For a Few Demons More - Page 16/20

Chapter Thirty-one

As expected, I had found Nick's place empty. I didn't think anyone had noticed me helping Kisten inside and up the steps to the one-bedroom apartment. Kisten had revived somewhat on the way, and he had gotten himself into a warm tub of water without my help. There was no shower curtain, and I thought a soak would be better anyway. He was still in there, and if I didn't hear some water draining soon, I was going to go check on him.

The sound of the street noise coming through the open windows was nice. It had smelled musty when I hesitantly opened the door to find empty walls and barren carpet. Clearly, Nick had packed up everything on the solstice, leaving very little to return to if he ever found himself in Cincy again. Where all his stuff was now, I didn't know or care. His mom's, maybe?

I couldn't help but feel betrayed all over again, though there was nothing here to trigger the memories but worn carpet and empty shelves. I tried not to feel bitter as I drank the coffee Nick had left along with a sleeping bag, three cans of stew, and the pan to heat it up in. There was one plate, one bowl, and one set of silverware - nothing he would miss if he never came back, but there if he found himself on the run and needed somewhere to hide for a night or two.

"Bastard," I mumbled, not putting much emotion behind it. If he had just been a thief, I might have been able to see past it, what with my new and improved outlook on life, but he had been buying demon favors from Al with pieces of me. Innocent things, he'd said, worthless. But if they were worthless, why had Al agreed to it?

So I sat at the metal and Formica table that came with the apartment, drinking stale coffee and staring at the stains on the matted carpet. The traffic sounds were both soothing and unfamiliar. Nick's apartment wasn't in a residential area but what passed for downtown Hollows. There was no scent of Nick in the air, yet I could almost feel the stale magic.

I looked at the scratched linoleum for the circle Nick had said was there, scribed with a black-light marker. The memory of standing in Nick's closet to summon Al lifted through me. God, I should've walked away right then, even if calling up Al for information had been my idea. But I hadn't thought anyone who claimed to love me could willingly betray me like that.

The water in the bathroom sloshed, and as the gurgle as it left the tub intruded into my thoughts, I sat up. Feeling bitter and stupid, I scooted my chair back and went to warm up a can of stew. The can opener was one of those cheap, flimsy things, and I was still fighting it when a soft breath and hesitant steps turned me around.

I smiled when I saw Kisten, wearing a towel, his hair damp. He had his torn and scuffed clothes in his hands, as if he didn't want to put them back on. Ugly bruises brought out by the warm water splotched his torso, and his eye was swollen bigger than before. Red-rimmed scratches marked his arms and face. His hair had been washed, and despite his beating, he still looked good - standing there in the kitchen wrapped in a towel, the definition of his muscles all damp and glistening -  - -

"Rachel," he said, looking relieved as he set his wad of clothes on a vacant chair, "you're still here. Um, don't take this the wrong way, but where are we?"

"Nick's old apartment." The can's finally popped lid off. Angst spiked though me at Jenks's warning, but I had to trust Kisten. Otherwise what was the point of loving him?

Kisten's blue eyes widened, and I licked a spot of cold gravy off my thumb. "Your old boyfriend's?" he said, turning to the empty living room with only the curtains moving in the slight breeze. "Kind of spartan with the decorating, wasn't he?"

Snorting, I dumped the stew into the pot and set the dial to warm. "I'm guessing he hasn't been here since the solstice, but he's paid up to August and I had a key, so here we are. No one knows but Jenks. You're safe," I said hesitantly. For the moment.

Exhaling, Kisten sat and put an elbow on the table. "Thank you," he said fervently. "I have to get out of Cincinnati."

I had my back to him as I stirred the stew, and a shiver rose through me. "Maybe not." The soft hush of the cotton towel as he straightened brought me around, and, seeing his wonder, I said, "I'm going to give Piscary the focus to put into hiding, if he will leave me alone and keep anyone else from knocking me or you off."

Kisten's lips parted, and I wished his towel would slip a little more. God! What was wrong with me? We were both teetering on death, and I was looking at his legs?

"You want to buy protection from Piscary?" Kisten said in disbelief. "After what he did to me? He gave my last blood to someone outside the camarilla! Do you know what that means? He's abandoning me, Rachel! It's not so much the dying I'm worried about, but being shunned. No one will risk his anger to make me undead now except maybe Ivy, and if she's his scion, that's not going to happen."

He was scared. I didn't like seeing him like that. Taking a miserable breath, I leaned against the stove and crossed my arms. "It's going to be okay. No one is going to kill you, so you'll be fine. Besides, I've been getting protection from him by way of Ivy," I said, thinking I would cheerfully be a hypocrite if it meant we both would survive. "This is just making it more official. I'm going to ask that he leave you alone, too. Take you back. It will be okay."

Hope lit his blue eyes, then died. "He won't," he said in a flat tone.

"Sure he will," I coaxed, coming to sit beside him.

"No he won't." Kisten looked worse for having seen hope for an instant. "He can't. It's done. You'd have to make arrangements with whoever he gave me to, and I don't know who that is. I won't until they show up. It's part of the mind game."

His eyes darted nervously, and I drew back. It wasn't that cut and dried. I knew how vamps worked. Until the coffin was nailed shut, there were options. "Then I'll find out who he gave you to," I said.

Kisten took my hands, his eyebrows furrowing over lost chances. "Rachel... it's too late."

"I can't believe you're giving up!" I said, angry as I pulled from him.

He took my hand and kissed the top of it. "I'm not giving up. I'm accepting it. Even if you could find out who it was, or if you were here when they came for me - which you won't be - that would leave you with nothing to buy protection from Piscary with." His hand rose to touch my jawline. "I won't do that to you."

"Damn it, it isn't too late!" I exclaimed, standing up and going to stir the stew before it burned. I couldn't look at him anymore. The pot slopped over in my agitation, and I got mad. "All you have to do is lay low until I get this sorted out. Can you do that for me, Kisten?" I turned, angry. "Just hide and do nothing for a day or two? "

His sigh was heavy, and I wasn't certain I believed him when he nodded. Sure that I'd be able to buy both our safeties with a five-thousand-year-old artifact, I kept stirring the stew. There were a couple of packets of hot chocolate in Nick's emergency store, and my jaw clenched. I was not going to make hot chocolate. "Is Ivy okay?" I asked, reminded.

His feet squeaked against the floor. "Of course she is," he said flatly. "He loves her."

I couldn't tell if he was angry. I set the spoon aside and turned down the burner, spinning to find he had dropped his forehead into his cupped hand. Worry went through me, then pity. "Piscary was ticked about the embalming fluid, huh?" I said, trying to be light.

"I have no idea," he said in a monotone. "It never came up. He was angry about what I did to the restaurant." His blue eyes held the pain of memory when he lifted them to me. "He was... like an animal," he said, fear and betrayal staining his voice. "He ripped out my chairs and tables, unshuttered the windows, burned the new menus, and punished my waitstaff. He almost killed Steve." His eyes closed, and the faint wrinkles on his face deepened as if a lifetime of pain had fallen on him in an instant. "I couldn't stop him. I thought he was going to kill me, too. I would have been happy if he had, but he threw me out with everything else."

As if he was an old menu or a used napkin. "Why, Kisten?" I whispered. I had to hear it. It hadn't been what Kisten did to the bar that caused Piscary to do what he did. Afraid, I stayed where I was, hands holding my elbows. I needed to hear it. I needed to hear Kisten tell me the truth so I could trust him. "Why did he kick you out?" I asked again.

His free hand rubbing at a sore rib, Kisten looked at me. He hesitated as if waiting for me to guess it before saying it. "He told me to kill you," he said, and fear pinged through me. "He said it was the only way I could prove that I loved him. He didn't ask Ivy to prove herself," he said, his voice cracking and his need for my forgiveness pouring from him. "I said no. I told him anything but that... and he laughed."

The heat from the burner against my back wasn't enough to stop a shudder rippling through me. Kisten's expression shifted to fear, but it was the terror of realization, not madness. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I couldn't do it," he rushed. "I'm going to die. He gave my last blood to someone as a gift. They're going to kill me - and no one will hold them accountable. They're going to get away with it. I could handle that," he said, his quickening breath giving away his fear. "But he kicked me out of the camarilla, and no one will cross Piscary to keep me undead. It's a double death sentence. One done quickly by a stranger who will suck me dry for his or her pleasure, the other slow by madness."

His gaze met mine, and I froze at the controlled panic in his gradually widening pupils.

"It's not a good way to die, Rachel," he whispered, chilling me. "I don't want to go insane."

Tension pulled through me. Blood. He was talking about blood. He wasn't afraid of dying, he was afraid of not having anyone to keep him undead afterward. And he was looking for me to help him. Damn it all to the Turn and back. I can't do this.

Fear lay deep in his eyes, the rim of blue shrinking as he sat at the table in an empty apartment and saw his life fall apart and no one willing to risk Piscary's anger to help him. I shifted forward and sat before him, taking his hands on my lap. "Look at me, Kisten," I demanded, scared. I can't become his source of blood. I have to keep him alive. "Look at me!" I repeated, and his darting gaze met mine in agitation. "I am here," I said slowly, to try to ground him. "They won't find you. I'll work something out with Piscary. The thing is five thousand years old. It's got to be worth both of us."

The water from his bath glistened on his shoulders, his expression slack in fear as he looked at me as if I stood between himself and insanity. Perhaps at that moment, I was. "I'm okay," he said huskily, and he took his hands from mine, visibly trying to divorce himself from his emotions. "Where is Jenks?" he asked, changing the subject.

A hint of unease stained my senses. Not knowing why, I leaned back. Jenks's warning resounded in me. "Home," I said simply. "He went to check on his kids." But my heart beat hard, and the hair on the back of my neck rose. "Hey... uh, I should probably head home and make sure he's okay," I said lightly, not knowing why all my instincts said to leave, and leave now. If only for a moment. I had to think. Something told me I had to think.

Kisten's head swung up, panic clear in his eyes. "You're leaving?"

A shiver rose through me and died. "We have two hours before sunset," I said as I stood, not liking him between me and the door all of a sudden. I loved him, but he was pulled to the breaking point, and I didn't want to have to say no if he asked me to be his scion. "No one knows you're here. I won't be long." Drawing away from him, I scooped up his clothes. "Besides, you don't want to put these on until they're clean. I'll wash them and be back before sunset. Promise. It will get me some time to make up some spells, too."

I had to get out. I had to give him time to realize he was going to make it. Otherwise he would assume he wasn't and would ask me something I didn't want to answer.

Kisten's shoulders eased, and he exhaled. "Thanks, love," he said, making me feel guilty. "I wasn't looking forward to putting them back on. Not in that condition."

I leaned forward and gave him a kiss from behind, my lips touching his cheek while his hand rose to caress my jawline. "Do you want Jenks's shirt meantime?" I asked, slipping from him when he shook his head. "You want me to stop and pickup anything while I'm out?"

"No," he repeated, looking worried.

"Kisten, it's going to be okay," I said, almost pleading. I wished he would stand up so I could give him a proper kiss good-bye.

Hearing my misery, he smiled and stood. We moved to the door together, his scent rising from the armload of limp clothes in my hands. Wet from the bath, he had almost no scent at all. I hesitated at the door and shifted my splat-gun-heavy shoulder bag up onto my shoulder.

His arms went around me, and I exhaled, letting my entire body meld into him, relaxing and just taking him in. Under the smell of soap was the hint of incense, and my eyes closed as I encircled him, holding him tightly.

For a long moment, we stood there, and I wouldn't let him go when he tried to rock back.

His eyes met mine, and his brow rose at my naked fear for him.

"It's going to be okay," he said, seeing my doubt.

"Kisten - "

And then he pulled me closer, angling his head to kiss me. I felt the hint of tears prickle as our lips met. My pulse jumped, not from lust but heartache. Kisten's grip on me tightened, and my throat closed in misery. He was going to be okay. He had to be.

But in his kiss I could feel his fear through his tense muscles pressing against mine and his hold on me, a shade too tight. He said it was going to be okay, but he didn't believe it. Though he said he wasn't afraid to die, I could tell he was terrified of being helpless. And he was. A faceless stranger was going to try to end his life, and there would be no pity, no caring, no gentleness. Any sense of belonging or family, however warped, was going to be absent. Kisten would be less than a dog to whoever was coming. It would turn what might be a rite of passage into an ugly act of self-serving murder. It was not the way Kisten should die. But it was how he lived.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled from him. Our lips parted, and I met his eyes, heavy with unshed tears. He didn't believe. I was going to make him believe. I was going to prove him wrong.

"I have to go," I whispered, and his hands fell from mine reluctantly.

"Hurry back," he pleaded, and I dropped my head, unable to look at him. "I love you," he said as I opened the door. "Never forget that."

Almost in tears, I blinked fast. "I can't. I won't. I love you, too," I said, then fled, slipping through the door and into the hall before I changed my mind.

I hardly remembered going down the cool stairs, dark from old paint and faded carpet. I looked up before I got into my car, seeing Kisten's shadowy silhouette hovering by the filmy curtains. A shiver went through me, rattling my keys when I didn't stifle it. I hadn't known that the depth of control the undead had on their underlings was so strong that they would willingly submit to planned murder, and I again thanked God that I had never let any vampires, even Ivy, bind me to them. Though he was seemingly independent and confident, Kisten's mental well-being hung upon the whim of someone who really didn't give a damn. And now he had nothing. Except my trying to keep a faceless vampire from killing him for sport.

Never, I thought. I loved Kisten, but never would I let a vampire bind me. I'd die first.

Chapter Thirty-two

The soothing scent of vampire and pixy sifted through the upper levels of my thoughts, skimming through the hazy dream state I was slowly pulling out of. I was warm and comfortable, and as my mind moved from sleep to awareness, I realized I was curled up in Ivy's chair in the sanctuary with Jenks's black silk shirt draped over me. I didn't care to analyze my motives for falling asleep in Ivy's chair. Maybe I just needed some comfort, knowing she was going through hell and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

Wait a moment. I'm sleeping in Ivy's chair? That would mean I was...

"Jenks!" I shouted, realizing what had happened and jerking upright. I'd come home to wash Kisten's clothes and had apparently fallen asleep, eight hours of spelled unconsciousness finally running thin. "Damn it, Jenks! Why didn't you wake me up!"

God help me - Kisten. I had left him alone, then fallen asleep.

I jumped up to call Kisten on his cell, jolting to a surprised halt when my body protested at the sudden movement, aching from having slept in a chair. It was chilly, and I glanced at the mantel clock atop the TV in passing as I slipped my arms into coolness of Jenks's shirt. My shoulders stretched painfully, hurting all the way to my lower back. I was fastening the first button as I entered the kitchen. It smelled like lilac in here, and candle wax, and the clock over the sink said the same thing.

Five-thirty? How could I have just fallen asleep? I hadn't gotten much sleep yesterday, but zonking out for an entire night? I hadn't made any charms or anything. Damn it, I was going to kill somebody if Kisten wasn't all right.

"Jenks!" I shouted again as I found the phone and hit it to dial. There was no answer, and I hung up before I was dumped into voice mail. A pang of fear shot through me, and I tried to collect myself before I went and did something stupid.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to get my car keys, hesitating in confusion. Where did I leave my bag?

"Jenks, where in hell are you!" I shouted, rubbing my aching upper arm. My wrist, too, was sore, and I shook it as I darted into the living room to see if my bag was in there, cataloging a myriad of aches and pains from my stiff neck to my aching foot. Why am I limping? I'm not that old. Unease went through me at the silence, and one hand was still holding my upper arm as I looked at the barren room in confusion.

"Rachel," came Jenks's worried, muffled voice an instant before he zipped in through the chimney, a thin trail of silver marking his path. "You're awake."

I stared at the vacant space, ticked - not because I had come in here searching for my bag and forgetting that the room was empty but because he looked scared. He ought to be. "Why didn't you wake me up?" I exclaimed, tucking my shirt in as he spilled dust coated with chimney soot. "Kisten was alone all night, and he's not answering his phone!"

"Are you okay?" he asked, coming too close, and I pulled back, my neck protesting.

"Apart from falling asleep in the middle of my bloody day and leaving Kisten alone, yeah," I said sarcastically, weight on one foot. "Why didn't you wake me? "

Jenks's wings dropped in pitch, and he landed on the mantel. "He called. After you fell asleep. Said he was moving underground to lessen the chance that anyone would hurt you to get to him. You needed the sleep," he said, sounding eerily relieved. "And besides, Piscary might not think the focus is worth you and Kisten both." His features tightened, and he couldn't seem to keep his wings from moving.

My urge to race to Nick's apartment slid into a general worry, and I focused on Jenks standing nervously on the fireplace. Kisten went underground without telling me? "He called before sundown?" I asked. I didn't want to feel guilty that my not being there forced him out into the open. Jenks shrugged, and I muttered, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Jenks reached to clean the soot from his wings like a tiny cat. His distress clear, he said. "You needed the sleep. Kisten going underground was the best thing for everyone."

"Yeah?" I shot back sourly. "If he's not careful, he's going to be permanently underground." Frowning, I headed back to the kitchen and some coffee. He went into hiding? In what? A towel and a smile? And what was it with this human time clock I was on anyway?

Jenks took to the air to follow me. "Rache, Kisten was right. I wouldn't want you there either whenever whoever Piscary gave Kisten to finds him."

"Why? Because I might save his ass?" I exclaimed, frustrated as I stood in the sun and dumped out yesterday's coffee. It was a painful reminder that Ivy was gone; she'd never let the coffee sit like that. My arm hurt, and I held it as I ran the water to rinse out the pot. "Damn it, Jenks! Letting a vampire drain someone to death as a thank-you is twisted and sick! Especially when the person being murdered thinks it's acceptable. Piscary is an animal! You think I like that he's the only one I can go to for protection? You think I like giving the focus to him? If I thought he'd do anything other than stick it into hiding, I'd give it to someone else. But I won't let Kisten die."

Jenks's wings drooped as he landed beside Mr. Fish, the sun shining through them to make sparkles on my hands. Feeling like an ass for my outburst, I put cold water in the pot and wiped it dry with a hand towel. "Sorry," I said, knowing that this animal was my best long-term insurance to stay alive. How did I get here? Depressed, I pushed the coffeepot away, not feeling up to making coffee anymore. "Kisten must think I'm a boob for falling asleep," I muttered.

"He knew you were tired." His brow was creased, and he sounded almost bitter. "Don't worry about him. Kisten probably has plans you don't even know about." Jenks lifted into the air and gave himself a shake to sift the last of the soot into the sink. "Besides, I've got some news that's going to make you piss your pants."

I didn't want to hear whatever gossip he had dug up, and I held my upper arm and tried to remember where I had left my shoulder bag. I had to talk to Kisten. Damn it, this wasn't fair. He was running away like an old cat to die in the woods. That was the terrifying part - that he accepted his murder willingly. Like he deserved to be treated like a thing.

"Listen to me," Jenks said with a false eagerness as he got in front of me. "You're not going to believe who called this morning."

I felt funny, standing in my sun-drenched kitchen with Jenks hovering close - too close - while I tried to remember where I had left my bag. My hand had crept up to my neck, and I forced it down. I was getting the oddest feeling - like I should have a string around my finger or something. Confused, I focused on Jenks. "Kisten isn't answering his phone. Where is he?"

"Tink's titties, Rache!" he exclaimed, his wings clattering. "Get off it! Let the man be a man. Besides, if you call or go see him, they'll find him that much sooner."

I slumped against the sink, stymied. There was that. My car was well known, and I wasn't about to take the bus and risk getting stranded somewhere. Giving up on finding my bag, I headed into the bathroom as a mildly pressing need grew worse. "Are you sure he's okay?" I asked, rubbing my arm through Jenks's shirt. That was the last time I was going to sleep in Ivy's chair. It was harder than it looked.

"Trust me." Jenks followed me in with a soft, almost subliminal hum. "Going to see him won't help him at all. Make everything worse. Let it go, Rache."

It was excellent advice - though not any I wanted to take - and I sourly stared at Jenks, standing on the washer lid with his feet spread and his hands on his hips. I had to use the bathroom, but he looked immovable. "Do you mind?" I said, and he sat down, his wings stilling.

I couldn't make him leave, and I wasn't going to use the can with him sitting there, so I grabbed my toothbrush. My mouth tasted like dead weeds, and I put an extra glop of minty toothpaste on the brush. "You know where he is, don't you?" I accused while I leaned over the sink to check out my perfect teeth, and when Jenks flushed, I continued, "He left without his clothes? He went to a girlfriend's house, didn't he? Someone who doesn't have any ties to Piscary."

Jenks said nothing, avoiding my gaze - and looking really, really guilty. I knew that Kisten had someone he was tapping for blood, and the fact that whoever it was might willingly defy Piscary if worse came to worst was a guilty relief. Besides, a vampire chick was probably tougher than me in a pitched fight. As long as she didn't hand him over. If she does, I'm going to freaking kill her, I thought in a pang of angst, then prayed I'd never have to make that decision.

"How long until you can get yourself cleaned up?" Jenks said, and I made a telling face.

"Ah 'ot 'icker if 'ou weren't in 'ere," I said around the foam, ticked off that Jenks knew where Kisten was and I didn't. If I really pressed him, Jenks would tell me. Probably even come with me to keep my ass above the grass when the bad guys followed me to Kisten's hideout. Crap on toast, I don't like feeling this helpless.

Jenks's wings blurred. "Glenn called," he said, as if it were a great honor.

Whoop-deee-freaking-do. "Mmmm?" I prompted around the toothbrush. My hair was down about my shoulders, and I frowned as I brushed my teeth. Jenks's kids' work usually had to be picked apart, but this braid was completely gone. I winced when my toothbrush hit my inner lip. Bending over the sink, I spit, eyes widening at the thread of pink in with the paste.

"What does Glenn want?" I asked as I leaned to the mirror and curled my lower lip down to see a red line. When did I do that? "More Tabasco sauce?"

"He's got a warrant," Jenks said, hovering so close that I had to back up until there were twin images of nervous pixy between me and my reflection. "Or he will soon."

Okay, Now I was interested. "For who?" I rinsed and spit, glad there was no more blood.

Jenks grinned, looking relieved. "For Trent."

My head jerked up. "What!" I shouted. "He did it? Glenn got a warrant? Why didn't you tell me!"

Silver dust slipped from Jenks, and he returned to the washer. "He has the verbal okay, and he's on his way to the FIB's headquarters in Detroit to get the original paperwork. That's why I let you sleep. He doesn't want you to do anything until he has the papers in his hand. Hours yet. You need any help in the kitchen?"

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, pulse quickening. I looked at what I was wearing, then at the shower, fingers undoing a button. I had to get cleaned up. This was just too cool.

"It was you," Jenks said, his features glowing with pride. "Thanks to your tip that Trent confessed to the murders, Glenn got approval to take another crack at Brett's body. He lifted a print off Brett's toenail before they moved him back to a person and destroyed it. It matched one they got from Trent from when you got him hauled in last year."

"Hot damn!" I whispered, too excited to be disgusted that I had more than Trent's admission that he had abducted, tortured, and killed another person in the name of... whatever holy mission he thought he was on. "I've got to get dressed. I have to go to work." I put a hand to my snarled hair and hesitated. "Uh, Glenn's going to let me bring him in, right?"

"Yup." Jenks hovered an inch from the cool porcelain, wings faintly humming. "He said he's turning this over to you, seeing as you're... Just a minute, I want to get this right. He said you're not a detective person but a smack-them-up-and-bring-them-in person. All he wants is for you to wait until he has the paperwork in his hands. That's why he's going up there to get it himself. He's afraid it will get lost in the fax machine or something."

I didn't blame him. Not for one glorious moment. Ecstatic, I headed to the kitchen to see if I needed to make anything. "I've got a warrant for Trent for murder," I said, sliding the last yard or so in my socks to land in the threshold. "I'm going to tag him! I'm going to get him off my back for good! And I don't have to rescue a demon familiar to do it!"

Jenks was smiling at me. "You are so funny," he said. "It's like Christmas for you."

"Okay," I said, feeling the blood thrum in me as I found the sun-bright kitchen. The window was open, but still, the faint scent of yew from the forget potion I'd been planning on making for Newt lingered. "Let me think. You going to be around this afternoon, Jenks? I'm going to need your help."

"Like I would miss this?" He was grinning, looking happy and relaxed.

Beaming, I threw my charm cupboard open and ran my hands through my amulets. I had enough of everything except disguise amulets, but I wouldn't need them to bring in Cincy's favorite bad boy. "I have to take a shower," I said, excited as I limped across the kitchen. "Are you sure Kisten's okay? "

Jenks landed on the spigot, his fitfully moving wings sending flashes of morning light everywhere. "I expect he's exactly the way he was when you left him."

I had to trust that. And he'd be okay now until the sun went down. As Jenks had said, the I.S. was probably watching me and would relay my movements to whoever was looking for Kisten. Actually, that might make tagging Trent more difficult, unless... "Get yourself cleaned up," I said to Jenks as I headed for the shower. "We have a wedding to go to."

"What?" Jenks yelped as he followed. "You're going to arrest Trent at his wedding?"

"Why not?" I halted in the threshold to the bathroom. My hand was on the doorframe, but I didn't want to shut the door on him. "It's the only place I'll be able to tag him without him siccing Quen on me. Not to mention the I.S. bothering me. I am invited." I felt my expression grow hard. "And Piscary, probably. I'd rather talk to him there than on his own turf." This was going to work in so many ways. It was perfect.

Jenks's sigh was loud. "Rachel, you're cruel."

"Right," I said, eyebrows rising. "Like Trent really wants to marry Ellasbeth?"

Shrugging, he darted out of the kitchen, shouting to Matalina if she knew where his good bow was. I got the shower going and stripped, my motions slowing as I found that my hip was sore from Ivy's chair - and my foot? I prodded the swollen, tender tissue as I waited for the water to warm, thinking I was way too young to get sore from sleeping in a chair. But the water was hot, and when I got into it, it soothed all the aches away. Kist was in hiding, and I could barter for his safety - our safety -  once dusk fell. But before that. I got to pick up Trent, at last.

Damn, this was going to be a good day.