I’d once believed the tall, skinny wraiths were the ancestors of elves or witches who had refused to flee the ever-after and had since been damaged by the ever-after sun. Now I wondered if they were really the shadows of people in reality, with their torn auras and malnourished state, but that didn’t fit, either. Unlike the surface structures, they clearly had an independence from anything in reality. Al wouldn’t talk about them, which made me wonder if they’d once been demons, now caught in an elven charm, destined to live in limbo forever—or at least until the two worlds collided.
We didn’t have anything to do until Bis returned to tell us that Landon and Bancroft were in place, and I gave Trent a glance. He wasn’t a big talker to begin with, but the more something bothered him, the less he was likely to talk about it . . . or anything else. Since Landon had given him the dewar’s ultimatum, he hadn’t said much of anything. “Trent, what does elven history say about surface demons?”
Somehow his expression became even more closed. “Nothing,” he said, his voice clipped. “Rachel, I’d like to apologize for Landon.”
A stab of alarm cut through me. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Brow furrowed, he looked past me to the horizon. He looked odd with that knit hat on, fair hair poking out from under it. “You have every right to file assault charges. He searched your aura, yes?” he said, flushed in anger. “What he did was appalling, and I apologize.”
“I’m more worried about what he said than what he did. Trent—”
“I keep the company I wish, and no one is going to dictate otherwise.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Rachel.”
He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine. But this wasn’t over. I liked him too much for him to sacrifice everything just so I could go on more dates thinly disguised as his security. “Ivy told me that they put Felix back in charge of the I.S.”
Frowning, he looked over his shoulder at the shattered remains of Cincinnati as if it was a premonition. “I heard that too.”
“He’s not sane.”
Red’s nostrils were flaring, and she was trying her best to find something to spook at. “When are any of the undead?” he said, calming her. “They need a figurehead, and maybe he’ll lead us to the Free Vampire faction. Is Nina okay?” he asked, surprising me. “I heard she was involved in an incident at Rynn Cormel’s.”
That was a nice way of putting it. “No. It was a big setback,” I said, shoving the ugly images away. “Ivy’s not giving up. She’s proof that you can escape them.”
“Love is strong that way,” he said as he brought Red back from the edge with half his attention. Landon had threatened him, but I couldn’t believe that his giving the elves viable children was worth nothing. Unless they believed it was through me. Through demon magic.
Red finally gave up trying to bolt, and Trent settled into the saddle. The last couple of months with Trent had been . . . interesting. With Ellasbeth threatening to stay, I was seeing things in the light of “last time” and I was shocked to realize I didn’t like it, especially not with Landon’s threat. If not for the different tax bracket thing, or that he was going to be engaged, or that because of me, he’d lose everything if he didn’t marry Ellasbeth . . .
Good God. I need to just walk away.
Trent’s grip tightened on the reins. Fearing surface demons, I spun to look down the hill, but there was nothing. Turning back, I froze as I saw his angry determination from under his bangs. “Al warned me off you yesterday. While you and Newt had your tea party,” he said, and my shoulders stiffened. “I find that amusing,” he said bitterly. “Five thousand years, and everyone is still fighting their damned war. And the elves are no better. The enclave’s questioning of my status is based on an ancient law that limits my voice should I wed a barren woman. No children means no voice.”
“But you have a child,” I said, then bit my tongue.
“It’s an excuse,” Trent said. “Someone wants the progress I’ve made between the demons and elves stopped, and silencing my voice is the easiest way to do that.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed, I fiddled with making Tulpa’s reins exactly the same length. But then I flushed as a new thought niggled and twisted its way deeper. He wasn’t upset because of an archaic tradition equating children with power. He was upset that the dewar had told him it was Ellasbeth and power, or me and nothing. And he wanted both. Trent didn’t take no well.
“There’s no reason—” he started again.
“I understand,” I said, not wanting to talk about it as the soft feel of Bis in my thoughts became obvious. He was searching me out. “It doesn’t matter.”
Lips a thin line, he hid himself behind his binoculars, scanning the path behind us. “It does matter.”
“Not when there’s no other choice,” I said, meaning about three things, and I gave Tulpa a thankful pat, glad I was on him and not flaky Red. “Bis is coming.”
Trent dropped the binoculars as the gargoyle popped in to startle the horses. “They’re almost on top of you,” Bis said, landing awkwardly on the ground since there weren’t any rocks nearby bigger than a softball. “Take your reading.”
Red stared at Bis, legs like posts, and the concerned gargoyle shifted his skin color to vanish against the red earth. She didn’t like that either, and for a moment, Trent concentrated on keeping her from rearing as he danced her back and forth. Honestly, she was a little fruitcake.
“Zero point five hundred naught seven,” Trent said, snatching a look at the meter. “You got that?”
“Bis,” I pleaded, and the kid flashed back to his normal pebbly gray skin and pointedly walked away. Finally Red calmed, and I wrote the reading down on a scrap of paper. Trent wasn’t happy about my casual regard to science, but the number was clear and precise.
“Maybe we should get moving,” Trent said as he tucked the handheld meter away.
“I so agree,” I said, sending Tulpa down the hill in a jolting, uncomfortable motion.
“That way?” Trent pointed to the towering slumps of rocks, and when I nodded, we took off at a fast canter across the wide flat plain full of rocks and dips. A frustrated howl echoed, and we turned. Behind us, three surface demons stood under the open sky, unable to keep up. Bis laughed from overhead, but I wasn’t happy. The horses were vulnerable. This might have been a mistake, and from the look on Trent’s face, I could tell he felt the same way.