Black Magic Sanction

Chapter Thirty-five

The scent of subgum rose from the softly steaming takeout box, filling the gray interrogation room at the FIB with the scent of steamed pea pods, sauteed mushrooms, and broccoli. My chopsticks were not the usual splintery pulpwood, but a nice set of olive wood. Apparently Glenn was a regular at whatever Asian eatery he'd placed the order. More than a regular, I'd imagine. The sticks were beautiful.
I wrangled a water chestnut into my mouth, jamming the sticks to stand straight up as I reached for the fortune cookie. I was never one to wait. The snap of the cookie breaking was familiar, and I smiled as I read, KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE, YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER.
Eating the entire cookie at one go, I pushed back from the scarred table, crossed my ankles, and gazed at the dirty ceiling as I chewed. I was dressed now in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved top, patterned too brightly for my liking. Flip-flops kept my toes from the tile, and I was sporting brand-new blah underwear from the lockup downstairs. None of what I was wearing was mine, but it was clean and better than an orange jumpsuit. I didn't ask what had happened to the people who used to own these clothes. Someone had my red leather jacket.
I reached for the box of takeout and I rubbed my last demon mark, sore where Pierce's charm had burned me. My eyes drifted to Trent's statue, and I reached for it. Cripes, the thing was graphic. No wonder he hid it underground.
The knock at the door startled me, and I dropped it. Scrambling, I stood it upright. It was Jenks and Glenn, and I wiped my hands on my borrowed jeans as I saw the stack of paperwork in the FIB officer's hand. "Hi, Rache," the pixy said, doing a quick circuit and landing on the tips of my chopsticks, poking out of the takeout box, to enjoy the rising heat. "Trent's here. And the coven guy. Glenn's got your papers to sign first, though."
"Thanks, Jenks. Are you sure your wings are okay?"
Making a face, he sent them humming so fast that the dust from him rose high in a pixy-made draft. "Yeah, they're fine. Bastard I.S."
Glenn was smiling when he slapped the papers down on the table. "David is still stuck on the tarmac," he said as he handed me a pen, "but he had his brother fax everything here."
Nodding in understanding, I flipped to the first flag and signed with my first name, middle initial, and last name. "This is for the trial, yes?" I asked as I found the next flag.
"According to David," Glenn affirmed as I finished. "I won't file it unless you say so or go missing for more than three days." He glanced at Jenks, then me. "Rachel," he said, seeming to lose some of his professional polish, "I'm required by law to inform you that your proposed actions are both risky and prone to landing you in prison, permanently incarcerated if not worse - "
"It's all she's got, Glenn," Jenks said, rising up on a silver column of dust.
Hand raised, Glenn smiled. "Personally, I think it will work," he finished, and the pixy relaxed. "I don't know Oliver well enough to give an accurate estimation of what he might do, but if what you say is true, I think he'll go for it."
"He'll go for it," I said, worried. "Can I keep the paperwork here? Visual aids help."
Glenn nodded. "You signed two originals," he said as he took half the stack and tucked it under his arm. "If you're ready, I'll send them in." His gaze dropped to my dinner as I picked it up. "Good?" he asked.
"Delicious," I said, reaching for it. "Thanks, Glenn. For everything."
The man smiled wickedly. "Any time, Rachel. Have fun."
He left the door open, and I could hear Trent's beautiful voice in the hall. He was talking with Jonathan, and Jenks's wings clattered as my blood pressure rose. I hated the man. "Jenks," I said on impulse as I dug into my dinner. "You go, too."
"What?" Peeved, Jenks confronted me. "Why can't I stay?"
"If you're in here, Trent might want a witness, too. I don't want Jonathan with him."
The pixy turned in midair, hands on his hips. "I could do a little dusting," he said, and my lips curved up in a smile. Jonathan wouldn't know what hit him.
"You do that," I said, then drew back as Trent pushed the door open. Oliver was behind him, all bluster and huff. The two men gave Jenks a cautious look as the pixy laughed, darting out over their heads singing "London Bridge Is Falling Down."
Watching me, Trent shut the door with the tip of his shoe, and the silence of a sort-of-soundproof room soaked into me. "Please, sit down," I said to the two men, gesturing with my chopsticks. "I'm glad you agreed to see me. Do you want anything? Coffee? Subgum?"
Sitting on the green, thinly padded metal chair, Trent clasped his hands and rested them on his crossed knees. His face lacked all emotion, waiting. "No thank you." His eyes shifted from the paperwork to the statue, and I smiled. Thanks, Nick, even if you are a bastard. God! I couldn't believe he went behind my back to work a deal with Trent. On second thought, I could. And what was it with Trent not telling me he thought I might be able to do that elf trick of shifting realities using ley lines?
Oliver stood, his arms crossed. "You are a black witch," he started, his words harsh.
Going back to my subgum, I said mildly, "And the coven of moral and ethical standards is corrupt, having a demon-summoning black-arts practitioner among their number. You sure you don't want a coffee?"
"We do not!" the man exclaimed.
"Wrong!" Taking a breath, I jammed the sticks in the takeout box, thinking they looked too aggressive pointing at him like that. "Brooke tried to make a deal with me to put one of my demon children in her cradle and me off the lobotomy table intact and in her private army."
Oliver's round face looked horrified.
Trent unclasped his hands and tugged his sleeves. "Can we skip this part? I have an appointment in half an hour with the press."
His hand fumbling for the back of a chair, Oliver sat. I didn't think he'd known that. Good. Maybe he would listen to me. "Sure," I said slowly, answering Trent's question. "We can come back to it if we need to. Let me tell you what I want." I'm going to make a deal with two men who tried to kill me. Was I stupid or really smart? Sidereal didnt have a problem with it.
Oliver scoffed. "You're in jail. You're in no position to be asking anything."
Trent hid a smile, and I picked through my dinner to find a water chestnut. "I'm in jail because I choose to be. You don't think that performance in Fountain Square was anything other than to get the media's attention and you in front of me, do you? It's safe here, and the food's better than at Alcatraz." I looked up, allowing a sliver of my irritation to show. "Ever try it, Ollie? It's got this really tasty spice in the saturated fats."
Oliver frowned, and Trent interrupted with a brusque "Listen to the woman, or this will take all day. She'll make it quick, and then you can spout off all you want."
Expression cross, the witch leaned back in his chair, and I eyed Trent, thoughts of his Pandora charm and the deal with Nick making me tense. His words about me being honorable had been a surprise, and I'd swear he hadn't known about the bug before then. But lying was one of his skill sets. Bringing my conflicted gaze from Trent, I pointed my chopsticks at Oliver. "I want my shunning removed and the threats to my person stopped."
He huffed, tugging his sleeves, making his cuff links twinkle. "That action requires a full quorum, which we won't have until the next public meeting and we reestablish our number."
Public meeting... the witches' conference? Nice stall. "Give me something," I said, "or my next conversation will be with the press and it will come out that not only does a schism exist in the coven, but that some of you are corrupt and summon demons."
"We're not corrupt!" Oliver exclaimed, making Trent wince. "No one will believe you!"
My eyebrows rose. "Talk to Brooke lately?"
Oliver's bluster evaporated. Honestly, they needed to pick these people more carefully. He might be a crackerjack witch, but he was telegraphing his entire thought process, and my estimation of the coven dropped more.
"I didn't know what she was doing," Oliver said slowly. "And Vivian, as a minor coven member, had her hands somewhat tied. Brooke has been officially shunned, stripped of rank."
I dug into my subgum, saying, "Good thing she's in the ever-after, or you'd brick her in the ground alive, huh? Who'd ever think being a demon's lackey would be a good thing?"
Looking up, I caught Oliver's shocked look. "We will deny everything," he said, and Trent sighed loudly. "The words of a shunned witch are unheard!"
"How about the words of a coven member?" I asked. "I have a recorded conversation of Vivian telling me you did know of the attacks, that you were reassessing my case, and that action might be taken against my family if I didn't submit to chemically neutering my ability to have children and work magic. It's on my phone, Ollie. I think she's pissed you called her a liar."
The man looked aghast, and Trent cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the man's ineptness. I was kind of embarrassed, too, and I picked past the broccoli to find a squash slice. This was what our yearly dues bought?
"This is how it works," I said, trying not to sound irate. "I give you something, you give me something. We all go home happy." Seeing him silent, I added, "This is what is going to happen. If you don't rescind my shunning and agree to stop trying to kill me, I'm going to demand a fair trial of my peers, thanks to this pile of paperwork here. And the press running with the idea that the coven is corrupt means I'll get it. TV coverage, radio, everything."
Oliver was eying my papers, and I rested my hand on them protectively. "Even if you do manage to refute my claim that the coven is corrupt, the truth will come out that our history is based on ancient elf propaganda and our beginnings are rooted as stunted demons, the result of an elf curse. Ought to do wonders for our public image, both witches and elves." I glanced at Trent. "Not that anyone thinks they're still around, but hey, there it is. I'll probably end up in jail, but any time I want, I just talk to my demon teacher, and I'm out of there, leaving you to deal with the fallout."
"You wouldn't!" Oliver said, appalled. "It would mean genocide!"
"She would," Trent muttered, clearly not pleased I'd brought the elves into it.
"I will," I said, putting my dinner aside. "Thanks to you gentlemen, I've got nothing to lose. You put me in this place, and I'm going for broke. If I'm going to be persecuted solely on the basis of being a stepping-stone between witches and demons, then I'm taking you down with me." I glanced at Trent. His public persona was cracking, and he looked pissed. "And if you don't go along with it, Mr. Kalamack, I'll tell them how I got that way."
His focus on me sharpened. "My father saved your life," he said bitterly.
"Which doesn't give you the right to run it." Tired, I fingered the fortune cookie's advice. I didn't want to bring this up in front of Oliver, but why not? "Trent, I'd appreciate it if you would drop your attempts at trying to make me your property, okay? If you've got a problem you want help with, come talk to me. If you give me five minutes' notice, I'll even make sure the pixies are in the garden."
Trent uncrossed his legs, the rasping silk loud in the hush. "I didn't tell the coven, but I'll be damned if I don't capitalize on it. I am not anyone's familiar."
"Trent... ," I almost whined. "I'm not going to make good on that. Will you let it go?"
Brow furrowed, he leaned forward, flicking a glance at Oliver. "Listen this time. You claimed me. I don't care if you never enforce it. There is a mark on my shoulder. It matches yours. Get it annulled."
My hand crept up and touched it, hidden under someone else's shirt. Slowly my face became empty of emotion. He was right. The truth of the matter was, I'd been enjoying the little bit of power I had over him - like Al had over me. "You're right," I said, hating to admit it. "But I've been mad at you for a long time." I put my hand on the table and met his gaze. His green eyes were intent, fixed on me with frustration, irritation... but nowhere did I see the hatred in him that I had when he hammered my head into a tombstone and tried to choke the life out of me. Maybe it was time to stop taking enjoyment from making him angry and... grow up.
"Trent, I need to know," I said, gaze fixed on his. "The Pandora charm you gave me was modified to not break cleanly, and I almost suffocated. Is that what you intended?"
Trent frowned, and his gaze flicked to the hallway, where Jonathan waited. "No," he said, looking exceptionally pissed. "I apologize, and I'm taking care of it."
Feeling oddly satisfied, I leaned back in my chair. Jonathan. Son of a bitch. "Thanks," I said, believing him. I'd find out about the ley-line door later when Oliver wasn't around. I took a breath, gaze flicking to Oliver and back. "I'll ask Al how to break a familiar bond. If there's a way without hurting either of us, I'll do it. But you need to stop trying to make me your slave in all but name, okay? And maybe stop telling people I can invoke demon magic? Can you do that? Give me my life back?"
Head shaking, Trent leaned forward. "I never told anyone, Rachel. It wasn't me."
Oliver snickered. "It was Nick Sparagmos, children."
My heart seemed to stop. I stared at Trent, reading his own surprise and anger. I couldn't remember how to breathe, and I forced my lungs to work. Nick? Nick had told them?
My thoughts jerked back to the circle in his apartment and the two strikes on the demon mark on his shoulder. Undoubtedly that was how he found out. God! Nick must have thought I was a fool when I asked for his help to steal from Trent. And Trent had looked even more stupid, trying to do an end run with Nick to catch me. Nick had played both of us off against each other, not once, but twice.
"You're both idiots," Oliver said, as if delighting in the fact that we were so dumb. "Two people so intent on getting the best of each other that you can be manipulated into anything."
Damn it, he was right. My eyes closed in a long blink, and I loosened my clenched jaw, trying hard not to show my growing anger. Maybe I'll have to make another excursion into Trent's compound tonight and find Nick.
"Nick is gone," Trent said, voice hard as he answered my unspoken thought. "He slipped my guards yesterday before I... went for my evening ride."
Before he rode for me, I thought, shivering as the anger Trent felt for Nick landed on me.
"I never - I didn't know," Trent almost whispered, clearly upset as his fingers twitched. Stilling his hands, he flicked his gaze to the statue at my elbow. "I'll give you until the witch conference to resolve the issue of the mark between us," he said suddenly. "If my mark isn't gone by then, this starts up again."
I swallowed my own anger at Nick for later. "Fair enough," I said, feeling stupid and mad at myself.
Trent's gaze dropped to the table. "Can I have my statue?"
My breath came in fast. "Oh! Yes," I said, having forgotten about it. Using two fingers, I pushed it across the table. Trent took it, shoving it into a pocket, the tips of his ears reddening.
Settling back, I laced my hands and set them atop the table and looked at Oliver, my anger at Nick still making my features tight and pissed. The coven leader was smug, and it irritated me. "I don't have a statue for you, but I've got a pocketful of silence," I said. "How about it? I drop my claim of corruption in the coven, and you drop me completely. Shunning. Death threats. Everything." God, if I ever get Nick alone, I swear I'm going to give him to Al before whatever demon he's been summoning takes him.
Oliver snickered, thinking that my being stupid gave him the advantage. "Don't think so. You're a black witch." Chin high, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd rather kill you."
I couldn't stop my sigh. Trent shifted, clearly wanting to end this so he could start looking for Nick, maybe.
"Oliver," Trent said, and my eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do you hope to gain here? It's not good business anymore."
He turned to Trent, indignation thick on him. "Good business?" he blustered. "I'm trying to keep the world from knowing witches come from demons, and you're worried about your career being ruined by a pornographic statue. Why do you even have that?"
"It's an object of ancient art, and it was in my vault, not my bedroom," Trent said dryly. "If you're so concerned about your secret, perhaps you should give Ms. Morgan what she wants? Being in favor with someone who can go into the ever-after with impunity might be good."
Do tell? I thought in amazement, using one of Pierce's favorites. Maybe he's more ticked at Nick than I thought.
"Blackmail!" Oliver stated, pushing back from the table and standing up.
Trent was searching his pockets. "Business. Morgan has a commodity. Silence." Finding a pen, he looked up. "You're going to have to buy it from her or kill her. Take it from someone who's tried, even if she is dead, the truth will come out and she'll bring you down from the grave."
He's helping me convince Oliver? Are frogs coming from the sun in spaceships, too?
Unable to sit still any longer, I said, "I'm not a bad person, Ollie. I have a cat and a fish, and I don't kick stray dogs." I do burn the wings from fairies, but damn it, they attacked me first. "I don't want the world to know that I'm a stepping-stone to demons or that our beliefs are based on ancient elf propaganda. But I don't want to live in Alcatraz or the ever-after either. I just want to make a living doing what I do best."
The coven leader turned from the curtained one-way mirror, shaking his head. "Destroying society? I've seen what you've done to the Weres and the elves."
Trent, who was clearly looking for something to write on, silently gestured at the little slip from the fortune cookie, and I pushed it to him. "I prefer calling it restructuring," I said. "I don't hear them complaining, but what I meant was, I want to operate my runner business and rescue familiars out of trees. It's you guys coming at me that makes me do all this weird stuff that gets you in a tizzy."
Clicking his pen closed, Trent tucked it away. "Oliver, she's a little backward in her methods, but her heart is in the right place. You saw what she did at the square. She could have killed you, but she didn't. Let this go. I'll watch her until she gains some finesse."
I turned to Trent. "Excuse me?"
Once more the suave, confident city son, Trent smiled. "If you want to play with the big boys, you'll need a chaperone. I could've spared you a bloody nose on the playground at least."
He was talking metaphorically, but I still didn't like it. "No," I said, looking at the folded strip of paper in his hand, then back at him. "You're not my frigging mentor. I've already got a demon for a teacher in the ever-after. I don't need another one here. I just want to be left alone."
A strangled cough came from Oliver, and I turned. "You got a problem?" I snapped.
His head was going back and forth as he stood before us. "A demon teacher," he said softly. "It's just... you're so casual about it."
"Casual keeps me sane. If I think about it too hard, I'll go nuts." I set my palm on the table, fingers spread. "Are we doing this, or does Jenks come in here and things get ugly?"
Oliver's expression was unsure. He eyed Trent, who made a "we're waiting" gesture. The witch shifted his feet, and I held my breath as he reluctantly sat back down. "How?" he stated, not looking up from his hands resting on the table. "You've already implicated us, saying that we're corrupt. The press isn't going to forget that."
My heart pounded and my stomach seemed to unknot. It was all I could do to not jump up and scream, "Yes!" I had them. At least I think I had them. "Got it covered," I said.
From across the table, Trent exhaled, tired. "Why am I not surprised?"
I glanced at him, then turned my good mood on Oliver. "We're going to tell the press that this was a double-blind test of Trent's security system."
Trent cleared his throat, and my attention shifted to him. "Knowing witches were the biggest security threat, you went to the coven and asked them to send a witch to try to break into your vault and steal a fake statue. If your witch failed, he'd know he was secure, but if your witch succeeded, Trent would give the coven... a million dollars."
The last bit was a sudden inspiration on my part as I tried to find a way to get Oliver interested. As expected, the man's eyebrows rose, whereas Trent just frowned at Oliver's greed. A million dollars was nothing to Trent.
"You, being smart," I said to Oliver, fluffing his ego, "knew that black witches were the bigger threat. Going all out, you decided to drum up a false charge and get me shunned in order to encourage me to use the strongest means available to see if I could break in. Black magic. And now that I've proved I can, you can rescind the shunning."
Both men were silent. A pang of worry lifted through me. Maybe I'd misjudged Oliver's greed. "Uh, maybe the reward was two million," I added, and Trent blinked.
Beside him, Oliver said, "You want us to lie for you."
I had a brief memory of asking Minias the same thing, and I shoved it away. "Yeah," I said with forced casualness. "But it's not hurting anyone's reputation, property, or business. It's a big, freaking white lie, the same one we've been telling ourselves for the last five thousand years. Is that okay with you, or do you tell your wife she looks fat in her favorite dress, too?"
The man made a soft noise of negation, but Trent's nod was even more positive. "What about Brooke?" Oliver asked, and my mood was tarnished.
Eyes down, I said, "I can't get her back. She was sold three seconds after hitting the ever-after. I'm sorry. I really did try, but she did summon him."
"I can't do this!" Oliver said, unable to let it go, and Trent seemed to collapse in on himself in exasperation. "I can't allow it! Reverse her shunning? Let her run around capable of twisting curses and setting demons loose on the world? It's insane!"
"Oliver!" I shouted, seeing Jenks's wings silhouetted against the thick glass in the door. He was hearing all of this, I was sure. "I'm not a black witch. I just twist curses instead of stirring spells. There are a hundred mundane ways to kill a person, and you dont put people in jail just because they could do a crime." He was listening, and I gestured, pleading, "You're going to have to trust me. But if you think I'm bad now, just keep this crap up. I don't have to stay here. If you make me leave, you can bet I'll be back, and I'll still be pissed."
Oliver leaned over the table, not cowed at all. "We can find you anywhere."
"Yeah, but you can't follow me everywhere," I said, and a flicker of doubt crossed his mind.
"Find a way to work the deal, Oliver," Trent said. "You're letting pride get in your way. She keeps her word. I doubt that Ms. Morgan will have children anyway. If she does, they will be kidnapped by demons. Not your problem anymore."
It was sad but true. Watching Oliver, I held my breath and scooted to the back of my chair, waiting as thoughts flitted across his face. I thought he was almost going to say yes, but what came out of his mouth was a flat "I can't."
Trent sighed, and Oliver turned to him. "I can't!" he said louder. "I am one of six, and I'm not going to sit here and tell you I can grant you a pardon when I can't. You're going to have to stand before the coven and beg for leniency."
"What?" I yelped, sitting up fast.
"On your knees," he said, finding his courage as mine evaporated. "Even if I go out and give the press that cock-and-bull story, the coven will know the truth, and the fact remains that you performed black magic and you consort with demons."
"That's not fair!" I said, infuriated.
"If you want your shunning removed, that's what you're going to have to do. You don't think we can simply let you admit you did black magic, then let you walk because we say it was a test? No. You re going to have to beg for our pardon."
I inhaled deeply to let him have it, then hesitated. Slowly my breath slipped out. "Fine," I said sullenly. "I'll come to the next witches' meeting, but I'm not going to get on my knees. I'll say I'm sorry, and you can wave your wand and say I'm really a good witch. Shunning rescinded. Okay? But until then, you back off or these papers get filed."
Oliver smiled in a not-nice way, and I wondered if they would kill me between now and then. "Double-blind study?" he said and I quivered. "Will they really go for that?"
The air shook in my lungs. "Oh, yeah. The news loves making me look like a fool."
I jerked as Trent stood up, his chair loud against the tile. His hand was out, extended to me. Slowly I stood and took it. His hand was cool, fitting nicely in mine with the perfect amount of pressure. "Congratulations, Ms. Morgan," he said, his voice rising and falling like water, not a hint of anything but honest pleasure. "Come and see me before the annual meeting. I'd like to talk to you when you have a moment."
There was a strip of paper in my hand when he pulled away, and I palmed it. "I'd like that, Mr. Kalamack." Maybe he had some idea of where Nick had gone.
Oliver had stood as well, but his hands were behind his back. "You're really going to go out there and say it was all a test of your security system?"
"That's exactly what I'm going to do, Oliver. And if you were smart, you'd back off and give her everything she wants." Smiling cockily, Trent inclined his head to me. "Good evening, Ms. Morgan."
My lips curved up, but inside I was shaking. Yd done it. Holy crap on toast. I wish they'd hurry up and leave. I was going to pass out. Trent opened the door, and the sounds of the FIB spilled in to replace him.
"See you around, Trent," I whispered, falling back in my chair. My attention dropped to the little slip of paper. "See you tonight... ," I murmured, reading, TONIGHT. STABLES. WEAR YOUR BOOTS.
Jenks buzzed in, and I crumpled it.