Bis’s grip on me had tightened, and I touched his foot again.

“Whoever is doing this is unable to collect one hundred percent of them,” Landon said persuasively. “The entire Cincinnati area is simmering with untapped energy. If nothing else, it would give a tremendous insight into how the Goddess sees, ah, magic practitioners.”

Yes, I was a demon, but a slow slog home through the ever-after wasn’t my idea of fun.

“I volunteer to be on the ever-after team,” Landon said, and Trent looked thoughtful. “If we go by horse, we can outdistance a surface demon, and if the team in reality is on horseback, they can evade the roadblocks.”

It was starting to sound marginally reasonable, and Ellasbeth made a sound of negation as I looked at Trent for his opinion. “Trenton, this is not acceptable,” she said firmly. “You have a family, children, responsibilities.”

A fiancée, I added silently as he grimaced.

“The risk is minimal if I’m on the reality-based team,” he said, and Landon’s green eyes brightened in the dimming evening. “This has merit.”

“Quen can go,” she protested, and Trent took her hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Ellasbeth. This is my job. This is what I do. Let me do it.”

My lips parted as his words fell from him, firm as he pleaded for understanding and acceptance. It was exactly what I had told Kisten, Pierce, and Marshal.

She dropped her head, defiance in her as it lifted. “Ellie, this will foster goodwill if nothing else. And I’m curious myself.” Letting her go, Trent turned to me, and my heart seemed to skip at his look of anticipation. “Rachel?”

The ever-after? On horseback at night? With Landon? I looked at Bis, and he lifted his wings in a shrug.

“Sure. Why not?”

Thirteen

The cheese was tangy, rich with flavor and clearly minimally processed. The bread was even better, with a crackling crust and the body textured and soft. Leaning against the rack of saddles, I wiped my mouth with a pinkie, the last bite of the sandwich still in my hand. I didn’t think I’d ever had a cheese sandwich until just this moment. “You sure?” I said into the phone, and Ivy’s sigh came back to me.

“It’s easier at the safe house,” she said, the background noise unfamiliar. “Nina’s condition is common enough to have people who know what to do. It’s okay.”

She was already there, which made me feel both better and like I’d let them down. “I should be there,” I protested, but there was little to nothing I could really do.

Landon, dressed now in jeans and borrowed boots, walked by with Ceri’s old horse, and I felt a twinge of sadness. She’d been happy that morning. I was glad my last memory of Ray’s real mother was of her in the dappled sun, content and crabbing at me to be true to myself.

“We’ll be fine,” Ivy said, and I stifled a pang of guilt. “Rachel, they just put Felix in charge of the I.S. The sooner you get someone else awake, the better.”

“Felix?” I yelped, and Landon looked up from where he’d tied off his horse, brushing the animal out as he waited. It might be to give Felix enough rope to hang himself with, but he could hang the rest of us in the meantime. “The I.S. isn’t coming after you, are they?”

“Not with everything else going on, but that’s one of the reasons for the safe house.”

This sucked. I really needed to be there, and I tugged my borrowed coat tighter about myself. I was eating gourmet cheese sandwiches and gearing up for a midnight ride when Ivy was hiding from the I.S. with an emotionally compromised woman. “You want me to send Bis back?” I said, looking at the last bite of sandwich glumly. He was waiting for us out on the cupola, snagging bats for his breakfast.

“Rachel, stop,” she said loud enough that Landon could hear her. “Do what you need to do. Get someone else awake before Felix makes himself king of the world.”

I sourly ate my last bite of sandwich. Trent went past, an English saddle in his arms. “I’ll call you when I get back to the church.” I chewed and swallowed. My eyes narrowed as I realized Trent was in with Red. He wasn’t riding Red, was he? The horse had been trained for the track, not field. “Be careful.”

“You too,” Ivy said, and I looked away from how Trent’s shoulders moved as he brushed the horse out. “If I don’t hear from you by sunrise, I’m summoning you home.”

I couldn’t help my smile. “Thanks,” I said softly. Home. She had said home, not the church, and that felt really good. “Ivy, tell Nina that it’s all worth it. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

The click was loud, and I noted the time before I closed the phone and tucked it into a pocket. I liked Trent’s stables. The air was always sweet smelling from fresh hay, and the air circulation was top-notch. Concerned, I pushed up and away from the saddles. Maybe Trent was just brushing the horse out.

“Red, right?” I said as I came forward, emboldened when the young horse flicked a friendly ear my way.

Trent smiled at me from inside the large box stall. “Right. Come on in.”

He was wearing the same corporate-logoed coat I was, having changed into boots, jeans, and a thick shirt. There was a knit hat on his head, and I watched the horse, not Trent, as I lifted the latch, and Trent dipped under Red’s neck to stand on her other side.

She was even more magnificent when close up, and I couldn’t help but touch her, feeling her warmth and guessing at the speed she must be capable of. “My God, she’s beautiful,” I said softly, and Trent smiled at the horse—not me—freeing me to study the way his eyes crinkled.

“Isn’t she? I’m riding her tonight.” He smiled, patting her shoulder. “You can ride Tulpa. Your English seat has gotten good the last couple of months.”

“Yeah, but—” I hesitated. “You were training her to race,” I said, and then what he had really said sunk in. He’s going to let me ride his horse?

Trent lifted a shoulder and let it fall, the brush making a soft hush of sound. “Ceri was right. She’s not meant for the track, and she’s not seen one since the afternoon Ceri . . . was taken. I’m going to give her to one of the girls when they get older. Ray, maybe, but Red’s got a lot of bad manners to unlearn before then. Carlton’s been working extensively with her to shift her signals and she’s responding well, though she still explodes when given her head.”

Nodding, I flipped part of her mane to the other side. “I didn’t think you could switch a horse from track to western.”

“Carlton can do anything,” he murmured.

“And I’m on Tulpa?” I asked, and I pursed my lips when he nodded. The horse was friendly enough, but he was Trent’s familiar. “Can’t I just ride Molly?”

“Molly!” Trent eyed me over Red’s withers. “You were the one who said I never gave you a horse you could win with. Besides, Molly hasn’t been desensitized to the lines. Grab a brush, will you? Red’s a big girl.”

Flustered, I looked over the stall until I found one. The wood was smooth in my grip, the bristles stiff. Red flicked an ear when I gently brushed her, and emboldened, I pressed harder.

“You don’t think you can take a horse through the lines and not freak them out of their flaky horse skulls, do you?” Trent said, a faint blush on his pointy ears. “After riding down Ku’Sox, I realized how big the hole in my security is, and since then I’ve been training my coursers to ride willingly through a line. Tulpa won’t spaz out under you. Red, though . . .” He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “She’s young.”

And flaky to begin with, I thought, and from down the hall, Landon snorted, turning it into a cough. Peeved, I gave him a dark look, having forgotten how well elves could hear.

For a moment, there was silence as we worked. Trent finished his side and tossed his brush across the hall to a basket. “Is . . . Tulpa okay?” he asked. “I can put you on another horse if you’re unsure.”

The hesitance in his voice caught at me, and my breath came fast.

“Trent!” came faintly through the stables, and Trent’s smile faded at Bancroft’s voice raised in annoyance. “I need some help with this wicked beast!”

But I was still lost in the thought that he wanted me to ride Tulpa. “Tulpa is fine.”

“Good.” Trent slid out of the stall and latched the door behind him. “Because Bancroft hardly knows the front from the back. I’ll get him ready for you. Can you saddle Red for me?”

He trusted me to saddle his horse, and knowing what that meant, I nodded.

“Thanks.” Smiling, Trent walked away, and Red’s ears pricked as he shouted to Bancroft that he was coming. Landon watched him as he went by, and I wondered at that sly look of his. “What a baby you are!” I exclaimed softly to Red as I fondled her ears. “Such a sweet thing. I don’t blame you for snapping at the nasty little men with their nasty little whips and caps.” She snorted, matching my pitch, and I fell in love with her.

“Whips and little caps not your thing?”

Landon’s voice startled me and Red nickered. “Hi.” I put a hand to my face, then dropped it.

He brought his eyes back from the empty corridor, Trent’s voice still echoing down it. “I appreciate you agreeing to do this. I know you have other obligations.”

His mood bothered me, and I took up the currycomb and brushed Red some more. “No biggie. My previous obligations are settled and I’ve got the time.” Red was picking up on my unease, the high-strung Thoroughbred bobbing her head. Trent could probably ride her just fine, but not me. I knew my limits.

“Can I ask you something?”

A warning flag rose when he came into the stall. Red backed up, and I went with her. I’d been around powerful men before, men who believed they were above the law either by birth, gender, or position, and something in his tone told me he was going to ask something that was probably none of his business, asking my permission so he could feel justified in being offended when I refused to answer. Slime, I thought, then reined in my emotions. This wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t Bob, Joseph, or Mathew. “Sure.”

But I didn’t like that Red kept flicking her nose up, warning him off.

“You meet with demons on a regular basis?” he asked, moving to Red’s other side, right where Trent had been. My eyes met his, and his smile became predatory. “I only ask because your aura holds more smut than I’ve seen on any free person.”

Is that so? “Not that it’s any of your business, but I work to increase my proficiency just like anyone else with a skill. It leaves a mark.”

“Mmmm.” I looked up as I set the brush away. “Then you admit to practicing black magic on a regular basis.”

Affronted, I checked Red’s saddle pad for sticks or twigs. It was clean. I knew it would be, but I didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Smut is a show of created imbalance. It’s not an accurate measure of morality.”

“And you haven’t answered my question.”

I stared at him, the expanse of Red’s back between us. Was he serious? “Yes,” I finally said, because it was public knowledge. “I meet with Al. He’s a demon. Some of what he teaches me are curses, but none of them are black.” Mostly.

“Curses are black by definition.”

“Then the definition is faulty, created by fearful men and women relying on hearsay instead of fact.” Peeved, I put Red’s saddle on her. It was a comfortable heaviness, and Red blew out her breath as the weight hit her. She was eager to run, and I cinched her loosely, planning on tightening it later.

I knew Landon was reading my “shut the hell up” signals just fine, but he had another question in his eyes when I turned around. “Then you admit you conscientiously apply yourself in learning black magic?”

Ticked, I reached for Red’s bridle. “No. I don’t. Excuse me, you’re in my way.”

He moved, but not as far back as I would’ve liked, and I unclenched my jaw, trying not to telegraph my mood to the horse. Red took her bit easily, and as Landon reached to do the strap, I jerked my hand back before we could touch. “Your aura is covered in smut. The mystics attracted to your aura can’t hide it. Don’t lie to me that you don’t know black magic.”

I yanked away, telling him to back off with my eyes as I finished the buckle.

“And you’re tainting Trent with it,” he continued, brow low. “When was the last time you did a black spell, Morgan?”

I looked at him, pissed. “Smut is imbalance, not a mark of evil. Most demon magic causes it, but not all demon magic is black, smut or not, and if you and your holier-than-thou religious zealots would pull yourselves out of your collective asses and actually look at it, you might figure that out!”

But he reached forward as I went to flip Red’s reins over her head, and I started as a dart of ever-after shocked through me, hazing me like a second skin for a brief second.

“Hey!” I yelped, shoving him back, and he fell into the low wall of the stall, eyes smoldering. Red snorted and backed up. “What in hell are you doing?”

He wrung his hand as he got to his feet, expression dark. “Taking a detailed reading of your aura. You might have fooled Kalamack, but the dewar believes what we see, not what we wish, and you are black, Morgan. Back off from Kalamack. He’s already lost the support of half the enclave because of you.”