said slowly. “He was a coven member gone bad. They had no choice but to kill him.”
Trent was silent, drawing back as I pointed a finger at her. “He wasn’t just killed. He was buried alive.”
“Because of Eleison—” Vivian said, eyes alight as if discussing a long-argued point.
“Eleison was a mistake,” I interrupted. “It wouldn’t have happened if he had known even the basic defensive arts for demonology. Your coven turned on one of their own. Gave him to an ugly rabble instead of trying to understand what he was warning them about.” Frustrated, I leaned forward. “Vivian, this lily-white crap the coven sticks to can’t protect you anymore. It took five of you to subdue me, and I didn’t use a black curse. A real demon would have. You saw how easily Al took Brooke.”
“Rachel—” Trent said, and I cut him off.
“Knowing how to twist curses doesn’t mean that you’re evil,” I said, hoping I believed it myself. “Using demon magic doesn’t necessarily mean you’re bad. It just means you created a whole lot of imbalance.”
“You,” Vivian said hotly, “are rationalizing. White is white. Black is black.”
Trent picked up both bills, pulling a wallet from his back pocket and dropping enough cash on the table to cover them both. “Madam Coven Member disagrees with you,” he warned me, and I frowned, my gut tensing.
“Look,” I said, aware that I was probably sealing my fate, but this might be my only chance to actually say anything in my defense. “Knowing demon magic has saved my life. I never use curses that require body parts or ones that kill…”
Vivian’s lips parted, and her fingers slipped from the condensation-wet glass. “You admit you killed someone? With black magic?”
Trent’s expression was questioning as he sat back down. My shoulders slumped, and I grimaced. “The fairies your precious coven sent to kill me,” I admitted.
“No,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “I mean people.”
“Fairies
Vivian was silent, her milk shake gone and her fingers damp as she dried them on a white paper napkin. “Well, I have to use the little girls’ room,” she said, looking uneasy. “Don’t leave until I get out, okay?” she said hopefully. God, she didn’t even know why I was insulted.
“No promises,” Trent said as I continued to steam. “The road calls.”
Vivian stood, her chair bumping on the floor. “I’m going to pay for this little chat when this is over,” she said as she flicked the amulets around her neck. “See you at the finish line.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Vivian,” Trent said, standing as well, his hand extended, and I huffed when they shook. Vivian, though, was charmed, beaming at him.
She turned away, and I cleared my throat. “You going to vote for or against me?” I asked bluntly, and the woman’s eyes pinched.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Our pleasure,” Trent said as he sat back down.
Vivian paused, looking like she wanted to say more, but then turned for the short corridor with RESTROOMS over it. She turned a corner and vanished with a squeak of a hinge.
Trent wrapped his hands around his mug and took a sip. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “I truly don’t. You know they were listening, right? Editing it and putting it on the closed-circuit TV at the convention hotel?”
“I know,” I said, depressed. “The sad thing is that she’s probably the only coven member who might side with me, and I think I just alienated her.” Disgusted, I pushed my plate away, trying to shove my dark thoughts along with it. Looking up, I caught the waitress’s eye and pointed to my coffee cup, signaling another one for the road in a to-go cup. “You want another coffee?” I asked.
“No. Mind if I shower next?” he asked, and I gestured for him to have at it.
“Be my guest,” I said, hoping he left me more than a hand towel.
Trent tapped the table once with his knuckles, hesitated, then left. The Weres at the end of the bar watched him as he walked to the door. There was a flash of light and a jingle as he opened it, and then the restaurant returned to a dim coolness.
The waitress sashayed to my table, a jumbo disposable cup in her hands. It was Were size, and if I drank it all, I’d be stopping to pee more than Jenks. “Thanks. That will wake me up,” I said, reaching for my bag and wallet as she set the cup down.
“We’re good,” she said as she picked up the bills Trent had left behind and smiled.
Standing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and lifted the huge cup of coffee. It took two hands. This thing was not going to fit in my mom’s cup holders, and I walked carefully to the door, opening it by leaning against it and walking backward.
The heat and light hit me, and I carefully let the door slide off me and close. This time-zone jumping got to a person. Two hours in one day was hard. Squinting, I shuffled to the car, now parked under the gas station overhang with a hose stuck into it. Trent wasn’t anywhere, but Ivy was standing halfway across the lot, confronting a heavy, grungy trucker who looked not scared but concerned.
Her long hair, wet from her shower, glinted, and I paused at the car to set my coffee down and sigh at how much it took to fill the tank. Ivy had changed her clothes, her long legs managing to make the retro bell-bottoms look work. Her white shirt set off her figure nicely, and the short sleeves were going to make her day a lot cooler. She looked upset, and a faint feeling of unease tightened in me.
“Ivy?” I called, and she spun, the fear on her face striking me cold. She was moving fast—vampire fast—and her eyes were fully dilated in the bright sun.
“He’s gone,” Ivy shouted across the lot, and the fear dropped and twisted.
“Who?” I said, already knowing.
“Jenks,” she said, eyes wide.
Coffee forgotten, I ran across the lot, squinting when the sun hit me. “Gone! Where?”
The trucker looked forlorn in a bearish sort of way, clearly wanting to help us but not understanding why we were upset. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, holding his hands like a fig leaf. “I don’t pay much attention to the little winged critters unless they hit my windshield. They’re a bitch to get off.”
“I don’t know if it was pixies or fairies,” the man said, “but a whole mess of noise of ’em just rose up, taking a little fella in red with them. He didn’t look like he was hurt any.”
My heart was thudding, and I backed up, sharing a terrified look with Ivy. Oh God, we were in the desert. There was nothing between me and the horizon but wind, sand, and scrub. Pixies could fly faster than I could run and in every direction.
We’d never find him.
Nine
“Trent!” I shouted, hammering on the bathroom door. It was thin and hollow, and I could hear the water running in the shower. He had to have heard me, but he didn’t answer.
Fidgeting, I hammered on it again. “Trent! We have to go!”
“I’ve been in here two minutes!” he shouted back.
My breath came fast, and I looked out the open door to the parking lot. Ivy was still talking to the trucker, explaining the difference between pixies and fairies to hopefully narrow down who had taken him. We’d never find him if fairies had taken him. Not in time.
“I just got in here,” Trent muttered.
My eyes narrowed to slits. I looked at the door, took a deep breath, grabbed the chintzy fake-brass handle,
