The Witch with No Name

He smiled as he shook the water from his hands. “Will you shut up and go to sleep?”

I hesitated, and he made a motion for me to say something. “Go to hell, Trent,” I said, then kind of pushed on the bed to make the springs squeak as if I was rolling over.

Trent gave me a thumbs-up, and I carefully sat on the edge of the bed, not moving when he waved for me to stay. Crouching, he reached under the open sink, wedging out a tiny buttonlike object. Saying nothing, he carefully set it on the sink, next to the running water. There was no stopper, and the water continued to flow, filling it halfway up.

Immediately he crossed the room, fingers on his lips as he went right to the back-left corner of the bed and found another stuck to the frame. This one went next to the sink as well, his eyes full of satisfaction. “That’s the last of them,” he said, his voice hushed.

“How did you know where they were?”

His shoulders rose and fell. “That’s what I’ve been doing for the last three hours.”

I pressed my lips. “You’ve just been lying on the cot for three hours.”

“I’ve been listening, trying to find them.”

I shifted down a smidgen when he came to sit beside me. “You can hear the circuitry? Damn, you’ve got good ears.” I knew that Jenks could hear circuitry, but elves?

“Given enough time.” He looked at his watch, grimacing. “It’s more like feeling the waves coming off them, like reverse sonar. I didn’t want to move until I found them all. Thanks for being so quiet. You really are something, you know? I was serious when I said most people would react badly. Thanks for that.”

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve been in a cage,” I said saucily. “Got any carrots?”

He chuckled at the reminder of his once keeping me in a ferret cage. “God, I was stupid,” he said, shaking his head, and I touched his face, liking the feel of his bristles.

“We both were.” Grinning, I leaned in for a kiss, jerking back when the lights went out. “Was that you?” I said, my flush of good feeling gone.

“No.” His fingers found mine, and we didn’t move. “I guess they figured it out.” He sighed, and I gave his hand a squeeze.

“They wouldn’t turn off the lights unless they wanted to get back at us, right?”

Trent made a small noise that wasn’t agreement or disagreement, and a thin sliver of doubt wedged itself under my short-lived satisfaction. Maybe they turned the lights off not to disorient us, but so they could burst in and do something nasty.

“Ah, can you make a light?” Trent asked, his voice eerie coming out of the dark.

I froze, my thoughts zinging back to the mystics. He knew I had no contact with the lines down here. It was impossible for me to make a light. “No,” I said quickly, my fear finding a closer home than vampires possibly attacking us.

“Rachel, please,” he said, his arm slipping around my back as we sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. “I saw what happened upstairs. I know you’re not happy about it, but this isn’t a bad thing, especially if Landon breaks the lines.”

“No, I can’t!” I exclaimed, but he knew I was lying, and he pulled me into him.

“Can you hear them?” he whispered.

“No.”

He was silent, then, “Are you lying to me?”

“Can’t you tell?” I said bitterly.

“Not in the dark,” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Make a light, and I’ll let you know.” His arm slowly fell from me, and I felt a moment of loss until he found my hands and cupped them in his. I felt our balance equalize, and then my breath caught when a faint glimmer within our cupped hands grew and blossomed.

“Ta na shay, su meera,” Trent whispered, and I shivered as I felt him siphon energy from me to him, and then into the charm, using me like a ley line.

“How . . . ?,” I whispered, and the light became brighter, bright enough to see his expression pinched with worry and pride.

Damn it, I didn’t have time to be fighting the Goddess, the demons, and the vampires, not to mention the court battle convincing twelve prejudiced elves that leaving your children in the care of a demon was not child abuse. But what pained me the most was that this—the mystics making our hands glow—was why Al wouldn’t talk to me.

“Don’t let go,” Trent said, his fingers tightening on me so the charm wouldn’t break. “Oh, Rachel, it’s going to be okay,” he said, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “I promise.”

My eyes closed. The energy flowing through us somehow felt transparent without the usual taint of ever-after. It occurred to me that if we just left and went to that island in the Pacific no one would care if I had mystics in me or not.

“Are they speaking to you?” Trent asked, the thread of fear he tried to hide sparking through me, crushing the want for sand and sun and solitude.

I pulled back, feeling his absence keenly. My fear was reflected in his eyes, strengthened by love. “No, but they can hear me.”

He blinked fast, his hold on my hands tightening. “It’s okay,” he started, and all the fear and anger I’d shoved down boiled up.