The Witch with No Name

My eyes were on the terrified vampire as I put my phone in a back pocket. Bis had puffed himself up larger, managing to look menacing next to Trent. Jenks, though, didn’t give a fig about impressing our captive, clearly more upset about abandoning the church as he wiped the soot off his wings. “Rache,” he started, and I rubbed my forehead. It was the right thing to do, hard as it was.

The garden, my kitchen. But to stay and fight might get someone killed when we would be better off dropping back and attacking with more strength later. I was trying to make smarter decisions—I loved Trent, and realizing I’d abandon the church to get him out of this threat was . . . a gut-wrenching shock, both happy and sad.

“This won’t take long.” Trent didn’t sound like himself, and I watched, chilled, as he reached up into the rack, his motions sure and steady, his eyes never leaving the vampire’s. The vampire panted, small noises coming from him as he tried to break through the binding charm. Trent looked awful, showing a part of himself he wasn’t proud of—and being with me had brought it forth again.

Spoon pressed right under the vampire’s eye, Trent leaned in. Voice hardly audible, he whispered, “Who’s organizing this?”

I felt Trent’s pull on the line lessen, and the vampire wiggled, still caught but able to move now. “You’re dead, Morgan! You lied to us, and your life is forfeit!”

“I didn’t lie!” I exclaimed, then lowered my voice. This smacked of torture, even if Trent hadn’t done anything but threaten him with a spoon. A spoon right under his eye.

“Flagro,” Trent intoned, and I stiffened. The tip of the ceramic spoon glowed with heat. Whimpering, the captive focused on it, and the scent of frightened vampire rolled into the air.

Jenks darted close, his irritation obvious. “That won’t work. He’ll make it feel good.”

“Not if I scoop his eyeball out.”

Horrified, I gasped. He had to be kidding. “My God. Trent!”

Ignoring my hand on his arm, Trent blew on the spoon to send the heat over the terrified vampire’s face. I couldn’t believe this was happening, and I gasped right along with the vampire when Trent pressed it to his skin, the word “Caecus” intoned with a terrible certainty.

“Trent, stop!” I shouted as the vampire arched in pain, horrified. Jenks simply hovered, clearly not caring. Seeing me ready to smack Trent, the pixy darted over. “Get a grip, Rache,” Jenks whispered, perched at my ear. “It’s not real.”

My breath exploded out from me, and I hesitated. Sweat trickled down Trent’s face where it had beaded. His grip was white knuckled on the vampire under him, pinned to the center counter with a savage force. There was a small crescent shape of red under the vampire’s eye, hardly worth calling a burn. It was more of a pressure mark. It was all show. Everything.

The terror, though, was real.

“Who!” Trent shouted, the vampire moaning under him. “Why!”

Trent pressed the cooled spoon under his other eye, and the vampire screamed again. Lip between my teeth, I darted a glance at the window. They weren’t going to wait for sunrise if they knew we had one of their own.

“My eye!” the vampire howled, struggles growing violent. “You took out my eye!”

His eye was fine, blind under that last spoken charm, but I didn’t like this side of Trent.

“Tell me, or I’ll take out the other!”

Jenks shivered, his wings making a cool spot on my neck. “Tink’s a Disney whore, Rache. Your new boyfriend is kind of scary when he’s pissed.”

“Tell me,” Trent threatened, pressing into him. “Now!”

“It’s the elves!” the vampire screamed. “The elves.”

My lips parted, and I met Trent’s suddenly ashen gaze as he let up.

“Some elf called Landon. He said you’re lying,” the vampire gushed. “He said you know how to bring back all the undead souls and you lied that it would send them into the sun. He said he’d bring all the undead souls back from the ever-after, but we had to kill you first to keep you from reversing his magic. He said you want us to die without our souls! That you’re a demon!”

“He’s the one lying!” I exclaimed, and Jenks darted out. That scream had probably traveled. “Landon wants to wipe out the masters. He’s the one who put them to sleep last July!”

Trent let go and the man dissolved into a sniveling whimper. I could see Trent’s self-disgust, and I brought his hand to my lips, startling him. He hadn’t hurt the man babbling before us. He’d tricked him, tricked him to save our lives.

“You lie,” the would-be assassin said, his fingers feeling his face. “I saw Felix. He has his soul. He doesn’t hunger. He’s whole.” Fear flashed over him, stark and ugly. “I don’t want to lose my soul. You’re a monster! You took my eye!”

Trent frowned. “Landon betrayed you,” he said, making a decisive ending gesture.

The vampire gasped, hunching into himself as the spell broke. Slowly his hands fell and he looked straight at us, wonder in him. “I can see . . .”