Black Magic Sanction

"Which doesn't give you the right to run it." Tired, I fingered the fortune cookie's advice. I didn't want to bring this up in front of Oliver, but why not? "Trent, I'd appreciate it if you would drop your attempts at trying to make me your property, okay? If you've got a problem you want help with, come talk to me. If you give me five minutes' notice, I'll even make sure the pixies are in the garden."

Trent uncrossed his legs, the rasping silk loud in the hush. "I didn't tell the coven, but I'll be damned if I don't capitalize on it. I am not anyone's familiar."

"Trent...," I almost whined. "I'm not going to make good on that. Will you let it go?"

Brow furrowed, he leaned forward, flicking a glance at Oliver. "Listen this time. You claimed me. I don't care if you never enforce it. There is a mark on my shoulder. It matches yours. Get it a

My hand crept up and touched it, hidden under someone else's shirt. Slowly my face became empty of emotion. He was right. The truth of the matter was, I'd been enjoying the little bit of power I had over him—like Al had over me. "You're right," I said, hating to admit it. "But I've been mad at you for a long time." I put my hand on the table and met his gaze. His green eyes were intent, fixed on me with frustration, irritation... but nowhere did I see the hatred in him that I had when he hammered my head into a tombstone and tried to choke the life out of me. Maybe it was time to stop taking enjoyment from making him angry and... grow up.

"Trent, I need to know," I said, gaze fixed on his. "The Pandora charm you gave me was modified to not break cleanly, and I almost suffocated. Is that what you intended?"

Trent frowned, and his gaze flicked to the hallway, where Jonathan waited. "No," he said, looking exceptionally pissed. "I apologize, and I'm taking care of it."

Feeling oddly satisfied, I leaned back in my chair. Jonathan. Son of a bitch. "Thanks," I said, believing him. I'd find out about the ley-line door later when Oliver wasn't around. I took a breath, gaze flicking to Oliver and back. "I'll ask Al how to break a familiar bond. If there's a way without hurting either of us, I'll do it. But you need to stop trying to make me your slave in all but name, okay? And maybe stop telling people I can invoke demon magic? Can you do that? Give me my life back?"

Head shaking, Trent leaned forward. "I never told anyone, Rachel. It wasn't me."

Oliver snickered. "It was Nick Sparagmos, children."

My heart seemed to stop. I stared at Trent, reading his own surprise and anger. I couldn't remember how to breathe, and I forced my lungs to work. Nick? Nick had told them?

My thoughts jerked back to the circle in his apartment and the two strikes on the demon mark on his shoulder. Undoubtedly that was how he found out. God! Nick must have thought I was a fool when I asked for his help to steal from Trent. And Trent had looked even more stupid, trying to do an end run with Nick to catch me. Nick had played both of us off against each other, not once, but twice.

"You're both idiots," Oliver said, as if delighting in the fact that we were so dumb. "Two people so intent on getting the best of each other that you can be manipulated into anything."

Damn it, he was right. My eyes closed in a long blink, and I loosened my clenched jaw, trying hard not to show my growing anger. Maybe I'll have to make another excursion into Trent's compound tonight and find Nick.

"Nick is gone," Trent said, voice hard as he answered my unspoken thought. "He slipped my guards yesterday before I... went for my evening ride."

Before he rode for me, I thought, shivering as the anger Trent felt for Nick landed on me.

"I never—I didn't know," Trent almost whispered, clearly upset as his fingers twitched. Stilling his hands, he flicked his gaze to the statue at my elbow. "I'll give you until the witch conference to resolve the issue of the mark between us," he said suddenly. "If my mark isn't gone by then, this starts up again."

I swallowed my own anger at Nick for later. "Fair enough," I said, feeling stupid and mad at myself.

Trent's gaze dropped to the table. "Can I have my statue?"

My breath came in fast. "Oh! Yes," I said, having forgotten about it. Using two fingers, I pushed it across the table. Trent took it, shoving it into a pocket, the tips of his ears reddening.

Settling back, I laced my hands and set them atop the table and looked at Oliver, my anger at Nick still making my features tight and pissed. The coven leader was smug, and it irritated me. "I don't have a statue for you, but I've got a pocketful of silence," I said. "How about it? I drop my claim of corruption in the coven, and you drop me completely. Shu

Oliver snickered, thinking that my being stupid gave him the advantage. "Don't think so. You're a black witch." Chin high, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd rather kill you."

I couldn't stop my sigh. Trent shifted, clearly wanting to end this so he could start looking for Nick, maybe.

"Oliver," Trent said, and my eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do you hope to gain here? It's not good business anymore."

He turned to Trent, indignation thick on him. "Good business?" he blustered. "I'm trying to keep the world from knowing witches come from demons, and you're worried about your career being ruined by a pornographic statue. Why do you even have that?"

"It's an object of ancient art, and it was in my vault, not my bedroom," Trent said dryly. "If you're so concerned about your secret, perhaps you should give Ms. Morgan what she wants? Being in favor with someone who can go into the ever-after with impunity might be good."

Do tell? I thought in amazement, using one of Pierce's favorites. Maybe he's more ticked at Nick than I thought.

"Blackmail!" Oliver stated, pushing back from the table and standing up.

Trent was searching his pockets. "Business. Morgan has a commodity. Silence." Finding a pen, he looked up. "You're going to have to buy it from her or kill her. Take it from someone who's tried, even if she is dead, the truth will come out and she'll bring you down from the grave."

He's helping me convince Oliver? Are frogs coming from the sun in spaceships, too?

Unable to sit still any longer, I said, "I'm not a bad person, Ollie. I have a cat and a fish, and I don't kick stray dogs." I do burn the wings from fairies, but damn it, they attacked me first. "I don't want the world to know that I'm a stepping-stone to demons or that our beliefs are based on ancient elf propaganda. But I don't want to live in Alcatraz or the ever-after either. I just want to make a living doing what I do best."

The coven leader turned from the curtained one-way mirror, shaking his head. "Destroying society? I've seen what you've done to the Weres and the elves."

Trent, who was clearly looking for something to write on, silently gestured at the little slip from the fortune cookie, and I pushed it to him. "I prefer calling it restructuring," I said. "I don't hear them complaining, but what I meant was, I want to operate my ru

Clicking his pen closed, Trent tucked it away. "Oliver, she's a little backward in her methods, but her heart is in the right place. You saw what she did at the square. She could have killed you, but she didn't. Let this go. I'll watch her until she gains some finesse."

I turned to Trent. "Excuse me?"

Once more the suave, confident city son, Trent smiled. "If you want to play with the big boys, you'll need a chaperone. I could've spared you a bloody nose on the playground at least."