The Witch with No Name

Trent gave Jon a sharp look to be quiet. “I know what you did. Thank you. I would have done the same. I’ll get Lucy back on my own.”

The demon’s face twitched. “It was an accident,” he said flatly. “If you get the paperwork that returns Lucy to you, ah, just summon me.”

Had he just acknowledged that he cared? And what was with the request to summon him? My anger faltered. Perhaps the situation was bothering him more than I realized. And besides, it was impossible to be angry when holding Ray.

“It would be an honor to work with you again.” Trent held out his hand, and Al took it, leaning in over their clasped fingers and jerking Trent off balance and into him.

“Don’t think this means anything,” Al said, then shoved Trent back. Al nodded to me, glanced at Ray, and vanished in an inward-falling haze of ever-after. A scuff behind me pulled my attention to Jon and Quen. I couldn’t tell what had happened, but both men were angry, Quen still favoring that one foot.

“Huh,” Trent said introspectively as he flexed his hand. “How about that.” His gaze clearing, he smiled at Ray, still on my hip. “It’s okay, sweet pea. We’ll get your sister back.”

I frowned as I realized the little girl had a silver flower in her grip that she hadn’t had before Al left. There was no way I was leaving Lucy where she was, court order or not. “I don’t have a problem breaking the law,” I muttered. “Quen, you want to ride shotgun?”

Quen jolted into motion, and Trent raised his hand. “Stop,” Trent said, his voice tired. “Please stop.”

I scowled and Trent reached for Ray. “Jon, will you put Ray to bed for us?”

He was still waiting for me to hand him Ray, and the little girl gave me a big sloppy kiss, her tiny arms clinging around my neck with a feeling of trust I was loath to let go of. She smelled like lemon and sea grass, and her cheek was cool when I kissed it. I gave her to Jon, and the tall man made no move to take her to the nursery.

Seeing our determination, Trent shifted his weight and rubbed his forehead. “No one is going after Lucy right now,” he said, and Quen dryly cleared his throat. “She isn’t in any immediate danger. As ugly as Ellasbeth is in her efforts to gain her, she isn’t going to harm Lucy. I’m more concerned about the immediate threat of the dewar.”

“Exactly,” I said. “With Lucy, they can do whatever they want. We need to get her back.”

Ray was reaching for Trent, and Jon passed her to him so she could give him a good-night kiss. I watched his face, seeing the pain flash over it even as he held the little girl. Hand against her back, he looked at us in turn. “After having their own curse bounced back at them, I don’t think they’ll ever get the support to destroy the demons, Lucy or no.”

“Maybe,” I admitted grudgingly. But their fear would eventually turn to anger, and then action.

“It’s late,” Trent said as he gave Ray to Quen, the little girl reaching to go to her other daddy. “I’m going to have a quick shower and catch up on my sleep. I want to be up an hour before sunrise tomorrow. Quen?”

“Yes, Sa’han,” the dark elf said, his manner subdued as Ray gave him a little-girl kiss.

I eyed him and Jon suspiciously. I wouldn’t have put it past them to sneak out of here on their own, direct request or not. “That’s it, then?” I said sourly.

Trent smiled, but I could tell he was dead tired. “Delegation, Rachel. It’s how things get done.” He hesitated, frowning. “Or forgotten. Which reminds me. Quen, could you move the horses in? Cormel threatened them.”

I could tell by Quen’s expression he was thinking the same thing I was. Busywork to keep him occupied until morning? “Credible?” he asked, craggy voice catching as he handed Ray back to Jon, putting her full circle.

“He’s going after Tulpa to cut off my access to the lines while underground, but he’ll take out the entire herd to get him. Chances are Cormel is going to be busy with the returning souls, but I don’t want to risk it.”

Quen was scowling, his midnight plans probably foiled. “Yes, Sa’han. I’ll forward all your calls to your secondary phone.” He turned to me, inclining his head with an unknown emotion darkening his mood. “Rachel,” he said flatly, and then he turned to the stairs, moving slowly to hide his limp.

I wished I had a secondary phone. Trent was standing a little too close, and I looked up. “Your bath?” he prompted.

“I can’t believe you’re going to take a nap,” I said as I glanced at the clock. “The only reason the dewar failed was because the sun was down and the lines were flowing contrary to shoving someone into the ever-after. Soon as it comes up, they’ll try again. And what about all the undead? We’ve got surface demons running around again. I can feel it!”

Trent’s hand went behind my back. I would’ve protested as he escorted me forward except I liked his hand there. “They didn’t fail because of the flow of the lines. They failed because of you,” he said, almost whispering it.