The Good, The Bad, And The Undead

'I'm reasonably confident that it's a master vampire,' he said, easing away from me.

'Which one?' I asked, disgusted with myself. Why was I doing this?

'I don't know,' he admitted, flicking a bit of mortar off the railing to land in the water. 'If I did, I'd have taken care of it already.'

'I just bet you would,' I said sourly. 'Why not take them all out? Get it over with?'

'I can't go about staking vampires at random, Ms. Morgan,' he said, worrying me because he'd taken my question seriously instead of the sarcasm it was. 'That's illegal, not to mention it would start a vamp war. Cincinnati might not survive it. And I know my business interests would suffer in the interim.'

I snickered. 'Oh, we can't let that happen, now. Can we?'

Trent sighed. 'Using sarcasm to cover your fear makes you look very young.'

'And twirling your pencil in your fingers makes you look nervous,' I shot back. It felt good to argue with someone who wouldn't bite me if things got out of control.

His eye twitched. Lips bloodless, he turned back to the large pond before us. 'I'd appreciate it if you would keep the FIB out of this. It's an Inderland matter, not human, and I'm not sure the I.S. can be trusted, either.'

I found it interesting how fast he had fallen into the 'them' and 'us' verbiage. Apparently I wasn't the only one who knew Trent's background, and I didn't like the higher degree of intimacy it put between us.

'I'm thinking it might be a rising vamp coven trying to gain a foothold by removing me,' he said. 'It would be a lot less risky than taking out one of the lesser houses.'

It wasn't a boast—just a tasteless fact—and my lips curled at the thought I was taking money from a man who played the underworld like a chessboard. For the first time in my life I was glad my dad was dead and couldn't ask me 'Why?' The picture of our fathers standing before the camp bus intruded, and I reminded myself I couldn't trust Trent. My father had, and it killed him.

Trent sighed, the sound both regretful and tired. 'Cincinnati's underground is very fluid. All of my usual contacts have gone quiet or dead. I'm losing touch with what's happening.' He flicked a glance at me. 'Someone is trying to keep me from increasing my reach. And without a ley line witch at my disposal, I've reached an impasse.'

'Poor baby,' I mocked. 'Why not do the magic yourself? Bloodline too polluted with nasty human genes to manage the heavy magic anymore?'

The knuckles of his fingers whitened as he gripped the rail, then relaxed. 'I will have a ley line witch. I would much rather hire someone willing than abduct them, but if every witch I talk to ends up dead, I will steal someone.'

'Yes,' I drawled caustically. 'You elves are known for that, aren't you?'

His jaw clenched. 'Be careful.'

'I'm always careful,' I said, knowing I wasn't a good enough witch to have to worry about him 'stealing' me. I watched the rims of his ears slowly lose their red tint. I squinted, wondering if they were a little pointed or if it was my imagination. It was hard to tell with the hat he had on. 'Can you narrow it down for me?' I said. Twenty thousand dollars to sift through Cincinnati's underworld to find out who wanted to put a crimp in Mr. Kalamack's day by killing his potential employees. Yeah. That sounded like an easy run.

'I have lots of ideas, Ms. Morgan. Lots of enemies, lots of employees.'

'And no friends,' I added snidely, watching Sharps make serpentlike humps like a miniature Loch Ness. My breath slipped from me in a slow sound as I imagined what Ivy was going to say when I came home and told her I was working for Trent. 'If I find out you're lying, I'll come after you myself, Kalamack. And this time, the demon won't miss.'

He made a scoffing bark of laughter and I turned to him. 'You can drop the bluff. You didn't send that demon after me last spring.'

The slight breeze was cold, and I pulled my jacket closed as I turned. 'How did you…'

Trent gazed distantly over the lower basin. 'After overhearing your conversation with your boyfriend in my office and seeing your reaction to that demon, I knew it had to have been someone else, though I'll admit seeing you beaten and blue after I freed that demon to go back to kill its summoner nearly had me convinced.'

I didn't like that he had overheard me talking to Nick. Or that he had responded the exact same way as I had after gaining control over Algaliarept. Trent's shoes scuffed, and a cautious inquiry came into his eyes. 'Your demon scar…' He hesitated, and the flicker of haunted emotion strengthened. 'It was an accident?' he finished.

I watched the ripples from Sharps's disappearing humps. 'It bled me so badly that—' I stopped, my lips pressing together. Why was I telling him this? 'Yeah. It was.'

'Good,' he said, his gaze still upon the pond. 'I'm glad to hear that.'

Ass, I thought, thinking whoever had sent Algaliarept after us had gotten a double whammy of pain that night. 'Someone sure didn't like us talking, did they,' I said, then froze. My face went cold and I held my breath. What if the attacks on our lives and the recent violence were connected? Perhaps I was supposed to have been the witch hunter's first victim?

Heart pounding, I held myself still, thinking. Every single one of the victims had died in their own personal hell: the swimmer drowned, the rat caretaker ripped apart and eaten alive, two women raped, a man working with horses pressed to death. Algaliarept had been told to kill me in terror, taking the time to find out what my strongest fear was. Damn. It was the same person.

Trent tilted his head at my silence. 'What is it?' he asked.

'Nothing.' I leaned heavily into the railing. Dropping my head into my cupped hands, I willed myself to not pass out. Glenn would call someone, and that would be that.

Trent pushed away from the railing. 'No,' he said, and I pulled my head up. 'I've seen that look on you twice before. What is it?'

I swallowed. 'We were supposed to be the first victims of the witch hunter. He tried to kill both of us, giving up after we showed him we could best a demon and I made it clear I wasn't going to work for you. Only the witches who agreed to work for you were killed, yes?'

'They all agreed to work for me,' he breathed, and I stifled a shudder at how the words seemed to flow over my spine. 'I never thought to connect the two.'

You can't accuse a demon of murder. Because there was no way to contain it if sentenced, the courts had long ago determined to treat demons as weapons, even if the comparison wasn't quite right. Free choice was involved, but as long as the payment was commensurate with the task, a demon wouldn't turn down murder. Someone, though, had summoned it. 'Did the demon ever tell you who sent it to kill you?' I asked. Easiest twenty thousand I'd ever made. God help me.

Anger tinted in fear crossed Trent. 'I was trying to stay alive, not have a conversation. You seem to have a working relationship with it, though. Why don't you ask it?'

My breath come in a jerky sound of disbelief. 'Me? I already owe it one favor. You can't pay me enough to dig myself in deeper. I'll tell you what, though. I'll call it up for you, and you can ask it. I'm sure the two of you can come to some agreement about payment.'

His sun-tanned face went pale. 'No.'

Satisfied, I looked over the small pond. 'Don't call me a coward unless it's something you would do yourself. I'm reckless. Not stupid.' But then I hesitated. Nick would do it.

A faint smile, surprising and genuine, came over Trent. 'You're doing it again.'

'What,' I said flatly.

'You had another thought. You are such fun, Ms. Morgan. Watching you is like watching a five-year-old.'

Insulted, I looked out over the water. I wondered if Nick asking who had sent it to kill me would be considered a small question or a large one, necessitating further payment. Pushing myself away from the railing, I decided I'd walk over to the museum and find out.

'So?' Trent prompted.

I shook my head. 'I'll have your information after sundown,' I said, and he blinked.

'You're going to call it?' His sudden, unguarded surprise caught at me, and I kept my face impassive, thinking that managing to startle him was an ego boost I badly needed. How quickly he hid it made the feeling twice as satisfying. 'You just said—'

'You're paying for results, not a play-by-play. I'll let you know when I find something.'

His expression shifted to what might be respect. 'I've misjudged you, Ms. Morgan.'