Piece of cake, I thought, looking for the sparkle of pixy dust, finally spotting it sifting over Pike and Hodin/Constance’s diminutive form still on the landing. They were almost silhouettes in the bright lights from the news crews as Pike ignored the media’s shouted questions, more concerned with talking to his security. Mics were extended over the shoulders of the living wall, and the demands for information were getting louder.
“What are you going to do with her?” Trent said, his lips not moving as he slipped one careful arm around my waist to help me shuffle to the door. “Can I give her to Jon?”
I shot him a sharp look, but he was smiling. What to do with Constance was a problem. I would have let Pike keep her, seeing as she needed a source of blood and somewhere six feet down to survive the day, but I wasn’t confident he wouldn’t kill her when I wasn’t looking.
“Morgan! Rachel Morgan!” a small woman in a power dress shouted as I came blinking into the mobile news lights, and the Were standing in front of her suddenly howled, dropping back to hop on one foot. Not moving, the reporter beamed a dangerous, toothy grin at the encroaching security. “Is it true that you and Constance are fighting for control of the city, and if so, was there some consensus reached tonight?” she asked, then extended the mic.
“You are beautiful,” Trent whispered, and I shivered as his hand slipped from me and he took a step back.
I didn’t feel beautiful. My breath came in shakily, pulse fast as a wave of shushing and demands for silence filtered out. But my words faltered when Hodin delicately cleared his throat, catching Constance’s haughty demand perfectly.
“There’s no argument between Morgan and myself,” Hodin said, and my head snapped around. A startled yelp escaped Pike and he let go of Hodin’s elbow as the demon slowly winked at me. I quailed, imagining the damage he could do in ten minutes. I worked too hard for Hodin to screw this up.
“Morgan and I are not friends,” Hodin said, and Pike’s brow furrowed in worry even as Constance’s ill will flowed from Hodin as if it was real. “But there’s no reason to swat the fly if it doesn’t land on your beloved,” he added, and the news crews pushed forward. “I am Cincinnati’s master vampire,” he said, louder. “The demon whore looks to me!”
Damn it all to hell, he was talking. My anger did not go unnoticed, and at Trent’s subtle push, I stepped forward to stand even with Hodin. “This is what you wanted?” Pike whispered, his hand hiding his words, and I felt myself warm.
“I do not look to Constance,” I said loudly, and the mics turned to me. “But we have come to an agreement. She will handle vampire affairs within the traditional borders of Cincinnati and the Hollows—”
“As is my God-given right!” Hodin said, drowning me out as he shot me a look. “However”—his expression softened to a wicked evil—“as a goodwill gesture, I have agreed to take Piscary’s orphaned children as my own and will shortly withdraw my people from the traditional Were territories.”
My held breath eased out, and a faint shout rose as Hodin’s statement was carried to the back of the crowd.
“Was this at Rachel Morgan’s request?” the reporter asked, mic extended.
Hodin widened Constance’s smile, almost baring her teeth. “What do you think?”
Jenks snickered from Trent’s shoulder. “You forgot about apologizing for killing Nash.”
Hodin spun, and both Trent and Jenks darted backward. “Bring the car! Now!” Pike shouted, and the reporters surged forward. “The interview is over!”
Hodin’s eyes narrowed, and my lips parted when I saw a hint of demon red in them. “No one tells me what to do!” he shouted, Constance’s high voice ringing out. “I was given all, and I will hold all! I am Cincinnati’s master vampire. I will always be Cincinnati’s master vampire!”
The crowd moved, and there was a sudden surge of fear as the lights from the news van unexpectedly went out. Thank you, Jenks, I thought as I saw the telltale shimmer of pixy dust, then gasped when Constance, or Hodin, rather, was gripping my elbow, yanking me down so my ear was near his mouth.
“The subrosa is a hidden position,” he said, eyes flashing pure demon red. “You can’t publicly claim anything. Those who need to know, will. You are, after all, standing beside Constance unharmed and with a new . . . familiar in your spell bag.” He smiled at me with Constance’s fangs, sending a shiver through me. “Your city’s unrest is settled. Well done, madam subrosa.”
Unharmed? I thought as he let go and allowed himself to be hustled to the black SUV that had jumped the curb, scattering the crowd. More lights were bursting in showers of sparks, and the news crews were freaking.
“Morgan!” Pike shouted as Hodin tucked himself inside the car, looking small against the black interior. “Constance requires you to accompany us back to Piscary’s.”
His scarred features were tight at the thought of riding back to Piscary’s with a demon who could . . . do anything. High over the noisy crowd was the faint glow of pixy dust. Flashing lights were filling the parking lot, but far more at the outskirts were vanishing into the night. They would talk, meeting in bars and living rooms all over the city, and already I could feel a new peace taking hold. Now it is done, I thought, grateful for Jenks still out there busting lights like piñatas.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I said, and the living vampire frowned. Left wrist cradled close, I awkwardly lifted my bag over my shoulder and handed it to Trent. “Will you call Ivy’s sister and ask her to mouse-sit?” I said, and Trent’s eyes widened. “She’s going to need blood, and I don’t have anywhere six feet down for her. Oh, and the gondola wall needs to be hosed down with salt water,” I added, and he nodded, holding the bag closed with a tight grip.
“You can’t, huh?” Pike said darkly. More people were scattering, and I could hear the I.S. yelling at people to stop. No one did.
“I have plans tonight,” I said, then gave Trent a half squeeze and stepped closer to the car, voice soft as I added, “You have six to eight weeks to show me that you can handle the vampires without my constant help, or I’ll find someone who can.”
His eyebrows rose. “Six to eight weeks?” Pike questioned, and I wobbled deeper into the chaos, Trent suddenly at my elbow.
“Rule one about the good guys, Pike, is that we always pay our dues.” Pulling myself tall, I scanned over the dispersing crowd. “Doyle!” I shouted. “Where are you? I’m ready for my warrant to be served!”
CHAPTER
29
The harsh buzz of the floor’s door unlocking pulled my head up, and I turned as I finished tucking my wonderful, scrumptious, totally-not-jail-approved green shirt into my jeans. I didn’t know who I had to thank for the civvies. Trent, maybe. Or Edden. It would be more than nice walking out of here not wearing jail-orange.