Chapter Twenty
I leaned forward over the backseat to look up at the tall conference hotel we were trying to turn into, feeling lost as we waited for traffic to clear. We weren't in my mom's car since it would be impossible to find a parking spot. No, we were still cashing in on Trent's hospitality, and we'd ridden across town in the car his hotel had on reserve for when their most important guests wanted to go somewhere. The car was long, black, and shiny, and came with a driver. Only problem was that Trent wasn't in it. No Jenks, either. To say I was worried would be like saying pixies were a tad mischievous.
It was getting close to midnight and the conference was starting to kick into high gear. Lights from the oncoming traffic were nonstop. Pierce sat beside me, his feet spread wide as he tried to look unaffected by the crowds, but I could tell they were getting to him. He wasn't happy that the coven had used his chat with Vivian to take a shot at me, and he'd apologized several times, thinking I blamed him. I didn't, but the odds the demons had given me were sounding more realistic than they had.
Pierce was wearing his long coat despite the weather being too hot for it, and he held his hat like a life preserver. Dressed in brown slacks and a brightly colored vest over a white shirt, he made an odd statement-one that was probably going to go unnoticed. Just from the car, I could see three witches in traditional robes and hats. Behind them was a woman wearing wings for the ball tonight, and behind her three guys dressed like Neo from The Matrix. To be fair, though, there were just as many people wearing business suits as pointy hats, and the clothing of choice seemed to be jeans. Goth was still in, and almost every fifth person had a glowing bracelet with SAN FRANCISCO-2008 blinking from it, this year's knick-knack of choice, apparently.
Ivy is going to fit right in, I thought as I glanced at her, up with the driver. The turn signal of the car ticked as we sat in silence, waiting for someone to move so we could pull into the drop-off area. I leaned back into the cushions, my curiosity rising when Pierce reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a badge with SECURITY on it. "When did you get that?" I asked as he looped it over his head. The name on it was Wallace Smyth. Holy crap, Pierce stole it?
He smiled, teeth glinting in the light of the oncoming traffic. "This afternoon," he said, shuffling through his pockets again to bring out two more. "Before the cowardly dogs attacked you. You can't get past the first floor without a badge. Ivy, here is yours. I thought you'd like the black."
Ivy took the black lanyard, looking bemused. Her badge had her name on it. "Thank you, Pierce," she said, looping it over her neck, and he smiled.
"And, Rachel, I picked up yours, as well. It was good I did. You may have paid for it months ago, but they'd lost it and it took three people an hour to produce another."
"I'm not surprised," I said, feeling the cool plastic in my fingers. Mine said PRESENTER. Great. I was part of the entertainment.
"Thanks, Pierce," I said as I attached it to my bag, hoping there wasn't a bug or a charm on it. If we got stopped because Pierce had stolen a badge, I was going to be mad, but I really appreciated his picking them up. I didn't give him enough credit, and a pang of guilt twanged through me.
The hum of my phone from my bag made it worse, and my foot started to bob as I ignored it. I knew who it was without looking. Ivy turned from the front, eying me. "If you keep avoiding him, he will think you are mad at him," she said, clearly able to hear it as well.
"I know," I said, wincing, thinking it curious that she knew who it was, too. Maybe I was telegraphing my body language louder than I thought.
"Who?" Pierce questioned, looking up from arranging his badge.
Ivy smiled softly. "Bis is waking up in the daylight when Rachel pulls on a line."
The man made a surprised grunt, and I flushed. "How do you know?" I asked her, wishing the traffic would clear so I could avoid this conversation. In my bag, my phone continued to hum.
"I take his calls," Ivy said dryly, then turned to face me fully. "Rachel, he's older than you think. He's not looking for a date, he's just confused. Talk to him!"
"I'm confused, too," I exclaimed softly, my guilt growing stronger. "I never asked him to be my gargoyle. It's wrong. It's slavery!"
Exhaling in exasperation, Ivy rolled her eyes to the car's ceiling. "I know what slavery is, and this isn't it," she said. "He does have his own life. And don't forget, he sought you out, not the other way around. You are something he needs, and I don't think you have a say in it. Talk to him. He thinks you don't like him," she added, and I bit my lower lip, even more concerned. That was not at all what I had wanted to happen.
"He's bonding with you? Already?" Pierce said, his eyes wide. "He's just a kid!"
"See?" I said, and Ivy turned around in exasperation. "Even Pierce knows it's wrong."
She was silent, but I could see she was clenching her jaw. Frustrated, I took out my phone. It wasn't humming anymore. A soft depression had taken me, not all of it from the upcoming trial. "He is, isn't he," I said softly as I looked at the tiny screen, more of a statement than a question.
Pierce's hand touched mine, and I jumped. "There is nothing improper about this relationship," he said seriously, making me all the more uncomfortable. "This is not a bond of love, but of necessity. You need a gargoyle to teach you to jump the lines, and in turn, you will give him a holy place to live, safe from demons."
"Safe from demons," I said, and the driver shifted uncomfortably, the back of his neck stiff. "Yeah, right."
But I slipped my phone into a tiny pocket in my bag, hoping I didn't miss his next call. Hell, I should just grow a pair and call him back while I still had a chance. I was running out of time. My stomach hurt, and I ran my hand over the smooth bumps of the French braid my hair was now in. Outside the car, people were moving quickly, their excitement making their pace fast and their words high-pitched. A spot finally opened up and the car pulled into the drop-off area. Pierce was out of the car even before it stopped moving, coming around to open my door. Ivy dropped her head and searched her purse for a tip, and I gathered myself to get out, glad to put off my chat with Bis for a few minutes more. The scent of exhaust-tainted wet cement mixed with the sound of hushed tires and loud conversations over engine noise.
Was Bis bonding with me? It sounded so...demonic.
"Rachel?"
It was Pierce, and he had his arm out to escort me. Giving him a worried smile, I looped my arm in his and together we went to the curb. I felt like I was in a spotlight, but no one was looking at me despite my wearing enough leather for a small cow. I'd left Al's purple sash at home-and the cap. I didn't care if I was the only one who would know purple was a sign of demon favor. It felt like a leash.
Ivy's door shut with a solid thunk, and the car took off, immediately replaced by another just like it. "Ready?" she said as she joined us, her eyes bright and her motions quick. She was wearing her boots, and they clicked smartly on the pavement.
"As much as I'll ever be," I said, turning to the twin set of double doors. Pierce's hand landed on mine, and with him on one side and Ivy on the other, we went in, my high-magic-detecting amulet sputtering a hazy red. I wasn't surprised when every last erg of painstakingly gathered ever-after washed out of me. Hotel security. You can't have a group of witches this size without some kind of leveling field. Pierce's hand left me, and he shifted his coat on his shoulders as if trying to fit into a new skin.
Our pace slowed, as much for the people clustered near the door as for the sound of a hundred conversations beating on our ears. Single file, we passed among the groups of people gathering here to either step out to make a call, have a smoke, or just use the front as a place to meet their friends. I followed Pierce with half my attention, more interested in the huge chandelier that stretched up six stories, dominating the entire interior cave. The ever-after draining out of me when we had crossed the threshold had been caused by something and I was betting it was this. It looked a lot like the device Lee had had on his boat, but a whole lot bigger.
My dropping gaze landed on a black-suited man with absolutely no expression on his face. He was wearing sunglasses and staring at me. Nervous, I set a hand on Pierce's shoulder, anxious not to lose him in the crowd.
"I see them, too," Ivy said from behind me.
Them? There was more than one?
Pierce turned, waiting for us to catch up with him as we finally got through the worst of the crowd. "I walked the place this afternoon," he said, glancing first at the man I had noticed, then to another by a bank of elevators. "Registration is that way. Food is that way. Rest areas are on the first and third floors."
I was guessing he meant bathrooms, and a sudden urge to cross my legs and do the little-girl dance took me. Relax, Rachel.
"I should have been doing that," Ivy muttered, and Pierce nodded, ticking me off. Ivy had been there to help me beat off the coven. He had no right to make her feel guilty.
Still not undoing his coat, he led us across the lower floor. "You were a mite busy keeping Rachel's body and soul together," Pierce said, then pointed up to the overlooking second story. "The common entry to the auditorium is up there. There is an entrance on the ground floor, but it's guarded. Coven members only."
"Good, an escalator," I said, stifling a shiver.
"Since when are you afraid of elevators?" Ivy said as she got on before me and Pierce got on behind me, his hand on the small of my back, steadying me. I'd take offense, but I was ready to bolt and my knees felt like rubber.
"I'm not," I protested, pulse quickening. God, it's about to happen. My entire life is going to change in the next hour. "I'm-"
"Thinking about the coven taking a last potshot at you. I know." Ivy came back even with me as we passed a group of harmless-looking witches on their way down. I dropped my gaze so I didn't have to make eye contact, adjusting my badge on my bag. If I held my arm just right, it would be obvious I had a badge without making it easy to read my name. I didn't want to be recognized, but I think I was by the amount of whispering and pointing going on. Unless it was my dress.
Ivy was first off, and I found myself exhaling as I followed. Pierce bumped into me, and looping his arm in mine, he almost pulled me to the set of double doors across from the wide, low-ceilinged, lobbylike area. People were clustered here, too, and I felt myself pale as the conversations stilled and faces turned to us. I heard the click of a phone camera, and I shook myself.
"Chin high," Pierce said softly, but I was nauseated. I'd been running from this for what seemed like a lifetime.
His fingers touched mine, and I felt a tingle. He was wire tight, but it was the faint pulse of cracked ever-after in him that caught my attention. "How are you tapping a line?" I said as we settled in at the back of a short line to get in. They were checking badges, and I was doubly glad Pierce had picked up mine.
Pierce curled his fingers to take a stronger grip on me, and my shoulders eased when I felt the warmth of a masculine-tasting energy fill me. "I borrowed an amulet from a security member," he said, shooting me a sly glance, then looking dead ahead. "And his badge. Don't worry. Wallace never reported it. He's being entertained."
From Pierce's wry expression, I had a pretty good idea of how Wally was spending his evening. Oh, man. That is going to look great if they find out.
Beside us, Ivy chuckled, and I felt tons better as Pierce funneled energy into me, slippery or not. It would leave as soon as I let go of him, but in the interim it was nice. "You are a cad," I whispered, leaning in to smell his redwood scent mixing with a woodsy cologne. When did he have time to shower?
"But a smart one," Ivy said. "Good thinking."
Pierce pulled his gaze from the head of the line. "I won't let harm touch you. If there's trouble, I'll be there, and as soon as we get through security, I'll give you the amulet."
I could see the sense in that, and I nodded as my headache began to ease. The line moved forward, and I took the pen after checking my lethal-amulet detector. It wasn't working, but old habits die hard. As the bored woman behind the table talked to her neighbor, I signed the paper, adding a period at the end of my name to break any psychic connection. I handed it to Pierce, who immediately gave it to Ivy.
"I'm her security," he lied to the woman, taking my bicep a little more firmly.
I eyed Pierce, letting him manhandle me since he seemed to enjoy the excuse and I couldn't protest without causing a stir. A flash of interest broke across the woman's face, and she looked from the paper Ivy was signing, to the badge pinned to my bag, to me. In one breath, her expression went from pleasant to disgusted. "Oh, it's you. You have a reserved seat up front."
Oh, it's you? Nice. "Thank you," I said pointedly as Ivy pushed the paper back toward her. "Do you know if Trent Kalamack is here yet?"
"No." She was breathing fast, and the ladies to either side of her were silent.
My gut twisted. Black witch. They thought I was a black witch, and they could hardly stand me. "We're going to need one more place," I said, indicating Ivy, and the woman shook her head.
"She can't go in."
I'd had it with women who thought they had ultimate power because they'd been given a tiny task, but I exhaled, trying to relax. "Why not?" I asked, voice level as I hitched my shoulder bag higher.
"Witches only."
Pierce looked up, scanning the crowd behind us as someone began calling "Yoo-hoo!" in a loud, demanding voice.
"Trent Kalamack isn't a witch," I said, my temper rising.
Pierce let go of me to wave at someone, and the power that had been seeping through me drained away. A headache slammed into me, and I stiffened.
"Mr. Kalamack is part of the proceedings," the woman said. "She isn't."
Angry, I put my hands on the table and leaned into her slightly. Ivy drew me back, her eyes holding a surprising lack of anger. "I'll get in another way," she murmured.
"No." I pulled from her, and the woman looked frightened that Pierce wasn't paying attention to me. "I've been shot at, bugged, and attacked. I want you there, and there's no reason you can't come in!"
The woman fidgeted nervously, glancing first at Pierce, then the people starting to pile up behind me. "It's for security reasons," she said, and I nodded dramatically.
"Uh-huh. Which is exactly why I want her with me."
"Rachel!" a familiar cheerful voice exclaimed at my elbow, and I spun. Pierce was grinning. Beside him was my mother, a shopping bag under her arm, a big yellow hat on her head, and a broomstick in her hand. She was beaming, and every thought went flying out of my head.
"Mom!" I exclaimed, eyes wide as I gaped at her. "What are you doing here?"
"Damn, you make even white leather look good!" She gave me a huge hug, dropping her bag and pulling me close. The scent of lilac and redwood filled my senses, and the broomstick pressed into my back. She stepped away with a hand on her hat to keep it from falling off, and her eyes glinted with unshed tears.
"I flew in this morning," she said, glancing down at her badge. "I wanted to see you. I knew if I waited around, you'd show up in the middle of trouble. And here you are!"
I gave her another hug, not believing this. The woman at the table gestured for the next person in line, and we moved to the side.
"Mom, I'm glad you're here," I said, thinking she looked great, her red hair cut in a bob and her jeans and T-shirt showing off her figure. Now that she wasn't dressing down, we could almost be sisters. Dread hit me, though, as she started moving us to the double doors. If things didn't go well, this might be the last day I'd ever see her.
"Come on," she said, taking my arm and leading me forward as if we were going for coffee, not finding seats at my trial. "Trenton got us seats up front, but if you wait too long, numbnuts start trying to sit in them." She turned to look behind us. "Hi, Ivy. It's good to see you," she said, and Ivy murmured something back, never quite comfortable around my mother.
My mom's pace faltered as she gave Pierce the once-over. "Wallace, eh?" she said dryly. "You must be Pierce. Nice to finally meet the man who got my daughter her first I.S. record. You'll do, I suppose. I hope you're good in bed. It's a pain in the ass trying to train you men to do what pleases a woman."
I caught a glimpse of Pierce's shocked expression, but my last fear had been banished. It was my mother, not a look-alike. If it came into her head, it came out of her mouth.
"Mom...," I protested, but she was off again, saying it was good to see me and that she liked my hair like this, asking me if I'd been in St. Louis when the arch fell down, and what about that earthquake this afternoon? Wasn't that something? I knew her chatter was her way of coping, and I said nothing but made the odd noise at the right moment.
The double doors opened before us as someone went in. My eyes rose, and my feet kept moving. The muffled noise hit me first, and the smell of foam and the cotton fabric on the chairs. It was all blue and gray, and they were piping in music. It was nearly full already, and the sound of a hundred conversations was daunting, even if the acoustics had been arranged to soak it in. The stage was a good fifteen feet below where we'd come in, well lit, with a podium in the middle and an oval table holding six chairs facing the audience. Oliver and Leon were already there, ignoring the mass of people as Oliver talked and Leon listened.
My heart thumped, and I froze.
"Is that your mother?" Pierce whispered.
I started to answer, and the door attendant moved in front of us. "Ma'am, you can't go in," he said to Ivy, and my head snapped up.
Already inside, my mother turned, her chin up and her eyes glinting. "Get the hell out of the way," she said loudly as she shoved her way back to us and claimed Ivy's elbow. "Don't you know who this is? Move, or I'll jam this broomstick up your ass."
Pierce stood speechless, but I was grinning. "Yep, that's my mother," I said, then followed Ivy when my mother yanked her over the threshold, glaring at the man as if ready to make good on her threat if he made so much as a peep. The door attendant was way outclassed, and he gave up, cowed.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder at me as my mother led her down the steps to the floor of the amphitheater. Slowly my smile faded. There were too many people in here, and the stage looked huge.
"Your mother isn't afraid to speak her mind," Pierce said, and my shoulders eased as he took my hand and the ever-after seeped in. I knew it wouldn't last, and I gripped his fingers, afraid to let go.
"She's like that," I said, head down as I watched my step. People had noticed our entrance, and the conversations were shifting. More whispering, more bitter gossip.
Pierce's grip on mine tightened, and I looked up, feeling a warning in his touch. Vivian had come from the back, looking confident and unique in a flowing, princesslike robe of tie-dyed colors, all purple, blue, and green. Her hair was arranged off her neck, and she looked like an upscale San Francisco hippie, as far from my white-leather-clad sleekness as a bird was from a frog. Worry flashed through me. Robes flowing, she strode to the podium, bending to pull out an amulet. She looked good, rested and ready. I wished I was.
"Test," she said simply as she held the amulet, and when her voice rose with a pleasant volume over the babble, she dropped it into a pocket and went to talk to Oliver. The entire auditorium had the feeling of preparation and excitement, and I gave Vivian a stupid little hand wave when she looked up, following Oliver's finger pointing to me. He was wearing an impressive suit, and again I felt nervous in my outfit. White? Thanks a hell of a lot, Al.
Vivian straightened, breaking eye contact with me before I could get any sense of what she was thinking. Oliver was supposed to vote for me, but after this afternoon, I doubted that would happen despite the agreement we'd come to in an FIB interrogation room two thousand miles away. I was hoping I wouldn't need my gentle four-word reminder that I could bring witch society down. We came from demons.
Finally we made it to the ground floor and the small space before the stage. My mother and Ivy were waiting at the head of an empty row of seats. Actually, the three rows after that one were empty, too, no one wanting to get too close to us. Nerves wouldn't let me sit, and we clustered together in the aisle. As Pierce and my mother made small talk, I scanned the rising rows for Trent.
Ivy leaned in, smiling with her lips shut. "You look green. You want me to go up there with you and hold your hand?"
"Can't you be nice to me for once?" I said, and she laughed. "Trent isn't going to show," I added, wondering what my mother was telling Pierce. His eyes were wide, and my mother's expression was intent.
"Is that necessarily a bad thing?" Ivy asked, and I tried to decide if she was joking.
"I'm worried about Jenks," I said, and she nodded. "Has he called?" I asked for the umpteenth time, and she shook her head, eyes falling from mine.
I thought of my phone, in my bag, wondering if I should turn it off. I didn't want to miss Jenks's call if it should come in. A flash of guilt hit me. It was too late now to call Bis, too.
A stir at the door we had come in caught my attention, and I turned away when the man my mom had threatened came in, pointing our way. "Don't look," I told Ivy, thinking that they were going to haul her out, but my fear vanished in a wash of elation when the familiar clatter of pixy wings sparked through me.
"Jenks!" I exclaimed, suddenly feeling ten feet tall as I saw the glint of pixy dust. I didn't care if people were staring and whispering loudly. I waved like a fool, grinning when a bright sparkle at the top of the theater dropped to us.
"Oh my God, Jenks!" I said, elated and feeling the size difference between us keenly as he came to a pixy-dust-laden halt in the center of our group. He was smiling, a long tear in his black sleeve and his hair matted, but he was okay. "How did it go? Are you all right? Where's Trent?" I asked, wanting to give Jenks a hug but having to settle for extending my hand for him.
Jenks nodded to everyone, zipping around Ivy to wreathe her in silver sparkles. "I'm good," he said, wings moving well and clearly overflowing with energy. "You'll never believe it, Rache," he said, eyes sparkling with news. "Trent's here. He's in the bathroom with Lucy."
"Lucy?" I asked, wondering if Ellasbeth had a younger sister. "What did you do?"
Jenks landed on my hand, then sprang into the air, unable to contain himself. "You'll never guess!" he said, darting back and forth. "The guy is slicker than toad snot. Trent is-"
"A daddy," Ivy interrupted, her gaze fixed on the door we'd come in.
I spun as Jenks yo-yoed up and down, shrilling so high and fast I couldn't understand him. My eyes bugged out, and beside me, my mother swore. "No. Friggin'. Way," I said.
Trent was on the threshold in his usual thousand-dollar suit, rearranging his badge and surrounded by too many women. One was jiggling a fussing infant. A girl from the looks of the sweet little bonnet. Lucy?
"No. Friggin'. Way!" I said again, touching gazes with Ivy before I looked back and saw Trent take the baby. My eyes widened. She was his?
"Yes, way!" Jenks was saying, and Pierce sighed, dropping back a step. "I about crapped my pants when I found out. No wonder Trent wouldn't spill. That's his kid. His and Ellasbeth's. That's what he was doing, Rache! We were baby snatching! Like elves used to in the old days!"
Trent had done the nasty with Ellasbeth? Ewwwwww.
Pierce seemed bored by it, but my mother was melting into a puddle of anticipation, her hands almost outstretched, as Trent made his way to us.
"It was some ancient elf quest to prove himself and become a man. He had to steal a baby and not get caught," Jenks said, still too excited to land anywhere, and I couldn't look away. No. Friggin'. Way. Trent had a kid?
"He stole her!" Jenks said, finally landing on my shoulder. "Right out of her crib. Like in the old days when they would leave changelings, but Trent only left a crumpled bit of paper in the crib. Rache, he sang this weird little song, and she just woke up and loved him."
I had to admit that Trent seemed to know what he was doing as he patted the little girl to make her stop fussing. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine still holding a blissful happiness tempered with a severe protectiveness. "He traveled three thousand miles to steal a baby?"
"His baby! Not just any brat," Jenks said, wings fanning my neck. "His and Ellasbeth's. You got fairy farts in your ears? She was pregnant when you broke up their wedding. Lucy is the first elf baby to be born perfect, even before Ceri's. The first without the demon curse, and every baby born after her will be perfect. Because of you."
I licked my lips, and Pierce moved to make room for Trent. The next elf generation. Lucy was the beginning. That's what Trent had meant. And it was because of me? No, it was because of Trent, Jenks, Ivy, and me. We'd done it together.
The noise of the auditorium seemed to fade as Trent scuffed to a halt before us, his ears red as he met everyone's eyes. "Trent?" I managed, and then my mother broke down.
"Ohhh, let me hold her!" my mom exclaimed, hands reaching out.
Immediately everyone relaxed. Trent's attention fell from me, focused entirely on his little girl as my mother came close. "Ms. Morgan," Trent said, his hands changing position as he carefully moved his...daughter? "She's a temperamental little thing. She might not like you."
"Of course she'll like me," my mother huffed. People were watching, and onstage, the last of the coven members had assumed their places. My mother took Lucy, and the little girl began to cry, green eyes spilling over as she refused to look at my mother, searching until she found Trent, then making a face as if she'd been betrayed.
"Oh, dear," my mother said, jiggling her carefully, knowing that it was a lost cause. "Such a beautiful thing you are. Don't cry, sweetie. Your daddy is right there."
Jenks was laughing-not at my mother, but at my and Ivy's shocked expressions. "You're a dad?" I tried again, and Trent shrugged, his attention lingering on my dress.
"It happens."
"Rachel, you take her," my mother said, clearly uncomfortable. "She might like you."
"No. Mom, no!" I protested, but it was my mother we were talking about, and it was either take the baby or have her hit the floor. I had no choice, and as Trent stiffened, I found I was holding another person in my arms. I couldn't look at her as her blanket fell away, scared almost as she cried, but I held her against me, and burn my toast if I didn't jiggle a little on my feet. She was kind of soft and squishy, but she fit nicely against me. I gave another hop, and when I looked into her eyes, she quit crying.
Trent's hands dropped from where he had been going to snatch her away. Pale eyebrows up, he said, "She likes you," as if he didn't believe it.
"Of course she likes Rache," Jenks said belligerently, leaving me to hover before the baby and make her sneeze from his silver pixy dust. Cooing, Lucy flung her hand out-searching for Jenks, probably-but latching on to my finger instead.
Shit.
Her tiny hand gripped mine with a surprising warmth, and in a shocking wash of emotion, I felt everything I knew shift. The scent of cinnamon and baby powder hit me, and as my eyes widened, my heart melted, making room for her. As I gazed into Lucy's green eyes, and seeing her pale hair and perfect face, it was as if something had flipped a switch in me. I'd held babies before. Hell, I'd babysat for my old friend at the I.S., but this small person holding my finger had looked to me for protection from the noise, the crowd, and the frightening sparkles of pixy dust. All of a sudden, I didn't want to give her back.
My gaze came up, fastening on my mother. Unshed tears made her eyes dark. She was gazing at Lucy with longing, remembering Robbie and me. When she glanced up, I gave her a rueful smile. Damn it, she'd given me Lucy for just this reason. It wasn't an elf thing, it was just...life.
"She likes you," Trent said again, but he was reaching for her, jealous maybe.
"Perhaps she knows you helped her survive," Ivy said from the background.
"Look at her ears, Rache," Jenks said as he returned to my shoulder, and I moved away from Trent. "You gotta look at her ears."
Her ears? Pulling her back to me, I leaned closer, breathing in cinnamon as I peeked under her bonnet. Trent's jaw was clenched, but he let me do it. Lucy just cooed, and I stared as Ivy leaned close to me to see as well.
"You've got to be kidding," I whispered, my attention darting up to Trent as he frowned. "They're pointy." Trent was annoyed, but I was almost laughing. "You guys have to dock your ears to fit in?" I said in a hushed voice.
"Not anymore," he answered, reaching to take her.
Lucy gurgled as I felt her almost-not-there weight leave me, kicking in frustration until her father-oh my God, Trent had a baby-took her. My shoulders slumped, and I felt her loss. On the stage, they were making motions to start the meeting, and Pierce was trying to get my mother and Ivy to sit down. "Is she really yours?" I asked Trent as they took their seats in the second row while he rearranged Lucy's blanket around her.
He wouldn't look at me. "In about six different ways," he said, and remembering how I'd felt after holding her for just one minute, I knew what he meant.
"Trent, why didn't you tell me you were after your...child?"
All around us, people were settling in, hushing themselves, getting ready for a show. But he was oblivious to them as he looked at me, a mixture of embarrassment and reluctance in him that I'd never seen before. "I don't know," he admitted, seeming more honest, more bewildered than he'd ever been before. "It sounded lame. Me? Going three thousand miles to steal a baby? I'm a product of the twenty-first century, not some elf with a title living in a castle with servants."
"Yeah, but it was your kid," Jenks said, having finally parked it on my shoulder.
Lucy was kicking at her blanket, and he tucked it back not even knowing he had done it. "She wasn't mine until I saw her." His gaze was unfocused as he remembered. "She's..." He stopped, unable to put it into words as he looked at her. She was entirely her own person but needed him for everything.
"She's beautiful," I said softly.
Trent's attention flicked to me, and his grip on her grew possessive. "I'd do anything for her. Risk anything. I never got it until now. I never understood true sacrifice."
Huh. Maybe Lucy was going to save us all.
Jenks clattered his wings, going to distract her and make her squirm. "Just like any parent, Trent," he said as he hovered over her, reminding me of who he was. "Think you can do anything for Rachel for the next hour? You owe her. I may have helped you get Lucy, but Rachel got you here alive to do it. Even with your help."
My chest tightened, and where I was came rushing back. Trent was nodding, and Vivian began tapping her amplifying amulet for attention. "Just about anything," he said, smiling with half his face. He looked at me, and even that vanished. "Rachel, it's going to get bad. You're going to have to trust me. You've got to lose before you can win."
"Oh, that makes a lot of sense," I said darkly. "You aren't old enough for wise-old-man crap. Even with a three-month-old in your arms."
He leaned close as Jenks zipped off to talk to my mother. "I mean it," he said, Lucy reaching up for my face. "Oliver is going to weasel out of his promise no matter what I say. He knows you're not going to tell anyone that witches were born from demons. If you do, witch society will crumble in a century of witch hunts that will make Salem look like a puppet show."
"No," I said, but he wasn't listening.
"You're going to lose," he said firmly. "And when you do, I'm telling you, don't do anything stupid. Go with it. Go to Alcatraz. Go with Al. I don't care, but just go with it. It's not over when that bell rings."
Trent's gaze went to the silver bell on the coven's table, and fear slid through me. I heard what he was saying. Oliver was scum. Trent didn't see me walking out of here. He had me lost and was planning a comeback. I looked at Ivy, and her eyes dilated at my fear.
"Take your seats, please," Vivian said loudly from the podium, her words bouncing through the auditorium and silencing 90 percent of the noise.
Pierce was at my elbow, and he pulled me down the empty aisle of seats, putting us right in front of my mother and Ivy. Trent edged in next, and we all sat. On the stage, there were two empty chairs at the coven's table, one for Vivian, one for Brooke. I could not lose. I couldn't. I'd be in the ever-after, taking my sun in thieving snatches.
Vivian gestured at the silver bell, and it chimed, making me jump. A wave of force had echoed out of it, having the feeling of a bubble going up. The auditorium was closed for the duration. No one in or out. It had begun.
