I turned back to the car to find it. Uric must have put it on too tight and it just broke. But a cold feeling slipped into me when the backseat and pavement were bare. “It’s got to be here,” I said as I dropped to my knee and looked under the car.

“What?”

“The zip strip,” I said, not seeing it. “One of the I.S. guys zipped me, and it just snapped.” Worried, I dug down between the seat and the back to find an old pen and a plastic cup lid, but no zip strip. “You sure you didn’t break it?”