Trent swallowed hard. I looked between them, seeing her desire, his need. “She is yours,” he finally said, and Newt laughed and clapped like a little girl, her staff clattering to the ground.
Eyes bright, she scooped it up, taking my elbow as she drew me closer. “Let me take them,” she said, words a breath on my hand as she held it to her. “They’ll come to me. I’ll change your soul so they’ll never find you. But you must promise to never tell the others that the Goddess and I have more in common than is, ah, prudent.”
My heart pounded. I was doing it again: trusting demons. But as I looked past her to Trent standing in the moonlight, one city standing to fight, the other out of control and in flames, I decided that it was worth it. All of it. Even if it should end tomorrow.
“You’ll get them to back off Trent and me?” I asked, and her smile grew wicked as she nodded.
“I’ll tell them you are romancing the cure for our genetic damage from him, and you will leave him as a broken ruin when you have it. They’ll believe me. You’re halfway to ruining him already.”
Al would know, but he wouldn’t say anything. My heart pounded. “Then okay. You can take them, but I don’t want them killed. Any of them.”
The mystics in me wailed. I reassured them, even as I felt a pang. Gone. I’d be invisible to them. They’d be like lost children in the night, but they’d be alive.
“That is acceptable,” Newt said as she looked at us. Together Trent and I nodded. I felt funny, my knees weak, and standing before her thus with our hands intertwined, I felt a bond stronger than any church could bestow fall about us. “You might want to be unconscious for this,” she added, and Trent cried out as her staff swung to strike me right between the eyes.
With a sharp thud of pain, the world blessedly went away.
Twenty-Eight
A lion coughed as if clearing his throat, making me shiver in the cool morning air and sending my white dress to bump about my legs. Lucy’s hand was slightly damp and sticky in mine as she tugged toward the ice cone stand, singing a nonsense rhyme in time with her leaping jumps that sent a tingle of wild magic sparking between us. Newt had cursed my soul to keep the mystics and the Goddess from recognizing me, but I could still feel the trails of self they left. The line was alive, but I couldn’t be a part of it, share it. It was a constant reminder of what I’d lost—and it hurt, especially at night. Maybe that’s why Newt was crazy.
Trent and Ray were beside me, the more reserved girl concentrating on her toddling steps. It was a rare day in July, perfect weather to be at the zoo and early so the girls weren’t cranky yet. Jenks was doing recon somewhere, Jonathan was behind us with the empty stroller, and Ivy and Nina were at a nearby stand looking for a sunhat. Now that the undead were again awake, Felix was back in Cormel’s iron grip. It should have been a relief, but Felix’s mystic-induced sanity was showing signs of collapse. The why of which was worth thinking about.
But today was too beautiful to worry about the undead, and I squinted up at the sky as Lucy jumped up and down, demanding blue ice. Trent crouched, waiting for Ray to touch the colorful pictures to tell him which one she wanted. “Blue, blue, blue!” Lucy shouted, and I smiled at his patient deferment.
“Noted,” he said, taking her hands and calming her. “No one gets any ice until Ray decides. It’s hard to choose when you’re talking. Give her a moment.”
Eyelids squeezed closed, Lucy made a herculean effort to be quiet, sweet in her white dress and sun hat. It lasted for all of five seconds, until bursting, she opened her eyes wide and began to tell Ray the colors, trying to push her sister along.
Smiling, Trent stood and pulled out his wallet. Jonathan waited behind us in the shade, irking me as he watched with his nose in the air and that distasteful look on his face. “You’re really good with them, you know,” I said as Ray splayed her hands over all the colors and beamed up at Trent with her cute little-girl squint.
“I’ve had practice. CEOs around a table are worse,” he said, then turned to the man tending the cart. “Can you make one with stripes of colors?” he asked, and the man nodded, but then Trent’s expression shifted to a frown. “I thought I had more cash than that,” he said, and handed the man a card. “Sorry, is this okay?”
Nodding, the man took it, but it was obvious he thought we were goobers. Who uses a platinum card to buy two ice cones?
Lucy clung to the cart, eyes on the cones set out of her reach as the man ran the card. Nina’s laugh caught my attention, and I turned. She’d gotten Ivy to put on a big floppy hat with peacock feathers draped down the back, and when Nina begged, Ivy fell into a seductive poise, trying it out. Nina screamed in delight and reached for another so they could vogue together. Ivy flushed, but she was smiling, and I turned away before she knew I was watching. I was so happy for her.
My smile faded, and I vowed Cormel wouldn’t screw it up. They owed me for saving their miserable undead lives. They all owed me, and if they pushed, I’d remind them of that.
Turning, I scanned the open courtyard hemmed in by eateries. Jenks should be back by now. It was starting to get busy, but if we stayed away from the kids’ area, we should be okay. It had been an interesting week, what with the undead waking up and their gorging serving to bring everyone back in line with an eerie suddenness. I’d tried to contact Al, only to have him crack my mirror and prove my idea wrong that he still cared and had abandoned me to protect his assets. I also didn’t like that the blue butterfly chrysalis I’d found among the broken shards had gone black, the tiny movements inside making Jenks shed a worried dust.
Trent had been in the national news all week, and not in a good way. I suspected that his invite today was to help him establish a new, homey image now that Ellasbeth was being painted as the wronged woman.
I didn’t mind being a part of his publicity program, and the man did need protection. People were still terrified of genetic research, and the fact that he’d come out of the closet as an elf a few months ago wasn’t helping. Two years ago, I would have been right there with them, hammering on his gates and demanding access to his files before he shredded them. Knowledge made all the difference, I thought, then changed my mind. Trust, maybe. But research could be stolen, perverted, twisted. Maybe they were right to protest.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the man said, handing the silver card back to Trent. “Do you have another card?”