Chapter Nineteen

My leg hurt, and I sat in my rolling chair, as I had done for much of the first part of my life, numb as someone else moved me around. Saying nothing, Trent smoothly pushed me through the downstairs labs until we were rising up to the first floors through a different elevator than we'd come down in. The humming, chill silence of the basement labs was replaced by the warmth of neutral carpet and soft conversation as he wove me through the front offices, skillfully evading or redirecting comments or requests from curious employees.

Almost without notice, the noise muted, then vanished. The warmth of the sun spilled in over my feet, and still I sat, doing nothing as the chair halted. I felt Trent slip around from behind me as he took a tray from someone coming in, then his beautiful voice rising and falling reassuringly as he ushered whoever it was out and shut the door with a soft and certain thump.

Then there was silence. Slowly the wonderful scent of coffee slipped into me.

My breath went in and out, and I looked up to see that we were in Trent's office. The fake sun was coming in the huge video screen showing this year's foals standing to take in the last of the warming rays, but it felt warm on my feet and looked real enough to me. Trent was sitting behind his desk, his feet up on his daily planner, his fingers steepled as he watched me, a curious tilt to his head, his fair hair almost in his eyes. Between us on a wooden tray was a pot of what had to be coffee and two empty cups with the Kalamack logo ghosted in silver.

"Are you okay? You kind of spaced out." He put his feet on the floor and leaned over the desk, an excitement I'd never seen before sparking in his eyes, making them almost . . . mischievous? "I've never said that before. Spaced out. But that's exactly what you did."

Still feeling numb, I looked at the carafe of coffee, then my silver bracelet, the Mobius strip with Latin etched into it wrapped around me, shining in the sun. "Did I?"

My voice trailed off as he got to his feet and came around to the front of the desk, his motions still having a quick edge. "You started to go into shock. I thought my office would be better than a roomful of helpful Ceri." He hesitated. "Unless you want her in on this, too?"

Having her here would be like asking someone else to take my bullet. No. I was done with that, and I shook my head as he poured two cups and offered me the first. It wasn't the shock of injury, but the realization that the bracelet was going to come off, that everything was going to change. I was going to be a demon for real, the power, the responsibility . . . If people were going to die from my decisions, it would no longer be because I was too afraid to act. But to kill someone . . . I didn't know if I could do that. I desperately didn't want to be that person.

The sound of the coffee chattering into the second cup was loud as I brought mine to my lips, my hands shaking. The mug was warm in my fingers, and the coffee slipped into me, both bitter and rich, shocking me awake. "Thank you," I said softly as he sat back on the edge of his desk with his own cup.

He inclined his head slightly, looking as fabulous as ever, more appealing than before because I had no idea what he was going to do, what he was capable of.

"Don't do that," I said, my gaze going everywhere but to him.

"Do what?" He sipped from his mug, one long leg draping to the floor, the other pulled up slightly.

"Sit on your desk and look sexy."

Trent hesitated. Clearing his throat, he slipped from the desk, fidgeting as he looked at his chair, behind his desk. It was obvious he didn't want to sit there, and looking somewhat sheepish, he used his foot to shift one of the leather chairs in front of his desk so that it faced me more fully. "I've never sat in one of my own chairs before," he said as he eased back into it, slowly, as if testing it out. His eyes roved over his desk, taking it in from a new point of view. He might not have any idea what it meant to me - that he wasn't behind his desk and in a position of power - but then again, he probably did.

More nervous yet, I held my coffee with two hands and sipped, afraid of what was coming.

"You're ready?" Trent said, and I flicked a glance at him.

Crap, he looked even sexier now, more relaxed, more accessible - more off-limits. I swallowed my coffee and rested the cup against me, warming my middle. "Yes." My voice didn't even quaver, but I was a wreck inside. Al was going to take me. He was going to take me and stick me in a little box. And that was if I was lucky. This was a dumb idea.

"Mmm." His foot was twitching, and he stilled it as he saw me notice. "I have a room set up. Lots of circles, protection. We should break the charm now before the sun goes down so we have a chance to prepare for him popping over."

My breath came fast. If we waited, Ceri would get involved. "No."

"No?" I felt his eyes land on me, his almost subliminal fidgeting stop as he probably weighed his chances of changing my mind. Sighing, he stretched for his phone. "Give me a moment, then. I'll get some charms sent up that might contain him for a few moments - "

Alarm was a wash of adrenaline, waking me up almost more than the coffee. I might never see Ivy or Jenks again . . . "We're not going to trap him when he shows."

"You're joking."

We, I thought, my pulse quickening. I had said "we," and it had sounded right. Scooting my rolling chair back, I looked up at him, breathless. Trent had a ley line running through his office. I'd used it once to find the resting site of a murder victim in his stables. I could see and talk to Al through a ley line even if the sun was up - and duck out of it if he tried to abduct me. "Am I in it?" I asked him, knowing he understood when his frown turned severe.

"No. Rachel - "

"How about now?" I said, shifting backward. I could feel nothing from the line, and I suddenly wanted the bracelet off, knowing it for the manacle it was. How had I allowed this? Was I so thoroughly ruled by fear? Oh God. My mom . . .

"No." Trent stood, and I rocked him to a halt with a raised hand.

"I promised Al . . ." I said, my voice catching when it rose. Taking a steadying breath, I tried again. "I promised Al that I wouldn't ever summon him into a circle," I said, my voice low to keep it from breaking. "Trust is going to keep him calm long enough to listen."

Almost laughing in disbelief, Trent put all his weight on one foot. "I thought you were going to be smart about this," he said, calm but mocking as he stood before me in his thousand-dollar suit. "Nothing is going to keep him calm. He's a demon. You can't trust him."

"You're asking their entire species to trust you to give them a cure, not a death sentence," I said, then glanced at the closed door and the knock that Trent ignored. "I won't let you offer them a cure in a way that prevents them from accepting it." Trent was scowling, and I shrugged. "Look, I understand if you want to leave the room and let me handle it."

"I'm not chickening out," he said, affronted as he just about read my mind. "I'm pointing out that a little preparation will make the difference in walking or limping away from this. Why are you making this difficult?"

I extended my coffee to him, and he took the half-empty mug as if unsure of what it meant. "Even with the promise of a cure, you've grossly overestimated our chances," I said matter-of-factly, shaking inside. "I'd prefer to contact Al immediately after taking the charm off, but if you can take it off for me right now, I'll wait and call him when I get home. He'll probably sense me and be waiting for me in the line by then." I'm never going to make this work. Never.

Trent set both our mugs on the tray with twin sharp taps, his motions abrupt. My pulse pounded as he said nothing, moving behind me and, in swift motions, shifted my chair two feet back. My hair swung as he jerked the chair to a halt. "Now you're in the line," he said darkly.

"Thank you." I clenched my hands to hide their shaking.

Trent grumbled something I didn't hear, his head down as he went behind his desk and crouched. I heard a drawer open and close, and when he stood, he had a mirror in his hand. It was my scrying mirror. I could tell from here.

"Where did you get that?" I said, my eyes widening as I reached for it. "I thought it was lost in the quake!" My scrying mirror would make everything easier. How had he gotten it?

Trent shrugged, his eyes not meeting mine as he handed it over. "I asked the coven for it. I knew you were going to want it eventually."

The glass felt cold on my fingers, empty. The etched mirror still threw back the world in a wine-tinted wash, but it was pale and two-dimensional - dead. God, what have I done to myself? I suddenly realized Trent was standing over me, inches away, the scent of a green woods coming from him to ease my headache.

"Tell me how you plan on staying alive long enough to bargain with him if you don't use what I've prepared," he asked, his tone telling me he thought I was being stupid.

I looked up, feeling sick. "I don't really have a plan, but hiding in a spell-proof room surrounded by an arsenal isn't going to help. He's got my summoning name."

His brow furrowed. "So do I," he said as he went to his desk.

True. My breath slipped from me in a long exhale. I was not going to be their dog toy. I'd seen dog toys, and they were eventually broken and covered in slobber, left in the rain to be forgotten. My faint smile faded as I saw Trent's worry, his concern . . . his fear under his professional veneer. He would do this with me, and he knew the danger.

Rummaging now in his top drawer, Trent said, "Can't I just - "

"Defense only. Promise me," I demanded. He hesitated, his eyes never shifting from mine. "Damn it, Trent, promise me," I said, not wanting him to lie to me. "You're all about my taking responsibility, well, this is my decision. I have to do it my way."

Grimacing, he slammed the drawer shut, a bit of colorful silk in his hand. "It's not that I don't trust you," he said as he straightened, stressing it.

I shifted the heavy glass on my knees. It used to be alive, but now it felt dead. Or was I the one who was dead? "Trust me?" I mocked. "He might kill you. I'm not saying he won't. But if you raise one charm in anything other than defense, I will spell you down myself." I waited while he frowned at me, his desk between us. "Sure you want to stay?"

His grumble was enough for me, and I looked behind him at the door, feeling like two kids behind the barn playing show-and-tell. Ivy and Jenks were going to be mad. Ceri would be ticked that I didn't ask for her help. Quen would say I was foolish for not asking for his assistance. But I didn't want to endanger them. Ivy and Jenks were moving on without me, and that was good. Ceri had her life with her children before her, and I wouldn't risk that. Quen was a dragon, ready to swoop in and save me, but leaving me still afraid. Trent . . . Trent was good enough to help, and bad enough to not be a crutch. Perhaps more important, I wanted to do this on my own. Trent could help because I needed it and he'd gotten me into this. He was damn well going to be there when I got out.

Goose bumps tingled up my arms when I recognized the cap and ribbon in his hand. "Thank you," I whispered, remembering the vengeance of the lines running through me with no aura between me and the energy of creation. "Is it going to hurt?"

"No." His word crisp and short, he put his cap on with a quickness that dared me to say he looked funny. He seemed so different, I didn't know what to think anymore. The ribbon went around his neck, over his collar and down his front. It swung as he dragged his chair into the line to face me squarely. I should have been able to feel the line, see the ever-after with my second sight, but I was dead inside.

"Why am I even here if you won't let me do anything?" he grumbled as he settled himself, his knees inches from mine.

I was starting to shake hard enough for him to notice, but I couldn't stop, and I should be shaking. Why was he here? Because he was strong enough to watch my back, and weak enough that it would be me solving this, not him. But I couldn't tell him that.

"Give me your hands," he said, and my eyes jerked to his. His need to do this shone in them. He was itching to give something back to Al for his missing fingers, itching to prove to the demon that he wasn't a doormat, a familiar, a commodity, but someone the demon needed to take seriously. God, I knew how that felt. How was I going to keep him alive?

My fingers slipped into his, and we clasped hands, my knuckles resting on the cool glass of my scrying mirror. His hands were cool, mine were shaking, and he gave me a little squeeze, jerking my attention back up.

"Don't let go until I say," he said as I stared at him, startled. But he had closed his eyes, his lips moving in something that wasn't Latin, wasn't English. The syllables slipped through the folds of my brain like slushy ice, chilling and numbing, the musical rise and fall like unsung music, the wind in the trees, the growth of a tree to the sun. Mesmerizing.

Trent's eyes opened as if having felt it in me. "Sha na tay, sha na tay," he intoned. "Tunney metso, eva na calipto, ta sowen."

My eyes widened as my fingers gripped his tighter. I suddenly realized something was stirring in my chi. I stiffened as the sensation of a painful lifting rose through me, the delicious hurt of the old being peeled back to expose new skin, hurting from the first breath of wind. Like liquid light sliding around corners, ley-line energy coursed into me, trickling enticingly slowly as it tripped every synapse one by one.

My breath came in a heave as I suddenly realized it tasted like Trent's soul, his energy spilling into me in ever-increasing waves. Frantic, I looked at Trent, his eyes shut, his lips moving as he chanted, his fingers starting to shake as they held mine. I could do nothing. He had told me not to let go.

My breath came in, and I held it. I could feel the charm he had bespelled me with begin to unravel, laying within me, still, like a knot that had been loosened and needed only to be pulled apart. His energies mixed with mine, gathered in my chi until there was enough for him to ease me back into alignment with the rest of the universe. It was colored from his soul, both light and dark, mixing without mixing, swirling with my natural energies until the two were one.

And finally it reached the tipping point. With a wrench, I felt a tug, and like two drops of water, my soul was realigned with reality.

Trent's eyes flashed open, wide and wondering as his chanting stopped. "My God," he whispered, suddenly tense and shocked. The heat of the charm lay in his eyes, the promise of what could be - what might be if I could trust another with my heart again. And it hurt me knowing it wasn't mine.

"Is it done?" I said, feeling the pain of unfulfilled passion. I ached for it to be gone.

Trent licked his lips, shaking his head. "Tunney eva so Sa'han, esperometsa."

I gasped, Trent's fingers tightening on mine as the sudden power of the lines flooded me, pure and untainted. They rang my soul like a bell, bathing us in sound inside and out. I gloried in it, my head flung back as I breathed it in, feeling it pool in me like gold, washing away my lingering headache and tingling all the way down to my toes. It was glorious, and I almost cried as I realized how deeply I'd cut myself off. Never. Never again.

Exhilarated, I looked at Trent. My eyes opened wide as I saw him sitting before me with his head down and his aura glowing about him like a second shadow, magnificent and beautiful, not a hint of demonic taint, the tragic streaks of red running through the brilliant haze of gold.

And then I realized he was clenched in pain.

My eyes went to our clasped hands. "I'm sorry!" I said, trying to pull away only to have his hands grip mine more tightly.

"Dampen it so I can think," he gasped, and I did, still able to feel the currents ebb and flow. My God, why had I done this to myself?

Trent looked up, a sheen of sweat on his brow. "Sha na tay, euvacta," he whispered, and I sucked in air when his fingers spasmed, opening from mine and falling away. "Now it's done and sealed," he almost croaked, looking at his fingers as they cramped into claws.

Breathless, I sat up. Eyes wide, I looked at the bracelet. It still hung on my wrist, but the words were gone and the metal had turned black. The spell was broken. Frantic, I pushed it to my hand, wanting it off. The metal pinched my skin, and then with a wrench, I felt the metal seem to expand and it slipped over my folded fingers and was gone.

My heart pounded. I stared at the ring of black metal as it wobbled to a halt and sat on the carpet in a fake patch of sunlight. It was done.

"Better?"

Blinking away tears, I focused on Trent. He was easing back, looking wan. I nodded, unable to find the words. I could feel the lines - all of them - though the sensation was fading. They sang in me like the heartbeat of the sun, a thousand tones all harmonizing to one om of sound. And then they all slowly vanished with the sensation of sparkles, leaving only the soft hum of the line we were sitting inside.

"Thank you," I said, then grimaced. Now it would get difficult.

On my lap, the sparkling line of the scrying mirror glittered, caging the ruby image it was throwing back into reality. My fingers ached where they rested on the smooth surface, and I could feel the latent energy pressing into my legs. The bracelet was dead, the mirror was alive. Everything had shifted. Now all we had to do was convince Al to let me stay . . . and everything would be fine.

Trent was rubbing his hands, the white marks of where I'd gripped him too tightly obvious. "I'm sorry," I said, and a heavy weariness edged his grim expression.

"For this?" He held up his hand, the white pressure marks easing.

I shook my head, afraid to bring up my second sight to see Al waiting for me already. "For what happens next."

Silent, he got up to stand beside me. He avoided my eyes, and I wondered what he'd felt as his soul had crept into my own through the cracks and crevices, bursting the wall that he'd put around it. He was still looking at his hand, probably remembering Al taking his fingers off in an attempt to move him to the ever-after one ounce of flesh at a time. A pang of tension that had nothing to do with talking to Al went through me, and I took his hand and turned it over. "When this is over, can I fix that?" I asked him even as he stiffened, surprised that I'd touched him.

His posture eased. "If you like," he said as he pulled his hand away.

"Are you sure you can cure the demons?" I asked, and he nodded, shakily moving to take up a position behind me as I put my free hand on the mirror. Al would listen. He'd give me anything for that. If he believed me. Fear made me jerk as my eyes closed, and, taking a breath, I drew the glory of the ever-after energies into me. My gut was a slurry of emotion - doubt, dread, the fear that I wouldn't be able to live up to my bold words that I could be the demon - hope, confidence, and elation from being connected to the lines again: all mixed together until I felt as if I was going to throw up. A quiver went through me when I found the collective, and I felt Trent shift his feet. Al? I called out in my mind before I lost my nerve. He would listen. I'd make him.

But there was nothing. No response, no echo. I frowned, worry joining everything else.

"Maybe he's dead or in jail," Trent said, knowing what was going on from my attitude.

"He might be sleeping," I said, having run into this before. Shoving my fear aside, I steadied myself to try again. Al! I shouted in my mind. Ah, it's Rachel.

This time there was a faint stirring, like a bat opening his beady little eyes, reflecting the world in a cold, uncaring light as his consciousness joined mine. It was him, and a spike of fear-based adrenaline was cold in me. Um, Al? I said again, wary at the rising hatred in me, a reflection of Al spilling into my psyche.

Goddamned mother pus buckets. His evil, cold thought slithered through mine, calculating, ancient, bitter - and utterly lacking his usual noble British accent. Back already? Leave me the hell alone!

A bare hint of intent warned me, and I yanked my hand off the glass. I jumped as a pop echoed both in my ears and thumped through my lap, and I looked down to see a tiny crack running through my mirror.

"What happened?" Trent asked, peering over my shoulder.

I could smell him, feel his breath on me, but my eyes were fixed on the glass. My lips parted and I ran a finger over the mark, feeling only the smooth, unblemished mirror. The break hadn't gone all the way through. The amount of mental force needed to crack it even this much had been immense, though. If I hadn't severed the connection in time, it could have been me.

"He cracked my mirror," I said, not sure if it was going to work anymore. "He doesn't think it's me. He thought I was one of his buddies, messing with him." Feeling reckless, I put my hand back on the calling glyph. "Give me a sec."

"Ah, Rachel?" Trent said, but I shrugged out from under his hand and focused on the mirror.

Hey, you sad excuse for a lousy-ass demon, I thought loudly. You broke my friggin' mirror! It took me all day to make it, and I'm not going to make another! I'm trying to talk to you, so knock it off, moss wipe! I was tired of being afraid. I'd be bitchy instead.

Again, I felt my consciousness expand, and I waited, ready to pull my hand back.

Rachel? Al's thought came with a hint of his noble British accent. You're alive?

So far so good. Now it would get tricky. Yes, I'm alive, but if you keep throwing crap at me, I'm going to turn around and -

You're alive! Al bellowed in anger, and I winced, my bravado vanishing.

Uh, yeah. Hey, um, Al . . .

And you're with that elf! The force of his thoughts arced through me like fire.

I pulled my hand from the mirror, certain he knew where I was. "Help me up?" I asked Trent. "He's coming. Get behind me."

"Where is behind you?" Trent grumbled, his hand warm and sturdy in mine as he cupped his second hand under my elbow and steadied me as I rose. "He could pop in anywhere in the line."

"Then just stay close," I said as he kicked the chair out of the way and I wavered on my feet, bringing my second sight into play. I wanted to sleep in my bed tonight, my bed in my church, and I wasn't going to let Al take me. But inside, doubt trickled and took hold as the red-sheened nightmare of the ever-after wavered into existence, the grass-covered, windblown desert that the imbalance from the elf/demon war had made of the original Eden overlaying the calm orderliness of Trent's office. If I concentrated, I could see the walls, but it was the horizon my eyes went to, the ever-blowing wind shifting the waves of dried grass that grew outside the broken city center. The scent of burnt amber tickled my nose, more from my imagination than the little bit of ever-after leaking through.

My hair shifted in the gritty wind, and Trent's grip tightened.

"Rachel Mariana Morgan," Al said softly, and I gasped, almost falling as I spun and pain stabbed through my leg.

The demon was standing not thirty feet away. He was in the ley line in the ever-after, we were in it in reality. It was a middle ground that bent all the rules, and if he wanted, he could drag me from reality and back down into the foul-smelling earth.

"Hi, Al," I said, my resolve shredded and leaving only the cold fear of self-preservation. "Hey, you look good," I offered lamely, and the demon tilted his head to eye me from over his blue-tinted glasses, taking in my bland black sweats. Red, goat-slitted eyes peered at me, his lips curling back in a snarl to show his thick, blocky teeth. His grip on his walking cane tightened, and I noticed he was wearing gloves again, their white starchiness bright against the velvet green of his coat and his brilliant vest and dark trousers. Shiny boots with buckles, and lace at his throat and cuffs, added to his vision of a noble British lord at the height of his glory. A tall hat finished the outfit, shading his eyes from the painful sun.

"I look good?" Al said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Trent's stance tightened as Al took three steps toward us.

"I look good?" he said louder, his pace quickening and his hand coming out. "I'm broke and living in squalor!"

"Hey!" I shouted as I felt the line seem to collapse into Trent, sucked in as he drew a massive amount of energy into himself and threw it at Al. The demon never slowed, a quickly raised hand deflecting the energy. Behind me, Trent's fish tank exploded. Suddenly my feet were wet, heavy in thick socks.

"Stop it, Trent!" I exclaimed, pushing away from him and almost falling. "You promised." Oh God, he was going to ruin it. All I had going for me were daring and trust, and Trent was trying to prove how not strong we were?

"No, I didn't," Trent said grimly, and my skin prickled at the energy gathering in his palms.

"I'm paying Ku'Sox blackmail to keep him quiet about your leaking ley line," Al intoned, flinging the same hand out to block another spell thrown by Trent. It ricocheted to my right, exploding the video screen in a shower of sparks. Al's magic could not act on anything out of the line, but he didn't have to if Trent kept throwing stuff at him.

"The elves are breeding true, and everyone's blaming me!" the demon bellowed, his square face red. "And you think I look good!"

My eyes widened, and I took a deep breath. Al was three feet away, reaching for my shoulder, and I tensed, the shields in my mind down but ready to go up in an instant. "Yes, I do!" I said, face scrunched up, ready to take my lumps as long as he didn't try to jump me.

I gasped as I felt myself yanked backward, right out of the line.

"Hey!" I shouted again, the image of the ever-after and Al vanishing. I couldn't see him, but he could probably see me. "What are you doing!" I yelled at Trent, then did a double take. He had let go of me and was darting evil glances at me as he tried to catch his fish, flopping about on his wet carpet. People were pounding on his door, apparently locked. The broken shell of the video screen gaped blackly where once there was sun and a view of the pastures.

"Keeping you out of the ever-after," he almost snarled as he caught a blue damsel and tossed it into the shattered remnants of the fish tank and its two inches of remaining water. The fish darted behind a rock, unhurt.

"Well, stop it!" I said, feeling my leg ache and pushing the chair away. "If you want to help, give me my crutch."

He stood helplessly over his lionfish, knowing he couldn't touch it lest he get poisoned.

"Give me my crutch!" I demanded, hand outstretched. "I can't reach it from here."

With a last look at the gasping fish, Trent stomped to the back of my chair, little splashes coming up from his feet. He undid the clasps with unnecessary roughness, and then extended the crutch to me like a sword. From the hall came whispers. "Your crutch," he said dryly.

I took it, arm hurting as my weight landed on it. "Please help me," I whispered, my back to the line so Al couldn't see what I was saying. "I can't do this alone."

Trent's scowl softened. His eyes flicking behind me, he nodded. "I'm fine!" he shouted at the knocking on the door. "I want my old tank brought up out of storage." He hesitated, eyes on mine. "Please," he added as if it hurt.

Scared, I took a quick breath as his hand cupped my free elbow and we squished across the wet carpet. Whoever was at the door was probably calling Quen, not getting his old fish tank. We had to wrap this up fast.

The line was glowing before me through my second sight, little energies jumping from it to ping against my aura like static electricity. Trembling, Trent helped me back into the line. Al was here. Al was going to listen. And Trent had my back.

Al was waiting with the sureness of a lion having treed its prey, leaning against a rock with the ugly red sun beating down on him. His arms were aggressively across his chest and his angry look went right to my core, strangling my confidence in three seconds flat. He knew that I could step outside the line and be safe - until he summoned me. One way or the other, he thought he had me, and another tremble shook me, making him smile and show his teeth.

"I don't think I like this plan," Trent whispered.

"Promise me this time," I said, not looking at him. "Promise!" I shouted.

"I promise." He was angry, but Al's evil smile now had a hint of pride because I'd forced Trent to do something he clearly didn't want to do. I was alive. I was causing trouble. Al was intrigued. He'd listen, and that's all I wanted.

"Explain yourself . . . student," Al said. His attention flicked to the defunct bracelet on the carpet, and his eyes narrowed.

"I've been hiding," I said quickly.

"You're mistaken if you think your elf can save you," he said, pushing away from the rock. "He's less effective than that witch of yours, though Newt did pay me a handsome sum for him."

Pierce was alive? My breath came in fast, and I exhaled in relief. It didn't last long as Trent shifted backward, tugging at me. I refused to move, the pressure on my leg becoming almost unbearable. I cried out in pain, and Trent's hand fell away and he moved to stand in front of me instead.

"Her elf is going to do just that," he said, the red glow of the ever-after sun turning his hair auburn, almost as red as mine. "I did not work this hard at getting her to accept who she is to let you take your spoiled brat of a little-boy temper tantrum out on her. She stays on my side of the lines."

Lips parting, Al hesitated, and I saw another weight shift from anger to acceptance, one rock against thousands. "You put that putrid elf shackle on her?" he said, his boots whispering in the dry grass as he came forward. "You robbed her of the lines with your lies?"

"She needed to know what she would lose before she would ever accept its cost," Trent said, his chin level and his eyes unrepentant. "Now she knows."

My jaw tightened, but it was true. After feeling the lines in me again, I'd do anything to keep them, whereas before I would have let it go, oblivious, until it was too late.

Unaware of my thoughts, Al wreathed his hand in a dark mist. "You will never enslave us again, and not through Rachel!" he said, and that fast, Trent doubled over, gasping in pain.

Shit. "Stop it! Stop it, both of you!" I exclaimed, my head reeling as I lurched to help Trent only to have my leg almost give way under me. "Al, he has the cure for the demons. You really want to kill him? I could have taken it off whenever I wanted. He was not enslaving me, he was trying to help, and I was not listening! I'm a demon, damn it! Knock it off!"

With a growl, Al dramatically snapped his fingers, turning sideways as if not wanting to see us. Trent grunted softly as the curse broke, stiffly finding his full height. Tugging his suit straight, he stood beside me smelling of ash fires. "You okay?" I asked, almost supporting him as he threw the last of the pain curse off.

"This is a stupid idea, Rachel," he said bitterly, his eyes a dark black in the red light. "Let's trust a demon to be reasonable. Brilliant!"

Al turned. "You lied to me. Ran away. Shacked up with an elf?"

The last was a question, and I think it was what he was most interested in. "I took a sick day," I said, letting him wonder. "I lost my aura in the lines while cursing Ku'Sox. If Trent hadn't put my soul in a bottle till it healed, I'd be dead. Sorry about sending Ku'Sox to you, by the way. Are you okay?"

Al pulled his suspicious eyes off Trent and leaned across the ten feet between us, his teeth bared in a nasty smile. "I'm broke and paying him blackmail. Now that you're alive to take the blame for unbalancing the ever-after, I'll give you the honor of paying him instead."

"Trent knows the cure for the demons' genome," I said quickly, heart pounding. "Al, you don't have to keep going on like this. You can move on if you want."

His steps slow and his hands behind his back, Al crossed the distance, the glint of hatred in his eyes for Trent, the snarl on his face for me. The scent of burnt amber flowed between us. It was as if he wasn't even listening to me - mistrust of the elves ran that deep. "You ask me to trust an elf," the demon growled, looking at his hands in his gloves, always apart, always alone. "You ask too much."

"Al, I think I know what you looked like," I said, not knowing why. "Originally, I mean."

Al turned back to me, his coattails furling and his red eyes finding mine over his glasses. Beside me, I felt Trent take notice. "This is why you came out of hiding? To tell me that?"

I wished I could bring myself to lean on Trent more, but I didn't want to look weak. "No."

Al's attention flicked between Trent and me. "You're in trouble?" he asked dryly. "I can fix that."

He reached out, and I backed into Trent, my leg protesting. "No! I'm not leaving with you. Listen to me."

But he came forward again, even as Trent put an arm around my waist and pulled me into him. "So ma eva, shardona," Trent whispered, and I gasped as the line lifted through me, feeling like light as it flowed, my aura scintillating like dust in a sunbeam.

"What are you doing?" I breathed at the delicious sensation, feeling the stray strands of my hair floating and the warmth of Trent at my back.

"It's not a circle," Trent said, his words a breath on my ear. "I didn't break my promise."

Al, though, seemed to know what it was as his hand clenched and dropped, inches from touching me. He drew back, his expression both disgusted and amazed, and I breathlessly waited as the feeling of rising energy grew in me, a tantalizing zing of Trent's energy mixing with my own.

"Curious." Al's eyes flicked to Trent's, and he backed up another step. "I'm broke, Rachel," Al said in a monotone, as if it hurt to admit that in front of Trent, but his voice grew more animated as he continued. "Tales of an elven cure will get me nothing! You will come back to the ever-after and prove you're alive so you can tap into the funds that have been accruing in your name and I can buy some damned groceries!"

"No," I said firmly, and then said to Trent, far more nervously, "Can you stop that, please?"

Immediately the line in me fell to nothing and he let go. "Sorry. It's not supposed to hurt."

"It didn't," I said, not wanting to admit that it had felt pretty damn good.

Al snickered, and again I blushed, lifting my chin. "I'm a demon," I said. "I admit it, the world knows it, but I belong here, in reality. I'm not going back to the ever-after under duress."

Al's posture lost the brief glimpse of indulgent amusement. "I beg to differ, Rachel Mariana Morgan," he intoned, his eyes flicking from me to Trent, reassessing the situation.

"You can beg all you want," I said boldly, my heart pounding. "Trent's been working to get legislation through to make me a citizen again, with rights and responsibilities. If I'm lucky, I'm going to have to pay taxes next year, right, Trent?"

"Ah . . ." he faltered, inching back a bit more.

Thoughts were whirling behind Al's eyes, the possibility of a demon having rights in reality having distracted him. I think it bothered him that he wasn't accepted as a person, much as he'd deny it. Hands on his hips, he eyed me up and down, his gaze lingering on my hurt leg. "Why did you break that bracelet? To fix your leg?"

His tone was bitter, and I shook my head, the motion quick with nervousness. "I have to twist some charms."

"You mean curses," Al said, almost leering.

"Curses," I affirmed, wishing I hadn't shoved the chair out of the line. "I have to find HAPA or I'll get blamed for several murders. But I broke the charm so that I could fix Winona."

Al looked up from where he'd been analyzing his fingernails. Like magic, his glove ghosted back into existence. "Winona? A new friend of yours?"

I shook my head, remembering Winona's courage. She was braver than I was. "They cursed her, Al, with my stolen blood. I can't hide behind what I want to be anymore. It's hurting too many people. I'm a demon, and I won't let fear keep me from being a demon anymore. She needs my help," I whispered. "It's my fault she's the way she is, and no one is going to fight my battles anymore." I looked up. "Even if it scares me."

Trent cupped a hand under my elbow, supporting me in such a way that Al wouldn't readily see. "HAPA has a vial of her blood," Trent said. "Once they get done analyzing it, they're going to try to duplicate it and use it to eliminate Inderland one species at a time."

Al turned to face us fully, his eyebrows high. "Let's all hope they start with the elves," he said drolly. "How very careless of you, Rachel, giving out free curses."

"It wasn't my idea."

Taking off his hat, Al wiped a gloved hand over his hair before replacing the hat and squinting into the sun. "Demon," he scoffed. "You may be a demon, but you don't have two curses to rub together to protect yourself. You're coming with me where you will be safe."

I shifted my weight, and we backed up a step, to the edge of the line. "No."

Al stepped forward, and Trent put a hand out between us, stopping him cold. "She doesn't want to go with you."

Al's eyes narrowed. "Rachel can't protect herself," he said as if I wasn't standing there. "You know it better than she does. If you truly care about her, let her go. I'll keep her safe. Fill her with curses until she can stand on her own."

I blinked. Care about me? Boy, did Al have it wrong.

Trent leaned forward over my shoulder, our heads almost touching, his front to my back. "Safe? The same way I kept her safe by hiding her? I nearly killed her trying that, and hiding with you will do the same. No. She will have the sun and shadow both."

Sun and shadow both? I'd heard that before. It was an elf thing, and I suddenly felt uneasy. Things were spiraling out of control. I pulled away from Trent to see him better. He looked grim, squinting in the bloodred light, his hair blowing in the fitful wind like the tall grass around us. His jaw was clenched. Determined. He looked determined, and something in me twisted. Not again. I didn't want his death on my soul.

Al smacked his walking cane against a large rock standing like an island in the sea of grass. "Sun and shadow. Sun and shadow!" he shouted, and Trent's grip on me tightened. "There is no both. There is one or the other, and you will come with me now!"

Al reached, and I pulled the line into me. Like a flood it burst into my soul, raging through the hard-won, already desensitized channels, and racing to my hands. Feeling it, Al jerked his hand away, and Trent got it instead. The man grunted as the full force of the line burned him, and I winced, dampening the flow immediately. "Oh, crap. I'm sorry, Trent!" I said, and he frowned as he straightened from his pain-instilled crouch.

"My fault," he said as he found his full height. "It's okay."

Al leaned forward, and Trent grasped my shoulder, ready to yank me away. "It's down to pride, Rachel," the demon said, so close that I could see myself reflected in his goat-slitted eyes. "Even if I could get the rest of them to accept that you are sun and shadow both, there's the undeniable fact that you broke the balance of the ever-after. I'm paying Ku'Sox through the ass to keep it quiet. I need a source of income, and you're it."

Pride. That I could fix. "What if I sign the income from my tulpa over to you? You can pay him from that until I fix the line," I said breathlessly.

Al jumped as if startled, and even Trent made a questioning noise. "Tulpa?" Trent breathed, his words tickling my ear.

"I'll tell you later," I said, distracted as Al frowned, a calculating squint to his eyes. "That might buy a few groceries until I can work out something with Trent in lifting that elven curse," I offered, and sure enough, he twirled his walking cane in wide circles as he thought about it. If I could satisfy him, give him something he wanted, he'd let me do what I wanted for a little longer.

"And you think you're not one of us," Al said, his tone flat but with a trace of pride.

"Oh, but I do," I said, my jaw clenching against the pain in my leg. I had taken off the bracelet. I had gotten Al to listen. I had Trent as an ally. Three impossible things before midnight. I began to shake, the limits of my flagging endurance reached.

For a long moment, Al eyed us. "Sun and shadow," he grumbled, and Trent jumped when the demon snapped his fingers dramatically and a piece of paper floated down, flashing into existence from a space three feet over Al's head. The demon reached for it as it fluttered, his gaze never leaving mine, a hint of a smile about his lips. "Sign it," he said, extending it.

I reached out, but Trent was faster, snatching it before I could. "She's not signing anything until my people look at it."

I was going to fall down if we didn't finish this soon. My feet were soggy, hidden by the dry grass, and I reached for the pen stuck in Trent's pocket, making him blink in surprise. "Why?" I said, taking the paper from him as Al smiled. "If it's not what I agreed to, I will burn Al's gonads off the first chance I get. Turn around. I need to use your back for a second."

"Ah, hold on a tick," Al said, snapping his fingers again and catching the new paper drifting down. "How silly of me. This is the one. Here."

I crumpled the first and dropped it. Al burst it into a quick flame that vanished before it could reach the dry grass, ashes melting into the gritty wind. "Mmm-hmm," I said, satisfied, as I slapped the paper on Trent's back and signed my name. Al would need it to get at my funds, and apparently there was a lot there if he wanted physical proof of our agreement.

The demon was smiling as Trent stood and I handed the signed paper across him. Al was standing a bare three feet away, his mood almost jovial as he took the paper and it vanished in a wash of black sparkles. "Thank you, Rachel," he said, carefully reaching for my hand as Trent stiffened. "Welcome back, my itchy witch."

I couldn't help my smile, feeling a wash of energy flowing from him to me as he kissed the top of my hand in an overdone show of flair. Trent was glowering, clearly unhappy, as he stood within yanking distance while Al flirted. I was ready to cry in relief. I was back, alive, with the line in me and on good terms with my teacher. Somehow we had done it.

"Bye, Al," I said as he eyed me from over his glasses.

"If I ever see you in sweats again, I swear by Bartholomew's balls I will flay you." Al dropped my hand. His smile faded as he looked at Trent, and then he was gone, the grass he had displaced whispering back into place.

I took a deep breath, exhaling the gritty wind and feeling my feet go cold. I'd done it. No, we'd done it.

"Signing an unread contract with a demon wasn't very smart," Trent said, and I dropped my second sight. The hum of the line fell to nothing in me as I dropped it, too, but I could feel it just within my reach, easing my headache away with the heartbeat of creation.

Reality superimposed itself over the red-sheened ever-after. My hair settled, and I looked at the ruin of Trent's office. Smiling, I walked over to the desk to see how much of that coffee was left. "Oh, I beg to differ," I said smugly, dropping my crutch on the rolling chair in passing.

He looked mad, but I was in a great mood even if I had one hell of a night facing me.

"My office is trashed," he grumped as he squished across his damp carpet and took the coffee that I was holding out to him. "Why are you smiling? My fish are dead."

"Because Al and I are okay," I said, taking a sip from my cup and musing silently over the rim of it. "And that's important to me. But I'm sorry about the fish."

"You think that was okay?"

I sat back against Trent's desk, trying to look sexy in sweats. "Yup. Al fixed my leg." I smacked it to prove my point, and it made a dull thwack of sound. "He could have taken me any time he wanted, but he listened." I'd known it from the start but Trent wouldn't have believed me. "I told you not to do anything. That show you put on for him told him one thing, and one thing only."

Trent looked up, his eyes running from my dangling foot, up my curves, and finally to my face. "What's that?"

I smiled, taking a sip. "You're willing to risk death to help me."

Trent's eye twitched as he thought it over, realizing what he must have looked like to the demon. "Your hair is a tangled mess."

"Is it?" I couldn't stop smiling, my relief buoying me up. "You have ever-after dust all over your face." I slid from his desk, feeling frumpy in my black sweats but bursting with success. "Right here," I said as I set the coffee down on the low table beside him, leaning over him and brushing my thumb under his eye.

Trent jerked, his hand reaching up to grip my wrist.

"What are you doing?" he said, and I hesitated, not knowing.

We both turned as muttering voices grew loud outside the door, and the snick of a key sounded.

"Sa'han!" Quen said as he pushed open the door, stopping dead in his tracks as his feet squished into the soggy carpet and he saw the broken video screen and the busted fish tank. Behind him was David. Both men were looking at us, and Trent let go of my wrist. Slowly I straightened, confused. What was I doing?

"Ah, thank you. I couldn't have done it without you," I said as I dropped back, my feet damp and my enthusiasm fading.

What in hell was I doing, indeed?