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Takata is here? I thought in delight when I remembered the tour bus, then quashed it. I was here for Quen, not to be a fawning groupie.
Trent's presence was quickly noted by the kitchen staff, each and every one of them meeting Trent's eyes with an understanding that bit deep, making me almost angry that they cared so much for him. Then I quashed that, too. No one stopped us, and it wasn't until we came out into the extravagant bar tucked under the second floor that we saw the first guest.
"Here we go, Ms. Morgan," Trent said, the professional, congenial air of a host coming over him. "Get upstairs and wait."
I faltered when the heat of the room hit me, the music pounding my insides. "No problem," I said, not sure he heard me. Suddenly I felt vastly underdressed. Hell, even the woman dressed down as a hobo had diamonds on.
One of the bartenders intervened when the first guest approached, and we lost our security escort at the next. News of Trent's arrival went out like a wake, and a ribbon of panic pulled through me. How did he deal with this? So many people wanting his attention, demanding it.
Trent himself begged off from the third guest, promising to come back as soon as he could. But the slight pause had been his downfall, and the surrounding people in costume closed in like banshees over a wailing infant.
The professional politician hid his a
I looked up at Gerald, desperate for a way out of the swirling, excited mass of people.
"This way, ma'am," he said, and I gratefully sidled closer, wanting to take his sleeve but afraid to look foolish. Gerald looked nervous, too, and I wondered if it was because of the people he had to politely find a way through or because he'd been told I dealt in demons and one might be crashing the party looking for me.
The music ended, and the first floor exploded into cheers. Takata's gravelly voice echoed over it all with the expected "Thank you," which only made them yell louder. My ears hurt, and when Gerald fell into step behind an hors d'oeuvres lady, I gave up and put my hand on his back. So I looked foolish. Gerald was hotfooting it to the stairs, and if I got separated, I might not get there by myself.
We reached the stairs as the band began a new piece. The amps shook the air, and from the bottom step, I finally caught sight of the band. Takata bounced over the stage as he played his five-string bass, long blond hair caught back in dreadlocks. Expending energy faster than a chipmunk on Brimstone, he pounded the music out, sporting an old-rocker/punk look that only someone very cool could pull off in their midfifties.
My gaze shifted to Trent. He was smiling warmly, his arm around that kid, who was now standing on the arm of a chair so he wouldn't get trampled. Trent was trying to move forward, doing a good job of covering his sorrow and frustration. I could see it, though, in his stance. He wanted to be somewhere else, and a glimmer of his impatience showed when he lifted the child and set him in someone's arms, moving forward all of three steps before he was caught again.
"What a pain in the ass," I whispered, my voice lost in the thundering music. No wonder Trent hid in his forest most of the time.
"Ma'am?" It was Gerald, and he held the velveteen rope aside for me.
Feeling out of place in my jeans and top, I started up, holding the rail since I couldn't take my eyes off the room. It was astounding. Trent's entertaining room was the size of a football field. Well, not really, but the fireplace at the far end was as big as a dump truck. One of those big ones. Takata was on a small stage at the other end with his band, and the dance floor was filled with kids and adults. The ward on the huge opening that looked out onto the deck and pool had been removed, and people moved freely inside and out. Kids were everywhere, ru
I paused at the top of the landing and tried to get Takata to look at me, but he just kept jamming. That never worked except in the movies.
"Please, ma'am," Gerald insisted, and tearing my attention away, I followed him past the second rope and twin security guards into the open walkway that overlooked the party and went on to the cozy living room I knew was ahead.
"If you would, please," Gerald said, his eyes darting from me to the floor. "Stay in Mr. Kalamack's private quarters."
I nodded, and Gerald settled in beside the archway to make sure I didn't wander.
The music wasn't as overpowering up here, and as I went in, I sca
My pace bobbled, and stifling a frown, I continued forward. Great. Now I'd have to make nice-nice with two of Trent's special friends. Dressed in costume, no less.
Or maybe not, I thought as I got closer. They were both wearing lab coats, and my plastic smile went even more stilted as I realized they were probably Quen's doctors. The younger one had very straight black hair and the tired look of an intern. The other was clearly the superior of the two, older and with the upright posture and stiffness that I'd seen in professionals who thought too much of themselves. I looked closer at the tall woman with her silvered hair back in an ugly bun, then looked again. Apparently Trent had gotten his wish for a ley line witch after all.
"Holy crap," I said. "I thought you were dead."
Dr. Anders stiffened, her face rising to give me a smile utterly lacking in warmth. Glancing at her companion, she shifted her head to get a wisp of her silver hair out of her eyes. She was tall and thin, her narrow face having no makeup or charm spell to make her look younger than she was. She'd probably been born around the turn of the century. Most witches born then were reluctant to show their magic, and that she had become a teacher of it was unusual.
I'd had the distasteful woman for an instructor, twice. The first time she flunked me the first week of class for no good reason, and the second time she threatened to do the same if I didn't take a familiar. She had been a murder suspect I was checking out, and her car had gone over a bridge during the investigation, eliminating her as a suspect. But I'd known she hadn't committed the crimes. Dr. Anders was nasty, but murder wasn't on her syllabus.
Yet seeing her having coffee in Trent's private kitchen, I wondered if she was learning new skills. Apparently Trent had helped her stage her death so the real ley line witch murderer wouldn't target her and she could safely come to work for him.
She reminded me of Jonathan, her disdain for earth magic as palpable as Jonathan's dislike for me. I ran my gaze over her too-thin form as I neared. It had to be her. Who would want to dress up in costume and pretend to be a woman that plain looking?
"Rachel," the woman said as she turned, her legs crossing now that they were out from under the table. She glanced inquiringly at the heavy-magic detection amulet around my bruised and bitten neck, and my eye twitched when her voice brought back oodles and oodles of good memories of being embarrassed in class.
"How nice to see you doing so well," she continued as her intern glanced between us, weighing our moods. "I understand you managed to break the familiar bond with your boyfriend." She smiled with the warmth of a penguin. "Can I ask how? Another curse, perhaps? Your aura is smutty." She sniffed as if her long nose could smell the blackness on my soul. "What have you been doing to it?"