Chapter Four

If looks could kill, my face would show the imprint of Jenks's thoughts. The irate pixy was sitting on the rearview mirror of Trent's big black car, heels thumping the glass and scowling at me as a green dust sifted from him, sparkling in the sun before it hit the dash to make an evil puddle, then spilling to the floor. Ivy was in the front passenger seat, talking softly to Quen about the success he'd had with Trent's highly experimental treatment to make vampire neurotoxins dormant. I could tell it bothered Trent that they were discussing the illegal, high-risk procedure, and the only reason it didn't bother me was because it wouldn't help Ivy in her quest to be free of her vampirism. She was a vampire, and making the neurotoxins dormant in her wouldn't save her soul when she died.

No, she expected me to do that.

Crossing my knees, I looked out the tinted window. We were passing through a weird mix of airport and industry on our way to long-term parking, and I felt cut off. The light making it through the tint was ugly, and it made me uneasy. No one was looking at us. We were just another black car. That made me uncomfortable, too.

From the far side of the backseat, Trent said, "Quen, could we have the roof open?"

Their conversation never hesitated as Quen touched a button and the small square of roof slid back to let the wind and sun roll in. I couldn't stop my sigh of relief, and I settled back into the comfortable leather. I hadn't meant to telegraph my unease, but I thought it telling that Trent was trying to make me more comfortable. Taking a deep breath, I tucked a stray curl behind my ear and looked at him. I'd called his bluff and was still alive. It must irritate him to no end.

He met my eyes and simpered, destroying any illusion I might have had about him being miffed with me. Damn it, he had warned me that I wouldn't be able to fly, and it rankled that I'd have to admit he was right. That jet of his was looking easy. Easy like a demon curse, and those always came back to smack you.

I smiled back, thinking of that curse I owed him. He wouldn't kill me for delaying it, but I was pushing him, and he would push back eventually. That he wasn't dressed for revenge, having gone extremely casual today, made me feel better, and whereas Quen was in his usual black outfit that looked somewhat like a uniform crossed with a martial artist's robe, Trent was wearing jeans and a lightweight short-sleeved shirt. Instead of his thousand-dollar boardroom shoes, he had on brown boots, scuffed from the stables and comfortable.

I was sure his appearance had been painstakingly contrived to remind me of the evening we had ridden over his fields. His number one man, Jonathan, had died under a pack of dogs that night for having attempted to kill me without Trent's permission. Killing an enemy's enemy was probably elven tradition for cementing a new relationship, but that Trent had run his own man down like some perverted version of the Hunt left me cold. Trent had insisted that it hadn't been Jonathan out there and stayed with me while the horns blew and the dogs bayed, but I hadn't seen Jonathan since.

Green was truly Trent's color, and I wondered if the buttons of his shirt were real silver. The wind shifted the collar to show a wisp of hair, and I looked away, my pulse quickening. The moon had been new that night, and it had been wonderful riding as Trent tried to show me what it was like to rule creation with dogs singing for the blood of the one who had hurt me. It had left me feeling curiously...lofty.

And then he goes and does black magic in my kitchen? My attention flicked back to Trent, his expression open and wondering, clearly curious as to where my thoughts had gone. Looking toward the front through the quietly moving car, I sighed and said loudly, "Okay. I can't fly. You told me so. I'm still not getting on your jet. And I'm still not going to remove your familiar mark until I'm free of the coven."

Jenks made a rude sound and a burst of dust came from his wings.

Trent shifted in his seat, inadvertently giving away his mood. "I never offered the use of my jet. There you are, jumping to conclusions again, Ms. Morgan."

My runner instincts kicked in, a soothing adrenaline starting to flow. Trent was trying to look relaxed when he was almost sweating. "Jumping to conclusions is my only option when every third word out of your mouth is a half-truth," I shot back. "The Withons trying to kill you for standing up their daughter is a good story, except I know she walked out on you, not the other way around. You're still lying to me. No."

Quen's eyes flicked to mine by way of the rearview mirror. His conversation with Ivy had cut off, and the tension in the car spiked. "You don't need to know why I need to get to the coast," Trent said softly, and Quen's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Crap on toast, whatever it was, it was bad. "All you need to do is get me there," Trent finished.

Jenks's wings were humming a warning, and even Ivy looked worried as she turned in the front seat so she could see me. Her window made a soft sound as she cracked it.

"You're the only one Quen...trusts," Trent added, his gaze on his fingers in the shaft of early sun, gray through the tinted windows.

There was that word again, and I grimaced as I looked to Quen and he inclined his head at me in unspoken encouragement. Damn it, I didn't want to be responsible for Trent. I didn't even like Trent. "Just get your little elf butt on your private jet and go," I muttered, jealous that his money made everything easy for him.

"I can't," Trent explained patiently. "I can't take the train, either. Tradition says I have to go by land, and I need to be there by Sunday night."

"Two days!" I yelped. "By car? Are you nuts? What do you need to do on the West Coast in two days that you can't do by phone?"

Jenks's wings hummed as if he was going to join us in the back, but a look from Ivy stopped him. The car turned a corner and the sun shifted, coming in to touch my knee without warmth. Trent leaned back into the shadows, reluctant to answer. "What's on the West Coast?" I asked again. "Trent, if you want my help, treat me like a professional. I need to know. Especially if lame-ass assassins are going to be dogging us."

Quen sighed heavily, and at the sound Trent seemed to get mad. "It's my personal business," Trent said, glancing at the back of Quen's head. "No one will be hurt by it, and it doesn't touch on your upcoming trial."

"It's not a trial, it's a pardon," I said quickly, but we all knew he was right.

Trent looked at me across the seat, his green eyes almost black in the shadows. "If you can get me there by Sunday, I should have time to speak for you at the meeting as well," he said, earning a bark of laughter from Jenks. "That is, if my familiar curse is gone by then."

Carrots. Sweeter than vinegar but still unpalatable, I thought, remembering the drug-laced carrots I'd eaten once while a mink trapped in his office. Son of a bitch, what was I doing?

"Get me there after Sunday, and I'll miss my window of opportunity," Trent added. "Three days, and there is no reason for me to go at all. If we leave immediately, we can make both of our deadlines."

My trial was Sunday night, and I met Jenks's and Ivy's eyes. This had all the earmarks of the tip of an iceberg. Trent was in trouble with the biggest elf family on the West Coast. And though he hadn't blamed me, I might have had some part in it. Guilt licked at my soul. I had a really bad feeling about this.

"Will you do it?" Trent asked. He sounded angry but not at me, and I could hear a whisper of past arguments with Quen in his tone. Though Trent was the boss, Quen ran Trent's life, had since Trent's father died. It had to rankle when the only way Quen would let him go would be with me.

"No," I said, sitting up straighter. "The last time I worked for you willingly, the boat blew up. That water was cold."

"Atta girl, Rache!" Jenks exclaimed, and Ivy leaned over to whisper a question to Quen.

Trent's expression was empty. "I kept you alive, didn't I?"

"Only so you could pound my head into a tombstone!"

"I was upset," he said, avoiding my glare as he gazed at the parking lot we'd turned into. The sun shifted to him, making his embarrassment easy to read.

"I had just saved your life!" I said. "And you try to kill me for something I hadn't done and wouldn't do. No, I don't think so. You're spouting pretty words like 'trust,' but you don't give it. I'm not going to help you get to the West Coast so you can run your personal errand. Especially if you are playing around with black magic."

Trent's eyes fixed on mine, his anger easy to read as he put one ankle on his knee, looking both cold and professional. "Ceri does black magic. You like her."

I squinted at him. "Ceri has morals," I said, and Quen winced. "I might not understand them half the time, but she's got them. You..." I almost poked Trent in the chest, turning the motion into a quick point. "I don't trust you."

"You need me," Trent said, playing it like it was his last card, desperate despite his attempts to hide his stress. "If I'm with you, the coven will be less inclined to take potshots at you. I'll admit that my dealings with you to date have been less than aboveboard." His jaw clenched. "I'm trying to change that. If not for me, you wouldn't even have this chance to clear your name. I swear, Rachel, that my business on the West Coast has nothing to do with you."

My foot braced against the carpet as the car gently halted. I looked up, seeing the back of my mom's car. Finally.

"Thanks. I have it from here," Ivy said with her usual calm control. Opening her door, she slipped out. Jenks followed her, shrilling something about his kids. Quen, too, got out, and the trunk whined as it opened. Ivy had a set of keys to my mom's Buick, and she opened the trunk, taking my garment bag as Quen handed it to her. Reaching for the door, I picked up my shoulder bag.

"You," I said to Trent, gripping my bag tightly, "are anything but aboveboard with me. You ask me to trust you, but even now you're not telling me everything. You must think I filled a prescription for stupid pills if you think I'm going to get you out to the West Coast in two days for 'personal business.' God, Trent, you told the coven I was a demon!" I could bear to say it now that Ivy, Jenks, and Quen weren't in the car, but my face still burned.

I pulled on the handle, but nothing happened. Damn it, the thing had child locks.

"I need your help," Trent said as I leaned over the front seat and unlocked the doors from the passenger panel. I flopped back in the seat and reached for my handle, shocked when Trent touched my arm. "I need your help," he said again, letting go. "Please."

Oh crap. He'd said please. Gut clenching, I covered my arm where he'd touched me. His eyes were pinched, and I wondered if I was really seeing that whisper of desperate need in the back of his eyes, or if this was all a trick to get me to do what he wanted. "Why?" I asked, letting go of my arm. It felt like he was touching me still.

At the question, the tight press of his lips eased. Outside the car, Quen, Jenks, and Ivy were talking in a small huddle, but the drama was inside the car. Trent wasn't faking. He needed me-and he wouldn't tell me why.

Exhaling, I closed my eyes in a long blink. Crap, I was a sucker for helpless males, especially when they looked as good as Trent. A quiver rose through me, and I felt my resolve start to fall apart. He was powerful, he was suave, and he needed my help. He'd asked for it.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! I suddenly realized that no matter how much I complained and argued, I was going to do exactly what Trent wanted. Again. And it irritated me that he was right. If the coven was going to take a shot at me en route, they would think twice if Trent was with me. I didn't trust Trent, but I trusted the coven even less.

"I desperately need to get to the West Coast before Sunday night," he said, and my eyes opened. "It's a private matter. This is the most important thing in my life. Please help me."

The faint scent from his boots of stables was winding its way into me now that the car wasn't moving and the air was still. His clothes, the sun in his hair, everything combined to remind me of a summer afternoon when I was twelve and he had found me crying in the stables at summer camp, thinking I'd alienated my best friend. The thrill I'd felt, the power he'd given me when we took a fence together on his horse twined through me. Then a mere two months ago when we had pounded over his fields under the moonlight, believing the lie that the scream we had heard was a fox and not the man who had tried to kill me. Remembering it all, I quivered, feeling myself pulled to him. Shit. Maybe I was a demon.

I spoke to my knees. "If I get you to the West Coast by Sunday, you have to promise to help me at the coven meeting. I need them to reinstate my citizenship that you pushed them into revoking and guarantee that everyone stops gunning for me." Heart pounding, I looked up. "If I can't beat this, I'm permanently in the ever-after." I was going to regret this. I knew it.

"I didn't know that," he said, looking like he was realigning his thinking.

He went to say something more, but Jenks had dropped down through the open roof to hover between us. "You ready to go, Rache?" he asked, looking far too bright and eager.

"Yes," I said, tired as I gathered my bag to myself again. "We need to talk. I'm going to get Trent to the coast. I'm going to need your help, and don't try to stop me."

The pixy put his hands on his hips and grinned at me. "I know."

My lips parted, and I stared at him. I know? He'd said, I know? "Who are you, and how did you kill my partner?" I said, and Jenks spilled a silver dust.

"Cookie farts is right," he said. "Neither of you will make it out there without the other. And me, to help."

A huge sigh came from Trent instead of the expected bad temper at the slur. His eyes were closed, and when they opened, there was hope-it made him look more powerful yet. "We can leave within the hour," he said, opening the door. "They won't be expecting that."

I wondered if he meant they as in the Withons or they as in the coven.

Trent was gone, his door thumping shut. Jenks shot out of the roof. Scrambling, I worked the door and got out, blinking as I emerged in the sun. "They won't be expecting it because it's a stupid idea," I said, seeing Trent beside Ivy and Quen. "I need to go home and pack again," I said, striding to the trunk of my mom's car. "Jenks needs to find a babysitter."

Ivy shifted my garment bag to show two suitcases, my old blue one and the other I'd seen in the trunk of Trent's car. It had to be Trent's. What was my old suitcase doing here? And Trent's? That was Trent's, wasn't it?

"You've got your dress," Ivy said as I stared. "And everything you packed for the airplane is in your blue bag."

"Wha-what was in my checked luggage?" I stammered.

Ivy gave me one of her few full smiles. "Magazines," she said matter-of-factly. "They weren't going to let you get on that plane," she said coaxingly when my brow furrowed, "so sue me for thinking ahead. I just moved everything you packed to a different bag. I thought we'd hit the train station next, but this is better."

Not believing this was happening, I looked at everyone in turn, feeling like I'd been manipulated. "What about Jenks and his kids?" I asked.

"I called Jih," Jenks said as he landed on the raised trunk, his wings going red in the reflected heat. "Bis is going to watch them at night, and Jih is going to watch them during the day. Her husband wasn't going for it until I agreed that Jih could bring home whatever she wanted from the graveyard." His wings hummed and he took flight, warm again. "Ivy's going to bring me my good sword and some toothbrushes."

"You're coming?" I asked Ivy, not seeing her suitcase in the trunk.

She shrugged. "I'm going to close up the church and fly out to join you. You can get to St. Louis by nightfall. I already have my ticket."

Oh God. The one she'd bought today? Feeling used, I dropped back, eying them in disbelief. "This morning was all for show?" I said bitterly.

From beside me, Trent shifted his feet. "Is this why you suggested I dress casually?" he asked Quen. "You knew I wasn't coming back?"

Jenks hummed, close, darting off when I waved him away before he could land on my shoulder. "We had to be sure Ivy could fly," the pixy said. "Now we know she can. We're taking your mom's car."

The pixy looked too satisfied to live, but I wasn't happy.

"No, we're taking mine," Trent said suddenly, and I realized he hadn't known about this, either. It made me feel a little better. Especially when Quen cleared his throat and fell into a modified parade rest.

"No, Sa'han, you're taking Ms. Morgan's car."

I turned to Ivy and Jenks, both of them smiling in the sun as if it was all just a joke. Me and Trent in a car to St. Louis? The tabloids would love it. "You had this all worked out, huh?"

"Not all of it until just now," Ivy said. "But both Quen and I like to be prepared."

From my other side, Trent muttered, "Can I talk to you, Quen? Privately?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jenks said brightly when Quen inclined his head to excuse himself. "Go complain. It isn't going to change anything."

Gravel crunched under Trent's boots as the two elves went to have an argument that I was sure Trent was going to lose. Uneasy, I squinted in the sun as I faced Ivy. "You agree with this?"

Ivy nodded, and Jenks darted away to eavesdrop on Trent and Quen. "I think this is the safest way to get you there," Ivy said, and my focus sharpened on her. "The coven won't take a shot at you with Trent in the car, and the Withons' assassins aren't that much of a threat. It's the best of a bad situation. And if he is lying and he double-crosses you, I'll kill him for you."

From anyone else, it would have been an idle threat, and I smiled, feeling loved.

"Take this for me," Ivy said, handing me her laptop in the briefcase. "If for some reason I can't get on the plane, I'll bike out and join you. With luck, I'll see you in a few hours."

I took the briefcase as the heavy door of my mom's car slammed. Nervous, I gave her a hug. Jenks flew up, dusting us as he got included in there somewhere. "Be nice," Ivy whispered as she let go, and I shivered at the feeling of her words on my neck.

Flustered, I backed up, holding the briefcase before me like a fig leaf. Quen was coming toward us, and I shifted to make room for him. Trent was in the front seat, passenger side. Huh. He was in for a surprise if he thought he was going to ride the entire way.

Worry made the creases in the older man's face deeper. Gripping my hand, Quen's expression smoothed out somewhat. "Thank you, Rachel," he said as he let go. "Don't let him do anything too stupid."

"If he does," Jenks said loudly, "we'll just leave him at a restaurant or something."

I didn't bother to hide my smile, but I shook my head to reassure Trent's security officer. I had more class than that. I think.

Quen hesitated as Ivy made motions to get back into Trent's car, then he said quickly, "Thank you from me. Ceri and me both..."

My smile grew wider, and for the first time, I started to feel good about this. "You're welcome," I said, knowing Quen couldn't leave Ceri. It was his child she was having, not Trent's. The woman could take on demons and win, but to have Quen beside her as she brought their child into the world would mean more to her than anything else.

"Bring him home safely so I don't have to mess you up," Quen added as he turned away, and my worry flowed back. I was responsible for Trent. I was responsible for keeping him alive on this magic carpet ride. Remind me again of why I said yes?

But Quen had gotten into the sleek black car with Ivy, and I did nothing as it looped forward and around, and left. The sound of the popping of gravel under tires gave way to crickets. A hot summer breeze rose, making my hair tickle my neck. My gaze went to the pale blue sky, then shifted to the cameras on the light poles.

I took a slow breath, and it was as if I could see the entire world spreading out unseen before me, making me small as I realized how far we had to go.

"How many miles is it?" I whispered to Jenks, and the sound of his wings melted into the morning, sounding right.

"One at a time, Rache."

Nodding, I dropped my eyes and scuffed my boots to the passenger side of the car. Yanking the door open, I met Trent's startled gaze. He was wearing a pair of classy, green-tinted sunglasses, and it made him look all the better. "You're driving," I said flatly.

Trent stared. "I beg your pardon?"

"I don't have a license," I said, waiting for him to get out. "The I.S. took it when I got summoned out on I-77 and plowed my car into a bridge railing. You're driving, bucko. At least until we get out of the city and no one will recognize me."

He blinked, then muttered, "For God's sake," as he undid his seat belt and slid over.

Jenks darted into the car as I got in, taking his usual seat on the rearview mirror. "You're not going to swear all the bloody Tink-blasted way there, are you?" he asked.

Feeling weird, I settled myself, my bag going on the backseat. "I've got one more condition, or this stops right here," I said, and Trent sighed, his hands on the wheel, staring at the dusty trunk of the car in front of us. Overhead, a plane roared.

"What," he said flatly, more of a demand than a question.

My thoughts went back to the enthrallment curse and him wiping the memories of Jack and Jill, and I laboriously rolled my window down. My mom didn't trust electronics, and they were the old crank style. "You do nothing but drive," I said. "Got it? No wiping memories, no enthrallment, and no fighting if there's trouble. Nothing. You sit in a bubble and play tiddledywinks."

Jenks made a scoffing sound. "You're not good at this, greenie weenie, and you're going to slow us down if you try."

"You don't like my magic?" he said, a thread of pride in him.

"No," I shot back, stifling a shiver at the memory of his wild, elven magic. "I don't. Calling on the divine for strength is risky, and you never know what you're going to get. Keep it to yourself, or I'm going to zip-strip you."

His eyebrows rose mockingly. "Not a good feeling, is it? Knowing someone has the ability to do bad things and you just have to trust they won't."

"I only do black magic as a last resort," I said through clenched teeth. It was all I could do not to smack the smug, satisfied look off his face.

"Keys?" Trent said mockingly, and Jenks hummed his wings in anticipation.

Twisting, I reached over the seat for my bag, flushing when I got myself back where I belonged. Sheesh, my butt had been inches from Trent, and Jenks was laughing as I refastened my seat belt. Trent was still utterly emotionless, and I smacked the keys into his hand with enough force to bring his eyes to mine.

"She's all yours, Jeeves," I said, closing my eyes as I tried to gather my strength. This was going to be a long ride. They stayed shut for all of three seconds, flashing open when Trent revved the engine hard, jamming it into reverse and making me reach for the dash. "Take it easy!" I shouted, staring at Trent, his eyes on the rearview mirror.

"Watch where you're driving that piece of blue-haired crap!" someone yelled, and I turned to the businessman behind us, clearly hot and bad tempered as he looked for his car.

I went to shout something appropriately rude, but Trent had already yanked the wheel around and was accelerating, leaving him in a cloud of gravel dust. "When we get to St. Louis, we're renting a real car," Trent muttered.

"There is nothing wrong with my mom's car," I snapped.

Trent was silent, staring straight ahead, but I was fuming. There was nothing wrong with my mom's car. Nothing at all.