The Witch with No Name

“No one does,” he said as the vampire began to pant through the gag, black eyes bulging in anger. “Don’t blame yourself for what follows.”

Maybe. Uneasy, I took the bottle from Trent and set it back on the table to get Felix to settle down. I prided myself on being able to find a way out of just about anything, but not this time. Cormel was going to get his way—to the letter of the law and no further. My eyes flicked to Felix, and my jaw clenched. Ivy, I will not let this happen to you.

My bag of scribing salt hit the glass table with a gentle hush and I dug deeper. Jenks’s wings clattered, an instant of warning before voices rose in the hall. It was Cormel, and Trent stood when the unassuming-looking man came in without even a knock, flanked by three more of his heavies and an aide. I stifled a shiver as we made eye contact, but he was already frowning over Trent’s presence. How many guys did Cormel need, anyway?

Conversation low to the point of inaudibility, Cormel toured the apartment, making me uneasy as he circled to finally settle at the most comfortable chair between the gas fireplace and the shuttered window. He wasn’t exactly behind me, but I didn’t like it, and the Möbius strip clinked loudly when I set it down. Felix was staring at me again, and Cormel steepled his fingers, smiling at me, making me shudder. Do I stay where I am with Cormel just outside my easy sight, or turn and put Felix out of my sight?

“He’s good,” Trent said as he shifted to a second chair so he could see both vampires.

“They don’t let you run the United States if you’re not.” Stomach knotting, I reassured myself that I had everything. Salt, rod, little bowl for the egg, the egg itself . . . Nina hadn’t known what color Felix’s soul radiated originally, so the scarf was a neutral black.

“Technically, I was never sworn in, but thank you,” Cormel said as he idly peeped through the blinds from where he sat.

Jenks rose up from the counter, his fingers buried in a torn piece of paper towel. “We doing this or not? I got plans tonight.”

I knew his mood stemmed from worry for Ivy. Cormel let the slat fall and turned to me, black eyes showing his impatience. My heart thudded. Landon was a conniving, backstabbing elf focused on his own redemption. I was reasonably confident the charm before me was going to do exactly what he said—if only because its origins were so nasty—but it was still going to turn and bite me on the ass. I knew it down to my toes. It wasn’t a question of if, but how, and I steadied myself. “Can we clear the room a little?”

Cormel waved impatiently, and his scar-covered aide headed for the door. It creaked open, and the aide jumping back with a cry when a scruffy white dog skittered in, followed by two vampires.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted, and I yanked my bag to me, digging for my original bulky but true strong-magic detection amulet.

“It’s a dog!” I shouted as the two men chased him into the bedroom amid the hoots and derisive comments from the watching thugs.

“Hey!” someone yelped. “Watch it! No! That way!”

Buddy barked and ran back into the living room. His feet were leaving muddy prints on the carpet, and panicked by the reaching hands, he skittered under Trent’s chair. The vampires slid to a stop, unwilling to reach under Trent, sitting with his ankle on a knee and his hands laced. Buddy growled, but it was a frightened noise.

“Relax, it’s a dog,” I said again, trying not to watch Bis crawling in along the ceiling. He’d been downstairs with Nina, and if he was here now, then everything was okay.

“I can tell it’s a dog,” Cormel said sourly as his men clustered around the one who’d been bitten, his hand cradled protectively close. Felix’s eyes had dilated to a full, hungry black. I frowned, anger finally finding a toehold in my anxiety and shoving it down.

“I mean, it’s Buddy, the dog that lives here, not Luke or Marsha under a transformation curse,” I said, and Cormel’s eyes narrowed even as he beckoned to one of his people.

“Remove him,” Cormel said, pointing. “He belongs in the pound.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, vamp boy.” Jenks darted to the center of the room. “This is his turf, not yours. If someone got bitten, that’s not the dog’s fault.”

Trent dropped his hand below the bottom of the chair, and Buddy stopped growling to sniff it. “He’s probably just hungry,” Trent said, and I watched, surprised when he stood and went into the kitchen. “You hungry, Buddy?” he called, voice high, and Buddy thumped his tail.

“Everyone leave him alone,” I said when Buddy slinked out from under Trent’s chair, skulking into the kitchen when Trent began opening cupboards, looking for his food.

“We don’t have time for this,” Cormel said dryly.