"It's only the clothes she has on that are tainted," Quen said, and the woman glared from the hallway.
"This entire church smells! She will have a new wardrobe!" she exclaimed, then click-clacked her slow, ponderous way to the door, the two girls calling in delight at the pixies waiting for them in the sanctuary.
Okay, that was probably going to come back and bite me on the ass, but I didn't care. Trent would thank me for it someday. Setting the water aside, I scooped up the blanket Ellasbeth had let fall and brought it to my nose. After three wash cycles, I couldn't smell anything, but I wasn't an elf.
Jenks whistled long and loud. "Damn, Rache, you sure know how to make friends."
Quen took the blanket from me, giving it a sniff as well. "Thank you for making the next forty minutes of my life hell," he muttered, clearly not smelling anything, either.
A tiny smile quirked the corner of my mouth up. "I'm sorry."
"No, you aren't," he said darkly. "You enjoyed it."
"Oh, you're just mad that I could say it and you couldn't." Taking the blanket back, I folded it up.
"Quen!" Ellasbeth shouted. "Come open this door! My hands are full with the children."
"I'll get it," Jenks offered, and Quen shot him a thankful glance. Immediately my mood swung back to melancholy as Jenks darted out, halfheartedly telling his kids to leave Lucy and Ray alone.
Still holding the faint remnants of a smile, I pushed away from the counter to give Quen a hug. Ceri was gone, and it hurt. My eyes closed as his arm went around me and the scent of burnt amber mixed with the smell of wine and cinnamon. "I'm sorry," I said as I stepped back, and his eyes took on a deeper shine.
"Thank you for bringing Lucy back to us," he said, and I shrugged with one shoulder.
"I wish I could have-" My throat closed. Damn it, how could Ceri be dead?
"It wasn't your task," Quen said, and I forced myself to look up. "It was no one's fault."
"But . . ."
He smiled, the pain thick in the new wrinkles around his eyes. "She'd tell you to mind your own business and to not blame yourself."
My head dropped. Probably in loud, small words so I wouldn't run the risk of misunderstanding. "She would at that," I said, and he touched my shoulder as he turned away.
"Quen," I said, and he halted. From the front of the church came a loud boom of sound as the door shut, then blessed silence. I looked at Quen. I had things I wanted to say, that Trent was braver than I had thought, and foolish. That I trusted him, but I also knew there were limits to magic and luck. That I didn't see a happy ending to this.
"I don't think Trent is planning on coming back unless he can kill Ku'Sox," I said flatly, and Quen's lip twitched. "That Lucy is safe has given him more freedom to act, but unless we can convince the other demons to band up against Ku'Sox, I don't see a happy ending to this." I lifted a foot and rubbed the back of my calf to hide my trembling.
Quen's expression gave me no clue as to what he was feeling. "You think he can do it?"
My breath came fast. "Kill Ku'Sox? Frankly, no. Not alone. All the demons together were only able to shove the psycho in a hole in reality. It might be different now." I looked at the ceiling, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry about Ellasbeth. I don't know what came over me."
Quen chuckled, his shoes scraping as he put a light hand on my shoulder again. "Thank you for trusting Trent," he said, his eyes heavy with emotion. "Not many do, and even fewer for the right reasons." He looked toward the front of the church. "I should be able to manipulate line energy tomorrow. It would be my honor to help you at the Loveland line."
My heart pounded, and a wave of relief took me, even as I worried it might end in more grief, more pain. "Thank you."
"But I have a favor to ask."
My head snapped up. Elves asking for favors was never good. "What?" I said flatly.
Quen's gaze dropped, then came back to mine. "I asked this before, and I'm asking you again."
Shit. "Quen," I whined. "I'm not going to do your job. Look at that woman out there. You think she will let me anywhere near him again? And that's even assuming we all make it out of this alive."
Taking my hand, he turned it over so the demon mark on my wrist showed. His eyes were filled with grief as they met mine. "Rachel, I didn't mean it to happen, but I have someone else I have to protect now. Someone besides Trent."
I remembered Ray on his hip and Lucy's hands eagerly reaching for him. It was the right thing to do, but still . . . panic slid through me. "Quen, I don't even like him. I mean, I do, but I live here, and you live there, and how am I supposed to keep track of him when I've got my own stuff to do and that woman-"
"Please." Quen's expression was pained. "I'm not asking you to do my job. Just . . . understand that I can't be what he needs anymore to survive. I can't devote myself to him. Ray-" His voice choked off. It was low when he spoke again. "Ray needs me. All of me, not the thin sliver of me that's left when Trent needs help. She won't be safe until Ku'Sox is dead, but after that, I am hers, not Trent's. You don't have to work for him, just be there when he needs it. That's all I'm asking. And maybe don't let Ellasbeth snuff everything he wants to be."
My pulse was hammering. I recalled Trent pulling Nick off me, the power that had flowed through me when he'd broken the charm hiding me from Al, waiting until I knew what I would lose if I turned my back on my future, and finally that kiss we had shared. It had only been a kiss-no feelings behind it but my own selfish pleasure. Then I thought of Ellasbeth. He had a duty there, one I knew he would sacrifice everything for. "But . . ."
"I wasn't sure until now, but I know you'll be what he needs."
What he needs? "What about me? Who is going to risk their life for me?"
Quen's eyes came back to mine. "He will, of course."
His voice was confident, and I could do nothing but stare with my mouth hanging open.
"I have to go before she learns how to drive," he said, seeing my confusion. "I'll talk to the owners of that charm again."
"I haven't said yes, yet," I said, and Quen turned in the threshold, not in the kitchen, not in the hall.
"It's said that the reason the elves and demons began their war is because of a broken alliance," he said, the world-weary damage to his face making him look wise. "I've always found it to be true-that the best of friends make the bitterest of enemies. Elves and demons, forever fighting. Who is to say that demons weren't the slaves of elves first?"