Yep, that's about what I thought. Sick at heart, I shifted foot to foot. "I have to go."
A savage light lit through his eyes, and his chin lifted. "Wait, there is one thing." Moving close, his expression became almost taunting. "Let me kiss you good-bye, for if fate allows that I see you again, you will not be you anymore."
"Pierce . . ." I whispered, but he'd taken both my shoulders and pulled me close. My breath caught, and as our lips touched, he filled my soul with the memory of his love. Tears warmed my eyes, and I didn't pull away, wanting just for a moment this perfect spot of what we might have had. Our auras, already sensitized to each other, mixed with swirls of pinpricked energy, sparking over our skin as our lips moved against each other, and his hands pressed into me with the memory of what had been.
Slowly he let go, and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, not ashamed for my tears. I could have loved him, but he demanded too much.
"I'm not going to change," I said, meaning several things at once.
Chin high, he let go and stepped back. "Elves are more evil than demons. They warp you to suit their needs and make you think it was your idea. You will always be in my heart, Rachel Morgan. Go, before my foul jailer comes back."
"Pierce."
He turned away and gestured. "Go."
I vanished, seeing him standing in a spot of sunlight that never moved, alone and apart, but wanting more.
I am not becoming Trent's tool, I thought as I misted back into existence at the fountain and the trite sound of synthesizers and cheerful lyrics beat on me. I was making my own decisions, not Trent's. Pierce was seeing the world through ancient glasses.
But as I pushed past the few meandering demons in search of the coffeehouse, I couldn't dispel a faint whisper of warning.
Chapter Thirteen
Cool and carrying the hint of rain, the night wind pushed against me, sporadically sending my hair to tickle my neck. It brought to me the smell of early lilac and the sound of spring frogs and running water. Far in the distance was the sound of interstate traffic, barely a whisper. Behind me, Loveland Castle loomed dark, empty, and forbidding. Trent's snazzy black sports car sat parked in the dirt lot. My car was still at his gatehouse. The light from the camp lantern on the retaining wall behind me barely made it to the surrounding forest stretching around us-just far enough to make the place feel creepy.
Edgy, I shifted my feet into the gravelly scree of the lower garden path as I stood in the glow of the lantern, my hands on my hips and Bis on the crumbling retaining wall behind me. Four feet tall, it almost put him eye to eye with me. Together we looked across the tall grass at the damaged ley line stretching across the lower, long-fallow garden and waited for Jenks and Trent to return.
The ley line looked ugly with my second sight, worse in the lamp's glow than it had in the sun, with violet-purple streamers coming from the line to soak up the energy leaking through. But for all its nasty appearance, I was sure the line itself was fine apart from the original leak. Ku'Sox had moved all the minuscule imbalances from the other lines, concentrating them in mine to make an event horizon. It was an event, all right. The last one the demons would ever see.
I shivered despite the night's warmth, and Bis tightened his grip on the retaining wall, making the stones crack. I didn't want to let the little guy know how nervous I was, but it was hard with him so close. Trent's rings were in my pocket. I had refused to give them to him when I'd come back through the vault, afraid he'd come out here with Quen and do something stupid. Quen wasn't up to magic yet, and it had taken both of us to convince the man to stay with Ray tonight lest Ellasbeth take her to the West Coast for her own hostage demands.
Trent was helping Jenks canvass the nearby area for pixy intel, but I still felt naked knowing that Al wouldn't be able to save my butt if Ku'Sox showed. For the first time, I was really on my own. "Well?" I whispered to Bis, wishing they would hurry up. "What do you think?"
Bis shifted his clawed hind feet and bits of rock pattered down. "It hurts," he said, simply, ears pinned to his skull. Depressed, I went to sit on the stone wall beside him, scooting myself up until my feet hung above the lower path.
"But do you think we can separate the imbalances?"
He shrugged, looking lost as his ears perked up. I was asking a lot, and I edged closer, rocks pinching me. "Let me hear," I said, touching his foot so I could feel the lines resonate.
My teeth clenched as suddenly every single ley line within my reach sung inside my head. It was a heady experience-and why I usually had a bubble of protection around my thoughts when I touched Bis. This time, though, the harsh discord of my nearby ley line cut through the beauty, making my teeth ache and my head hurt.
"My God!" I said as I let go of him and stared at the line with my second sight. "How can you stand it?" And how am I going to separate anything from that noise?
The cat-size gargoyle shrugged, touching his wingtips together over his head. "I don't have a choice. Everyone is tired of listening to it. I've been told to fix it, and fix it now."
My thoughts zinged back to the three gargoyles I'd seen tonight before we'd left, perched on the roof of the church and spitting at the pixies to keep them out of earshot as they talked in low rumbles. I would've gone up into the belfry to eavesdrop, but I was afraid they might take Bis and move to another church. "You!" I said, surprised. "But it's my line!"
His red eyes glowed eerily in the lantern's light. "And I'm responsible for you having made it."
"Bis, this isn't your fault. Neither is Ku'Sox exploiting the tear to try to break the ever-after. Even if you hadn't left me, I would have scraped that hole trying to get out." I clutched my arms around myself, cold as I remembered it. I might have managed to jump the lines, but I'd damaged my aura and scraped a hole in reality in the process.
"But I left you," he said, unable to look at me.
Smiling, I bubbled my thoughts and touched his shoulder. "It was my fault, not yours, for trying to jump a line before I knew what I was doing."
He was silent, and I gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. I knew he still blamed himself. He'd changed a lot since then, waking up in the day for brief periods, becoming more somber, less prone to playing tricks on the pixies. He was getting older, and I worried that I'd brought an end to his childhood before its time. "Is this why there have been gargoyles on the roof with you?" I asked, not sure how much he'd be willing to tell me.
Immediately Bis brightened. "They're teaching me the vibrations of their lines," he said proudly. "Usually a gargoyle is taught by only one other gargoyle, but the lines aren't acting right, so they're taking turns by singing me only their line, the one they know by heart."