It didn’t matter. It was the principle of the thing. But I had to swallow or choke on it.
They knew the instant I did.
Arms pulled away, and I sprang to my feet, spitting what was left out on their perfect gray carpet. Two men held Zack to the couch. His expression was desperate and the new red mark on his face stood out like a flag. He’d seen this before. Nash . . .
“Son of a bastard,” I choked out as I wiped my mouth. “What the hell is wrong with all of you?” And then I froze. The mouse potion was gone. I’d swallowed it.
“That depends who you ask,” Constance said, a safe eight feet back. “But it does prove that Joni is wrong. I can share,” she added, smiling at me to show her fangs.
“I’ll do it,” Zack choked out, slumped and beaten. “I’ll sign whatever you want. Don’t touch her again.” He sat, face pale and eyes haunted as he shook off the guard’s hands. “Promise me she walks out of here unharmed and unchanged, and I’ll say whatever you want.”
“Zack, no,” I said, seeing the memory of what they’d done to Nash bringing him down.
“Mmmm.” Jewelry clinking, Constance went to give his cheek a little pat. “Maybe there’s something to this sharing after all. See if it’s too late to get the dewar brat on the last spot,” she directed, and two security agents bolted to the door.
My lips curled in hate as she settled herself in one of the side chairs as if it was a throne. I seemed to have been forgotten as everyone except Pike surrounded her as if ants around a queen. I wanted to talk to Zack, but Pike wouldn’t let me move. This was not how I had envisioned this playing out, and the sweet taste in my mouth made my stomach roil. Everything that could go wrong was, and my heart sank when Vince had a hushed conversation on his phone and Constance turned to look at him behind her.
“Have they gotten her lover?” she said, voice high. “Morgan, does he like chocolate?”
“Ah, no, ma’am.” Vince backed up, eyes wide when Constance stood shockingly fast. Pike’s grip on me tightened, and I took it, glad she wasn’t looking at me. “They, ah, fled,” Vince continued. “They abandoned Morgan at the first sign of us.”
Constance’s anger vanished and Vince exhaled, relieved when the undead woman returned her attention to me, her chancy sanity restored. “You will make the desired concession,” she said. “Leave Cincinnati. Or die here.”
“You just keep thinking that,” I said, and Constance’s eyes narrowed. They left! I thought, heart singing. Jenks had gotten to them in time. Trent would never abandon me.
“They knew it wasn’t there,” Pike whispered, and my skin tingled when he leaned closer, whispering, “How did you get the message to them? Was it that pixy?”
“Ah, ma’am,” Vince said, phone to his ear again. “Good news. We have him.”
Constance frowned. “Did he leave or not?”
“He did,” Vince said, his confusion clear. “We have it on video, but security is telling me they have Kalamack in custody. Ah, we also have him pinned down at records. And on the roof?”
“Which is it? There aren’t three of him,” Constance said, and then she frowned, her black eyes coming to me as she figured it out.
I tried not to smile as Pike sighed. The plan was working. At least, their part of it was, and I fidgeted, not liking that I was stuck in the executive lounge. But it was then that I spotted the faintest hint of pixy dust spilling from a side table lamp. Jenks.
My pulse leapt. I might be stuck here, but Jenks could free Zack. That was what mattered.
“That’s impossible!” Vince said into the phone, and I beamed as the confused man looked at Pike. “He’s standing right in front of me.”
“What is it?” Constance demanded, and her own security dropped back, trying to stay out of the way.
“Keep me informed,” Vince said as he closed out his phone. Hand shaking, he turned to Constance. “The I.S. has detained three people looking like Pike. There seem to be at least six different versions of Mr. Kalamack as well, but the numbers of each are still growing.”
Constance pulled her lips back in a snarl, oblivious to the pixy dust in the lamp. “Zack isn’t going to sign anything,” I said to distract them from it. “And neither am I,” I added as I tapped my foot in the code Jenks and I had agreed on for “go.”
I would have sworn that Pike saw it, but he said nothing.
Constance’s longer fangs glinted. “Perhaps I need to share more with you,” she said, but all eyes were on her, and no one but Pike and I saw Jenks shoot up out of the light, flying high along the top of the ceiling until he hovered right over Zack. He made a sharp snap of his wings for Zack’s attention . . . then dropped the splat ball, right into his lap.
“Everyone, stop!” Constance said, fear flicking over her. “I hear a pixy.”
Zack jumped, fingering the little blue ball, not a clue where it had come from.
“Damn right you did,” I said, stumbling when Pike yanked me to him. “Zack, bite it!”
“No!” Constance exclaimed, eyes wide. “Stop him!”
But it was too late, and, chin high, Zack fumbled it into his mouth and bit down.
“No!” she shrieked, her grasping reach jerking back when Zack dissolved into a pearly white mist laced with purple and green. His suit collapsed to the couch in a soft hush, and his shoes fell over on the gray carpet. “He’s gone!” Constance turned to me, hunched and eyes wild. “Where is he? What did you do to him!”
Silent, I watched the small bump in Zack’s shirt move to the edge of the couch and, with a little thump, hit the floor under his pants’ cuff.
“My God!” Pike said in awe. “He’s a mouse!”
Constance shrieked, utterly terrified as she jumped up onto the chair behind her, her high-pitched screaming going right through my head as she pointed at Zack sitting beside his shoe, the kid clearly disoriented. Joni pulled her face from the couch, slack-jawed and blinking.
“Get your furry ass moving!” Jenks shouted as he dropped to hover right before him, and Zack fell over, arms and legs struggling to coordinate.
“Catch him!” Constance shrilled, and three agents jolted into motion, hunched and reaching. “Someone catch him!”
“Zack, run!” I shoved at Pike, but he didn’t let go, and we fell back, hitting the floor together. “Follow Jenks!”
Zack looked at the three men inching forward, their hands outstretched to snare him. I lay flat on the floor, helpless, as Jenks hovered beside him, sword drawn, ready to defend him. “Run!” I shouted again, and Zack the mouse eyed me, shook his head, stood on his hind legs with his tail braced behind him, and . . . squeaked.