He went down, and I got to my feet, lurching with the boat’s motion, unable to stop the captain from stomping on Pike’s wrist. Pike howled in anger. The knife was loose, and the captain kicked it away.
I went for it, having been forgotten or simply dismissed, and I spun when the smooth feel of Pike’s knife fitted into my hand.
They had him stretched between the ropes again, held against the low wall of the boat. Spray flew up, drenching them as the captain came forward with heavy, sure steps.
Not on my watch, I thought, jaw set. “Tell Pike’s brother he came in too light!” I snarled, jumping between them to cut one of the taut ropes.
The knife went through the wet cord with a shocking give. Pike gasped as he lurched, his fingers loosening the noose even as he spun and headbutted the man holding the last rope, knocking him right over the side of the boat.
The man screamed as he hit the water and was gone. And then Pike choked, bracing himself against the low wall to keep from being pulled over in turn.
Bellowing, the captain rushed him. I lunged, knocking the older man over before swinging the knife and cutting the rope angling into the water.
Pike fell inward and hit the boat’s deck. His bloodshot eyes darted behind me. “Down!” he rasped, and I dropped, hitting the old planks hard.
I spun, breath catching when I saw the thrown knife stuck in Pike’s leg instead of me. It had been the captain, and I butt-scooted to Pike, still trying to breathe around his crushed throat.
“Stay down!” Trent shouted, and my gaze snapped to him at the threat in his voice.
Trent stood there, balance perfect as the boat lurched and crashed, water spraying over us. His jaw was set, and magic, pulled from a line through his familiar, dripped from his fingers. Shit, he was going to do something.
“No! Stay down!” I whispered, grabbing Pike’s lapels and holding him where he was.
“Cease, or die,” Trent intoned, and the captain turned to him, motioning the last assassin to finish us off. “I will not warn you again.”
“One more body will make it that much more convincing,” the captain said. Then he took a step to Trent, fish knife brandished.
“Detrudo!” Trent shouted, and I jumped as a bubble of line energy exploded out from him, sending the boat’s tackle rattling and flattening the waves. The two men went flying, crying out as they hit the low rails of the boat and tumbled overboard.
The boat bobbed and settled in the eerie, spell-flattened water.
Pike sat where he was, exhausted and fingers fumbling to get the last noose off. His expression dangerously empty, he tossed the rope after them. The knife he took out of his leg he kept, and I pressed my hand down on the wound when he pulled it out.
“You should have told me you were marked,” Trent said, and Pike stared at him.
“Yeah. Maybe. You know what?” Pike rasped, a shaky hand coming up to cover mine holding his stab wound closed. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer for a ride.” His eyes went to mine. “Huh. Maybe a minute ten,” Pike slurred, then his hand atop mine went slack and he passed out.
CHAPTER
19
“Tell her I’m assessing Morgan’s possible compliance through a secondary means,” Pike said into his cracked phone, and my gaze flicked from the vampire crammed into the back of Trent’s sports car to Trent sitting beside me in the passenger seat. He was on the phone, too, the light glowing on his face in the predawn haze to make him look dangerous. He, though, was using texts to keep his conversation private. Hence me driving. I loved driving Trent’s car, and I angled the vent until my hair blew back to mimic the top being down. Which it wasn’t. The things we lose when there’s a price on our head . . .
“On a jet,” Pike said, his voice rich with undertones as it came from the dark back seat. “Coming in from San Francisco. She’s a demon. She knew a great place for Italian out there, and she wanted to treat me to dinner.”
Trent looked up from his phone, and I shrugged. I appreciated Pike stretching the truth, but it begged the question of why he was doing it—other than possibly for the pure enjoyment of it, telling them to go to hell and handing them a window-seat ticket.
All in all, Pike was looking surprisingly better, but I thought it was due more to us being back in Cincinnati than to the first aid I’d stitched him up with on the five-hour flight back. We’d flown out of darkness and into a predawn glow, and I hoped the metaphor of leaving the dark for the light was apropos. Even with the rest and the metabolism-upper, Brimstone-laced cookies he’d bought at the airport, Pike was pale. Early morning clearly wasn’t his time. Mine either. I was bone-tired. It was a good thing we hadn’t needed to fly commercially. They never would have let him on the plane leaking blood and looking like that.
“If I can’t convince her to leave Cincinnati,” Pike said ominously. “Sure. I’ll know better by the end of today.” Then he added, somewhat cross, “Then convince her. I know what I’m doing. Half the city is enamored with Morgan. God knows why. She’s certifiable. But why throw that away when you can use it first?”
Eyebrows rising, I cracked the window to try to get rid of the vampire pheromones. They hadn’t been bad until he started talking to his peeps.
Trent leaned over the console, the light of his phone glowing on his face. “What happens if he can’t convince you to leave Cincinnati? Oh, right. Kill you.”
I met his smile with my own, but now that we were back under Constance’s influence, the chance he might try was a possibility—even if Trent and I had saved his life. Vampire rationales sucked.
“Trent Kalamack,” Pike said, probably answering the question of who had spoken. “It was his jet that got me home.” He hesitated, then added, “Why do you think? You’ve got his holy man in her back bathroom. I know she’s hell when she doesn’t have her own stuff around her, but try to get her to consider not touching the kid. He’s important to the elves, not just Morgan.”
My grip tightened on the wheel as I took the exit off I-75, dumping us almost insanely fast into a band of light commerce. I slowed, shocked at the lack of traffic. It was almost seven in the morning, and though most Inderlanders would still be sleeping, we were in Cincinnati and the humans would be up fighting Monday-morning traffic. As it was, we were almost the only car on the road.
“It’s her game,” Pike continued, idly looking out the tiny back window as I eased down to a careful thirty-five mph. “But the elves are up-and-coming.” He hesitated, clearly listening, then added, “Fine, but tell her she needs to take them out first, not after.”
“Take out who?” I said loudly.
“After what?” Trent added, and Pike ended the call.