“Kaspar, Jakob,” Trent said warmly as he paced forward, his hand extended. “So good to see you.” He shook hands with the one in the blue suit, then gave the other a professional half hug, all the while shaking his hand. Beaming, he turned to include me. “Rachel. Edden. This is Kaspar and Jakob, two of the more open-minded high priests in the dewar.”
“Nice to meet you,” Edden said, and Jenks rose up and away from him when the captain leaned forward to shake the two men’s hands.
I stayed where I was, forcing a bland smile. “Hi,” I said, making a lame wave. Maybe I should shake their hands, but I wasn’t fond of the dewar, and they weren’t fond of me.
Trent jumped when Stef slammed the door as she went inside, and then he forged ahead, clearly determined to make the best of this. “I’m surprised to see you, but in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t be.”
The man in the gray suit, Kaspar, if I remembered right, turned to me. “We’re here to see Ms. Morgan, actually, but you being present is fortuitous.”
“Oh.” Trent took a step back, brow slightly furrowed. It was an obvious invitation for me to come forward, but I didn’t move and Jenks snickered, his sparkles a brilliant silver dusting down Edden’s front as he sat on the older man’s shoulder.
“It wasn’t my fault that Zack got abducted,” I said quickly. “Landon let them in.”
Kaspar grimaced, glancing at Jakob as if I’d confirmed something they already knew. “Which continues to be a great . . . source of . . . pain,” he said, his words bobbling when he noticed the flower in my hair. “Ah, Landon has been restrained,” he added. “Jakob and I are here in an official capacity to ask if you’d consider helping us recover Zack and his bodyguard.”
Dude, I thought, glancing at Jenks when his wings rasped in surprise. They were coming to me for help? An image of Nash, gutted on Piscary’s table, flashed through me. “I’ve been working toward Zack’s release, but it’s a sensitive situation and pushing Constance may . . .” My throat caught as I took a breath to tell them it was too late for Nash.
“We’ve tried reasoning with her,” Jakob said, his melodious voice rising like a fickle spring wind. “Coming to you is not a popular decision, but we are here. Asking. Will you help?”
I froze. How could I tell them what Constance had done to Nash? It was horrific, and it felt as if it was my fault. I’d read the situation wrong, and Nash had died. Again I took a breath, but the words wouldn’t come and my eyes began to fill.
Fear that it was too late flashed over them, and Trent stepped forward, sparing me. “Gentlemen,” he said, voice even and terrible in its tone of absolute. “I regret to inform you that while Zack appears to remain unharmed, his bodyguard, Nash, was killed yesterday in the service of protecting him.”
“Yesterday?” Kaspar breathed, face ashen as he looked at Jakob. “He was alive when our agents stormed Piscary’s and were repelled.”
Shock flickered over me. “Wait. You attacked Constance?” I echoed, and I looked at Jenks, my guilt for Nash’s death seeming to swirl and eddy. It hadn’t been me and that damned lily that pushed Constance into disemboweling Nash. It had been the dewar’s clumsy attempts. “You attacked Constance? When you knew it would make things worse? What were you thinking!”
Kaspar colored at the anger in my voice. “We thought it worth the risk.”
“What do you think now?!” I exclaimed. Relief filled me. It hadn’t been my fault. Nash’s death hadn’t been my fault.
Trent cleared his throat. “Ah, Rachel has since recovered Nash’s body and laid it to rest with what I believe are the original burial rites of our ancestors, in honor to his ultimate sacrifice. What we all believe in.”
My gaze shot to the back door when two vampires in work clothes came out and began puttering among the assembled tools. Tall and lean, they looked a lot like Pike, but I relaxed when Jenks saw my concern and gave me the “we’re good” sign we used while on a run. He knew who they were.
“I believe the burial rites are over two thousand years old,” Trent said, having noticed the workmen as well, but clearly having dismissed them as “staff” and able to be ignored with impunity. “Returned to us through Rachel’s continued and ceaseless efforts to improve demon and elf relations.”
Which was stretching it, but yeah. I liked living in reality, and the best way to ensure that continued was to keep hammering at the prejudice caused by five thousand years of war.
“Is this true?” Kaspar said. His eyes were riveted to my flower as if guessing what it was.
The workmen’s clattering was getting louder, and I stifled a wash of annoyance. “I have no reason to think otherwise,” I said. “It was an elven spell. It summoned mystics, and they took him.” I slipped the bronze-colored flower from my hair and held it out. “This grew in the spot. A gift from the deceased to the living.”
Kaspar’s fingers shook, his green eyes closing as he breathed its sweet smell. They were rimmed with tears when he handed it to Jakob. “It’s the cor mors,” he whispered, naming it.
The burrrrrb of a power tool jerked me stiff, and I gave the offending vampire a glare. Grinning, he showed me his fangs to remind me of Pike. When you got down to it, there really wasn’t much difference in many of the vampires, either, since they’d been bred by their masters to fit a certain look: slim, sexy, tall. Scarred.
My lips pressed in thought, and my gaze went from the two workmen to Kaspar and Jakob standing with Trent, looking like relatives at a family reunion. Constance was hitting Cincinnati with both barrels. The loss of Zack would send the elves into a downward spiral as they were forced to follow a corrupt, morally bankrupt leader. The lack of the Brimstone would do the same to the vampires by way of chemical blackmail.
We needed both Zack and Trent’s Brimstone back. We needed one hell of an idea. And as I looked at the vampires behind me, and then the elves before, I got one.
“I might have an idea,” I said softly, but only Jenks perked up. Edden, Trent, and the two dewar representatives were deep into a conversation discussing Nash’s sacrifice and the peace he found in his honor-strewn burial. Frankly, I thought Nash could not have cared less. His only concern had been Zack, and it had killed him. Any peace found in funerals was for the survivors.
“I have an idea,” I said again, louder, and this time Trent turned, his stance easing. “But I’m going to need everyone’s help. You’re good with magic, right?” I directed this at Kaspar, and he blinked, trying to keep up with my jumping thoughts.
“It’s about time,” Jenks said from Edden’s shoulder, and Kaspar pulled himself straight.