Chapter Twenty-seven

"Damn it," Trent swore softly, his eyes on Ceri as Quen halted.

The air seemed to crackle, but then I realized it was Jenks's wings. The pixy hovered beside me, waiting for direction. I could feel Ceri behind me, but I couldn't take my eyes off Quen, standing with his lips parted and his arms slack at his sides in his black uniform.

Slowly I straightened from my crouch. Ceri came forward, smelling of soap, in a fresh dress of purple and gold that hid her bare feet when she stopped beside me. Her crucifix rested easy against her, and her confidence was absolute. As was her anger.

"Uh, Ceri," I said, not knowing what else to do, "that man in the suit is Trenton Aloysius Kalamack, drug lord, murderer, and Fortune 30 member. That's Quen before him, his security officer. Trent, Quen, this is Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate, originally from the Dark Ages of Europe." Let's get this party started!

Trent's face was white. "How long were you listening... ?"

Ceri's narrow chin lifted. "Long enough."

I blanched when I realized that the humming noise was coming from Ceri and the black haze edging her fingers with their little butterfly bandages was magic waiting for direction. Oh, crap.

"Uh, Rachel..." Jenks said, his voice high.

A shiver took me at her proud anger. "Let's hang back, Jenks. This might get nasty."

The warning slant to Trent's eyebrows told me he wanted to pretend nothing had happened so he could make Ceri's acquaintance without the ugly reality of his life intruding. Ri-i-i-i-ight...

Multicolored sun coming in through the stained-glass windows added a surreal look to the standoff. Quen was by the piano, and when the older elf stepped to join Trent, Ceri calmly turned her gaze to him. Quen stopped. Seeing his acquiescence, the black surrounding her hands vanished.

My shoulders eased when I felt her drop the ley line. I knew she probably had enough ever-after spindled in her head to blow the roof off the church, but Trent and Quen didn't.

"Now that I've found you, I see that Rachel is right," Ceri said as she gracefully took the middle of the room, her dress moving gently. "You're a demon."

"I beg your pardon?" Trent's beautiful voice held more ire than confusion.

I didn't have a clue how this was going to end, but I was glad to be out of the line of fire. Ceri noticed Quen moving to mirror my position, and she stiffened, pale hair shifting as she cocked her head regally. "Did Rachel tell you I was a demon's familiar before she rescued me?" she said to Trent. Seeing his understanding, she continued, "I know demons very well. And that's what they do. They offer you something that looks out of your reach in exchange for something they want that is out of theirs. They're called businessmen here. You're very good."

His face reddened. "This is not how I wanted to make your acquaintance."

"I'll bet," Ceri said. The modern phrase and the sarcasm with which she said it were shocking.

Proud and collected in his tailored suit, Trent fingered his gift and came closer, hiding his tension under a practiced calm learned in the boardroom. I couldn't help but be impressed with his determination to try to salvage something from this.

"I brought you a gift," he said, extending the wrapped box. "A show of thanks for your cellular sample."

Jenks landed on my shoulder. "The man has more balls than a prize bull," he muttered, and the rims of Ceri's ears colored. She didn't take it, and Trent finally set it atop the piano.

Ignoring him, Ceri turned to Quen. "You hesitated to attack Rachel at first. Why?"

Quen blinked, clearly not expecting this. "Rachel's strongest defensive abilities are in her physical skills, not her magic," he said, his gravelly voice blending beautifully with Ceri's smooth, perfect tones. "I'm proficient with both, and it wouldn't be honorable to defeat her using something she can't defend against when I can assert my will where she has a chance to meet me equally."

From my shoulder came Jenks's loud comment, "Piss on my daisies, I knew there was something I liked about the little cookie maker."

"That's important to you?" Ceri questioned regally, ignoring Jenks's comment.

Quen dropped his head, but his eyes were unrepentant from beneath his dark bangs. Trent shifted his feet. I knew it was a ploy to bring her attention to him, but Ceri smiled at Quen. "There is a spark of us left," she said, then took a breath as if readying herself for a difficult task.

Outside, pixies plastered themselves against the glass, and I felt a stab of nervousness when Ceri returned her focus to Trent. Seeing them together, I was struck by how much they looked alike. Their hair was that same fine, almost-transparent blond, their features both had the same delicate yet firm cast. Slim without losing strength. Strength without sacrificing beauty.

"I've been watching you for some time," Ceri said softly. "You're very confusing. Very confused. You have forgotten nothing, but you don't know how to use it."

Trent's expression almost hid his anger. Almost. "Mai Sa'han - "

Ceri's breath hissed, and she dropped back a step, dress furling to show her bare feet. "Don't," she said, complexion a delicate rose. "Not from you."

Quen twitched when she reached for her waistband, and she froze him with a look as she pulled a swab in a torn cellophane package from it. I recognized it as one of mine. "I came to give you this," she said, handing it to Trent. "But since I have your attention..."

Jenks's wings made spurts of cool wind on my neck, and the tension escalated. Ceri tapped a line, and her hair shifted in a breeze that touched only her. I thought I sensed a metallic taste on my tongue. My face cold, I looked over the sanctuary as if expecting a demon to melt into existence, but then my gaze fell upon Ceri, and I blanched.

"Holy crap..."Jenks breathed, his wings going absolutely motionless.

Ceri had gone deathly still, gathering intent and power about her as if supplementing her damaged aura. Her undeniable beauty was like that of a fairy, savage and pale, face hollow, hard and unyielding. Quen didn't move as she closed in on Trent, near enough that her hair mingled with his. Near enough that she could pull his aura into her as she breathed.

"I am black," she said, and a shudder rippled through me. "I am foul with a thousand years of demon curses. Don't cross me or I will bring you and your house down. Rachel is the only clean thing I have, and you won't sully her to further your high ideas. Understand?"

A hard expression replaced Trent's shock, reminding me of who he was and what he was capable of. "You're not who I though you would be," he said, and Ceri let a cruel smile curve the corners of her mouth.

"I'm your worst nightmare come to walk this side of the lines. I'm an elf, Trent, something you've forgotten how to be. You're scared of black magic. I can see fear shimmering under your aura like sweat. I live and breathe black magic. I'm so tainted with it that I will use it without thought, without guilt, and without hesitation."

She stepped forward into his space, and Trent moved back. "Leave Rachel alone," she said, the words soft as rain and as commanding as a god's.

Ceri reached to touch him, and in a blinding fast motion, Quen bolted forward.

I took a breath to shout a warning, but Ceri spun, a hurling black ball of ever-after. "Finire!"

"Ceri!" I exclaimed, then cowered when it hit the circle Quen flung up and exploded into black sparkles.

Clearly ticked, Ceri strode to Quen, Latin spilling from her like black smoke. "Quis custodiot ipsos custodies?" she said wrathfully, then plunged a tiny white fist into his circle.

Quen stared in shock as his circle fell.

"Finire," Ceri said tightly, reaching for him, and when Quen grasped her wrist to do something, he froze, then dropped to the hardwood floor, out cold.

"Holy crap!" Jenks chirped from the rafters, and Ceri looked away from Quen. Anger made her pale beauty terrible.

"Ceri," I coaxed, then stopped when she rounded on me.

"Shut up!" she said, long hair flying. "I'm angry at you, too. No one has ever shoved me before in my entire life."

Mouth open, I looked at Trent. The shocked billionaire was backing to the door. "Excuse me," he said. "This was a mistake. If you will release Quen, I'll leave."

Ceri spun to him. "My apologies for keeping you from your next appointment. You're a very busy man," she said caustically, then turned her attention to Quen, slumped on the floor. "Is he a good person?" she asked abruptly.

Trent paused, and the metallic stench tickling my nose grew stronger. "Yes."

"You should listen to him more often," she said, crouching before him, her dress pooled like water turned to silk. "That's why we have others around us."

Jenks dropped down to me, and I wondered if Ceri thought of me like that. Sort of a servant with whom to talk things over.

Trent's eyes pinched in worry as Ceri muttered Latin, and a black shimmer of ever-after coated Quen. He snorted, the black splintering away to silver threads when his eyes opened. Scrambling up, he stood while Ceri found her feet with more grace. It was obvious by his chagrined expression that he was surprised and humbled. I couldn't help but feel bad for the man. Ceri was a handful, even when she wasn't pushing us around.

"Did you see what I did?" she asked him seriously, and Quen nodded, his green eyes fixed upon her as if seeing his salvation. "Can you do it?" she asked him next.

Glancing at Trent, he nodded. "I can now that I've seen you do it," he said guiltily.

But Ceri smiled in delight. "He didn't know you practice the dark arts, did he?"

Quen looked down, then blinked when he realized she was barefoot. "No, Mai Sa'han," he said softly, and Trent shifted uncomfortably.

Ceri laughed, the wonderful sound cascading over me like cool water. "Perhaps we are alive yet," she said, touching the top of his hand as if they were old friends. "Keep him safe if you can. He's an idiot."

Trent cleared his throat, but they were lost in each other's attention.

"It's what he was made into, Mai Sa'han," Quen said, kissing the top of her hand, the gesture full of grace. "He had no choice."

Ceri sniffed as she drew her hand from Quen. "Well, he does now," she said saucily. "See if you can't remind him of who and what he is."

With a respectful nod, Quen turned to me. I, too, was given that same head bob, but mine was accompanied by a smirk I couldn't decipher. Jenks sighed from my shoulder, and I found myself rocking back off the balls of my toes. It seemed to be over.

"Just a minute," I said, jiggling on my feet. "Don't leave yet. Ceri, don't let them leave."

Both men froze when Ceri smiled at them, and I jogged into my room. Snatching the two garment bags, I hustled back. I was alive -  check. Still had the focus - check. Introduced Trent and Ceri - check. I'm kind of hungry. Wonder what I've got in the fridge? My eyes widened, now that I realized what that metallic stench was. Damn it, I had left the kettle over the flame, and it had gone dry.

"Here," I said, dumping the two dresses into Trent's arms. "I'm not working your lame-ass wedding. I'd refund your money, but you haven't given me any."

Trent's face was murderously furious, and he dropped them on the floor. Turning on a heel, he stiffly walked out the door, leaving it open behind him. I heard his feet on the sidewalk and the sound of a car door opening and shutting, then nothing.

Quen made an elegant bow to Ceri, who drew her dress up and curtsied back, shocking me. Hesitating, Quen bowed again to me, and I gave him a sloppy see-you-later salute. Like I could curtsy? His dark face smiling, Quen followed Trent out and quietly shut the door.

My exhaled breath seemed to be very loud.

"Holy crap," Jenks said, leaving my shoulder to make circles around Ceri. "That was the damnedest thing I've ever seen!"

As if it had been a signal, the sanctuary was abruptly pixy-filled. My head started to hurt, and though I was obviously happy with how this had ended, I was worried, too. I had to get rid of the focus as soon as possible. "Ceri," I said, waving pixy kids from my path as I flung the discarded dresses over the back of the couch and hotfooted it into the kitchen to turn off the burner, "just what am I to you anyway? "

She had followed me, and I was surprised to see Trent's gift in her hand when I glanced over my shoulder. "My friend," she said simply.

The stink was awful in the kitchen, and I wedged the window higher. See, this was why I liked coffee. You couldn't screw up making coffee. Even the bad stuff was good.

Using a hot pad, I moved the black kettle to the sink, the pops of superheated water startling me when the kettle hit the damp porcelain. "You want some coffee?" I said, at a loss for what to do. I knew she'd rather have tea, but not made in something so dirty on the outside.

"I like him," she said wistfully, and I spun, shocked at the shy tone.

"Quen?" I stammered, remembering him kiss her hand.

She was standing in the threshold to the kitchen, a dreamy look on her face where a powerful anger had just been. "No," she said, as if mystified at my confusion. "Trent. He's so deliciously innocent. And with all that power."

I stared at her as she took the lid off the gift box he had left and plucked an opal the size of a chicken's egg from it. Holding it up to the light, she sighed, "Trenton Aloysius Kalamack..."

Chapter Twenty-eight

The sun had shifted across to the far wall of the kitchen, and I sat at the table wearing one of Jenks's human-size shirts over a black chemise. I had it on for the comfort factor; I wasn't looking forward to going to the morgue again. To my left was that jar of jalapeño salsa and a tomato for Glenn. To my right a cup of long-cold coffee sat beside my cell and the land line. Neither one was ringing. It was a quarter after noon, and Glenn was late. I hated waiting.

Leaning closer to the table, I eased another coat of clear polish over my index fingernail. The odor of acetone mixed with the scent of the herbs hanging over the center island counter, and the sound of Jenks's kids was a balm as they played hide-and-seek in the garden. Three more pixies were braiding my hair, Jenks playing supervisor to prevent a repeat of "the snarl incident."

"No, not that way, Jeremy," Jenks said, and I stiffened. "You go under Jocelynn, then over Janice before you do the double back. There, that's it. Got the pattern?"

A weary chorus of "Yes, Dad," brought a smile to my face, and I tried not to move as I painted my thumbnail. I could hardly feel the tugs on my hair as they worked. Finished, I capped the bottle and held my hand up for inspection. A deep, almost maroon red.

I brought my hand closer, noticing that the faint scar on my knuckle was gone, undoubtedly erased along with my freckles after I'd used that demon curse to Were this spring. I'd gotten the scar from falling through the screen door when I had been ten. Robbie had pushed me, and after he dried my tears and put a bandage on it, I sucker-punched him in the gut. Which sort of left me wondering if Ceri would be landing one on me when I least expected it.

Robbie and I had come up with this wild story that the neighbor's dog had tried to jump through it. Looking back now, I was sure Mom and Dad knew that the black Lab had nothing to do with the broken screen, but they hadn't said anything, probably proud that we'd settled our differences, then hung together to escape punishment. I rubbed my thumb against the smooth skin of my finger, sad the scar was gone.

The draft from Jenks's wings brushed my hand. "What are you smiling about?"

My gaze fell upon my phone, and I wondered if Robbie would return my call if I left a message. I wasn't working for the I.S. anymore. "I was thinking about my brother."

"That is so weird," Jenks said. "One brother. I had twenty-four when I left."

Focus blurring, I tightened the cap on the polish, thinking that when he had left home, it had been as if they had died. He knew it was a one-way trip to Cincy. He was stronger than I.

"Ow!" I yelped when someone pulled too hard. My hand came up to my head, and I turned, sending them whirling up in silk and dust. The polish was still tacky, and I froze.

"Okay, get out!" Jenks said authoritatively. "All of you. You're just playing now. Go on. Jeremy, check on your mother. I can finish Ms. Morgan's hair. Go on!"

The three of them rose up in complaint, and he pointed. Still protesting, they flew backward to the screen, all talking at once, apologizing and pleading, wringing their hands and twisting their pretty little faces into sad expressions that tugged on my heart.

"Out!" Jenks demanded, and one by one they slipped into the garden. Someone giggled, and they were gone. "Sorry, Rache," he said, flitting behind me. "Hold still."

"Jenks, it's fine. I'll just take it out."

"Get your hands out of your hair," he muttered. "Your polish isn't dry, and you aren't going out with a half-assed braid. You don't think I know how to braid hair? Tink's little red shoes, I'm old enough to be your father."

He wasn't, but I set my hand on the table and settled back, feeling soft tugs as he finished what his children had started. A heavy sigh shifted me, and Jenks asked, "Now what?" his tone unusually gruff to cover his embarrassment over messing with my hair. The sound of his wings was pleasant, and I could smell oak leaves and Queen Anne's lace.

My gaze went to Ivy's empty space, and the sound of his wings dropped in pitch. "You going to get her out?" he asked softly.

He had reached the ends of my hair, and I slowly leaned forward, pillowing my head on my folded arms. "I'm worried, Jenks."

Jenks harrumphed. "At least she didn't leave because you bit Kisten."

"I suppose," I said, the warmth of my breath coming back to me from the old wood.

There was a final tug, and Jenks flew to land on the table before me. I sat upright to feel the heavy weight of my braid. His tiny features pinched. "She may not want to leave Piscary."

My hand rose and fell in a gesture of frustration. "So I'm supposed to leave her there?"

Looking tired, Jenks sat cross-legged beside my abandoned coffee mug. "I don't like it either, but he's her master vampire - the one that protects her."

"And screws with her mind." Bothered, I rubbed at a nail, smoothing out a nick before the polish finished setting.

"You think you're strong enough to protect her? Against an undead master vampire?" Jenks asked.

I thought back to my conversation with Keasley in the garden. "No," I whispered, glancing at the clock. Where the devil is Glenn?

Jenks's wings blurred, and he rose four inches, still sitting crossed-legged. "Then let her get herself out. She'll be all right."

"Damn it, Jenks!" He started to laugh, which ticked me off. "There is nothing funny about this," I said, and, smirking, Jenks landed on the table.

"I had this same conversation with Ivy about you up in Mackinaw. She'll be all right."

My eyes went to the clock. "If she isn't, I'll kill him."

"No you won't," Jenks said, and I flicked my gaze to him. No, I wouldn't. Piscary kept Ivy safe from predation. When she came home, I'd make her a cup of cocoa, listen to her cry, and this time, damn it, I'd hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. Vampire culture sucks.

My eyes blurred, and I jumped when the front bell rang. "There he is," I said, chair scraping as I stood and yanked the waistband of my jeans up.

Jenks's wings were a subdued hum as I grabbed my phone and dropped it into my bag. My thoughts went to Piscary, and I added my splat gun. Then I thought about Trent, and I dropped the focus in there, too. Checking to see if I'd marred my nails, I slid the jar into my arms and picked up the tomato. "Ready, Jenks?" I said with a forced cheerfulness.

"Yup," he said, then shouted, "Jhan!"

The serious-minded pixy came in so fast I was sure he'd been on the gutters outside the window. "Watch your mother," Jenks said. "You know how to use my phone? "

"Yes, Dad," the eight-year-old said, and Jenks put a hand on his shoulder.

"Call Ms. Morgan if you need to reach me. Don't look for me, use the phone. Got it?"

"Yes, Da-a-a-a-ad." This time it carried a heavy exasperation, and I smiled, though I was dying inside. Jhan was assuming more responsibility to take his dad's place in the next few years. Pixy life spans suck.

"Jenks," I said as I shifted the jar of sauce to my hip, "it's noon. If you want to sit this one out, that's fine. I know you nap this time of day."

"I'm fine, Rachel," he said darkly. "Let's go."

To insist would only tick him off, so we headed out. My vamp-made boots clumped on the hardwood floor of the sanctuary, and after setting the jar on the table by the door, I fumbled in my bag for my sunglasses. I wrangled them on one-handed and pulled the door open.

"I got that sauce you wanted, Glenn," I said, then looked up. I was getting tired of finding unexpected people on my stoop. Maybe I ought to spend an afternoon with a drill and put in one of those peepholes. How expensive could they be?

"Hey, David, what's up?" I said, taking him in. He was out of his usual suit, wearing a soft gray suede tuck-in shirt and pair of jeans instead. His face was absolutely clean-shaven, and a long, dull scratch marked his cheek and neck. Behind him at the curb, his gray sports car idled.

"Rachel." His quick gaze darted to Jenks. "Jenks," he added. Standing a step back, the usually collected Were took a steadying breath, reaching to straighten his missing jacket. His hand clenched as if reaching for the handle of his briefcase. My worry intensified.

"What?" I said, expecting the worst.

David looked behind him at his car. "I need your help. Serena, my girlfriend, needs a heavy painkiller." His eyes were pinched when they met mine. "I would have phoned, but I think the FIB has tapped my line. She Wered, Rachel. My God, she actually Wered."

"Holy crap," Jenks said.

Tense, I took my shades off and set the tomato down beside the sauce. "The full moon isn't until Monday. That's when the others first Wered."

His head bobbing, David fidgeted. "I told her about the women in the morgue. I told her I was sorry, and that she probably wouldn't be able to stop from Wereing on Monday unless she gained some control over it between now and then." Brown eyes pleading for forgiveness, he added, "So I walked her through it, or I tried. She's not built for it," he said, his voice cracking. "Weres came from humans, but we've evolved apart from them for too long. It's not supposed to hurt this bad. She is in too much pain. Do you have a charm? A potion? Anything."

Lately I'd begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints. "I have three with me right now," I said, reaching behind me to shut the door. "Let's go."

David took the steps two at a time. Jenks was a flash of wings, and I brought up the rear, slipping into the passenger's side as David slammed his door shut. I thought that a curse that turned humans into Weres was stupid if it hurt too much to be of any use, but then again the focus enabled alphas to pack together to eliminate the pain of shifting, so maybe there was some sense to it.

"Hey!" I protested when the car started moving before I had my door shut. Ignoring me, David scanned the street as I buckled myself in, bracing against the dash when he took a corner too fast. Weres had excellent reflexes, but this was pushing it. "David. Slow down."

"I've doped her up on bane," he said, managing the wheel with one hand as he fastened his belt with the other. "I can't let her wake up and find me gone. The pain is killing her. I don't think it's going to stop until she turns back. This was a mistake. God, what have I done?"

My fingers felt the outline of the focus in its lead-lined bag. I didn't think the artifact was going to help. The dulling of pain happened when Were packs combined into a round. The focus only allowed them to do it more efficiently.

"David, slow down!" I repeated, when he came out onto a one-way, driving like he was in the Indy 500. Jenks hugged the stem of the rear-view mirror. He looked a little green. "The I.S. is watching for me," I added. "They usually have a cruiser in the church up on the right."

David slowed, a shaky hand on the wheel. The lot was empty, and he picked up speed.

"What do you mean the FIB has tapped your line?" I asked as we got on the interstate to cross the river from the Hollows to Cincinnati. "They can't do that."

"They did," David said grimly. "Officer Glenn thinks I'm responsible for the Were deaths. Not just the suicides, but all of them. Thinks I'm a Jack the Ripper meets Mr. Hyde."

I made a scoffing bark of laughter, then tensed when he darted across the path of a semi. "It's Trent," I said in the fading adrenaline. "He told me himself. And watch what you're doing. God! You're a worse driver than Ivy!"

David gave me a quick look. "Trent Kalamack? What for?"

Jenks's wings were an odd shade of green. "He's after the focus," the ill pixy said. "He found out this morning that Rachel has it."

"Damn me back to my mother's bitch," David swore softly. "Do you have it? Is it safe?"

My head bobbed. "I'm going to give it to Piscary to put it back into hiding."

"Rachel!" David exclaimed, and I pointed to the truck stopped at the red light just off the bridge.

"I can't keep it safe," I said as he hit the brakes. "What am I supposed to do with it? I don't have enough magic to hide it once someone knows I've got it. At least Piscary has enough clout to keep people from drugging him into telling where it is."

David's eyes were worried. "But it belongs to the Weres."

The light changed, and I held my breath until I was sure David wasn't going to dart around the truck ahead of us, but the usually uber-safety-conscious Were just fumed at the slow acceleration. "Believe me," I said softly, "if there was a way I could give it to the Weres, I would, but it's demon-crafted, and all it's going to do is cause problems. Change is needed, but slow, not fast. Otherwise..." I thought of his girlfriend's pain.

"A Were should hide it, then," he offered.

"Who, David?" I demanded, frustrated, and Jenks's wings shifted nervously. "You? We tried that. Mr. Ray? Mrs. Sarong? How about Vincent? He had three packs bound to him, and they were savage. Every one of them channeling the power of an alpha but lacking the restraint that evolved with the alpha position."

Silently his jaw clenched, and I continued. "You don't become an alpha, you're born that way. They couldn't handle it. Change has to come slow. It's like your girlfriend trying to Were without the mental and physical cushion a thousand years of evolution gave you."

David's grip on the wheel eased, and I relaxed. "Maybe it's not time yet?" I said softly, bracing myself as he made a quick right into his apartment complex.

"Ah, that doesn't look good," Jenks said, and David's face went empty of emotion. I followed their gazes to the parking lot, and my stomach sank. There were two I.S. cruisers, three from the FIB, and a multispecies ambulance.

"It's okay," I said, reaching for my seat belt. "I don't think they're at your apartment."

Saying nothing, David pulled up as close as he could get, fumbling with his seat belt, swearing until it released. "It's my apartment. My curtains were closed. They're open now. And Serena couldn't be awake yet." Leaving the keys in the ignition, he lurched out of the car, steps crisp and intent as he headed for his door.

I slowly got out to stand wedged between the car and the open door, my arms on the roof. Jenks landed on my shoulder, and we said nothing when an I.S. officer stopped David on the threshold. They spoke briefly, and I felt sick as the man cuffed him. David looked broken but offered no resistance, knowing that to fight would give them a reason to throw him in a cell and forget about him to the limit of the law.

Someone moved past the upstairs window, and I gripped my bag tighter, glad I had the focus, since the I.S. was taking the opportunity to search David's apartment. His cat was watching me from a second window, and it skittered away before a dark figure passed by it. "What are we going to do, Jenks?" I whispered.

Jenks's wings cooled my neck, and I squinted in the glare as they bundled David into a cruiser. "Jenks?" I said, and the pitch of the pixy's wings shifted.

"See you back at the church," he said, darting off to eavesdrop on them.

I held my breath as he hovered over the lot, dropping like a stone to dart inside the cruiser with David when no one was looking. I wished him well as the cruiser eased forward, hesitating briefly before pulling into traffic. 'Bye, David.

My breath slipped from me, long and slow. Leaning into the car, I retrieved David's keys and dropped them in my bag. I'd find another way home, but I'd need his keys to get in to feed his cat. Damn it. I'd seen this before, and it hadn't ended well.

I shut David's car door with a thump, and my blood pressure spiked when I spotted Glenn's trim silhouette headed for me from across the lot. "Well, at least I know now why you didn't show for our date at the morgue!" I shouted across the distance between us.

His pace was purposeful, but his head was bowed in what I hoped was guilt. "I'm sorry Rachel," the ex - military officer said as he halted beside me.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed, more than a little upset at Glenn's overzealous Boy Scout mentality. "Whatever David's been arrested for, he didn't do it! I was with Trent this morning, and he flat-out told me he was the one murdering the Weres to find that stupid-ass statue."

Glenn didn't look any happier, his stud earrings making an odd statement next to his otherwise eminently professional mien. "I'm really glad to hear you say that," he said, putting his hands behind his back and all but pinning me to the car with his too-close presence.

Taken aback, I felt my anger slow. "So... you're going to let him go?"

Head shaking, he squinted to look worried. "No, but if Mr. Kalamack can verify that you were with him this morning, I can keep the I.S. from arresting you right now."

I felt myself pale. "Me?" I stammered. "What for?"

"For aiding and abetting the murder of Brett Markson." His gaze went to my bag. "You got anything in there I need to know about? "

Adrenaline surged, and I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. "I've got my splat gun, but I don't need a permit for it. And this is crap, Glenn. I just told you Trent murdered them. All of them. The three Jane Wolves were accidents and have nothing to do with the murders."

Glenn pulled himself straighter, his hands still laced behind his back. "Rachel, could you step away from the car and come with me, please? And give me your purse."

My mouth dropped open. "Am I under arrest?" I said loudly, clutching my bag closer. Crap, I had the focus in there.

"No one is arresting you - yet," he said, his expression pained. "Please, Rachel. If you don't cooperate, the I.S. will handle your questioning. I'm trying to jump ahead of them here."

That was all the encouragement I needed. Feeling very alone for the lack of Jenks, I handed him my bag. It looked funny in his grip, and he gestured with a free hand for me to accompany him. Shaking inside, I fell into step beside him. We were moving steadily to the FIB van - the one with the metal mesh in the windows. "Talk to me, Glenn."

"Mr. David Hue was seen talking to Mr. Markson last night," he said unhappily. "Today the victim was found dead in Mr. Hue's apartment Dumpster with your card in his wallet. Mr. Hue admits to having relations with the three Jane Wolves now in the morgue, and when officers came to question him, they found a heavily sedated Were woman showing signs of assault."

My knees went watery. This looked really bad, and I was glad I'd told Glenn about the focus earlier. "Serena was human, Glenn. The focus turned her. David was helping her to learn to control it before the full moon so she would know what was coming and be able to deal with it. He doped her up in bane so he could get me to help with her pain. That's all that it is!"

Glenn glared at me, his brown eyes full of warning. "Lower your voice."

Eyes dropping, I frowned, listening to the distinctive radio chatter. "Sorry," I said, then scuffed to a halt before we got much closer to that open van. "David did not kill Brett," I said firmly. "The three women in the morgue were tragic accidents. Serena is trying to deal with what happened, and David is doing the best he can. You should be arresting Trent, not David."

"Rachel, stop."

"He told me he did it!" I exclaimed. "Why does no one believe me?"

Glenn leaned close, and I stiffened, using every ounce of will to not break his hold when he took my shoulder. "Shut. Up," he said tightly, so close I could smell the sweat under his aftershave. "Everyone with a badge knows you hate Kalamack. I can't ask for a warrant to arrest him because you said he told you he did it."

I made a scoffing noise, then yelped when he yanked me closer.

"I believe you, Rachel," Glen said, almost whispering into my ear. "That man is slime. And I'm going to look into it."

"Look into it," I taunted, then winced when Glenn pinched my shoulder.

"I said I'm going to look into it, and if I find something, I'll let you know." He let go of me. "Just hang tight. You're no help to me if you're in jail."

Dropping back a step, I watched the ambulance crew bring Serena out. They had used a witch spell to trigger her return to her human shape. From what I could see, she looked like the women in the morgue, a trim outline showing under the stretcher's sheet, her long brown hair in disarray. David clearly had a preferred look to his women. Though she was unconscious, pain had drawn her face into lines.

"David didn't hurt her," I whispered as the ambulance crew loaded her in the back.

"Then he'll be released when she regains consciousness and tells us that," Glenn said.

I turned to Glenn, tears of frustration blurring my vision. "If we lived in a perfect world."

My nose tickled with the scent of incense, and I spun. Denon was behind me, clearly amused that he had startled me. He looked better, almost his old self and dressed in his usual polo shirt and slacks that showed off his narrow waist and his muscular legs. Obviously some dead vamp had been at him, giving a little back to boost his morale. It was in his attitude. My pulse quickened at the reminder of the I.S. officers bundling David into cuffs, and I backed up into Glenn. "Denon," I said stiffly, telling myself I wasn't afraid of him but of what he could do to me under the flag of I.S. justice.

"Morgan," the big man said, his deep, beautiful voice sounding like chocolate milk given sound. His gaze slid to Glenn behind me. "Officer Glenn."

I shivered, his voice creeping up my spine with the subtlety of velvet. Damn, someone had been playing with him, all right. Glenn seemed to have noticed, too, for all he did was nod.

Denon smiled to show his flat teeth. "Morgan, it gives me great pleasure to take you in for questioning in conjunction with the murder of Brett Markson."

My breath caught when he reached for me, and I fell back into Glenn's solid weight. Flustered, I pulled myself straight. "I have an alibi, Denon. Back off."

People were watching, and Denon arched his eyebrows. "The time of Markson's death was put at seven. You were asleep, and I know no one was with you. Seeing as both your boyfriend and your roommate were with Piscary at the time." He leered.

I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't think about it. "I was having an early-morning meeting with Mr. Kalamack," I said, keeping my voice soft so he wouldn't hear it shake.

Denon's eyes widened, cracking his cocky attitude and giving me a measure of strength.

"You know how humans are," I added, sliding sideways so if I had to move, I wouldn't bump Glenn, but Glenn shifted with me. "The way they insist everyone keep to their time clock. No respect for other cultures."

Brown eyes narrowing, Denon drew an obscenely thin cell phone out of a belt holster. His brown fingers hitting the buttons carefully, he appeared to scroll through a list of numbers. "You won't mind if I verify that."

I froze, not knowing if Trent would tell the truth. "Be my guest," I said boldly.

People were closing in around us. I could feel them. Glenn edged closer. "Rachel..."

My gaze flicked to his, and I felt small between the two black men. "Trent was with me," I insisted. But will he admit to that? I thought, cringing when I remembered how we had parted. Probably not.

"Mr. Kalamack, please," Denon said pleasantly, and I heard a woman's voice. "Of course, ma'am. This is Officer Denon from the I.S." Denon smiled at me as the call was put through. "Mr. Kalamack," he said cheerfully. "I apologize for interrupting your afternoon. I know you're busy, and this will only take a moment. I need you to verify that you were with Ms. Rachel Morgan this morning between seven and seven-thirty."

I swallowed hard, wanting my splat gun, tucked away in my bag. It was probably a good thing that Glenn had it.

Denon's eyes flicked to me. "No, sir," he said into the tiny phone. "Yes, sir. Thank you. You have a good day, too." Face empty of emotion, Denon snapped the phone shut.

"Well?" I asked. I was sweating. Even a human could see it.

"You act as if you don't know the answer," he said smoothly.

From behind me Glenn shifted. "Officer Denon, are you arresting Ms. Morgan or not?"

I held my breath. Denon's big hands clenched and released. "Not today," he said, forcing a smile. Exhaling, I tossed a strand of hair that had escaped Jenks's braid and tried to look confident.

"You're lucky, witch," Denon said as he rocked back a graceful step. "I don't know what star you're wishing on, but it's about to fall." And with that, he spun and walked away.

"Yeah, and angels cry when good men die," I said, wishing he would find a new book of cliches to memorize. Relieved, I reached for my shoulder bag, still in Glenn's possession. "Give me that," I said, yanking it to me.

The car Denon had gotten into drove away with a tiny squeak of tires.

Head down in thought, Glenn pointed me to an unmarked FIB car: big, black, and sporting blocky lines. "I'll get you home," he said, and I obediently headed for it.

"Trent told the truth," I said, our steps matching perfectly. "I don't get it. He could have gotten me in jail, then searched the church for the focus at his leisure."

Glenn opened the door for me, and I slipped inside, enjoying the courtesy.

"Maybe he's worried someone saw him," Glenn mused aloud, then shut my door.

"Maybe he was using Ceri and me as his alibi," I muttered as Glenn went around the front and got in. I grimaced, thinking, How sick is that? Using meeting a beautiful woman like Ceri as an alibi while one of your peons was shoving someone into a Dumpster for you. Glenn started the car, and we waited for the ambulance to leave before us, the lights off and moving slow.

"David won't be taking the blame for this," I said in determination, clutching my bag on my lap. Maybe Trent told the truth because he knew I had the focus with me, and if the I.S. got it, it would make his task to retrieve it a lot harder?

"I hope you're right." Glenn's voice was distant as he looked both ways before pulling out. "I really hope you're right. Because if Mr. Hue is officially charged with the murders, the I.S. is going to come after you for aiding and abetting, even with that alibi. David asking you for help looks really bad."

Settling myself into the leather seats, I put an elbow on the open window and stared at nothing. "Swell," I whispered to no one. My life sucks.