Trent slipped them into a pocket, and I turned to the mirror. Slowly I smiled. Trent said nothing, but Quen swore softly, his steps unheard on the carpet as he came forward.
I went to a drawer marked GLASSES and, after shuffling around, pulled out a pair of modern wire-rims. I gave them to Trent, and when he put them on, Quen whistled low and long. 'Morgan,' Quen said, shooting me a wary but impressed glance. 'That is fantastic. I am going to install a few more charm monitors in the hallways.'
'Thank you,' I said modestly, beaming. I stood beside Trent and admired my handiwork. 'You need teeth, yet,' I said, and Trent nodded slowly, as if worried he might break the spell if he moved too fast. 'Are you going with caps or a charm?' I asked.
'Charm,' Trent said absently, turning his head to get a better glimpse of himself.
'Caps are more fun,' I said, inordinately pleased. There was an entire bin of teeth charms, and I went ahead and invoked the ley line spell and dropped it into his pocket.
'And you would know that how?' Trent asked slyly.
'Because I have a pair,' I said, refusing to show any pain about Kisten in front of Trent, but I couldn't meet his eyes.
Done, I stood beside Trent as he smiled at the illusion of longer teeth. Somewhere along the line, I'd joined him on the stage. Not wanting to get down and look subservient, I quieted my sudden nervousness at how close we were. And neither of us was trying to kill or arrest the other. Huh. How about that?
'What do you think?' I asked, since I had yet to hear Trent's opinion.
Standing beside me, Trent, who now had distinguished gray hair, a thin, almost hollowed face, six more inches, and fifty more pounds, shook his head, looking nothing like himself and everything like Rynn Cormel. Damn, I should have gone into showbiz.
'I look just like him,' he said, clearly impressed.
'Almost.' More pleased than I wanted to be by his approval, I invoked and handed him one last ley line charm.
Trent took it, and my breath caught. His eyes had gone pupil black. Hungry vampire black. A shiver rose through me. 'Holy crap,' I said, pleased. 'Can I play dress-up, or what?'
'This is…impressive,' Trent said, and I got off the stage.
'You're welcome,' I said. 'Don't let them overcharge you. There are only thirteen charms there, and only the two for your hair are earth magic and not pure illusion.' I glanced at the plush surroundings, deciding that they wouldn't sell temporary ley line spells with a reduced life. 'Maybe sixteen grand for the entire outfit if they put it all in two charms. You can triple that considering who you're buying them from.' Doppelgänger charms were legal on Halloween, not cheap.
Trent smiled, a truly vampiric smile, charismatic, dangerous, and oh-so-seductive. Oh, God. I had to get out of there. He was hitting all my buttons, and I think he knew it.
'Ms. Morgan,' Trent said, his suit rustling as he followed me off the stage. 'I do believe you're betraying yourself.'
Swell. He totally knew it. 'Don't forget to pick up a charm to change your scent,' I said as I went to get my shoulder bag. 'You won't be able to match Cormel's individual smell, but a generic scent charm ought to fool everyone.' I plucked my bag up, then turned, taking one last look at him. Damn. 'Everyone except those who know his scent, of course.'
Trent glanced at Quen, who was still staring in disbelief. 'I'll keep that in mind,' Trent muttered.
I headed for the door, my pace faltering when Quen said, 'Rachel, please reconsider?'
My good mood crashed, and I stopped two feet from the door with my head bowed. Quen was asking, but I knew he was asking for Trent. I thought of Ceri and the happiness a healthy child would bring her, the healing that could come of it. 'Trent, I can't. The risk—'
'What would you risk for your child to be healthy?' Trent interrupted, and I turned around, surprised at the question. 'What would any parents do?'
Tension pulled me stiff, and hearing the accusation of cowardice in his voice, I hated him more than I ever had before. I'd never thought about children much until I met Kisten, and then it had always been with a melancholy sadness that they wouldn't have his beautiful eyes. But if I had a child? And that child was suffering as I had in my past? Yeah. I'd risk it all.
Trent seemed to see it in my eyes and a hint of victory quirked his lips. But then I thought of Al. I'd been his familiar once. Sort of. And it was hell on earth. That was assuming he wouldn't outright kill me. I wouldn't chance it. I was going to think with my head this time and not be goaded into a stupid decision by Trent pushing my buttons—and I wasn't going to feel guilty about it either.
A shiver lifted through me and was gone. Lifting my chin, I stared until the disgust I directed at him made his eye twitch. 'No,' I said, my voice shaking. 'I won't. I go in the ever-after, and Al will pick me up three seconds after I tap a line. After that, I'm dead. It's that simple. You can save your own damn species.'
'We don't need Morgan's help,' Trent said, his voice tight. But I noticed he'd waited until I refused before he said it. Ceri wasn't the only stubborn elf, and I wondered if Trent's new desire to prove his worth came from his trying to impress her.
'This isn't my problem,' I muttered, hiking my shoulder bag up. 'I have to go.'
Feeling ugly, I opened the door and walked out, bumping Jon in his gut with my elbow when he didn't get out of my way quick enough. I had never cared about Trent's grand plan to save the elves before, but this wasn't sitting well with me.
I consoled myself that Ceri's child would survive whether they had a thousand-year-old sample from her or a two-thousand-year-old sample from the ever-after. The only difference was the amount of tinkering that they would have to do to the child.
My mouth twisted into a grimace as I remembered my three summers spent at Trent's father's Make-A-Wish camp for dying children. It would be stupid to believe that all the children there were on the roster to save. They were a living camouflage for the few that had the money to pay for a Kalamack cure. And I would give anything to have escaped the pain of making friends with children who were going to die.
The chatter of the people up front changed when they caught sight of me, and I waved so they'd leave me alone. I stormed to the door, not caring if Jon thought his boss had gotten the best of me. I didn't stop or slow down until my feet reached the sidewalk.
Street noise hit me, and the sun. Slowing, I remembered where I was and did an about-face. My car was the other way. I didn't look up as I passed the front window, hiding my eyes as I dug my phone out of my bag. Bothered, I hit the return-last-call number to tell Marshal I had a friend emergency and I'd let him know if I couldn't make Fountain Square by three.
I had to talk to Ceri.
Eight
I cut a sharp left into the carport, taking it fast because of my lingering anger at Trent. Habit alone kept the paint unscratched. I loved my car, and though I was jamming the gearshift like an Indy 500 driver, I wasn't going to do anything to hurt my mobile icon of independence. Especially after finally getting my license back and the dent I didn't remember putting in the car repaired. Fortunately the church was in a quiet residential area, and only the sixty-year-old oaks lining the street saw my ugly temper.
I hit the brakes sharply, and my head swung forward and back. A perverse sense of satisfaction filled me. The grille was four inches from the wall. Perfect.
Grabbing my bag from the backseat, I got out and slammed the door. It was edging two. Ceri was probably still asleep, seeing as elves kept the same sleeping habits as pixies when they could, but I had to talk to her.
I heard the dry clatter of pixy wings when my feet hit the walk, and I swung my hair out of the way for whomever it was. My money was on Jenks; it was his habit to stay awake with the few kids on sentry duty, sleeping odd hours when everyone else was up.
'Rache,' Jenks said in greeting, his swooping dart to land on my shoulder shifting at the last moment when he saw my sour expression. Hovering, he flew backward in front of me. I hated it when he did that. 'Ivy called you,
