Every Witch Way But Dead

Twenty-six

I took a deep breath, listening to the silence. Trent shifted his legs to put his ankle atop a knee. Eyes distant and worried, he chewed on a lower lip, looking nothing like the drug lord and murderer he was. Funny, you couldn't tell by looking.

"She locked the door," I said, jumping at the sound of my own voice.

Trent lifted his eyebrows. "She doesn't want you to wander. I think it's a good idea."

Snarky elf, I thought. Stifling a frown, I went to the small round window looking out across the frozen river. Using the flat of my hand, I wiped the condensation from it and took in the varied skyline. Carew Tower was lit up with holiday lights, glowing with the gold, green, and red film they covered the top floor windows with so they would shine like huge bulbs. It was clear tonight, and I could even see a few stars through the city's light pollution.

Turning, I put my hands behind my back. "I don't trust your friend."

"I never have. You'll live longer that way." Trent's tight jaw eased and the green of his eyes went a little less hard. "Lee and I spent our summers together when we were boys. Four weeks at one of my father's camps, four weeks at his family's beach house on a manmade island off the coast of California. It was supposed to foster goodwill between our families. He's the one who set the ward on my great window, actually." Trent shook his head. "He was twelve. Quite an accomplishment for him at the time. Still is. We had a party. My mother fell into the hot tub, she was so tipsy. I should replace it with glass now that we're—having difficulties."

He was smiling in a bittersweet memory, but I had stopped listening. Lee set the ward? It had taken the color of my aura, just like the disk in the game room. Our auras resonated to a similar frequency. Eyes squinting, I thought about our shared aversion to red wine. "He has the same blood disease I do, doesn't he?" I said. It couldn't be a coincidence. Not with Trent.

Trent's head jerked up. "Yes," he said cautiously. "That's why I don't understand this. My father saved his life, and now he's squabbling over a few million a year?"

Few million a year. Pocket change for the rich and filthy. Restless, I glanced at Lee's desk, deciding I had nothing to learn by sifting through the drawers. "You, ah, monitor the levels of Brimstone you produce?"

Trent's expression went guarded, then, as if making a decision, he ran a hand across his hair to make it lie flat. "Very carefully, Ms. Morgan. I'm not the monster you'd like me to be. I'm not in the business of killing people; I'm in the business of supply and demand. If I didn't produce it, someone else would, and it wouldn't be a safe product. Thousands would die." He glanced at the door and uncrossed his legs to put both feet on the floor. "I can guarantee it."

My thoughts went to Erica. The thought of her dying under the flag of being a weak member of the species was intolerable. But illegal was illegal. My hand smacked into his gold earrings as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't care how pretty the colors are that you paint your picture with, you're still a murderer. Faris didn't die because of a bee sting."

His brow furrowed. "Faris was going to give his records to the press."

"Faris was a frightened man who loved his daughter."

I put a hand on my hip and watched him fidget. It was very subtle: the tension in his jaw, the way he held his manicured fingers, the lack of any expression.

"So why don't you kill me?" I asked. "Before I do the same?" My heart pounded, and I felt as if I was at a cliff's edge.

Trent broke his persona of professional, well-dressed drug lord with a smile. "Because you won't go to the press," he said softly. "They will bring you down with me, and survival is more important than the truth to you."

My face warmed. "Shut up."

"It's not a failing, Ms. Morgan."

"Shut up!"

"And I knew eventually you'd work with me."

"I won't."

"You already are."

Stomach churning, I turned away. I gazed unseeing over the frozen river. A frown creased my brow. It was so silent I could hear the thumping of my heart—why was it that quiet?

I spun, hands gripping my elbows. Trent looked up from arranging the crease in his pants. His gaze was curious at the frightened look I knew I had. "What?" he said carefully.

Feeling unreal and disconnected, I took a step to the door. "Listen."

"I don't hear anything."

I reached out and wiggled the knob. "That's the problem," I said. "The boat is empty."

There was a heartbeat of silence. Trent rose, his suit making a pleasant hush. He looked more concerned than alarmed as he shook his sleeves down and came forward. Nudging me out of the way, he tried the handle.

"What, you think it's going to work for you when it won't work for me?" I said, grabbing his elbow and pulling him out from in front of the door. Balancing on one foot, I held my breath and kicked at the jamb, thankful that even luxury boats tried to keep everything as light as possible. My heel went right through the thin wood, my foot catching. The strips of my beautiful dress dangled and waved as I hopped ungainly backward to disentangle myself.

"Hey! Wait!" I exclaimed when Trent picked the splinters from the hole and reached through to unlock it from the outside. Ignoring me, he opened the door and darted into the hall.

"Damn it, Trent!" I hissed, snatching up my clutch purse and following him. Ankle hurting, I caught up with him at the foot of the stairs. Reaching out, I jerked him back, sending his shoulder into the wall of the narrow passage. "What are you doing?" I said, inches away from his angry eyes. "Is this how you treat Quen? You don't know what's out there, and if you die, I'm the one that's going to suffer, not you!"

He said nothing, his green eyes choleric and his jaw tight.

"Now get your scrawny ass behind mine, and keep it there," I said, giving him a shove.

Sullen and worried, I left him there. My hand wanted to reach for my splat gun, but as long as that purple disk was up and running, the potions in it wouldn't do anything but tick someone off as I got a nasty concoction of monkshood and spiderwort all over their nice dress clothes. A faint smile curved over my face. I didn't mind doing this the physical way.

What I could see of the room was empty. I listened, hearing nothing. Crouching to put my head at knee level, I peeked around the corner. I was down here for two reasons. First, if anyone was waiting to hit me, they'd have to adjust their swing, giving me time to get out of the way. Second, if I were hit, I wouldn't have so far to go to find the floor. But as I took in the elegant room, my stomach churned. The floor was littered with bodies.

"Oh my God," I said softly as I rose. "Trent, he killed them." Was that it? Was Lee going to frame us for murder?

Trent pushed past me, slipping my grasping reach easily. He crouched by the first body. "Knocked out," he said flatly, his beautiful voice turned to steel.

My horror turned to confusion. "Why?" I scanned the floor, guessing they had fallen where they stood.

Trent rose. His eyes went to the door. I agreed. "Let's get out of here," I said.

His steps behind me were quick as we hustled to the foyer to find it predictably locked. Through the frosted glass I could see cars in the parking lot, Trent's limo parked where we left it. "I got a bad feeling about this," I muttered, and Trent pushed me aside to look.

I stared at the thick wood, knowing I wouldn't be able to kick through that. Tense, I dug through my clutch purse. While Trent wasted his energy trying to break a window with a bar stool, I punched speed dial number one. "It's bulletproof glass," I said as the phone rang.

He lowered the stool and ran a hand over his wispy hair to make it perfect again. He wasn't even breathing hard. "How do you know?"

I shrugged, turning sideways for some privacy. "It's what I would have used." I returned to the gaming room as Ivy picked up. "Hey, Ivy," I said, refusing to lower my voice lest I give Mr. Elf the impression I hadn't planned this. "Saladan locked us in his gambling boat and ran away. Could you come on out and jimmy the door for me?"

Trent was peering out at the parking lot. "Jonathan is there. Call him."

Ivy was saying something, but Trent's voice was louder. I covered the receiver with a hand and said to Trent, "If he was still conscious, don't you think that he might be a little curious as to why Lee left and already have come to take a look?"

Trent's face went a little whiter.

"What?" I said as I focused back on Ivy. She was almost frantic.

"Get out!" she shouted. "Rachel, Kist had a bomb put on the boiler. I didn't know that's where you were going! Get out!"

My face went cold. "Um, I gotta go, Ivy. Talk to you later."

As Ivy yelled, I closed the cover to my phone and tucked it away. Turning to Trent, I smiled. "Kisten is blowing up Lee's boat as an object lesson. I think we need to leave."

My phone started ringing. I ignored it, and the call—Ivy?—was shunted into voice mail. Trent's confidence melted away to leave an attractive, well-dressed young man trying to show he wasn't afraid. "Lee wouldn't let anyone burn his boat," he said. "He doesn't work that way."

I clutched my arms about myself, scanning the room for something—anything—to help me. "He burned down your orphanage."

"That was to get my attention."

I looked at him, tired. "Would your friend let his boat burn and take you with it if Piscary was blamed for it? Heck of an easy way to take over the city."

Trent's jaw tightened. "The boiler room?" he asked.

I nodded. "How did you know?"

He headed for a small door behind the bar. "It's what I would have done."

"Swell." I followed him, my pulse quickening as I stepped around the unconscious people. "Where are we going?"

"I want to look at it."

I stopped dead in my tracks as Trent turned to go down a ladder backward. "You can dismantle a bomb?" It would be the only way to save everyone. There had to be a dozen people.

From the bottom of the ladder, Trent peered up at me, looking odd in his dress suit among the filth and clutter. "No. I just want to look at it."

"Are you nuts!" I exclaimed. "You want to look at it? We have to get out of here!"

Trent's upturned face was placid. "It might have a timer on it. Are you coming?"

"Sure," I said, stifling a laugh; I was pretty sure it would come out sounding hysterical.

Trent wove through the boat with a disturbing lack of urgency. I could smell hot metal and smoke. Trying not to snag my dress, I peered into the dimness. "There it is!" I shouted, pointing. My finger was shaking, and I dropped my hand to hide it.

Trent strode forward and I followed, hiding behind him when he crouched before a metal box with wires coming out of it. He reached to open it, and I panicked. "Hey!" I cried, grabbing his shoulder. "What the Turn are you doing? You don't know how to turn it off!"

He caught his balance without getting up, looking at me in annoyance, every hair on his head still perfect. "That's where the timer will be, Morgan."

I swallowed hard, peering over his shoulder as he carefully opened the lid. "How much time?" I whispered, my breath sending his wispy hair drifting.

He stood, and I took a step back. "About three minutes."

"Oh, hell no." My mouth went dry, and my phone started ringing. I ignored it. Leaning, I looked closer at the bomb, starting to feel a little unsteady.

Trent pulled on a watch fob to bring out an antique-looking timepiece and set the modern timer on it. "We've got three minutes to find a way off."

"Three minutes! We can't find a way off the boat in three minutes. The glass is bulletproof, the doors are thicker than your head, and that big purple disk will soak up any spell we throw at it!"

Trent's eyes were cold on me. "Get ahold of yourself, Morgan. Hysterics won't help."

"Don't tell me what to do!" I exclaimed, my knees starting to shake. "I think best when I'm having hysterics. Just shut up and let me have them!" Arms wrapped around myself, I glanced at the bomb. It was hot down there, and I was sweating. Three minutes. What in hell could you do in three minutes? Sing a little song. Dance a little dance. Make a little love. Find a new romance. Oh God. I was making up poetry.

"Maybe he has an escape route in his office?" Trent suggested.

"And that's why he locked us in there?" I said. "Come on." I grabbed his sleeve and pulled. "We don't have enough time to find a way off." My thoughts went to the purple disk in the ceiling. I had influenced it once. Maybe I could bend it to my will. "Come on!" I repeated as his sleeve slipped through my fingers when he refused to move. "Unless you want to stay and watch numbers count down. I might be able to break the no-spell zone Lee has on his boat."

Trent rocked into motion. "I still say we can find a weak point in his security."

I headed up the ladder, not caring if Trent noticed I wasn't wearing undies or not. "Not enough time." Damn it, why didn't Kisten tell me what he was doing? I was surrounded by men who kept secrets from me. Nick, Trent, and now Kisten. Could I pick 'em or what? And Kist was killing people. I didn't want to like a guy who killed people. What was wrong with me?

Heart pounding as if marking the reducing seconds, we went back to the gaming room. It was silent and still. Waiting. My mouth twisted at the sight of the sleeping people. They were dead. I couldn't save them and Trent. I didn't even know how I was going to save myself.

The disk above me looked innocuous enough, but I knew it was still functioning when Trent glanced at it and paled. I guessed he was using his second sight. "You can't break that," he said. "But you don't need to. Can you make a protection circle big enough for both of us?"

My eyes widened. "You want to ride it out in a protection circle? You are crazy! The minute I hit it, down it goes!"

Trent looked angry. "How big, Morgan?"

"But I tripped the alarms last time just looking at it!"

"So what!" he exclaimed, his confidence cracking. It was nice to see him shaken, but under the circumstances, I couldn't enjoy it. "Trip the alarms! The disk doesn't stop you from tapping a line and making a spell. It only catches you when you do. Make the damned circle!"

"Oh!" I looked at him in understanding, my first wild hope dying. I couldn't tap a line to make a protection circle. Not sitting on water as I was. "Um, you make it," I said.

He seemed to start. "Me? It takes me a good five minutes with chalk and candles."

Frustrated, I groaned. "What kind of an elf are you!"

"What kind of a runner are you?" he shot back. "I don't think your boyfriend will mind if you tap a line through him to save your life. Do it, Morgan. We're running out of time!"

"I can't." I spun in a tight circle. Through the unbreakable glass, Cincinnati glowed.

"Screw your damned honor, Rachel. Break your word to him or we're dead!"

Miserable, I turned back to him. He thought I was honorable? "That's not it. I can't draw on a line through Nick anymore. The demon broke my link with him."

Trent went ashen. "But you gave me a shock in the car. That was too much for what a witch can hold in his or her chi."

"I'm my own familiar, okay!" I said. "I made a deal with a demon to be its familiar so it would testify against Piscary, and I had to learn how to store ley line energy for it. Oh, I've got tons of energy, but a circle requires you stay connected to a line. I can't do it."

"You're a demon's familiar?" His face looked horrified, frightened, scared of me.

"Not anymore!" I shouted, angry to have to admit it had even happened. "I bought my freedom. Okay? Get off my case! But I don't have a familiar, and I can't tap a line over water!"

From my bag came the faint sound of my phone ringing. Trent stared at me. "What did you give it for your freedom?"

"My silence." My pulse hammered. What difference did it make if Trent knew? We were both going to die.

Grimacing as if having decided something, Trent took off his coat. Shaking his sleeve down, he undid the cuff link and pushed his sleeve past his elbow. "You aren't a demon's familiar?" It was a soft, worried whisper.

"No!" I was shaking. As I watched in slack-eyed confusion, he grabbed my arm just below the elbow. "Hey!" I shouted, pulling away.

"Deal with it," he said grimly. Gripping my arm harder, he used his free hand to force me to take his wrist in the same grip acrobats use when working the trapeze. "Don't make me regret this," he muttered, and my eyes widened when a rush of line energy flowed into me.

"Holy crap!" I gasped, almost falling. It was wild magic, having the uncatchable flavor of the wind. He had joined his will to mine, tapping a line through his familiar and giving it to me as if we were one. The line coming through him and into me had taken on a tinge of his aura. It was clean and pure with the taste of the wind, like Ceri's.

Trent groaned, and my eyes shot to his. His face was drawn and sweat had broken out on him. My chi was full, and though the extra energy was looping back to the line, apparently the stuff I had spindled already in my head was burning through him.

"Oh God," I said, wishing there was a way I could shift the balance. "I'm sorry, Trent."

His breath came in a ragged gasp. "Make the circle," he panted.

Eyes jerking to his timepiece swinging from its fob, I said the invocation. We both staggered as the force running through us ebbed. I didn't relax at all as the bubble of ley line energy blossomed about us. I glanced at his watch. I couldn't see how much time was left.

Trent tossed his hair from his eyes, not letting go of my arm. Eyes looking haggard, he ran his gaze over the gold smeared bubble over us to the people beyond. His expression went empty. Swallowing hard, he shifted his grip tighter. Clearly it wasn't burning him any longer, but the pressure would steadily build to its previous levels. "It's really big," he said, looking at the shimmer. "You can hold an undrawn circle this big?"

"I can hold it," I said, avoiding his eyes. His skin pressing against mine was warm and there were tingles coming from it. I didn't like the intimacy. "And I wanted it large so we have some leeway when the shock hits us. As soon as you let go or I touch it—"

"It falls," Trent finished for me. "I know. You're babbling, Morgan."

"Shut up!" I exclaimed, nervous as a pixy in a room full of frogs. "You may be used to having bombs blow up around you, but this is my first time!"

"If you're lucky, it won't be the last," he said.

"Just shut up!" I snapped. I hoped my eyes weren't as scared looking as his. If we survived the blast, there was still the aftermath to get through. Falling chunks of boat and icy water. Great. "Um, how long?" I asked, hearing my voice shake. My phone was ringing again.

He glanced down. "Ten seconds. Maybe we should sit down before we fall."

"Sure," I said. "That's probably a good ide—"

I gasped as a boom shook the floor. I reached for Trent, desperate that our grip on each other not break. The floor pushed up at us, and we fell. He clutched at my shoulder, pulling me into him to keep me from rolling away. Pressed against him, I could smell silk and aftershave.

My stomach dropped, and a flash of fire burst around us. I screamed as my ears went numb. In an unreal, soundless motion, the boat broke apart as we rose. The night became smears of black sky and red fire. The tingle of the circle breaking washed over me. Then we fell.

Trent's grip was torn away, and I cried out when fire raced over me. My explosion-numbed ears filled with water and I couldn't breathe. I wasn't burning, I was drowning. It was cold, not hot. Panicking, I fought against the heavy water pushing at me.

I couldn't move. I didn't know which way was up. The dark was full of bubbles and chunks of boat. A faint glow to my left caught my attention. I gathered myself and aimed for it, telling my brain it was the surface even though it seemed to be sideways, not up.

God, I hoped it was the surface.

I burst from the water, my ears still not working. The cold struck me, freezing. I gasped, the air like knives in my lungs. I took another thankful breath. I was so cold it hurt.

Pieces of boat were still falling, and I tread water, thankful that I wore a dress I could move in. The water tasted like oil, and the swallow I had taken in hung heavy in me.

"Trent!" I shouted, hearing it as if through a pillow. "Trent!"

"Here!"

I shook the wet hair from my eyes and turned. Relief went though me. It was dark, but through the floating ice and wood, I saw Trent. His hair was plastered against him, but he looked unhurt. Shivering, I kicked off the one heel that I still had on and started toward him. Bits of boat were making the odd splash. How could it still be falling? I wondered. There was enough flotsam between us to build two boats.

Trent started forward with a professional looking stroke. Apparently he had learned to swim. The glimmer of fire on the icy water brightened around us. Looking up, I gasped. Something big and burning had yet to come down.

"Trent!" I shouted, but he didn't hear me. "Trent, look out!" I screamed, pointing. But he wasn't listening. I dove, trying to escape.

I was flung as if smacked. The water around me turned red. I lost most of the air from my lungs when something hit me, bruising my back. The water saved me, though, and with my lungs aching and my eyes smarting, I followed my exhaled breath to the surface.

"Trent!" I called as I emerged from the icy water and into the burning cold of the night. I found him holding a cushion that was rapidly filling with water. His eyes met mine, unfocused. The light from the burning boat was dimming, and I swam for him. The dock was gone. I didn't know how we were going to get out of there.

"Trent," I said, coughing when I reached him. My ears were ringing, but I could hear myself. I spit the hair out of my mouth. "Are you okay?"

He blinked as if trying to focus. Blood seeped from under his hairline, making a brown streak in his fair hair. His eyes closed, and I watched in horror when his grip on the cushion went slack. "No, you don't," I said, reaching out before he could slip under.

Shivering, I wrapped an arm about his neck, tucking his chin against the inside of my elbow. He was breathing. My legs were going slow from the cold and my toes were cramping. I looked for help. Where in hell was the I.S.? Someone must have seen that explosion.

"Never around when you need them," I muttered, shoving a chunk of ice as large as a chair out of my way. "Probably out giving someone a ticket for selling expired charms." The dock was gone. I had to get us out of the water, but the break wall was three feet of concrete. The only way out was to get back onto the ice and walk to another dock.

A sound of desperation came from me as I struck out for the edge of the hole the blast had ripped in the ice. I'd never make it even with the slow current. The water was starting to creep higher up me, and my movements were slower and harder to make. I wasn't cold anymore, either, and that scared the hell out of me. I could probably make it…ifI weren't dragging Trent.

"Damn it all to hell!" I shouted, using my anger to keep moving. I was going to die here, trying to save his ass. "Why didn't you tell me what you were doing, Kisten!" I exclaimed, feeling my tears like fire leaking out of me as I swam. "Why didn't I tell you where I was going?" I yelled back at myself. "I'm a dumbass. And your stupid watch is fast, Trent! Did you know that? Your stupid…" I took a sobbing breath. "…watch is fast."

My throat hurt, but the motion seemed to warm me. The water felt positively balmy now. Panting, I stopped swimming, treading water. My vision blurred when I realized I was almost there. A big chunk of ice was in my way, though, and I'd have to swim around it.

Taking a resolute breath, I shifted my leaden arm and kicked my legs. I couldn't feel them anymore, but I assumed they were moving since the eight-inch-thick shelf of ice seemed to be moving closer. The last of the light from the burning boat made little red smears on the ice as I reached out and touched it. My hand slid cleanly away to pull in snow, and I sank. Adrenaline pounded through me and I kicked back to the surface. Trent sputtered and coughed.

"Oh, Trent," I said, water filling my mouth. "I forgot you were here. You first. Come on. Up on the ice."

Using the questionable leverage of what looked like part of the casino's bar, I got Trent halfway up onto the frozen river. Tears slipped down my face as I was now able to use both arms to keep myself afloat. I hung for a moment, my hands unfeeling in the snow while I rested my head atop the ice. I was so tired. Trent wasn't drowning. I had done my job. Now I could save myself.

I reached up to pull myself onto the ice—and failed. Snow fell in to make puddles of slush. Switching tactics, I tried to lever my leg up. It wouldn't move. I couldn't move my leg.

"Okay," I said, not as scared as I thought I ought to be. The cold must have numbed everything—even my thoughts felt blurry. I was supposed to be doing something, but I couldn't remember what. I blinked as I saw Trent, his legs still in the water.

"Oh, yeah," I whispered. I had to get out of the water. The sky above me was black, and the night was silent but for the ringing in my ears and the faint sound of sirens. The light from the fires was dim and going dimmer. My fingers wouldn't work, and I had to use my arms like clubs to pull a chunk of boat closer. Concentrating to not lose my thought, I pushed it under to buoy me up. A groan slipped from me when, with its help, I managed to slip a leg up onto the ice. I rolled awkwardly and lay panting. The wind was like fire on my back, and the ice was warm. I'd done it.

"Where is everyone?" I breathed, feeling my flesh hard against the cold ice. "Where's Ivy? Where's the fire department? Where's my phone?" I giggled as I remembered it was at the bottom of the river with my purse, then sobered as I thought of the unconscious people drifting downward through the icy water in their best finery to join it. Hell, I'd kiss even Denon, my old, despised boss from the I.S., if he showed up.

That reminded me. "Jonathan," I whispered. "Oh, Jo-o-oo-onathan," I sang. "Where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are—you tall freak of nature."

I lifted my head, glad I was pointed in the right direction. Squinting past my stringy hair, I could see a light where the limo sat. The headlights were aimed at the river, shining to show the destruction and the sinking bits of boat. Jonathan's silhouette stood at the quay. I could tell it was him because he was the only person I knew who was that tall. He was looking the wrong way. He'd never see me, and I couldn't shout anymore.

Damn it. I was going to have to get up.

I tried. I really did. But my legs wouldn't work and my arms just lay there, ignoring me. Besides, the ice was warm, and I didn't want to get up. Maybe if I shouted he'd hear me.

I took a breath. "Jonathan," I whispered. Oh hell, this wasn't going to work.

I took another breath. "Jonathan," I said, hearing it around my ringing ears. I pulled my head up, watching as he didn't move to look. "Never mind," I said, letting my head fall back onto the ice. The snow was warm, and I pressed into it. "This is nice," I mumbled, but I don't think it made it past my thoughts into real words.

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?