The soft sounds of the distant ocean and the wind rushing through the monastery were cut off with a shocking suddenness, replaced by a warm, moist air carrying the strains of classical guitar. After the chill breezes in the hallway, it felt stuffy, and Trent scanned the twenty-by-twenty featureless room without looking as if he was. It was clearly an outer chamber of some sorts, the whitewashed walls empty and the floors bare. Megan showed her ID again to an older, somewhat overweight man sitting on a folding chair next to an open archway. Beyond it was a darkened room.
Trent's pulse hammered, and Jenks stomped on his head until Trent looked away from the open doorway, putting his hungry gaze on the floor as he tried to hide his growing excitement. He hadn't been expecting a nursery guard, and he wanted to save his questionable sleep charms for getting out of here. Trent grimaced, remembering his promise to not respond with a fatal force unless necessary. Why was it always necessary?
"Hi, Harold," the old man in the chair said, casually gesturing him forward. "It's stupid, but I need to see your ID." His eyes rolled, going to the camera in the corner as he sighed.
Trent's jaw clenched. Even better. Someone was watching. There was no lock on the door, and even if there was, there was no other way out of here. The room had no windows, and his explosive gum wouldn't work on three-foot-thick walls. Even if he put this man down, someone would be alerted and be in here in seconds.
"I got this," Jenks whispered, and Trent blinked, remembering Rachel telling him that Jenks was a camera expert.
It took all his boardroom polish to keep a casual smile as he approached the man in the chair, trying not to shiver as Jenks tugged at Harold's hat and slipped out at the nape of Trent's neck, tickling him. "Yeah, ah, here," Trent said softly, trying to cover the sound of Jenks's wings in the empty, echoing room. Fortunately Megan had gone into the nursery, and the lights were slowly brightening as she woke Lucy up as naturally and as slowly as possible.
He didn't want to meet his daughter screaming in fear at the sound of another man dying. Perhaps he should use one of the sleep potions. The man was old and deserved his respect.
Digging in his pocket for one as if it was his badge, Trent watched the man's eyes dart over his shoulder, widening as they went to the camera in the corner. His gaze came back to Trent, alarm in them as he reached for his pistol. He'd seen Jenks.
Damn.
"We're good!" Jenks said, his voice muffled, and Trent moved.
The older man was rising, his hand fumbling at his holster, and Trent sprang forward to meet him, flipping the top to the sleep potion vial as he went. It splashed across his startled expression, and then the man's eyes rolled back.
"I'm sorry, old man," Trent said, easing him to the floor, his jaw clenched. He had one charm left. One. And he wasn't sure how long the one he'd used would even last.
"We're on a loop," Jenks said as he zipped down from the corner, clearly cheerful in that he'd been needed. "I'll check out the nursery before you go in." Hovering over Trent's shoulder, he put his hands on his hips and looked down. "That was fast."
"You had better not have killed Bob," Megan said, and Jenks swore, darting up to the ceiling.
Trent rose as well, backing up with his hands raised as he eyed her smart-looking pistol. It could be one of those splat guns that Rachel was so fond of, but he doubted it. "He's not dead."
Megan's harsh expression eased, and she motioned for Trent to move away from the downed guard. "I thought you were Kalamack," she said, then flicked her weapon again. "You should have come last night. The night nurse isn't as good as me. Ribbon off. Hat too. And if I feel you tap a line, I'm going to plug you. Move!"
Motions slow, he pulled the ribbon from his neck, and Megan's eyes ran him up and down in appreciation as the charm went with it and he looked like himself again. Her grip on her weapon tightened, and she lifted her chin to point at the hat. Disgusted, he took that off too, letting both ribbon and hat drop to the floor. It was official. He was without magic, such as it had been. Trent made fists of his hands, frustrated. "What gave me away?" he asked, seeing Jenks slip into the nursery. Lack of magic or not, this wasn't over.
"You stink like fireplace and strained peas, and I could hear your bare feet on the tile even though it looked like you were wearing boots. You didn't take a pan in with you into the pantry, but I heard someone get hit with one. Harold thinks I'm a foulmouthed harlot, and you opened the door for me and let me hold your arm. Did you kill him?"
Shaking his head, Trent realized why the woman had made him walk with her. She was still going to go down, but now it would be harder. One potion left. The trick would be how to get it out of his belt pouch. He wasn't going to kill her. Trent's heart thudded.
"You got me," Trent said, ears straining for any sound from Jenks. "Why did you wait?"
Megan knelt beside the old man, never taking her eyes from him or her aim wavering. "There's a five-million-dollar reward for the person who catches you," she said, motioning him to move to the other end of the room before she felt for a pulse. "I don't like to share."
Trent thought of the ten men in the hallway, probably down to six again. In here, though, there was only two, and she clearly cared for the old man. "Ah, I normally abhor people trying to hire my help from under me," he said, pitching his voice low, "but would you consider putting that pistol down and coming to work for me for a ten-million bonus?"
The woman smiled, her weapon's aim never shifting. "Tempting, but I wouldn't survive to spend it. The hands-off agreement you and Ms. Tight-ass have extends to Lucy, not people who you steal with her. Over there where I can see you. By the wall."
"I understand." Tension pulled him tight, making his motion smooth as he moved to the far wall away from the nursery. "If we were talking about anyone other than the Withons, I'd tell you I could offer adequate protection, but you understand I can't." Jenks was looking at his daughter. It was enough to drive him insane.
Finally the woman glanced down, her fingers touching the guard's jugular for a pulse.
Trent lunged, his eyes widening as the gun she was pointing at him went off with a soft puff. Twisting wildly, he tried to evade the potion pellet headed right for him, but he was too close. He wasn't going to make it. Grimacing, he tapped a line and tried to set a circle, but his bruised neural net sent a pulse of agony through him, and it flickered and died before it formed.
"Got it!" Jenks shouted gleefully, a bright streak of silver darting between them. His silver trail jerked sharply to the right as he snagged the splat ball in midair, turning the woman's five-million-dollar smile of satisfaction to one of shock.