of butterfly wings.
I was real. Stumbling, I sucked in a huge gulp of air, shocked when my boots skittered across electric-light-lit tile, not the starlit red slab of cement I was aiming for. I looked up, hearing a groan as Quen hit the floor behind me a second later.
My face became cold, and Trent turned, his rolling chair making a clicking sound as he cocked his head at my battle-dirty clothes and tangled hair.
“This isn’t my garden,” I whispered, and Trent’s smile chilled me to my core.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trent stood, a hard eagerness obvious on his blond-stubbled, tired-looking face. Fear slid through me, and I hid my hand with the ring behind me. Quen could give him the master ring and, with it, me. Trent would be the most powerful elf in generations. He could save his people. Why would he ever take it off?
“I didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” Trent said as he swooped to us, his lab coat billowing behind him.
“The deadline was moved,” Quen said. “Sa’han, you were right. This isn’t working.”
“Obviously. If it was, you wouldn’t be here.”
He was reaching for me, and I pulled away, standing before he could help me.
“I got you!” Bis almost sang, and my heart sank. We had left Etude alone with that monster. “I snagged you. Right. Out. Of. The. Line!” he crowed, his wings spread and his red eyes sparkling in the fluorescent light. “I’m go- o-od. I’m go-o-od. I’m so bad I’m go-o-od,” he sang, doing one of Jenks’s hip wiggles, his tail curved over his head and wings spread wide.
I had just left Etude there, and I fought with the desire to go back. Beyond the thick plate glass, the babies slept, the light dim and making the glass somewhat reflective. Trent was gesturing sharply as he and Quen talked in hushed whispers, and I didn’t like the chagrined expression that Quen was now wearing. Al was right. I was a fool.
My hands were shaking, and I leaned against a counter, wondering if I was going to throw up. Ku’Sox would figure out where we’d gone eventually. The slaver glinted on my finger, and I wanted it off. “Thanks, Bis,” I said when the adolescent gargoyle finished his well-deserved “happy dance” and dropped to the counter, his claws scraping. His smile was wide, and I didn’t know how I was going to tell him about his dad. Taking a breath, I whispered, “Your dad is a wonder.”
Bis’s ears pricked, and the hair on the end of his tail stood straight up. “You saw him?”
I nodded. “He came to the church, then helped keep Ku’Sox off us at the castle. We left him there, but Ku’Sox was after us, not him. I think he’ll be okay.”
Bis took to the air in little hops. “You bet. Where do you want them? Trent’s place?”
I was going to say the church, but if Bis knew the line in Trent’s office . . .
“My office?” Trent exclaimed, and I pushed myself up from the counter, angry. His hands were in the pockets of his lab coat. Quen’s were behind his back. I didn’t know who had the ring, and suddenly it was really important.
“The church’s garden is full of pained gargoyles right now,” I said as Bis crawled on the ceiling into the nursery.
“Yes, of course,” Trent said, but neither one of them was moving. “Can it wait until we get out of here? Apparently you and Quen working together is the only way you survived this long. It would be foolish to halve our strength until we are sure we can afford it.”
“Survived!” I blurted. “That’s the word for it. This isn’t working! We need to go!”
Trent jerked into motion, rolling his chair across the lab to a bank of cabinets. Maybe I should just cut my finger off. I didn’t really need ten fingers, did I? Trent got along okay with less than that. “I’m not leaving until the infants are gone,” Trent said, rummaging in a drawer. “And until they are, the rings stay on.” His gaze went to the blood seeping from the scratch Ku’Sox had given me, and I tugged the torn fabric to cover it.
I glared at Quen, feeling betrayed. “Soon as they’re out of here, the ring comes off.” But neither one of them said anything, and I headed for Trent, hands clenched. “And then it comes off!” I said again. “I am not going to be your battery to try to kill Ku’Sox. Understand?”
“Yes, of course.” Glancing at Bis, Trent stood, his hands full of bandages and ointment he’d taken from the drawer. “Sit, you’re injured.”
“My arm is fine!” I said, glancing behind me to see only seven, then six babies left. Trent had dropped his head, and then it hit me. I wasn’t the only slave here. “How much can you do?” I asked Trent, and his lips twitched. “I mean, are you like his slave slave, or do you still have free will?”
Trent glanced at Quen. “Ah, as long as Ku’Sox isn’t paying me any attention, I have my will. And when he makes one mistake, he’s going to die.”
He was looking at my hand, and suddenly my warning flags tripped. Ashen, I hid my hands and looked between Quen and Trent. There hadn’t been enough time in that hushed conversation for Quen to bring Trent all the way up to speed. “You knew I reinvoked the slavers,” I said, and Trent seemed to freeze. “How? Did you have Quen pull Riffletic’s rings to force me to reinvoke these . . .
Quen’s eye twitched, and Trent reached for me. “No, well, fight maybe,” he said, his eyes pleading. “You’ve got it backward, but they’re the only way to even hope to make a strong enough bond between demon and elf. I was afraid if I told you, you would have said no.”
“I put this on because I trusted you! And you forced this decision on me?” I jerked away from Quen. My hand was in a fist, slaver gold glinting between my knuckles.
Suddenly the room flashed white, a muffled explosion making the glass tremble. I gasped, falling to my knees when it cracked. Trent went for the floor as Quen spun. A boom of sound shook the air, and the glass shattered inward.
Quen was flung back, arms flailing as he hit the tile a second before the safety glass pattered down on him. Crouched and head covered, I was struck by shards. Babies were crying, at least three, maybe more.
“Where are you taking them, you little swamp rat!” Ku’Sox shouted, and I felt a tug as Bis popped another baby to safety. Ku’Sox didn’t know Quen and I were here, and my heart pounded. Shit. Who had the ring? Trent or Quen? Ku’Sox owned Trent. Would he own me by default too?
Quen shifted, and glass slid from him. The faint tinkling went unnoticed as Ku’Sox shouted at Bis. Thumps and pops were coming in through the broken window, and I peeked over the shattered edge of the window frame. Bis was swooping madly, his face alight and his sparse hair bristled. He was enjoying himself, but I was scared to death for him.
“Hey!” I shouted, standing up, and Ku’Sox spun, the demon actually looking surprised for one—blessed— moment.
Black teeth showing in a grin, Bis used the distraction to pop another baby to safety.
Ku’Sox glanced at the gargoyle, then back to me. Looking grim, he walked toward us, snatching a wailing infant from his crib by his leg, his blue blanket falling to the floor. “I don’t know if you are incredibly stupid or incredibly clever,” he said, carelessly dangling the screaming baby upside down. “Are you seeking a way to implicate me in your . . . foolhardy attempt to destroy the ever-after, or just really, really stupid?”
“I’d go for incredibly clever,” I said, then yanked on the line as his free hand clenched, turning a violent black
