Black Magic Sanction

and I tripped, falling right in front of her. 'Please,' I begged to the camera, stalling, so Vivian could show up. 'I'm a good witch! They made me do it! It was my only way out!' Which they did. Sort of. In a roundabout way.

'Corruption in the coven. I'm going to get an Emmy for this,' the woman said, then turned to Trent as Glenn hoisted me out of her reach. 'Mr. Kalamack! Sir! Is that your statue?'

Trent was behind three big guys, but he wasn't leaving. 'I've no idea what is going on.'

The FIB had taken the stage, and with his hand around my elbow, Glenn hesitated. 'Sir, if that's not yours, we need it as evidence.'

Trent's face went white. Slowly Quen brought the statue back into the sun, and cameras whirred and snapped as it changed hands. Trent's look at me was murderously calm. If this didn't work, I was going to be so- o-o-o dead.

'It's his,' I babbled for the cameras. 'I stole it out of his vault yesterday. The coven shunned me. I had no choice!' Where in hell is Vivian?

'Will someone read that woman her rights and get her to shut up?' Trent said, but the cameras were on me.

'The coven told you to steal it?' one of the reporters asked.

Glenn's grip on me tightened, and I followed his gaze to where the crowd was parting. Black suits and power ties. It was the coven, but it wasn't Vivian, it was Oliver!

'That woman is mine!' Oliver shouted even before he found the steps, his face red as he strode forward, amulets swinging and Mobius cuff links shining in the sun. 'I claim jurisdiction. She is a black witch, shunned, and I won t have her spreading lies of corruption in the coven!'

I pressed back into Glenn, the air cold on my knees. It was about to get tricky.

'Sir!' the reporter was saying, her mike aimed at Oliver as he found the stairs. 'Did you tell Morgan to steal the statue from Mr. Kalamack to get her shunning removed?'

The man stopped on the stairs, looking aghast. 'Of course not!'

She looked at her ring, and I realized the thing was an amulet, glowing a steady green. It was a truth charm. Shit. I had to work fast. Good thing I hadn't lied.

'I tried to keep the demon from taking Brooke,' I babbled. 'Friday. At sunset. You heard the explosion. All of Cincinnati did! Oliver, you have to believe me. She summoned a demon. I told her not to, but she did. I tried to save her, and she told him to kill me!'

The newscaster's amulet stayed green, and the woman's eyes grew bright. Corruption in the coven indeed.

Trent pushed forward. 'Get her out of here,' he hissed to Oliver.

'I'm trying,' Oliver said, his fingers encircling my arm.

'No!' I said, shrinking back, my fear real. 'I want due process!' Anywhere other than an FIB cell, and I was dead or lobotomized. And Trent smiled, the bastard. I hope you choke on it, elf hoy.

The newscaster held her mike higher, flushed. 'Mr. Coven Leader, has a member of the coven been demon-napped in conjunction with Morgan's assassination attempt?'

Oliver hesitated. It was his downfall. Guilty or not, he looked it. Smooth as silk, Trent stepped forward. 'I'm sure the coven leader will give you a statement in due time.' Turning his back to the crowd, he hissed, 'Will you get her out of here?'

Oliver tugged on me, and I pressed into Glenn. 'I didn't want to do it!' I shrieked. 'I didn't want to break into Trent's vault. I don't care if I go to jail, but don't let the coven take me. They put me in Alcatraz with no trial. They sent fairies to burn my church. And they summoned a demon to kill me!'

And of course the newswoman's amulet stayed a nice, beautiful green. Eyes bright, she stood on tiptoe, her mike above her head. 'Sir! Is there any connection between Ms. Morgan's claims of an attack and the 911 call to the Hollows at 1597 Oakstaff yesterday morning?'

Innocent as a lamb, the man stammered, 'I wasn't aware of an explosion.'

Her ring glowed red. Trent's head bowed and he started distancing himself. I felt a glimmer of hope. Oliver had lied, and the reporter knew it.

'Sir, is it coven policy to take contracts out on shunned witches?' she insisted as if sensing blood. 'Did you tell Morgan to steal for you to escape such a punishment?'

'Uh...' He hesitated, then shouted, 'I'm taking custody. She is a black-arts witch! Look, I have the paperwork.'

Crap. I'd forgotten that the coven loved red tape as much as David. 'Glenn,' I said, my fear very real, 'don't let them take me. Please!'

But he could do nothing as a wheezing, red-faced Oliver handed him a paper. Damn it, I was not going to die from paperwork. 'Ah, Rachel...,' Glenn said, his face becoming concerned as he looked up from it. 'We might have a problem here.'

'Glenn,' I breathed, knees going weak. 'They'll kill me! Don't let them take me!'

Oliver made a satisfied huff. This was not happening. This was not happening!

As if in a dream, I heard Glenn promise he'd get me back, but it wouldn't matter. In five minutes, I'd be in a van, hopped up on drugs. An hour after that, I'd be on a surgery table.

Someone took my elbow and tugged me to the steps. 'No!' I shouted, and the crowd responded. In a panic, I yanked out of Oliver's grip. Three more men grabbed me. I struggled, but sheer body mass overcame me, and I hit the floor, awkward with my hands bound behind me with that damned charmed silver. Tears started from the impact, and my breath huffed out when one of them landed on me.

'Rache!' Jenks shrilled, inches from my face and almost under someone's shoes. 'Pierce says he's sorry! He can't allow the coven to take you!'

My heart sank. It was over. Pierce was going to do something. It was going to be powerful, wonderful, and completely cook my ass and label me black for sure. 'I'm sorry, too,' I whispered, hearing Glenn shouting about due process, stalling. 'I really thought this would work.' Oh God. I was going to have to spend the rest of my life in the ever-after. Damn it! Damn it back to the Turn.

Jenks flashed me a grin, shocking me. 'No, you idiot. He's going to magic your zip strip off. He's sorry because it's going to burn.'

He's going to what? I was yanked up, the flash of Jenks darting away was almost lost amid the shouting crowd and the reporters demanding statements. My shoulder hurt, and I spit the hair out of my mouth. I inhaled sharply as my wrists flashed into flame.

Over? I thought, gritting my teeth in a savage smile as the men flashed papers at each other and argued over who was to have me. It wasn't over yet.

Glenn was blocking the stairs, his compact bulk not backing down from a black-eyed living vamp insisting he get out of the way. I had the fleeting thought that his time with Ivy was serving him well. Behind my back, hidden by the overly long sleeves of my borrowed coat, my wrists burned where the metal touched me. Taking a breath, I pulled. And damn me back to the two worlds colliding if the charmed silver didn't give.

My heart leapt as the silver parted with a soft ping. The two I.S. officers at my shoulders were oblivious as the ever-after flooded in from the university ley line. My head snapped up, and I took a huge breath, palming the still-warm metal. Trent saw my expression, and somehow he knew. He touched Quen's arm, leaning to whisper in his ear. Quen's eyes flicked to mine, and I swear if he didn't smile, even as he started pulling Trent away, jumping to the pavers and almost yanking him down.

Youd better run, I thought dryly. Right to the FIB building to wait for me. Glenn had the statue, and I knew Trent would come for it. No one watched their retreat, the ring of reporters trying to get quotes from the much louder drama Oliver was making. All, that is, but the one reporter watching Quen drag Trent through the crowd, her eyebrows raised in speculation.

Over the noise and swirling motion, I found Pierce, standing alone and apart in the sun at the edge of the square, his feet spread wide and his hat pulled low to put his face in shadow. Looking at me from under its brim, he smiled, and it was as if everything else melted away.

'Thank you,' I whispered, feeling my heart pound. He could have saved me with black magic. He could have blown in with spells flashing and outrage as his sword—but he didn't. He trusted me to save myself—the way I