The Witch with No Name

“No. Never again, but we have a place to be—if we wish. Have you tasted the lines?” he asked, and I shook my head, eyes widening as I reached out a thought and found them, glittering and silver, like pure thought shining in the night. Newt became the elven Goddess? It couldn’t be, and I looked over the church as if expecting her to pop in and tell me everything was fine.

But she didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Newt,” I breathed, then wavered as my sight seemed to darken at the edges. My heart pounded, and I felt light-headed.

Ivy had stood, Nina beside her holding the grace only the undead possessed, but I saw a new gentleness to it, and I knew why tears still spilled from Ivy’s eyes and she refused to let go of Nina’s hand even as she gave me a grateful hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and I couldn’t speak as vampire incense spilled over me. Beaming, I gave her a squeeze, a tingling warmth rising through me when I pulled Nina in so I could hold them both at the same time. Nina remembered why she loved—she alone among the undead remembered. She was at peace, and the curse spawned by the hatred between the elves and the demons could be broken. Ivy was no longer afraid to live. I would’ve done this all for that alone, and my throat closed up as the two of them pulled away, new hope in their eyes.

It was over, and a heavy lassitude began to seep into me. “Can we go home?” I whispered, and Al harrumphed, probably remembering he didn’t have one anymore.

Trent scooped me up, holding me as he smiled. “You are done, Rachel Morgan. You hear me? No more.”

“Yeah, Rache. Let someone else save the world once in a while,” Jenks said as he darted into the air, chasing Bis out through the ceiling and to the graveyard. Limping, Ivy and Nina headed for the front door, and Al gallantly gestured for us to go before him.

Reaching up, I slid my fingers through Trent’s hair and pulled him to me for a very satisfying and well-deserved kiss. He was smiling when our lips parted, and I beamed up at him as Al grumbled for us to hurry up, happy with the world. “Right,” I said, eyeing Trent’s lips and wondering how long it would take to get back to his place. “What are the chances of that, Mr. Kalamack? We just renewed the source of magic. You don’t think someone’s going to want an interview?”

He laughed, making me feel loved, but my peace came from more than that. I’d gotten Al back, and he was proud of me, even if trusting the elves was going to be as hard as hating them. I’d freed all the demons so as to be sun and shadow both once again. I’d proved to Ivy that she was worth being loved, and that would spread through the vampires like a spring’s thaw, changing them forever. And though it meant nothing to anyone but me, I’d brought a new understanding between Trent and Ellasbeth, because children should have the chance to be loved by those who love them—always and no matter what.

Trent, though, was mine, and my head fell against him as he carried me through the ruins of the church to see if his helicopter had survived. No one would ever take that away, not the demons, the elves, or even the Goddess herself.

Because for all the changes, some things were immutable truths: friendship transcends all barriers, understanding trumps fear, and great power can always be surmounted by determination. And with Trent, Al, Ivy, and Jenks beside me, we had all three.

I always had.

Chapter 31

The sound of baying dogs over the happy chatter outside the pavilion tent held power over me even now, and I shivered at the thread of adrenaline. Feeling it through my hands, Red blew out, telling me to chill. Smiling, I gave her mane a tug, fiddling with the gold ribbons I’d been arranging. I was fine. I was more than fine. It was going to be a fabulous evening, one that I had planned and waited for—if I could just get these Turn-blasted ribbons to lay right.

“Easy, Red,” I soothed, and she flicked an ear at someone’s laugh, clear over the hissing lanterns hanging from the high supports. She didn’t like the people sitting in the rows of white chairs where she would usually crop grass and roll to rub out the itchiness of a long ride. She didn’t like the ribbons I’d plaited in her mane. She didn’t like that I’d blackened her hooves, and she really didn’t like my dress, swishing in the clean straw and trimmed in open lace. It was admittedly too white and too long to be suitable for riding, but that’s what I was going to wear, and she would behave.