Chapter Eleven

I spun to Trent. The smug brat was smirking. "Why didn't you tell me Quen was back!" I shouted, my urge to smack him hesitating when Quen dryly cleared his throat. Distracted, I looked up at the railing. Quen was there, his pox scars standing out strongly against an unusual paleness. Ray was in his arms, and the little girl clung to him. Both Quen and Trent were smiling. Ellasbeth was not.

Trent's hand went to my arm to lead me upstairs. "Why did you let me believe Quen was dead the morning he recovered from his vampire bite?" he said, and I jerked my arm away from him as we found the first step.

"I was a little preoccupied with Takata being my birth father," I said, heart pounding as I took the stairs two at a time.

Trent kept up, maddeningly graceful. "It wasn't my place to tell . . ."

My eyes narrowed. "Not your place . . . Are we even now? You little . . . cookie maker!" I exclaimed, knocking him off balance when we found the eight-by-eight landing for the first floor. Ellasbeth gasped, but Trent was laughing, even as he caught himself. Quen was here. He was okay. Finally something was going our way.

Seeing me lurch up the last of the stairs, Quen straightened to try to hide his fatigue. Our eyes met, and the older man nodded solemnly. On his hip, Ray gurgled happily. The little girl was in a sweet full-length jumper/Indian-looking robe of some sort cut from a subdued orange-and-brown paisley, her brown hair braided and looped out of the way. Hearing Jenks's wings, she pushed from her father's shoulder to find him. She was a beautiful blending of Ceri and Quen, and again I was struck by the frailty of this small family.

"Rachel," Quen said simply, and I pushed past Ellasbeth in her cream-colored business suit and matching heels.

"That's not going to do it," I said as I pulled the older man into a hug, getting Ray mixed up in there somewhere. The curious scent of cinnamon and wine that all elves had mixed with the throat-catching odor of hospital. Under it was his masculine pull, a faint hint of controlled magic and ozone to give it some interest. He smells different from Trent, I thought. Trent's magic smelled powerful, but Quen's had a darker tang than Trent's shadowed glow.

Suddenly realizing Quen's arms had gone around me in what had probably been self-defense, I pushed back, embarrassed. "They let you out? When?" I said, wincing when Ray grabbed my hair and pulled me in.

The older man made a noise of admonishment, disentangling her fingers and then, unexpectedly, tugged me back to him with one arm, turning us both to the common living room visible through the wide archway. "They didn't let me do anything. I left. It's good to see you," he said, his voice rumbling through me. "You're the one who sent those damn demon-scented petits fours, aren't you? They woke me up at midnight, and I left at two."

I grinned as I slipped out from under his arm. He looked tired but good, the injuries to his nervous system obviously repaired enough to function. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No, but everything will eventually come back," he said, and I gave him a light punch on his arm and wrinkled my nose at Ray.

"Tomorrow morning, probably," I guessed. Three days. That's how long it took to renew an aura so it didn't hurt when you tapped a line. What had Ku'Sox done to him?

Trent was making his way to Ellasbeth. Having seen our reunion-and not being a part of it-the woman had retreated to the small kitchen behind the large sunken living room. Four doors led to four suites-Quen and Ceri's, Trent's, the girls'. The fourth had been Ellasbeth's when she had been his fiancee, and by the sound of it, it might be again.

My heart ached at the toys scattered in the living room, and a crayon-scribbled picture of horses was pasted to a door, a sad two feet from the floor. This was the closest that Trent would ever get to a normal family life, and I was angry that Ku'Sox had spoiled it.

Suddenly unsure, I followed Quen and Ray to the sunken living room, having to wave Jenks's dust out of my way. The last time I'd seen Ellasbeth was when I'd arrested Trent at their wedding. I hadn't known she'd been pregnant with Lucy at the time, and I didn't know if it would have made any difference. The well-dressed, sophisticated woman looked broken as she sat at the small kitchen table, her expensive cream-colored slacks and coordinating top and jacket rumpled. She was tired, jet lag and worry having taken their toll on her perfect makeup and upright posture. Even so, I balked as her eyes found mine.

Her strawlike, straight hair looked fake next to Trent's wispy strands, and her build was too strong to have only elf in her. She was not full blood, and it showed. Money had a way of erasing that, though, and her family was almost as influential as Trent.

Jenks's wings shivered against my neck as he took refuge, and a chill went through me. "Oh, there's trouble with a high-end handbag," he said, and I agreed.

"Ah . . . hello," I said, feeling awkward, as if she'd come home and found me naked in Trent's tub. No, wait. She had once.

Ellasbeth stood in a smooth, controlled motion of grace, and I jerked to a stop. Quen gave me a "good luck" look as he continued into the lower living room area with Ray, and Jenks abandoned me, wings clattering. Chicken. But all she did was extend her hand, a stiff expression on her face. "Thank you for agreeing to help Trent get Lucy and Ceri back."

That was not what I had expected, and I cautiously took her unworked hand in mine. Her voice wasn't inviting, but it wasn't cold, either. My thoughts returned to Trent's words in the greenhouse. She wanted back into his life? Why? Power? Parental and social pressure? Lucy? I didn't think it was to spend the rest of her life with Trent, but it wasn't my business.

"Ah, it's the right thing to do," I said, letting her hand go and forcing myself to not hide mine behind my back. Her touch had been cold, and I maintained my pleasant expression. No, it wasn't my business, but Trent would tie himself to this woman if he thought it was what duty required of him. He'd do it for everything she represented despite her having nothing he wanted.

Her smile widened, but didn't get any warmer. "Still," she said, her hands clasped before her to look like a proper 1940s wife in her monochromatic dress suit and matching purse. "It's very noble of you to risk your life when you don't have a personal stake in the outcome."

Lemon-yellow dust sifted from the light fixture. Ignoring Jenks's silent comment, I smiled right back at her. "But I do. Lucy is my godchild, and Ceri is my friend. I freed her from the demons before, and seeing her cry over having a home, husband, and children when she never dreamed of freedom makes me a tad protective of her when some demon tries to take it away."

"I see."

I see? Did she say I freaking see? "Besides," I added when her eye twitched. "If I don't help him, who will?" My unspoken you? was obvious.

From Ceri's high-backed embroidery chair, Quen cleared his throat. Trent had his back to us, busy in the kitchen making coffee, and Jenks simply sent down another shower of sparkling dust, the crystal in the fixture tinkling as it shook from his laughter.

Inclining her head, Ellasbeth smoothly sat back down. "I'll make sure you're well compensated." My smile froze as I suddenly became hired help standing before her.

Damn, she was good. "I don't work for Trent," I said, suddenly feeling outclassed. Her eyes were on my pinkie ring, and I think she'd recognized it as matching Trent's. "I work with him."

Stop it, Rachel, I thought as I realized I was in danger of arguing with an idiot. It wouldn't hurt you to be nice. She just lost her daughter, not once but twice.

Exhaling, I leaned against the counter, forcing her to turn if she wanted to keep me in her sight. "Ku'Sox won't hurt either of them," I said as Trent passed between us to hand Ellasbeth a cup of coffee. "Ku'Sox wants something, and this is the only way he can get it. Hurting them will only piss me off, and Ku'Sox knows that."

Ellasbeth's beaming smile to Trent vanished. "Can we please stop saying his name?" she asked, and on his way back to the kitchen, Trent shot me a look to be nice.

"Why?" I crossed my ankles and leaned deeper into the counter. "It's not like saying it does anything."

"Coffee, Rachel?" Trent said as he shoved a cup at me, and I scrambled to take it before it sloshed over. A faint blush was showing on Ellasbeth. Maybe that had been a tad petty.

"Ah, you have a book for me to look at, right?" I prompted, then took a sip.

"It's in the safe room. Look at it in there." Chin high, Ellasbeth pushed away the cup of coffee Trent had brought her. Out of her sight in the kitchen, Trent hung his head, his free hand rubbing his temple.

Quen rose, his motions slow and pained. Ray was slumped against him, the little girl valiantly fighting sleep and starting to lose. "I'll show you."

Jenks peeked over the fixture at me, laughing. It made me feel as if I'd lost something. Damn it, I could be nice to this woman. I didn't have to be her best friend, just not smack her while we breathed the same air. "Thank you, Ellasbeth. This is going to be a huge help," I said, but it sounded forced even to me. "We're going to get them back. It's going to be okay."

She looked up. The worry and fear of the last two days pooled in her eyes as she met mine and held them. I don't think anyone had told her it was going to be okay, and upon hearing it-even if she didn't believe it-she began to break apart. Tears welled and she quickly turned away, her posture becoming more stiff, more closed. It must be hard when the only comfort you got was from the person you most disliked in the room.

Trent set his coffee aside, the cup hitting the granite loudly. "Quen, while you're showing Rachel the safe room, Ellasbeth and I will be in the gardens."

"Why?" Ellasbeth said in distrust as she fumbled in her matching purse for a tissue. "I can help."

Trent touched the woman's shoulder, and I shoved a twinge of jealousy away. "If you're open to it, I'd like to discuss the possibility of joint custody."

Ellasbeth's eyes widened. "Trent," she said breathlessly. "I don't want to have to need a joint custody agreement at all."

From the chandelier came a tiny "Eeeeewwww."

"I just want us to all be together as we are supposed to be," she said, gazing up at him, tears spilling from her. "I want my family! What if we can't get her back! What if . . ." Sobbing, the elegant woman dropped her head into her hands and sat alone at the table and cried. Uncomfortable, I glanced at Quen-who clearly didn't care-then to Trent. He seemed unsure, and I made a face at him to do something. Anything.

Grimacing, he pushed himself into motion, pulling her to her feet so he could hold her. That was even more uncomfortable, but at least she wasn't crying alone. "Shhhh . . ." Trent soothed, even if he did look a little stiff doing it. But awkward or not, they looked beautiful together. Sophisticated. "Ceri lived among demons for a thousand years," Trent said, holding the woman as she shook. "Lucy is resilient and brave. The demons won't hurt her as long as they have a hope I'll give them what they want."

My stomach hurt, and I looked away.

"We can talk in the garden," Trent said, starting to guide her to the stairway. Jenks dropped down from the light fixture, and my lips parted when Trent made a small finger movement to tell him to stay.

Oh, really? I thought, watching Trent help Ellasbeth down the wide stairs, a hand under her elbow as she continued to warble about home and family, and how she had been an idiot.

Idiot. Sure. My thoughts drifted back to her standing at the basilica's altar, furious at me for ruining her wedding day as I handcuffed Trent for suspicion of murder. I'd ruined her day.

Ray perked up at the sound of Jenks's wings, and she watched with sleepy eyes as he dropped down to me. "Tink's little pink rosebuds, you two are like dogs snarling," he said, and I scowled, looking at the top of the stairway.

"I didn't hit her, did I?"

He laughed, but I still felt ill. If Ellasbeth was going to be in Trent's life, I'd probably better start kissing ass if I ever wanted to see the girls again.

Jenks landed on my shoulder as I went to help Quen up the two shallow stairs. I was still wondering about that finger motion. "Is he seriously considering . . . that?" the pixy whispered as Ellasbeth's voice rose from the great room.

"Looks like it," I breathed. "If you ask me, she's nothing but bad news. But they look good together."

Quen grunted as he got to his feet, unbalanced from Ray and his injuries that he wouldn't tell me about. Shaking off my offer for assistance, he headed for the nursery, his left leg sluggish on the two stairs.

"Is that what you see?" Jenks said, jerking me back to my last comment. "That they look good together?"

I tried to eye him, but he was too close. "You don't think they do?"

Pushing open the nursery door with his foot, Quen shook his head. "The joining of the two houses would do a lot in bringing the two factions of our society together. I'm glad someone finally talked some sense into that woman."

He seemed genuinely pleased, but I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to Ceri, Ray, and Quen if Ellasbeth entered the family.

"Good thing the man likes frustrating women," Jenks said, and I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear to shove him off my shoulder. I could still hear Ellasbeth's tearful protests bracketed by Trent's musical voice. The farther they got from us, the more hysterical she was getting, and her voicing her doubts wasn't helping.

"She is wearing your ring, Trenton!" echoed, and then the door slammed shut.

We only had days, and despite Trent's confident words, I didn't have a plan; I had a goal whose solution revolved around a book I hadn't seen yet.

My heart sank as I looked over the dark nursery lit by a friendly, smiling full moon with cows jumping over it. Oh God, Ceri and Lucy. I'd get them back if I had to tear the ever-after apart line by line. "Was it Nick in the woods?" I asked Quen as he nudged a walk-'n'-ride out of the way to get to the closet door.

"On the outside," he said, and the little girl felt his tension and squirmed to turn around. "His speech patterns were Ku'Sox's." Quen shifted his shoulders painfully as he took a set of keys from his pocket. "His combat patterns were Ku'Sox's as well. I'm surprised the human survived channeling that much power. But then he didn't have to do much once he got Lucy."

It must have been horrifying, and my eyes roved over the beauty here as he sifted through the keys: the well-thought-out toys, the books and figures waiting for pretend-the twin cribs, one messy, the other tidy, clearly not slept in, with a lonely giraffe waiting for Lucy's return. It about broke my heart, and feeling ill, I whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Silent, Quen held the keys up to Ray, and the little girl took an interest. Quen looked distressed. He knew Ceri would be okay, right? "I've been in contact with Dali," I said as Ray patted the keys. "We have some time before things shift. I'm sure they're both okay."

Quen's entire body relaxed. "It's what I pray to the Goddess for."

On the door frame, Jenks shrugged, but I didn't know what else to say.

Quen still hadn't unlocked the door, waiting for Ray to lose interest in the keys. I was all for letting children learn when the opportunity presented itself, but I did have a timetable. I took a breath to say something, then hesitated as I realized Ray wasn't playing with the keys; she was sorting them, her little fingers pushing them around until she found the one she liked with a pat.

"Abba," she said in her high, little-child voice as she touched the keys, and my eyes widened. I had no idea what Abba was, but it was very clear what she was trying to convey.

"Very good, Ray," Quen said, his voice soft and holding pride. "That's the one to get into the big toy box. Now will you go to sleep? Abba has to help Aunt Rachel pick out the toy that's going to get your mother and Lucy back."

The elf name for father? I wondered, vowing to ask Jenks about it later. Guardian? Protector? Mom's Mr. Significant? I didn't know, but it sounded like a term of affection.

Ray's face puckered. I thought she was going to cry, but when Quen raised his eyebrows, she thought better of it, turning away from me to cling to him.

"Oh my God," I said as Quen held her to him with one arm and fitted the key in the lock with the other. "You're teaching her to be a little you," I accused, and Quen flashed a smile, not looking at all guilty.

"Someone has to keep Lucy alive when I'm not around," he said as the door creaked open and he reached in to flick on the light. "Trent's daughter is entirely too trusting, and I doubt her days with a demon are going to change that. Go on in. I'm going to put Ray down. Ellasbeth already has the book in the cabinet, but this will just take a moment."

He turned back to the dim nursery, and I waved bye to Ray, the girl watching me over Quen's shoulder. "Abba," Ray warbled as Quen put her in the crib, and two little hands reached for him. Quen stooped down to reassure her, and I saw the love before the closet door arced shut. I couldn't help but feel good. Jenks sighed, and I jumped, having forgotten he was there. Obviously he'd seen the love between them, too. I knew he missed having newlings.

"Wow," I said as I turned away and took in the "closet." It was impressive, smaller than the vault Trent had been keeping his most precious secrets in, but more organized. Racks of paintings, shelves of knickknacks of various styles and eras, and one big glass-fronted cabinet with leather-bound books took up most of the room. Cabinetry and a small sink ran along one wall, and a library table with two wingback chairs filled the middle space. Underfoot was a rug that looked old enough to fly, and given the location, it just might if you knew the right word.

"Don't touch anything, Jenks," I said, and he scowled at me as he hovered before a rack of shiny ley line baubles.

"I won't break anything," he said, then spilled a flash of silver dust as something caught his attention and he darted to it. "Hey! Trent still has that elf porn statue you stole."

Eyes rolling, I came to see if it was as graphic as I remembered, but I lingered over the pair of rings below Jenks's feet. One was a simple gold band, the other heavy and ornate. They looked like mismatched wedding bands, reminding me of the rings that Al and I had used when we had shared each other's strengths. "Ah, Quen?"

Jenks had his hands on his hips as he looked over that nasty statue of three elves in the middle of a threesome. "Tink's titties," he said. "I suppose that's possible." His head tilted. "You'd need a lot of grease and two straps, though."

"Quen!" I hissed, and Quen pushed open the safe room's door, almost shutting it completely behind him. Ray was babbling to herself in the other room, but she'd probably drop off if we didn't talk too loudly.

"Let me get you the book," he said, limping past the library table to the tall cabinet.

I pushed close to ask him about the rings, and he handed me a pair of soft gloves lying out on the table. They looked too small, but I tugged them on, thinking they were likely Ceri's. Quen was putting on a second pair. "Thanks," I said, feeling the soft knit mold itself to my fingers. "Those rings by Jenks. How old are they?"

The hiss of escaping air from the temperature-controlled cabinet was soft, and Quen glanced at Jenks as he swung the doors wide. "Not sure," he said shortly. "Old. I can find out."

"Hey, Quen." Jenks circled the statue, avarice in his gaze. "Let me know if Trent ever wants to get rid of this. I have a spot in my front room it would look ace in."

I held my breath as I leaned toward the open cabinet, avoiding any possible demon stink. "Are they demon made?" I asked as I looked over the books, some so old they were falling apart.

Quen looked at me, suspicion in his eyes. "The rings? No. Elven. Why?"

"Al has something similar." I took a hesitant breath, pleased when I found only the honest scent of leather and decaying ink.

Quen snorted, the rude sound seeming odd coming from him. "I doubt that," he said as he scanned the spines. "They're chastity rings."

Jenks sniggered, coming to make annoying circles around me. "Too late for you, Rache."

Irked, I waved him off. I thought it odd that Trent would keep chastity rings next to his elf porn, but it wasn't like he used any of these things. I think. This was his father's collection, like some dads have stamps. Or guns.

Quen reached for a book set aside by itself. "More accurately, they're binding rings," he said, his face showing the strain as he stretched for it. "It creates a continuous bond between two chis so the wearer of the alpha ring can snuff the magical ability of the other if needed. They were used to keep younger, inexperienced elves from exposing themselves as magic users. They don't work, though. The charm in them is long spent."

"The books don't smell," I said as he set the book on the library table. "Bad, I mean," when he looked at me. No, they didn't smell, but there was a faint whine at the back of my ear, like a high-pitched echo of leashed magic that made me uncomfortable.

"None of them have been in the ever-after for at least five hundred years." His voice was distant as he stood over the book and carefully turned the yellowed pages until he got to a section marked with a black ribbon. The binding made a cracking sound as he shifted the last page, and I swear he winced.

Standing over the tattered book, I looked down to read "Ley Line Corruption and Manipulation" in big, squished loops that I sort of recognized. My eyes went up, and I squinted at Quen suspiciously. "That's Ceri's handwriting."

"No shit!" Jenks said, finally abandoning the statue to come hover over the text.

"I know." Quen's eyes shifted as he read the text. "We have six books here that Ceri has copied. A handful of other scripts. She doesn't remember doing them. Ellasbeth insists that the book stays here. You're welcome to spend the night if you want to read it cover to cover, but I believe this is what you want. I read it before it was returned to Mrs. Withon."

Sitting, I looked at Ceri's extravagant loops and swirls. I sucked at research. If he'd done it already, I was good with that, though I might come back and read it all later. "Thanks," I said as I tugged the book closer. Quen cringed, and I curled my tingling fingertips under.

"So how come it was at the Withons'?" Jenks said, his feet lightly touching the pages.

Quen sat in the chair across from me, motions slow as if he wasn't sure he was going to hold together. "Trent's mother and Ellie were good friends."

There was more to the story than that, but it didn't really matter. Jenks flew up when I shifted to a new page, and his dust spilled over everything to make the letters glow. Seeing it, Quen leaned forward. "Interesting . . ."

I met his eyes. "You didn't know pixy dust makes demon texts glow?"

"No," he admitted, leaning back and steepling his fingers.

Wondering if this was where Trent got his little nervous tell from, I went back to the text. "You're shooting yourself in the foot, Quen. Jenks has six bucks looking for property this spring. They can all read and they don't mind fairies."

"Hey!" Jenks said. "Quit trying to farm out my kids!"

"Just pointing things out," I said as I turned the page to a map of the dead lines in Arizona. A second map showed where the author thought they'd been before they'd been shoved together. Quen was right. There might be something here. It was all theory, but theory based on fact and observation.

Seeing me intently quiet, Quen asked, "Do you want something to drink? Eat?"

"No-o-o," I drawled, feeling like I was close to something.

Hesitating, Quen shifted his chair forward. "I'd like to go out with you the next time you look at the Loveland ley line."

I thought of his sluggish left leg. He probably couldn't tap a line yet either. I said nothing, embarrassed. He wasn't ready to battle demons again. Maybe next week. But next week would be too late.

Quen frowned at my silence, knowing what it meant. Clearly frustrated, he leaned closer until I could smell his aftershave over the characteristic woodsy wine-and-cinnamon scent. "I think I know how Ku'Sox made that event horizon."

I paused in my reading and looked up. "Event horizon?" Jenks asked, but that was what Al had called it, too.

"The purple line within a line sucking everything in," he stated, and I shuddered. No wonder I'd felt squished, even if it had only been my mind. Al was lucky to be alive. That the collective had something for him to pattern himself on was probably how he had survived.

Quen carefully lifted the book toward him, his eyes on the yellowed pages. "I think Ku'Sox made it by gathering up the small imbalances that already existed in the other lines, concentrating them in the leaking line you made," he said, carefully flipping back to the paragraph where the author mentioned the possibility of small line imbalances having no effect if the individual lines were spaced out enough and aligned to the polar forces of nearby lines.

I scooted my chair closer to Quen's and read the first passage again. "Al did say that the lines were balanced to within safe parameters, implying they all leaked to some degree."

"Must have been small leaks," Jenks said, hands on his hips as he hovered over it all, his dust bringing the print back to a new-edged brightness.

"That's just it," Quen said, his thick fingers tapping the table. "They don't add up to what's in the Loveland ley line."

"They would if they acted on each other exponentially," I said.

Quen's expression twisted in doubt. "Why would they do that?"

"How should I know? I'm shooting at fairies here." My fingers were starting to cramp from holding the book, and I took my gloves off to rub them. I had enough information to go on a fact-finding mission out at the line. I figured things out by doing, not reading about them. "Al told me that the lines push each other apart, like giant magnets," I said, unclenching my teeth. God! Am I the only one hearing this whine? "If the lines are positive, pushing away from each other, then maybe the imbalance is negative. Maybe you can't have a line without a little imbalance."

"Like those little black and white magnet dogs that don't like each other unless they go face-to-face?" Jenks laughed, but I thought he had it almost exactly right.

Quen adjusted his position, inadvertently telling me his hip was sore. "Lines don't move."

"Mine did," I said. "A good hundred feet from the second floor of the castle to the garden outside. Al said lines moved a lot when they were new, but they stabilized." Reaching over, I tapped the page with my naked finger, which made Quen wince. My head gave a throb, and I curved my fingers under, wondering if this might be why Al wore gloves.

"Maybe all the lines leaked at first like mine," I said, wishing I could ask Al about it. "But the farther apart they got, the smaller the leak became. And when Ku'Sox put the imbalances together again, bang! Big leak."

Quen's lips twisted in doubt, which made his hospital stubble more obvious. Jenks, though, was bobbing up and down. "Like one sticktight stuck to your tights compared to a ball of them."

"Or a bunch of dust scattered in a huge vacuum having no effect compared to the same amount balled up into a planet," I added, and Quen's expression smoothed as he considered it. "If that's how Ku'Sox got that purple sludge in my ley line, then all I have to do is divvy the imbalance back up again, and the leak will go back to its original pace. Clear the crud out, and anyone can see the curse that Ku'Sox used to break my line. They'd have to side against him!"

Jenks dusted an excited gold, but Quen still had doubts if his sour expression was any indication. "He'll simply break it again," he said as he closed the book and stood.

"Maybe," I admitted, feeling a stab of worry. "But I'll be waiting for him this time. If I catch him at it, then he's in trouble, not me. If I can prove Ku'Sox broke my line, they won't kill me but band together and make him behave." I frowned-they should just band together and be done with him regardless. Cowards.

The hiss of the door was less this time as Quen carefully put Ellasbeth's book away. It bothered me that Trent was with her right now, believing whatever drivel she was feeding him.

"And you know how to do this?" Quen said as the door sealed shut with a cold sound. "Separate imbalances?"

"No," I admitted. "But if Bis and I went out there, we might be able to figure it out. He's really good at separating line signatures."

Neither one of them said anything, Jenks sitting on Quen's shoulder and both of them eyeing me in doubt. "He is," I said in Bis's defense. "You look at him and all you see is a kid, but I've seen the lines through him, and he knows what he's doing. Besides," I added, "either of you Abbas got any other ideas? I'm all ears."

Quen flushed as I used the elf name he'd given himself, but Jenks flew almost into my face. "You're not going into that purple line. You saw what it did to Al." He spun to Quen, an alarmed gold dust making a sunbeam on the table. "It fried his aura, and they both almost died!"

Ignoring him, I chewed on my lip. "I'd be careful," I said, then stifled a shiver. What if I got sucked into it by mistake? Or Ku'Sox shoved me?

"You're not going out there!" Jenks shrilled, and Quen winced, looking at the closet door. "It's not safe, and you know it!"

"When is my life safe?" I said, trying not to get riled up. "Trent could spot me if I used Al's rings. Would that make you happy?"

Jenks dropped several inches before he remembered to move his wings. Still leaning against the cabinet, Quen seemed to stiffen. I knew being almost helpless bothered him. "Al's rings?" Jenks scoffed, coming down and kicking at the gloves I'd taken off. "You think demon magic is going to work with an elf?"

My eyes went to Quen. He was frowning in thought. "I don't know. You got anything on demon wedding rings?" I asked, but he was already at the cabinet, putting his gloves back on. "I yanked Al's soul out of that event horizon using a pair of rings," I babbled. "They sort of melted our minds together." Jenks made a face, his dust shifting green. "Not like that," I said. "It was weird, though, as if I could pull on his strength, and he could pull on mine."

"Without asking?" Quen reached high to pull down a slim volume. It was falling apart and had no title, so I figured it was a demon text. "You sure they weren't slave rings?"

Chastity rings sounded far more slavelike than Al's rings. "Pretty sure," I said as Jenks peered over Quen's shoulder. "The connection felt equal. Like a scrying mirror but more complex, sort of like the difference between a phone call and talking in person. Al said the rings made an unbreakable connection," I said, stifling a shudder at the memory of feeling his pain, then squishing the thought of what sex might feel like. Da-a-amn . . . Feeling two orgasms at once might be worth the invasion of privacy.

Quen eyed me in my sudden silence, setting the volume down before me and pointedly handing me my gloves. I put them on, my curiosity growing as Quen opened it to almost the last page. "I think what you want is here."

No matter how I tugged the gloves, they felt too tight, but I smiled as I saw the rough drawings. It faded as I read what the demon rings were actually for. Increased sexual pleasure was on there, but they were really created as an implement of war, allowing a sort of superdemon able to overpower elves and whatever more easily. There was no clear master or subordinate ring as there was in the elf chastity rings. How they decided what curse to war with was up for debate, but perhaps that never came up in the heat of battle? I thought it interesting that it was assumed that it took two demons to overpower wild, elven magic. One thing was clear, though. The two people wearing them had no defense against each other if there was treachery. Wedding bands, indeed.

"Look, there it is," Jenks said, his dust sinking through the pages to make them glow from underneath. "Demon use only. You don't make something your enemy can use."

He was right, but I wasn't going to give up on this, and leaning back in my chair, I racked my brain for an answer. "Well, why not use the chastity rings?" I said suddenly, and Quen started. "You said they made a bond. If it's tight enough to quash someone's magic, I bet it's tight enough to pull me out of trouble."

Hunched over the book, Quen's eyes came to mine. "Those are elven chastity rings, not demon wedding bands," he almost growled.

"Right." I pushed my chair out and went over to them. "But he could yank me back. Just like Al's wedding rings!"

They were both staring at me as if I was nuts, but I knew it would work. It had to.

"They're broken," Quen said, and Jenks bobbed his head up and down. "The knowledge to make new ones is gone. The women burned all the texts."

"Big surprise." Not ready to let this go, I looked at them on their little black saucer. One was tiny, like a child's ring, which made sense if it was to keep young people in line. "I know someone who can bring spent ley line charms back to life," I said as I picked them both up.

Quen made a small sound, and I jiggled them in my hand.

"Pierce!" Jenks exclaimed, his wings a harsh rattle. "You're talking about Pierce! He's Newt's familiar! Rache, what have you been putting in your coffee?"

Smiling, I looked at the rings in my palm. Quen was right. They were dead. Not even a whisper of magic.

"Don't put the little one on!" Quen said as I angled it to my pinkie to see if it would fit, and I hesitated. "That's the subservient ring. Once it goes on, it doesn't come off until the master ring allows it."

Oh. Thinking, I jiggled the rings just to watch Quen's reaction. "You said they don't work."

"You want to risk it? Go ahead. Put it on."

Jenks came to hover over them, frowning in disapproval. "Even if you could get the rings reinvoked, Pierce is in the ever-after," he said, kicking the larger one into the smaller. It made a ping that seemed to echo through me.

"Why are you two always Debbie downers?" I said, closing my fingers around them.

Jenks landed on my closed fist. "Just what do you plan to do? Call Newt and ask her to pop you over? She's nuts!"

From behind me, Trent's soft voice said, "She doesn't have to."

I spun, warming as if I'd been caught stealing his stuff again. Shit, how long had he been there?

"Sorry," he said as he came farther in and took his hand from the closed door. "I didn't want to wake Ray up."

Sure, that's what he said, but Jenks was smirking at me, and Quen seemed smug that I was the only one Trent had surprised. His manner quick, Trent held out his hand, and I dropped the rings into them. He smelled like the outdoors, and of Ellasbeth's perfume. I stifled a surge of pique. There was a new drive in him, a purpose. He could again be what the elves wanted, and I forced myself to smile.

Quen looked pained as he stood there, but I couldn't tell if it was because of his injuries or because Trent was behind me on this. "How do you propose she get there, Sa'han?"

Trent looked up, eager to explain. "My father's vault door."

"Perfect!" I exclaimed softly.

"Oh God," Jenks muttered. "They're at it again. I'm not going to get out of this one alive. I know it. I can see the web on the wall already!"

"Relax, Jenks." I took Trent's hand and turned it palm up so I could gently pry his fingers open. "You're not going." My eyes met Trent's, and I took the rings. "You either."

Trent's expression cascaded through about six different emotions, all finally vanishing under a cold calm. "I am a part of this," he warned me.

"Obviously," I said as I backed up out of his easy reach. He was still wearing the matching pinkie ring, and something in me felt like it was a victory. "I'll get the rings working, not you. I know you. You'll get over there, and you'll do something noble and throw everything off plan."

"I will not!"

"You will!" I affirmed. "Besides, if I'm over there slumming in the mall looking for Pierce, everyone will think I'm taking care of Al. If you're there, it will be noticed."

Looking as if he were eating slugs, Trent dropped his head, making his bangs fall into his eyes. He knew I was right, and it was killing him.

"Those are my rings and my door," Trent said, his head coming up and holding his hand out. "I'm going."

Chin high, I refused to back up-but my hand was in a tight fist, hiding them. I had a fleeting memory of having done something like this before involving a key and the counselor's locked office. "It's my old boyfriend, so you stay. I'll get the rings working, and then we can go out to the line and see what we can do. Deal?"

"Ah, Sa'han?" Quen interrupted.

At the we, Trent's entire mien shifted from frustration to sour acceptance. Backing off, he licked his thumb and held it out, a challenging slant to his expression. My heart pounded. "Deal," he said, and I licked my thumb and we pressed them together.

Quen hunched into himself in disgust. Jenks was on his shoulder shedding a weird purple dust, but I was ecstatic. "You won't follow me," I insisted, and Trent looked up from under his bangs again, making my heart stop with his half smile.

"I just thumb promised, didn't I?"

Yes, he had thumb promised, and that he wouldn't dare break. Or I'd throw him down the camp well and leave him there for three days.