Every Which Way But Dead (40 page)

It felt as if the world was spinning, and I could hear the slosh of water. Snuggling into the ice, I smiled. I hadn't slept well for days. I exhaled, drifting off into nothing, enjoying the warmth of the sun that was suddenly shining on the ice. Someone curled their arms around me, and I felt my head thump into a soggy chest as I was lifted.

“Denon?” I heard myself murmur. “Come here, Denon. I owe you a big…kiss…”

“Denon?” someone echoed.

“I'll carry her, Sa'han.”

I tried to open my eyes, swirling back into nothing when I felt myself move. I drowsed, not awake but not quite not asleep. Then I was still, and I tried to smile and go to sleep. But a faint pinch and throb kept intruding on my cheek, and my legs hurt.

Irritated, I pushed at the ice, finding it was gone. I was sitting up, and someone was slapping me. “That's enough,” I heard Trent say. “You're going to leave a mark.”

The pinch vanished to leave just the throbbing.
Jonathan was slapping me?
“Hey, you freakin' bastard,” I breathed. “You hit me again and I'll take care of your family planning.”

I could smell leather. My face screwed up as feeling started to come back into my legs and arms. Oh God, it hurt. I opened my eyes to find Trent and Jonathan peering down at me. Blood seeped from Trent's hairline and water dripped from his nose. Above their heads was the interior of the limo. I was alive? How did I get to the car?

“ 'Bout time you found us,” I breathed, my eyes closing.

I heard Trent sigh. “She's okay.”

I suppose. Maybe. Compared to being dead, I guess I was okay.

“Pity,” Jonathan said, and I heard him shift away from me. “It would have simplified things if she wasn't. Not too late to slip her in the water with the rest.”

“Jon!” Trent barked.

His voice was as hot as my skin felt. I was freaking burning up.

“She saved my life,” Trent said softly. “I don't care if you like her or not, but she has earned your respect.”

“Trenton—” Jonathan started.

“No.” It was cold. “She has
earned
your respect.”

There was a hesitation, and I would have drifted off to nothing if the pain in my legs would let me. And my fingers were on fire. “Yes, Sa'han,” Jonathan said, and I jerked awake.

“Get us home. Call ahead and have Quen draw a bath for her. We have to get her warmer than this.”

“Yes, Sa'han.” It was slow and reluctant. “The I.S. is here. Why don't we leave her with them?”

I felt a small pull upon my chi as Trent tapped a line. “I don't want to be seen here. Just don't get in anyone's way and we won't be noticed. Hurry up.”

My eyes wouldn't listen to me anymore, but I heard Jonathan get out and shut the door. There was another thump when he got in the driver's door and the car eased into motion. The arms around me tightened, and I realized I was in Trent's lap, the warmth of his body doing more than the air to warm me. I felt the softness of a blanket against me. I must have been swaddled up right tight; I couldn't move my legs or arms.

“I'm sorry,” I murmured, giving up on trying to open my eyes. “I'm getting water all over your suit.” Then I giggled, thinking that had sounded really pathetic. He was already soaked. “Your Celtic charm isn't worth a damn,” I whispered. “I hope you kept your receipt.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Trent said, his voice distant and preoccupied.

The car picked up speed, and the sound seemed to lull me.
I could relax,
I thought as I felt the tingling of circulation in my limbs. I was in Trent's car, wrapped in a blanket, and held in his arms. He wouldn't let anything hurt me.

He wasn't singing, though,
I mused.
Shouldn't he be singing?

T
he warm water I was sitting in was nice. I had been in it long enough to prune twice, but I didn't care. Ellasbeth's sunken tub was fab. I sighed, leaning my head back and staring at the ten-foot ceilings framed by the potted orchids lining the bathtub. Maybe there was something to this drug lord business if you got to have a tub like this. I'd been in it for over an hour.

Trent had called Ivy for me even before we reached the city's limits. I'd talked to her myself not too long ago, telling her I was okay and was soaking in warm water and wasn't getting out until hell froze over. She had hung up on me, but I knew we were okay.

Dragging my fingers through the bubbles, I adjusted Trent's borrowed pain amulet hanging about my neck. I didn't know who had invoked it; maybe his secretary? All my charms were at the bottom of the Ohio River. My smile faltered as I remembered the people I hadn't been able to save. I would not feel guilty that I breathed and they didn't. Their deaths were laid at Saladan's feet, not mine. Or maybe Kisten's. Damn it. What was I going to do about that?

I closed my eyes and said a prayer for them, but they jerked open when a faint cadence of brisk steps grew louder. They quickly grew closer, and I froze as a thin woman dressed smartly in a cream-colored suit clacked and clicked in over the bathroom tile unannounced. There was a department store bag over her arm. Her steely gaze was fixed on the doorway to the changing room, and she never saw me as she vanished into it.

It had to be Ellasbeth. Crap. What was I supposed to do? Wipe the bubbles from my hand and offer to shake hers? Frozen, I stared at the door. My coat was on one of the chairs and my garment bag was still hanging by the changing screen. Pulse quickening, I wondered if I could reach the green towel before she realized she wasn't alone.

The faint rustling stopped, and I shrank down into the bubbles when she strode back in, house afire. Her dark eyes were narrowed in anger and her high cheekbones were red. Posture stiff, she halted, bag still over her arm and apparently forgotten. Her thick, waving blond hair was held back to give her narrow face a stark beauty. Lips tight, she held her head high, her eyes fixing vehemently upon me as soon as she cleared the archway.

So that's what it looked like when hell froze over.

“Who are you?” she said, her strong voice domineering and cold.

I smiled, but I knew it looked rather sickly. “Ah, I'm Rachel Morgan. Of Vampiric Charms?” I started to sit up, then changed my mind. I hated the question that had crept into my tone, but there it was. 'Course it might have been there because I was naked except for bubbles, and she was standing in four-inch heels and a casually tasteful outfit that Kisten might pick out for me if he took me shopping in New York.

“What are you doing in my bathtub?” She gazed disparagingly at my healing black eye.

I reached for a towel and dragged it in with me, covering myself. “Trying to warm up.”

Her mouth twitched. “I don't wonder why,” she said sharply. “He's a cold bastard.”

I sat up in a rush of water as she walked out. “Trenton!” her voice rang out, harsh against the peace I had been wallowing in.

My breath puffed out, and I looked at the soaked towel clinging to me. Sighing, I got up and opened the drain with my foot. The water swirling about my calves settled and began to escape. Ellasbeth had thoughtfully left all the doors open, and I could hear her shouting at Trent. She wasn't far away. Perhaps as close as the common room. Deciding that as long as I could hear her out there, it was probably safe enough to get dried off in here, I wrung out the soaked towel and grabbed two new ones from the warmer.

“God save you, Trenton,” came her voice, bitter and abusive. “Couldn't you even wait until I was gone before bringing in one of your whores?”

I reddened and my motions to dry my arms grew rough.

“I thought you
had
left,” Trent said calmly, not helping matters. “And she's not a whore, she's a business associate.”

“I don't care what you call her, she's in my rooms, you bastard.”

“There wasn't anywhere else to put her.”

“There are eight bathrooms this side of the wall, and you put her in mine?”

I was glad my hair was somewhat dry, and that it smelled like Ellasbeth's shampoo made me feel all peachy-keen. Hopping ungainly on one foot, I tried to get my underwear on, thankful I had only been wearing the nylons that I brought from home when I went into the drink. My skin was still damp and everything was sticking. I almost went down when my foot got stuck halfway into my jeans leg, and lurching, I caught myself against the counter.

“Damn you, Trenton! Don't even try to say
that
is business!” Ellasbeth was shouting. “There's a naked witch in my bathtub, and you're sitting in your robe!”

“No, you listen to me.” Trent's voice was iron hard, and I could hear his frustration even from two rooms away. “I said she's a business associate, and that's what she is.”

Ellasbeth made a harsh bark of laugher. “From Vampiric Charms? She told me the name of her bloodhouse herself!”

“She's a runner, if it's any of your business,” Trent said so coldly I could almost see his clenched jaw. “Her partner is a vampire. It's a play on words, Ellasbeth. Rachel was my security escort tonight, and she fell into the river saving my life. I wasn't going to drop her at her office half dead from hypothermia like an unwanted cat. You told me you were taking the seven o'clock flight out. I thought you were gone, and I wasn't about to put her in my rooms.”

There was a moment of silence. I shimmied into my sweatshirt. Somewhere on the bottom of the river was several thousand dollars of soft ribbon gold from Randy's coiffure and one earring. At least the necklace had survived. Maybe the charm worked only on the necklace.

“You were on that boat…. The one that blew up…” It was softer, but there wasn't a hint of apology in her sudden concern.

In the silence, I fumbled at my hair, grimacing. Maybe if I had half an hour I could do something with it. Besides, there was no way to recover from the first stellar impression I'd made. Taking a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and padded in my sock feet to the common room. Coffee. I could smell coffee. Coffee would make everything better.

“You can understand my confusion,” Ellasbeth was saying as I hesitated by the door, unnoticed but able to see them. Ellasbeth stood beside the round table in the breakfast nook, looking meek in the way a tiger looks when it realizes it can't eat the man with the whip. Trent was seated, wearing a green robe edged in maroon. There was a professional-looking bandage on his forehead. He looked bothered—as he should with his fiancée accusing him of cheating.

“That's the closest to an apology I'm going to get, isn't it?” Trent said.

Ellasbeth dropped the department store bag and put a hand on her hip. “I want her out of my rooms. I don't care who she is.”

Trent's eyes fell on mine as if drawn to them, and I winced apologetically. “Quen is taking her home after a light dinner,” he said to her. “You're welcome to join us. As I said, I thought you had left.”

“I changed to a vamp flight so I could shop longer.”

Trent glanced back at me again to tell Ellasbeth that they weren't alone. “You spent six hours in the stores and have only one bag?” he said, the faintest accusation in his voice.

Ellasbeth followed his gaze to me, quickly masking her anger with a pleasant expression. But I could see her frustration. It remained to be seen how it would show itself. I was betting on hidden barbs and slights disguised as compliments. But I would be nice as long as she was.

Smiling, I came out in my jeans and Howlers sweatshirt. “Hey, uh, thanks for the pain amulet and letting me get cleaned up, Mr. Kalamack.” I stopped beside the table, the awkwardness as thick and choking as bad cheesecake. “No need to bother Quen. I'll call my partner to come and get me. She's probably banging on your gatehouse already.”

Trent made a visible effort to purge the anger from his posture. Elbows on the table so the sleeves of his robe fell to show the fair hair upon his arms, he said, “I'd rather have Quen take you home, Ms. Morgan. I don't particularly want to talk to Ms. Tamwood.” He glanced at Ellasbeth. “Do you want me to call the airport for you, or are you staying another night?”

It was entirely devoid of any invitation. “I'll be staying,” she said tightly. Bending at the waist, she picked up her bag and walked to her door. I watched her quick stilted steps, seeing in them a dangerous combination of callous disregard and ego.

“She's an only child, isn't she?” I said as the sound of her heels was lost on the carpet.

Trent blinked, his lips parting. “Yes, she is.” Then he gestured for me to sit. “Please.”

Not really sure I wanted to eat with the two of them, I gingerly sat on the chair opposite Trent. My gaze went to the fake window spanning the entirety of the wall that the small, nearby sunken living room took up. It was just after eleven according to the clocks I had seen, and it was dark with no moon. “Sorry,” I said, my gaze flicking to the archway to Ellasbeth's rooms.

His jaw tightened for an instant, then relaxed. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Sure. That would be great.” I was almost faint from hunger, and the heat of my bath had drained me. I looked up with wide eyes as a matronly woman in an apron made her unhurried way out of the small kitchen tucked in at the back of the room. It was partially open to the seating arrangement, but I hadn't noticed her until now.

Giving me a smile that encompassed all her face, the woman set a mug of that heavenly scented coffee in front of me before topping off Trent's smaller teacup with an amber brew. I thought I could smell gardenias, but I wasn't sure. “Bless you,” I said as I wrapped my hands around it and breathed in the steam.

“You're welcome,” she said with the professional warmth of a good waitress. Smiling, she turned to Trent. “What will it be tonight, Mr. Kalamack? It's almost too late for a proper dinner.”

As I blew on the surface of my coffee, my thoughts went to the different schedules of witches and elves, thinking it interesting that one of our species was awake at all times and that dinner happened about the same time for both of us.

“Oh, let's make it light,” Trent said, clearly trying to ease the mood. “I have about three pounds of Ohio River sitting in me somewhere. How about a breakfast instead? The usual, Maggie.”

The woman nodded, the white hair clipped close to her head not moving at all. “And how about you, dear?” she asked me.

I glanced between Trent and the woman. “What's the usual?”

“Four eggs over easy and three slices of rye toast done on one side.”

I felt myself blanch. “That's eating light?” I said before I could stop my mouth.

Trent arranged his jammies' collar, peeking from behind his robe. “High metabolism.”

My thoughts went back to how he and Ceri never seemed to get cold. The temperature of the river, too, hadn't affected him. “Um,” I said as I realized she was still waiting. “The toast sounds good, but I'll pass on the eggs.”

Eyebrows high, Trent took a sip of his tea, eyeing me over the rim. “That's right,” he said, his voice unaccusing. “You don't tolerate them well. Maggie, let's go with waffles.”

Shocked, I leaned back in my chair. “How did you…”

Trent shrugged, looking good in his bathrobe and bare feet. He had nice feet. “You don't think I know your medical history?”

My wonder died as I recalled Faris dead on his office floor.
What in hell was I doing here eating dinner with him?
“Waffles would be great.”

“Unless you'd like something more traditional for dinner. Chinese doesn't take long. Would you rather have that? Maggie makes fabulous wontons.”

I shook my head. “Waffles sound good.”

Maggie smiled, turning to putter back into the kitchen. “Won't be but a moment.”

I put my napkin in my lap, wondering how much of this let's-be-nice-to-Rachel scene was because Ellasbeth was in the next room listening and Trent wanted to hurt her for accusing him of cheating. Deciding I didn't care, I put my elbows on the table and took a sip of the best coffee I'd ever tasted. Eyes closing in the rising steam, I moaned in delight. “Oh God, Trent,” I breathed. “This is good.”

The sudden thump of heels on carpet pulled my eyes open. It was back.

I straightened in my chair as Ellasbeth came in, her dress coat open to show a starched white shirt and a peach-colored scarf. My gaze went to her ring finger and I blanched. You could run a city on the sparkle that thing put out.

Ellasbeth sat beside me, a shade too close for my liking. “Maggie?” she said lightly. “I'll have tea and biscuits, please. I ate while out.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Maggie said as she leaned through the open archway. Her tone lacked utterly in any warmth. Clearly Maggie didn't like Ellasbeth, either.

Ellasbeth fixed a smile to her face, setting her long, fragile-looking fingers on the table to best show off her engagement ring.
Bitch.
“Seems we got off the horse on the wrong side, Ms. Morgan,” she said cheerfully. “Have you and Trenton known each other long?”

I didn't like Ellasbeth. I think I'd be pretty upset myself if I came home and found a girl in Nick's bathtub, but after seeing her shouting at Trent, I couldn't find any sympathy for her. Accusing someone of cheating is harsh. My smile faltered as I realized I had almost done the same thing to Nick. I had accused him of dumping me, asking if there was someone else. There was a difference, but not much. Shit. I had to apologize. That he hadn't told me where he'd been going the last three months while avoiding me didn't seem like enough reason anymore. At least I hadn't called him any names. Jerking myself from my thoughts, I smiled at Ellasbeth.