The Witch with No Name

The light past the front desk was decidedly gray. We were getting close to the mark. My eyes went to the elevators and the Were fidgeting in a borrowed uniform keeping the lift at the lobby for us. The Weres had cleared the building with the understanding that they’d not be involved in a magical firefight. I could understand their reluctance. Even the I.S. didn’t send a Were out after a witch, much less a bunch of elves. “Jenks, does Ivy know about Lucy?” I asked, and he dusted a silent yes.

Trent took my elbow. “We don’t need Ivy,” he muttered as we angled to the ornate elevators, and he frowned when I made the finger sign for “be ready to move.”

Ivy’s eyes shifted to black. Her motions graceful and holding purpose, she swooped to answer the phone. A professional, polished greeting flowed from her, but I could see the tension growing. It was falling apart even before we got started.

“I said I have this,” Trent said again, his voice agitated as we got in the elevator.

“I never said you didn’t.” I pulled back in the tight confines of the lift. He was sending off sparks, and it was irritating.

Jenks smirked, smacking the button for the sixth floor, and the doors closed. “There’s a small contingent of Weres up there, but they won’t show unless you scream for them,” Jenks said, and Trent exhaled some of his tension. “We’re going in blind,” the pixy added, miffed.

“Because of the keyed locks, right?” I said.

“Yes, because of the keyed locks,” Jenks said, hands on his hips. “Most of the doors fit too tightly against the floor, too. Tink-blasted fire codes. I can go in through the ductwork, but I don’t know the layout and it would take at least twenty minutes.”

We didn’t have twenty minutes, and I caught myself before I chewed on my lower lip.

“That’s why I got rid of my card system,” Trent said, but his brow was pinched and it was obvious he was thinking of Lucy. “We can’t go in spells flying if my daughter is in there.”

“We won’t,” I said as the doors opened.

“Then how are we going to do this?” he asked, tight on my heels as I followed Jenks into the elevator lobby.

“I don’t know yet.” My nose wrinkled. The scent of Were was thick up here, and there were signs of a scuffle, hastily cleaned up: the flower vase had no water, and there was a petal stuck to the glass that never would have passed inspection.

“Rachel . . . ,” Trent prompted, and I hesitated, seeing his worry for his daughter, for me, for his people.

“I don’t know, but I’ll be taken and beaten before I hurt Lucy.”

Jenks was waiting at the end of the hall, and my stomach tightened as I counted down the room numbers. Lucy was in one of them, probably the one with the crib.

“Which one?” Trent whispered as we came to the suite of rooms.

“Give me your phone,” I said as I had a sudden idea and held my hand out. “Lucy is probably with Ellasbeth, right?” I scrolled through Trent’s numbers called to find her. Trent nodded, eyes widening as I punched a button and put the phone to an ear. “So we find out what room she’s in.”

“Works for me,” Jenks said, hovering between us.

Trent’s cell was ringing, and we stared at the twin doors before us—waiting. There was only a muted conversation from a TV. My pulse hammered, and then, so soft as to almost be imagined, the repeated ping of an incoming call rang from a tiny speaker.

It was coming from behind us.

I spun. Jenks darted to one of the doors across the hall, pointing at it with exaggerated excitement. I slid Trent’s phone away and took up the smooth feel of cool steel instead.

“No spells,” Trent hissed.

“You think I’m going to shoot Lucy?” I said tartly.

Frowning, he took up a position on one side of the door, and I took the other. “Housekeeping,” I whispered, trying to keep the key from scraping as I fit it, but it was the master key and it needed some persuasion.

“Let me.” Trent wrenched the handle and the key at the same time, and the lock clicked open.

Jenks zipped in before the door was even half an inch out of the frame. “Moss-wipe elf!” he exclaimed, and Trent shoved the door open in a panic. “Tink’s a Disney whore. Rache!”

Panicked, Trent lurched in, leaving me to try to get the key out of the lock so I could shut the door. That call might have carried, and the last thing I wanted was Landon to find us.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jenks shrilled, and I finally got the key free. “I think you got him!”

Flushed, I shoved the door shut and bolted into the outer sitting room. Trent had one knee on the back of a big, blond, and unconscious man. The scent of ozone was thick, and Jenks’s dust sparked as it picked up the unspent magic. Behind them, Ellasbeth watched with wide eyes. She was tied to a chair and gagged, and my lips parted. Ellasbeth was tied to a chair? Oh, she was pissed, too, her face red and muffled shouts trying to escape around her gag. I wasn’t sure I wanted to untie her. Shaking with adrenaline, Trent looked up at me, then Ellasbeth. He made no move to untie her either, and the woman jumped in the chair, furious.