The Witch with No Name

You could almost hear the silence crash down as he hung up the phone. “Where did you learn your phone etiquette?” I asked. My long muscles ached, and I rubbed at my calves.

Al fluffed the lace at his throat. “I had a craving for secretaries in the eighties until the hairspray began to catch in my teeth. Excuse me.”

Quen pulled himself upright, the tissue wadded up in his fist. “Take me with you.”

“Take you?” I said, becoming alarmed. “Where are you going?”

Al made a face at me, then looked at Quen. “Why should I?”

“Because you lost them,” Quen barked, and my heart leapt. Al was going to retrieve the girls? Why? Why did he care?

“You’re going to get them?” I tried to stand, but by the time I managed it, Al and Quen were gone.

I spun, reaching for Trent when my balance left me. “You think?” I said.

“I don’t know.” Trent steadied me. “He did lose them.”

My pulse hammered. “And they expect us to just sit here and wait?”

“Well, he did say fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t sit here for fifteen minutes not knowing. I have to—” I wavered on my feet, breathless. Trent’s hand on mine gripped harder, and a hand cupped under my elbow.

“You’re as cold as ice. You need a bath.”

“Trent . . . ,” I protested as he helped me up the last stair and aimed me to his bedroom. His tub was bigger than the one in the guest bedroom. “I can’t take a bath. The girls . . .”

But he just kept pushing me. “A demon, Quen, and Jon have gone to get them. I’m more worried about Ellasbeth and Landon. You need to learn the art of delegation.”

I snorted, scuffing slowly across the carpet. Actually, a bath sounded great, and I winced when I thought of everything that had happened between now and my last shower. “Hey, I’m sorry about Lucy and Ray. I never thought he’d leave them like that.”

Trent pushed the door open with his foot. The room was dark, the vid screen on one wall showing a live feed of the orchard, dim with sunset. “He was in a hard place,” he said softly.

“Hard place!”

“He knew you were in trouble, and he loves you, Rachel.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, pulling out of Trent’s grip and putting a hand on the wall beside the bathroom door. “He does not!”

Trent’s smile was easy and gentle as he reached a hand past me to flick on the light. “He does,” he said as he slipped an arm behind my back and breezily ushered me in. “Not romantically, or even that of a father for a daughter, but he does. I think he sees something in you that he lost a long time ago and still mourns. He knew what would happen if he left the girls, and he went to rescue you instead.”

Rescue me instead? I thought, feeling colder yet.

“That we were late in getting back was just an excuse to hide his fear for you. I would’ve done the same. The girls aren’t in any real danger, even if Ellasbeth has them. Not like you.”

Trent turned on the water, jiggling the taps until he was satisfied. “You think . . . ,” I murmured, and he straightened, shaking the water from his hand.

“I know.”

My expression must have shown my panic because he took my shoulders. “Don’t read too much into it. It could have been coincidence.”

“Right.” I couldn’t meet his eyes as a sharp hail came from the living room and Ray’s crying suddenly pulled at my heart.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, almost jogging out of the bathroom.

“Be right back,” I muttered as I turned the taps off. Glancing in the mirror, I shifted a strand of hair out of my eyes and sighed at my reflection before I pulled my shoulders up and tried to walk as if I didn’t hurt everywhere.

It was a frightening thing to have the love of someone so determined, resolute, and unafraid of committing a great wrong for his personal right. The love of two men so determined, actually. I hoped I survived it.

Chapter 22

Bare feet scuffing the carpet, I halted just outside Trent’s room. Trent was in the kitchen, taking Ray from Quen. The little girl was crying softly, clearly distressed. Al stood stoically beside the small breakfast nook, looking awkward in that suit from the forties. Quen was beside him, his weight on one foot and nursing a new bruise. Jon was with them, and a knot eased even if the tall, sour-looking man was red faced and furious.

But it was on Al that my attention lingered. I wondered at the shift of clothes and if what Trent had said about his making decisions based on a deeper feeling—his loss of something he now saw in me. Had he come to save me knowing he could get Lucy and Ray at his leisure?

And then it hit me. Lucy wasn’t here.

I crossed the sunken living room, stomach light and uneasy. “Where’s Lucy?”

Jon tensed, his long face becoming ugly in hatred. “He left her!” he snarled, and I reached for Ceri’s high-backed chair, my skin prickling from a heavy draw from the line bisecting Trent’s grounds.