Ever After. Kim Harrison

just gotten done telling Ceri I wouldn’t work with him. “You’re welcome. If I hadn’t, then Ceri would have refused to leave.”

      His profile showing his concern, he tucked a wayward lock of his hair away.

      “You really should think about including a pixy clan in your security,” I added.

      Trent looked up into the canopy. “That’s what you keep saying.”

      “Then maybe you should listen,” I shot back. Tulpa had already resumed his faster pace, and it irritated me. “Or at least do a cost analysis or something.”

      Pulling Tulpa up short, Trent smiled with half his mouth. Molly stopped as well, and a sudden memory exploded in me, brought forth by the tension, the dappled sun, even the shadowed air drawing goose bumps. He had been lanky and insecure with youth, and I had been awkward and overly confident with the first hints of health, but Tulpa had been the same, and I had been irate that he’d gotten a larger horse than me and I couldn’t keep up.

      “What?” he asked, and I put a hand to my cold face.

      “Um,” I said, scrambling. “Ceri might be right.”

      Molly shifted under me, and Trent reached out. I froze as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing the rim of my hat. “About what?”

      My heart was pounding. “That you’d be good at being king of the elves.”

      His hand dropped, and I breathed again. Head bowing, he looked at his fingers laced among the reins. “I can be both what I need to be and what I want to be.” But it was soft, and I wasn’t sure he believed it.

      “I tried that, and it didn’t work,” I said, the reins slipping through my fingers as Molly stretched to crop at the spindly grass surviving under the shade. “It didn’t work for Batman, either.” Trent didn’t look up, and I blurted, “At least you have something worth fighting for. Trent—”

      “I’ve been meaning to ask if you would like to choose a horse from my herd,” he interrupted me. “One who would be designated as yours for when you ride with us. I still owe you a proper Hunt.”

      My eyebrows rose, more because of the change of subject than the offer. “We are sitting here in the middle of nowhere waiting to be attacked, and you offer me a horse?”

      Tulpa sighed, making Trent shift his seat. “We can talk more about your conversation with Ceri if you like.”

      Oh God. No. “Sure. I’d love a horse,” I said, feeling the need to give Molly a pat. “I’m not really into the Hunt, though.” I remembered the sound of the hounds, the heart-stopping fear that they might catch me. Is he nuts?

      He nudged Tulpa into motion, and Molly followed. “If you change your mind, let me know. Ceri would love another feminine presence on the field. She says we men lack style in running down prey.”

      I’ll bet. “I might just do that,” I said. “If only to get you to stop giving me Molly all the time.”

      Trent’s smile warmed me all the way to my center. It was true and honest, and he was smiling at me. Stop it, Rachel. “What’s wrong with Molly?”

      “Nothing, but you keep giving me a horse I can’t possibly win with.”

      His face lost all expression as he thought that over. Then his eyes narrowed. “You can’t have Red. She’s not in the herd you may choose from.”

      It sounded like a rather formal statement. The fiery horse was way out of my league, and I hadn’t even been thinking about her. “Why not?” I teased. “She’s sweet.”

      Trent stiffened, but he wasn’t looking at me. Under him, Tulpa snorted, and with a sudden shock, I felt a huge drop in the nearest ley line.

      Jenks pattered through the leaves, wreathed in a haze of silver sparkles. “Hey! Someone just made a huge bubble between here and the stables! It poked above the Turn-blasted trees.”

      I stared at Trent. “Nick can’t make a bubble bigger than three feet.”

      “Ceri . . .” Trent whispered. “The girls . . .”

      “Trent!” I exclaimed, my hand outstretched, but he’d already wheeled Tulpa around. With a word I didn’t recognize, he urged him into a full gallop. In an instant, he was gone, the thudding of his hooves fading.

      Molly snorted as I jerked her to follow, head tossing when I kicked her into a gallop. Hanging on low to her back and knees flexing, I pushed her down the trail.

      I needed a faster horse.

      Chapter Five

      Cer-r-r-ri!”

      Trent’s voice raised in summons jerked my attention, and I yanked Molly to a halt. Just off the path was a clearing, the winding, shaded stream we’d been paralleling beyond it. The fresher wind shifted my hair, bringing the scent of burned grass and decaying vegetation—and spent magic, tingling like ozone before a lightning strike.

      There were two ugly burn marks and a large circle pressed into the tall grass, and the line I was connected to seemed to hum with the reminder of an energy draw. The fast-moving stream chattered among the rocks and tree roots, and I stifled a flash of fear when I saw Trent crouched over Quen, Tulpa standing a watchful guard. It was probably the same stream that I’d stumbled through once to lose the hounds chasing me.

      “Hie!” I shouted, giving Molly my heels, and she jumped forward, neck arching and hooves stepping high when her footing unexpectedly turned spongy. The low-lying area surrounded by craggy trees looked as if it flooded often; the grass that wasn’t burned was tall. Three trees managed to survive the wet ground, but they were spindly and let a lot of light through, especially this early in the spring.

      Jenks hovered over Quen, his dust seeming to melt into him as I came to a fast stop beside them. Ray sat in the crook of Quen’s twisted body, her little hands clutching her father’s jacket; she was too scared to cry. Quen was unconscious, no signs of attack but for a slight burn on his hands.

      “His aura is intact,” Jenks said as he darted to me, “but it’s doing something really weird, shifting outside its normal color spectrum like it doesn’t have a clear connection to his soul anymore.”

      Worried, I unfocused my attention to bring my second sight into play. Molly quivered as if feeling it, and I looked down. Trent’s aura was its usual gold with sparkles around his hands and head, a deeper slash of red running in the thin spots and a new shiny white at the center I’d not seen before. Quen’s was a dull green that mutated to red, then an orange as I watched. Whoa. Still holding my second sight, I looked away, shivering.

      The sunbaked surface of the ever-after overlaid itself atop reality, a dry streambed and sparse grass running to the distant profiles of broken buildings where Cincinnati would be. There were no demons, no eyes watching, and I let go of my second sight, trembling as I maintained my hold on the ley line. “That’s not right,” I said, and Trent stood.

      His eyes were haunted, and his hands cupped about his mouth. “Ceri!” he shouted again, but the silence was broken only by the sound of the water and wind. Ceri wasn’t here, nor were the horses.

      Jenks rose up on a column of purple dust as I slid down, my knees protesting. “How bad is he hurt? Is he okay?” I said as I crouched beside them. Ray made a sob that was too old for her, and I reached out as she leaned toward me, falling into my arms.

      “No.”

      I froze where I crouched. Ray’s grip tightened, and she twisted on my hip to see her dads. Still she didn’t cry, red, wet cheeks under deep green eyes. What had she seen? Turning, Trent squinted into the surrounding woods. “Ceri!” he called again, his voice holding fear now.

      I held my breath, listening. There was a burn mark on the closest tree, the part that hadn’t hit it spreading out behind in a long trail. There’d