Trent's new lock on his office gave us trouble. Pulse pounding, I fidgeted by the door as Jenks spent an entire, unreal five minutes jigging it. Cursing like a furnace repairman, he finally asked for my help in holding an unbent paper clip against a switch. He didn't bother to tell me I was closing a circuit until after a jolt of electricity knocked me on my can.
'You ass!' I hissed from the floor, wringing my hand instead of wringing his neck like I wanted. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
'You wouldn't have done it if I had told you,' he said from the safety of the ceiling.
Eyes narrowed, I ignored his snarky, half-heard justifications and pushed open the door. I half expected to find Trent waiting for me, and I breathed easier upon finding the room empty, lit dimly from the fish tank behind the desk. Hunched with anticipation, I went right for the bottom drawer, waiting until Jenks nodded to tell me it hadn't been tampered with. Breath tight, I pulled it open to find—nothing.
Not surprised, I looked up at Jenks and shrugged. 'Plan B,' we said simultaneously as I pulled a wipe from a pocket and swabbed everything down. 'To his back office.'
Jenks flitted out the door and back. 'Five minutes left on the loop. We gotta hurry.'
I bobbed my head, taking a last look at Trent's office before I followed Jenks out. He buzzed ahead of me down the hallway at chest height. Heart pounding, I followed at a discreet distance, my shoes silent on the carpet as I jogged through the empty building. The fail-safe amulet about my neck glowed a nice, steady green.
My pulse increased and a smile curved over me as I found Jenks at the door to Trent's secondary office. This was what I had missed, why I had left the I.S. The excitement, the thrill of beating the odds. Proving I was smarter than the bad guy. This time, I'd get what I came for. 'What's our clock?' I whispered as I came to a halt, pulling a strand of hair out of my mouth.
'Three minutes.' He flitted up and then down. 'No cameras in his private office. He's not there. I already checked.'
Pleased, I slipped past the door, easing it closed as Jenks flew in behind me.
The smell of the garden was a balm. Moonlight spilled in, bright as early morning. I crept to the desk, my smile turning wry, since it now had the cluttered look of one that was being used. It took only a moment to find the briefcase beside the desk. Jenks jimmied the lock, and I opened it up, sighing at the sight of the discs in neat, tidy rows. 'Are you sure they're the right ones?' Jenks muttered from my shoulder as I chose one and slipped it into a pocket.
I knew they were, but as I opened my mouth to answer, a twig snapped in the garden.
Pulse hammering, I jerked my thumb in the 'Hide' gesture to Jenks. Wings silent, he flitted up to the row of light fixtures. Not breathing, I eased down to crouch beside the desk.
My hope that it might be a night animal died. Soft, almost inaudible footfalls on the path grew louder. A tall shadow moved with a confident quickness from the path to the porch. It took the three steps in one bound, moving with a content, happy motion. My knees went weak as I recognized Trent's voice. He was humming a song I didn't recognize, his feet moving to a spine-tingling beat.
Trent turned his back to me and rummaged in a closet. An uncomfortable silence replaced his humming as he sat on the edge of a chair between me and the porch, changing into what looked like tall riding boots. The moonlight made his white shirt seem to glow past his close-cut jacket. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked as if his English riding outfit was green, not red.
The twin thumps of his heels into his boots were loud. My breath coming faster, I watched him stand, seeming far taller than the extra inch the boots gave him. The light dimmed as a cloud passed before the moon. I almost missed it when he reached under the chair he had been sitting on.
In a smooth, graceful motion, he pulled a gun and trained it on me. My throat closed.
'I hear you,' he said evenly, his voice rising and falling like water. 'Come out. Now.'
Chills raced down my arms and legs, setting my fingertips to tingle. I crouched beside the desk, not believing he had sensed me. But he was facing me squarely, his feet spread wide and his shadow looking formidable. 'Put your gun down first,' I whispered.
'Ms. Morgan?' The shadow straightened. He was actually surprised. I wondered who he had expected. 'Why should I?' he asked, his mellow voice soothing despite the threat in it.
'My partner has a spell right over your head,' I bluffed.
The shadow that was Trent shifted as he glanced up. 'Lights, forty-eight percent,' he said, his voice harsh. The room brightened, but not enough to ruin my night vision. Knees turning to water, I rose from my crouch, trying to look as if I had planned this as I leaned against his desk in my silk and spandex bodysuit and crossed my ankles.
Gun tight in his grip, Trent ran his gaze over me, looking disgustingly refined and smart in his green riding outfit. I forced myself to not look at the weapon pointing at me as my gut tightened. 'Your gun?' I questioned, sending my gaze to the ceiling where Jenks waited.
'Drop it, Kalamack!' Jenks shrilled from the light fixture, his wings clattering in an aggressive noise.
Trent's stance eased to match my own tension-laced, casual poise. Motions sharp and abrupt, he took the bullets from the gun and tossed the heavy metal to my feet. I didn't touch it, feeling my breath come easier. The bullets clattered dully into a pocket of his riding jacket. In the stronger light, I could see evidence of his healing demon attack. A yellowing bruise decorated his cheekbone. The end of a blue cast poked beyond the cuff of his jacket. A healing scrape showed on his chin. I found myself thinking that despite it all, he looked good. It wasn't right that he should look so confident when he thought he had a lethal spell hanging over him.
'I only need to say one word, and Quen will be here in three minutes,' he said lightly.
'How long do you take to die?' I bluffed.
His jaw clenched in anger, making him seem younger. 'Is that what you are here for?'
'If it was, you'd already be dead.'
He nodded, accepting that as truth. Standing wire-tight across the room, his gaze flicked to his open briefcase. 'Which disc do you have?'
Feigning confidence, I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. 'Huntington. If anything happens to me, it will go to six papers and three news studios along with the missing page of your planner.' I pushed myself off from his desk. 'Leave me alone,' I threatened flatly.
His arms hung unmoving at his sides, his broken one at an angle. My skin pricked, though he made no move, and my veneer of confidence slipped. 'Black magic?' he mocked. 'Demons killed your father. Shame to see the daughter go the same way.'
My breath hissed in. 'What do you know of my dad?' I said, shocked.
His eyes slid to my wrist—the one with the demon scar—and my face went cold. My stomach knotted as I remembered the demon killing me slowly. 'I hope it hurt you,' I said, not caring that my voice quavered. Maybe he'd think it was in anger. 'I don't know how you survived it. I almost didn't.'
Trent's face went red and he pointed a finger at me. It was nice to see him act like a real person. 'Sending a demon to attack me was a mistake,' he said, his words sharp. 'I don't deal in black magic, nor do I allow my employees to do so.'
'You big fat bar!' I exclaimed, not caring if it sounded childish. 'You got what you deserved. I didn't start this, but I'll be damned if I don't finish it!'
'I'm not the one with the demon mark, Ms. Morgan,' he said icily. 'A liar as well? How disappointing. I'm seriously considering withdrawing my offer of employment. Pray I don't, or I won't have any reason to tolerate your actions any longer.'
Angry, I took a breath to tell him he was an idiot. But my mouth stopped. Trent thought I had summoned the demon that had attacked him. My eyes went wide as I figured it out. Someone had called two demons—one for me, one for him—and it hadn't been anyone at the I.S. I'd stake my life on it. Heart pounding, I reached out to explain, then shut my mouth.
Trent went wary. 'Ms. Morgan?' he questioned softly. 'What thought just percolated through that head of yours?'
I shook my head, licking my lips as I took a step back. If he thought I dealt in black magic, he'd leave me alone. And as long as I had proof of his guilt, he wouldn't risk killing me. 'Don't back me into a corner,' I
