Black Magic Sanction Part 43

Edging away from her thick finger poking toward us, Pierce adjusted his hat and muttered, "I know how to get to the square. The dash-it-all thing is right in front of us."

Impatient, I held my breath against the gas fumes and fidgeted. Jenks could fly me across the street, but I didn't want to leave Pierce and the statue behind. Trent's voice was being piped out over the sound system and a live video was being displayed on the news screen they'd put up the last time they revamped the square.

Son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h elf, I thought, remembering the Pandora charm and his claim that he hadn't tried to kill me. Add to that the fact that he and Nick had been in cahoots to nab me, and I had no problem embarra.s.sing Trent in front of national TV cameras with an erotic statue. Unless Nick had gone to Trent after I hired him? Sort of a last-minute effort to stick me with more trouble? I just didn't know enough. I thought, remembering the Pandora charm and his claim that he hadn't tried to kill me. Add to that the fact that he and Nick had been in cahoots to nab me, and I had no problem embarra.s.sing Trent in front of national TV cameras with an erotic statue. Unless Nick had gone to Trent after I hired him? Sort of a last-minute effort to stick me with more trouble? I just didn't know enough.

Impatient, I got to my feet, and Pierce winced when I grabbed his ear for support. But my nervousness s.h.i.+fted to fear when my gaze found a pair of uniforms standing across the street-waiting for us. d.a.m.n. I had hoped to get closer before we were IDed.

"Uh, Jenks?" I said, pointing, and the pixy's wings lifted, taking on a more normal hue.

"I see them," Pierce said, having heard my tiny voice. "I'll cross Main instead and come up on the other side of the street."

With a last awkward look at the cooing woman, Pierce sidestepped away and crossed Main, almost jogging to make the light. I clutched his ear, my dress flying up as Jenks took my shoulder to keep me from falling.

It had begun. Steady and sure, the adrenaline seeped in, bringing me alive.

"Good going, Sherlock," Jenks's dry voice said tightly as we reached the curb and Pierce slowed. "They're watching you now because you changed your mind."

"They were watching us before, Jenks. No big diff," I said. "Pierce, you want to s.h.i.+ft your look?"

He nodded, and I s.h.i.+vered as a wave of ever-after cascaded over him when he stepped off the curb to cross Government. No one noticed, or at least no one commented on it in the throng of people trying to get to the square. Pierce now looked like Tom Bansen, which might get us stopped, or it might get us through, seeing that the dead witch had also been a corrupt I.S. cop. In either case, if the two officers on the corner had been watching for Pierce, they'd be looking for the wrong man.

We were almost there, but when I looked back, they were following us on the other side of the street. "It didn't work!" I shouted, and Pierce winced.

"I see them," he said, not looking. "I opine things will get rough from here. Rachel, watch yourself. I'll get you as close as I can." "No black magic!" I exclaimed, and he sighed.

Jostled, we reached the corner of Fifth and Main, stymied by the light again. The square was right in front of us, and Trent's speech was in full swing. The cops shadowing us were clearly from the I.S., and I scanned the area for FIB agents, not seeing any. The I.S. flunkies were watching, waiting to see what we were going to do. One was on the radio. The net was being thrown. I had to stay smaller than the holes they were leaving. Pixy small.

The skin around Pierce's eyes crinkled as he glanced at the waiting I.S. officers. "Jenks, we're going to be here a moment. Why don't you see what they're talking about? Make yourself useful, little man?"

Snarling something lost in the roar of a bus, Jenks darted over the organized chaos. I felt naked without him, and I held Pierce's ear more tightly. "News vans, news vans," I murmured, feeling better when I spotted them. I hated news vans, but they were going to save my b.u.t.t today. The coven could be anywhere. If they didn't show, I was screwed.

My attention went to Trent, at the podium. Quen was behind him, and I felt a jump of worry. The man was better than me at just about everything. "I have enjoyed serving you in the capacity of councilman," Trent was saying, "and could be happy for years more, but I see the corruption, I hear your frustration, and I want to do more. It is my responsibility to do more!"

The crowd liked that, and I jumped when Jenks landed next to me with a clatter of wings. "I don't know how, but they know it's you, Rache."

Nick maybe? I thought, but I didn't say it aloud. I thought, but I didn't say it aloud.

"We've got two I.S. agents ahead of us, four behind, and the two on the right," Jenks continued. "Trent has his staff on the stage, but it's mixed up with I.S. people. I say we get our a.s.ses up there, and trust wonder ghost here to join us when he can."

Pierce tried to look at us, failing. "I can get you across the street."

He looked almost eager for a fight, and I became even more nervous. d.a.m.n it, if Pierce messed this up I was going to be p.i.s.sed! "No black magic!" I demanded, and his jaw clenched. "I mean it! The coven is out there. No black magic! If you can't do it the way I want, I'm not going to let you help me!"

"Let me help you?" he muttered, clearly upset. "I opine you wouldn't know help if it smacked you in the face. Stubborn, bullheaded, wild fey thing of a woman." me help you?" he muttered, clearly upset. "I opine you wouldn't know help if it smacked you in the face. Stubborn, bullheaded, wild fey thing of a woman."

I frowned, teeth clenched. Clearly we had a few things to work out. But the crossing light had switched. I wobbled when Pierce took a step, and Jenks's wings hummed, ready to s.n.a.t.c.h me if I fell. The pavement threw up a wave of heat, buoying Jenks up like a balloon, and he finally took to the air to maintain his balance. Ahead of us waited two more cops. Vamps by the looks of it.

"Steady, Rache," Jenks said. "I'll be with you the entire time."

"Don't you patronize me, too," I said, heart beating fast. How did he survive being so small?

From the stage, Trent was saying, "My family has lived on this land for three generations. In that time, Cincinnati has grown to magnificence, but today she falters. We need to cull the programs that don't work and foster the ones that do, throw out political agendas and instead give the power back to the people so that Cincinnati may regain her greatness! My record speaks for me, and I will speak for you!" I will speak for you!"

Head down, Pierce angled to get away from the cops, but it wasn't going to happen.

"Hey, you with the hat!"

"I'll get to the stage, Rachel. Don't worry," Pierce whispered, and I shrieked as Jenks s.n.a.t.c.hed me around the waist and darted off. Pierce went the other way, gone in an instant.

"Get the pixy!" rang out, but Jenks and I were across the street and in the square, flying through a forest of polyester slacks.

"Up! Go up!" I shrilled, terrified he was going to run into something, but Jenks laughed.

"They can't hit us down here," he said, and I shrieked, my legs swinging when he darted suddenly to the right. I caught a whiff of ozone. There was an ugly splat, and a woman screamed in pain. Great, they were using spells.

"Son of a Tink," Jenks muttered. I never even saw what it was-Jenks was already three people deeper into the crowd. He went low, wings clattering as the shade of lunkers cooled us. I hung from Jenks's arms, helpless, wide eyed, and feeling like I was on a roller coaster with no brakes. "Hold on!" he shouted as he jerked to a stop.

My head swung forward, then back, hitting his middle. The momentum of my legs pulled us forward, and I squinted at the sudden silver dust as Jenks back-winged us through it.

A haze of brown-tinted ever-after hissed in front of us. It hit the legs of a man. He turned. Shock registered, first at us, and then his legs, now encased in the brown goo. He shrieked, making everyone around him look. Horror filled him, and he tried to push it off, but it clung to his hands and crept up his arms. In seconds he was on the ground, unconscious in a widening circle of fear.

"Oh, that's nasty!" Jenks exclaimed, and I lost my breath as he shot straight up, my ears popping. For an instant, the entire Fountain Square spread before us, a ma.s.s of noise and movement, and then he dropped.

"Je-e-e-enks!" I shrieked, terrified. I flopped like a rag doll, but we were almost there.

The pop of radio chatter was a blur as we headed for the stage. "Where in h.e.l.l is the sticky silk!" someone shouted. Another voice demanded, "Get Kalamack out of here! She's got something in her arms!"

They thought I was Jenks? Were they blind?

News crew lines lay across the gray granite, and the whine of electronics hurt my ears as we dipped and swooped. Adrenaline surged as we found the stage. People in suits fell back at Jenks's darting form, as if he was a deadly b.u.mblebee, and I found Trent at the podium. Two I.S. cops were with him: a vamp and a witch. I pointed to the plywood stage, and Jenks dove for it.

I stumbled as my feet found purchase. Jenks's grip slipped from me, and I looked up to see Quen trying to hustle Trent away. Trent's eyes met mine, and he stopped dead in his tracks, wanting his statue back, no doubt.

"Morgan?" he whispered, his voice finding me over the noise. His eyes narrowed, and Jenks flew up to protect me. There was a hiss of propellant, and he darted away, one wing tangled in sticky silk.

"Non sum qualis eraml" I shouted as brown shoes circled me, making the stage shake. I shouted as brown shoes circled me, making the stage shake.

The world seemed to collapse into me. Sound sucked inward, taking the heat of the sun and the rising damp from the plywood under my bare feet. I felt the curse take hold, and the clicking of a thousand abacuses grew as I was reduced to a thought and rebuilt from the idea of myself stored in the demon database.

I pay this cost, I thought in the perfect silence of nothing. No heartbeat, no pixy wings. Nothing. The s.m.u.t from the curse coated me in a soothing layer of black, and I shuddered. I thought in the perfect silence of nothing. No heartbeat, no pixy wings. Nothing. The s.m.u.t from the curse coated me in a soothing layer of black, and I shuddered.

I felt the magic rise from the singular point of existence that I was, rus.h.i.+ng through me, and I expanded. My aura rang as it adjusted, and suddenly... I was back.

Noise hit me, and I sucked in air. Jenks had gotten me here, but he was paying the price for it, sitting on a news crew antenna trying to get the sticky silk off.

"She was a pixy! You see that? She was a pixy! That's Rachel Morgan! Get a picture!"

"Oh my G.o.d," a feminine voice exclaimed as the crowd reacted. "She's naked! Where did she come from? Are you getting this, Frank?"

Frank, the cameraman, was indeed getting this, and I looked for Pierce, almost panicking when I didn't see him. I was absolutely naked and in front of rolling video cameras. I didn't want to think about the Internet in two hours' time. G.o.d, my mother...

Trent stared, his one look down and up making me flush. "What the devil are you doing, Rachel?" he said as I s.n.a.t.c.hed his speech from the podium and tried to cover myself.

"Rachel!" I heard, and my head swung around. It was Pierce, three I.S. cops elbowing and tossing people out of their way to get to him. "Catch!"

He threw the statue over six rows of people. It glittered in the sun even as the I.S. agents fell on him. Fear and surprise rang out when Pierce vanished from right under them and they landed on nothing. My hand went up, and with a solid thump, the erotic statue hit my palm. Everyone was looking at the I.S. cops on the ground, not me. Everyone but Trent. He'd seen the statue, and he shoved the pulling hands off him, his want showing, full and hungry.

I eyed Trent, flushed with embarra.s.sment and premature victory. Try to scare me into signing that lame-a.s.s paper, huh? Try to scare me into signing that lame-a.s.s paper, huh? "I'm trying to return your statue, dumb a.s.s," I said to him over the noise. "Come talk to me in jail if you want it back." Then louder, I wailed, "I can't do this! I'm not a thief. I'm a good girl! I don't care if the coven gives me a lobotomy, I'm not a thief. Take your freaky statue back, Mr. Kalamack!" "I'm trying to return your statue, dumb a.s.s," I said to him over the noise. "Come talk to me in jail if you want it back." Then louder, I wailed, "I can't do this! I'm not a thief. I'm a good girl! I don't care if the coven gives me a lobotomy, I'm not a thief. Take your freaky statue back, Mr. Kalamack!"

I threw the elf p.o.r.n at him like a girl, feeling a s.h.i.+ver go through me as it left my aura. He caught it, and someone grabbed me from behind. A coat fell over my shoulders, hitting just under my b.u.t.t. "I made a mistake!" I shouted as I struggled to keep facing the a.s.sembled people. "I'm not a bad witch!"

Trent gripped the statue, frozen, wonder on his face.

"Get a shot of that," the newswoman said, then smacked Frank. "Not her, the statue!"

At my feet, Frank panned to the left, and my hands were wrenched behind me, making the coat flop open. "Hey!" I shouted, going down on my stomach. Flat on the stage, I was at the same level as the news crews. I tossed my hair out of my eyes and looked at Trent. He'd slipped the statue into his suit jacket's pocket, but Quen-wise-to-the-world Quen-was pulling it back out and tucking it in his own.

"Watch it!" I shouted, trying to breathe as there was the cool feel of a zip strip around both my wrists and the ever-after flowed out of me. I was yanked to my feet, stumbling. Where in h.e.l.l is Glenn? Where in h.e.l.l is Glenn? "I'm a good witch!" I shouted over the uproar. "The coven made me do it! But I had to give it back to Trent. I'm a good witch. I am! I'm just scared! The coven is trying to kill me!" "I'm a good witch!" I shouted over the uproar. "The coven made me do it! But I had to give it back to Trent. I'm a good witch. I am! I'm just scared! The coven is trying to kill me!"

It was going too fast. The coven wasn't here yet! Rough hands were tugging me to the steps, and I hooked my foot behind the man's ankle and sent him down. I fell on him, my elbow somehow managing to hit his solar plexus. His grip on me fell away, and I got to my feet, struggling with the next guy. Where in h.e.l.l h.e.l.l was Glenn? was Glenn?

"Get back!" his voice thundered, and I almost cried. "Get off the woman! Can't you see she doesn't have any weapons?"

"She hardly has any clothes," a man at the front of the crowd said, but I didn't care when Glenn's muscular, bald, big-black-man's presence shoved his way to me. One hidden punch, and the I.S. guy holding me went down, gently eased to the stage floor by Glenn.

"About time you showed," I said as he zipped my coat closed. "I think that guy felt me up."

"You okay?" his voice rumbled, and I searched his eyes.

"Just tell me you've got David's paperwork for an FIB arrest."

His grin was like suns.h.i.+ne, and I felt this just might work.

"Ms. Morgan! Ms. Morgan!" the newscaster was shouting, holding her mike up over her head. "You claim the coven told you to steal Mr. Kalamack's statue?"

I couldn't answer that without outright lying. "Take me in!" I begged as Glenn pushed our way to the steps, and I tripped, falling right in front of her. "Please," I begged to the camera, stalling, so Vivian could show up. "I'm a good witch! They made me do it! It was my only way out!" Which they did. Sort of. In a roundabout way.

"Corruption in the coven. I'm going to get an Emmy for this," the woman said, then turned to Trent as Glenn hoisted me out of her reach. "Mr. Kalamack! Sir! Is that your statue?"

Trent was behind three big guys, but he wasn't leaving. "I've no idea what is going on."

The FIB had taken the stage, and with his hand around my elbow, Glenn hesitated. "Sir, if that's not yours, we need it as evidence."

Trent's face went white. Slowly Quen brought the statue back into the sun, and cameras whirred and snapped as it changed hands. Trent's look at me was murderously calm. If this didn't work, I was going to be so-o-o-o dead.

"It's his," I babbled for the cameras. "I stole it out of his vault yesterday. The coven shunned me. I had no choice!" Where in h.e.l.l is Vivian? Where in h.e.l.l is Vivian?

"Will someone read that woman her rights and get her to shut up?" Trent said, but the cameras were on me.

"The coven told you to steal it?" one of the reporters asked.

Glenn's grip on me tightened, and I followed his gaze to where the crowd was parting. Black suits and power ties. It was the coven, but it wasn't Vivian, it was Oliver!

"That woman is mine!" Oliver shouted even before he found the steps, his face red as he strode forward, amulets swinging and Mobius cuff links s.h.i.+ning in the sun. "I claim jurisdiction. She is a black witch, shunned, and I won t have her spreading lies of corruption in the coven!"

I pressed back into Glenn, the air cold on my knees. It was about to get tricky.

"Sir!" the reporter was saying, her mike aimed at Oliver as he found the stairs. "Did you tell Morgan to steal the statue from Mr. Kalamack to get her shunning removed?"

The man stopped on the stairs, looking aghast. "Of course not!"

She looked at her ring, and I realized the thing was an amulet, glowing a steady green. It was a truth charm. s.h.i.+t. I had to work fast. Good thing I hadn't lied.

"I tried to keep the demon from taking Brooke," I babbled. "Friday. At sunset. You heard the explosion. All of Cincinnati did! Oliver, you have to believe me. She summoned a demon. I told her not to, but she did. I tried to save her, and she told him to kill kill me!" me!"

The newscaster's amulet stayed green, and the woman's eyes grew bright. Corruption in the coven indeed.

Trent pushed forward. "Get her out of here," he hissed to Oliver.

"I'm trying," Oliver said, his fingers encircling my arm.

"No!" I said, shrinking back, my fear real. "I want due process!" Anywhere other than an FIB cell, and I was dead or lobotomized. And Trent smiled, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I hope you choke on it, elf hoy. I hope you choke on it, elf hoy.

The newscaster held her mike higher, flushed. "Mr. Coven Leader, has a member of the coven been demon-napped in conjunction with Morgan's a.s.sa.s.sination attempt?"

Oliver hesitated. It was his downfall. Guilty or not, he looked it. Smooth as silk, Trent stepped forward. "I'm sure the coven leader will give you a statement in due time." Turning his back to the crowd, he hissed, "Will you get her out of here?"

Oliver tugged on me, and I pressed into Glenn. "I didn't want to do it!" I shrieked. "I didn't want to break into Trent's vault. I don't care if I go to jail, but don't let the coven take me. They put me in Alcatraz with no trial. They sent fairies to burn my church. And they summoned a demon to kill me!"

And of course the newswoman's amulet stayed a nice, beautiful green. Eyes bright, she stood on tiptoe, her mike above her head. "Sir! Is there any connection between Ms. Morgan's claims of an attack and the 911 call to the Hollows at 1597 Oakstaff yesterday morning?"

Innocent as a lamb, the man stammered, "I wasn't aware of an explosion."

Her ring glowed red. Trent's head bowed and he started distancing himself. I felt a glimmer of hope. Oliver had lied, and the reporter knew it.

"Sir, is it coven policy to take contracts out on shunned witches?" she insisted as if sensing blood. "Did you tell Morgan to steal for you to escape such a punishment?"

"Uh..." He hesitated, then shouted, "I'm taking custody. She is a black-arts witch! Look, I have the paperwork."

c.r.a.p. I'd forgotten that the coven loved red tape as much as David. "Glenn," I said, my fear very real, "don't let them take me. Please!"

But he could do nothing as a wheezing, red-faced Oliver handed him a paper. d.a.m.n it, I was not going to die from paperwork. "Ah, Rachel...," Glenn said, his face becoming concerned as he looked up from it. "We might have a problem here."

"Glenn," I breathed, knees going weak. "They'll kill me! Don't let them take me!"

Oliver made a satisfied huff. This was not happening. This was not happening! not happening!

As if in a dream, I heard Glenn promise he'd get me back, but it wouldn't matter. In five minutes, I'd be in a van, hopped up on drugs. An hour after that, I'd be on a surgery table.