The Undead Pool (16 page)

The image of innocence, Newt ran back to us, a cover on the top of the jar. “I caught four this morning,” she said, little-girl voice excited. “They'll be calling them out again soon, and I'll be ready with jars and jars. If I catch enough, my room will be bright when the sun goes dark.” Head tilting, she looked straight at the sun, unblinking and with no ill effect. “I don't like the dark,” she said, her enthusiasm dimming. “If you give them a good shake, they glow even brighter. See?”

Al cleared his throat as Newt energetically shook the jar and held it up, proud of something none of us could see.

“Delightful, delightful,” Al drawled. “Newt, love, can I have them? Pretty please?”

Her expression darkened suspiciously until he smiled his best and she coyly conceded. “You may,” she said as he took it, and another, identical jar appeared in her hands. “I can get more.” And off she skipped, making me shiver at the aspect of a sickly girl in hospital pajamas dancing in the desert.

Frowning, Al's eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?” he asked Trent point-blank.

Oh God. I wanted to know that, too. “He's here so I'm not alone,” I said before Trent could open his mouth. Behind him, Newt had caught something, setting her jar beside a rock before another appeared in her hand and she started jumping again.

“You don't trust me,” Al said, and my eyes jerked to his.

“I trust you, but he doesn't.”

Trent's hands were behind his back, the windblown grit turning his hair red. “There've been some new developments with that overactive wave. We came out to look at Rachel's line, knowing if she went to you, your answer would be that it was fine.”

“That's because it is,” Al growled, his mood worsening.

“And that's why both you and Newt are up here?” Trent asked, squinting at Al as the demon glared at him over his round blue glasses. Good grief. They were like little boys.

“Al,” I said before it got any worse. “My line is leaking wild magic.”

“It is not—” Al's words cut off, and he turned to Newt cavorting in the dust. “No,” he breathed, but it sounded more like wishful thinking at this point.

Trent eased closer to me, and Al stiffened. “I think it's intentional,” Trent said. “Someone is pulling wild magic from her line, either because it's the newest or perhaps because she lives in reality and it's easier to pull it from her line than another.”

“Is that so,” Al said snidely.

Undeterred, Trent nodded. “The overstimulation of witch magic is about what I'd expect, tracking through Cincinnati and the Hollows until the energy is spent. I'm guessing they average a life span of an hour or so before dying out.”

He and Trent were inches apart, and Al took a deep breath, hesitating when he noticed Trent's scent and pulled back. “Then you'd be wrong,” Al said, and Trent frowned. “Wild magic has a half-life of a decade. If it was wild magic, it would circle the globe before dying out, wreaking havoc the entire time. Therefore, it's not wild magic.” Seemingly not caring, Al took a tin of Brimstone from a tiny pocket, delicately sniffing a pinch. “Not everything is about you, itchy witch.”

“But they hardly get past the river!” I protested, sure it was.

“Which fits with my idea that this is intentional.” Trent took my hands persuasively, and Al's brow wrinkled. “Someone is creating the waves and then catching them, either to contain the disastrous effects in Cincinnati, or they are simply collecting the energy for another reason. We just have to find out who's doing it, and why.”

Not liking Al's expression, I ran a hand over my hair to find it was a snarly mess. The light of discovery was in Trent's eyes, and something in me quivered. “If it's intentional, then who's helping them with the magic?” I asked pointedly, and we turned to Al.

“You think it's one of us?” he said, affronted, then grinned to show his flat, blocky teeth. “What a marvelous idea. Alas, no, it's not. No demon alive would stoop to using wild magic, even to kill vampires. Why would we kill them? We made them.”

“Kill them?” I questioned. “No, they're just sleeping.”

Still smiling, Al leaned in until I could smell the Brimstone on his breath. “If they don't wake up soon to feed, they will die from a lack of aura. The undead are starving, Rachel.”

My God, he was right, and my focus blurred as I thought of Ivy.

“Imagine!” Al said fervently, cane swinging jauntily. “An entire city without master vampires. How intoxicatingly chaotic. It's almost enough to make me wish I
had
thought of it.”

“We'll never survive it,” Trent said softly.

“HAPA?” I guessed, knowing the Humans Against Paranormals Association dabbled in demon magic, so why not wild. “The men-who-don't-belong?”

“It is not wild magic,” Al said, but his tone lacked conviction.

“Then what is it?” I said, tired of his attitude; just then Newt called to me as she skipped her way to us, her slippered feet sending up little puffs of dust in the hot sun.

“Rachel!” Mason jar tucked under her arm, Newt hopped a hopscotch pattern. “Do you want to put your pajamas on and have a sleepover with me?” She came to a breathless halt, the hem of her nightgown coated with ever-after dust. “Al.” She gave Al a shove, and the demon jerked, startled. “Tell the girl she can have a sleepover. You work her too hard. Look at the dark circles under her eyes.”

“It's not because I work her,” he grumbled. “The witch can't seem to find her way to my kitchen except when she's in trouble. And she can't have a sleepover!” he added when Newt began tugging on my sleeve, her black eyes glinting. “Leave off, you bitch!” he shouted, and Newt dropped back, looking hurt.

“At least this time, it's only one world,” Newt said, and I wondered if her sudden burst of clarity would last. “I don't know if she can do it. She looks tired already, and it's only going to get worse.” Newt's eyes widened. “Oh, look!” she exclaimed, looking across the dry river to the remains of Loveland Castle. “They're starting to come out again!”

Trent jerked as Newt ran off, startled by her cry of delight.

“What the mother pus bucket is wrong with her!” Al said, peeved as she ran across the broken earth. She was headed for the dry riverbed, and she jumped right over it, red-stained white nightgown streaming out behind her. Sighing, Al looked at the jar he'd gotten from her. Handing it to Trent, he began trudging after her. Not even glancing at it, Trent passed it to me, and after a moment, I jogged to catch up, jar pressed to my side.

“Newt, love!” Al was calling. “Tell me about your fireflies!”

“That demon is certifiable,” Trent said, voice low as we lagged behind. “How can they let her wander around like this?”

Al was waiting for us at the shallow ditch, and he took the jar as I slid down, then I caught it as he tossed it to me. “Because she might just be the most sane demon here,” he said when Trent slid down after me. “I haven't been able to decide if stress pushes her over the edge, or if when she starts digging into her past, she simply loses her way, but usually it's because she's remembered something important.”

I started up the other side, startled when Newt's face, somehow both sickly and lively, peered over the edge at me. “Rachel!” she crowed, a thin white hand extended to help me up. “I think they like you!” She pulled back before I could take her hand, and I scrambled up, jar tucked under an arm.

“Oh, so pretty!” Newt was saying as she danced, her bare feet among the stones and her hands in the air as she caught nothing. “Look at them light up!”

“Newt . . .” I started, then my head snapped up as the prickling of wild magic flowed over me. Goose bumps rose, and I set the jar down to help Trent. “Get up here!” I hissed, then gasped at the feeling of sexual titillation that poured through me as his hand smacked into mine. “Holy crap,” I breathed.

“Rachel?”

I yanked him up, sitting down where I was as his hand left mine and he stood at the edge of the gully. “Can you feel that?” I squeaked, waves of sparkles cascading through me. It was wild magic, stronger and more unfocused than I'd ever felt before. It was easier to bear if Trent wasn't touching me, but disconcerted, I held that glass jar to me and just sat there, wishing it would both stop and never end.

“That's . . . what is that?” Trent said as he watched Newt dance in delight, shivering.

“Feel what?” Al snarled as he stood beside Trent. “I don't feel anything.”

“Wild magic,” I said, still sitting as the sensation began to ease. “It's the wave. It's happening.” Alarmed, I looked at Newt. “Newt!” I called. “Don't do any magic!”

Spinning and dancing, Newt laughed, the sound pulling all expression from Al's face. “Look at them!” she sang, catching nothing. “They're swarming! Hurry! We need them for when the sky falls!”

“Wild magic?” Al whispered in a sudden horror, and I yelped when he yanked me to my feet. “You little bitch!” he shouted, shaking me so hard I lost my hold on the jar and it fell, breaking. “I told you to leave the wild magic alone!”

“You're hurting me!” I shouted, and Newt turned, her dancing stilling to a cold silence.

“He is an elf!” Al raged, his grip becoming even tighter.

“I haven't done anything!” I protested. “Al. Let me go!” I couldn't do magic. Not with the wave still over us.

“Let her go! You're hurting her,” Trent said, and the demon's grip tightened, his eyes almost black in the sun.

“And you're going to make me?” Al said, each word drifting into existence with the sound of falling dust.

Grim faced, Trent stood before us, the hair falling into his eyes as sparkles seemed to dance between his fingers. Al shoved me from him, and I lurched to keep my feet. The demon was hunched like a bear, his feet easing deeper into the ruined earth.
Don't do this,
I begged them silently as I backed up.
Please don't do this.

“Right now, I probably could,” Trent said.

“I'd like to see you try,” Al taunted.

“Stop it!” I shouted as Trent made a fist. I could feel the wild magic streaming into him. Al took an eager breath, and I dove for Trent, plowing into him and knocking him down. The red earth slammed into us. My shoulder twinged, and I flung a hand out. “Rhombus!” I screamed, cowering as Al's magic slammed into the barrier.

My heart thudded. Beside me, Trent rolled to a crouch. He was pissed.

“I will not be bullied,” Trent snapped as he pushed me into my circle and the barrier fell, tingles of magic exploding into cramps until the force ran back to the line. And then he was gone as Al physically grabbed him, yanking him up and away.

“Stop it! Both of you!” I shouted as I rose. They were grappling, waves of energy sparkling in the ever-after sun. He wouldn't be bullied. Damn it, I was the one who taught him to stand up to bullies, ages ago at camp. And now it was going to kill him.

Trent screamed in pain, and then Al flung him away, his own cry of agony lost in the gritty wind. Magic exploded in a white-hot flash of silence between them, and I cowered, hands over my head.

An eerie stillness fell.
Ten fingers, ten toes,
I thought, lifting my head at the moan of pain.

“That is quite enough,” Newt said, and I looked up to see her back to what passed for normal for her. Lips pressed, she walked through a field of open jars, hesitating to frown at the one I'd broken. “Are you okay?” she asked as she extended a hand to help me up.

I looked at it for a second, and after tightening my grip on my energy balance, I put my hand in hers, wondering if it was the first time I'd ever voluntarily touched her. I didn't think so, but she looked at her hand before hiding it in a wide sleeve when I let go.

Al was on his back, choking. Trent looked about the same. They were both breathing though, and I stifled a shiver. That last blast had come from Newt.

“Rachel, love,” Newt said softly, pulling me so I couldn't see them. “Remind me why Gally is trying to kill your familiar?”

My arm hurt, and I rubbed it. “I'm not sure.”

Newt looked over the jars, sad when her gaze came back to me. “Sometimes it's better to not remember.”

From the dirt, Al choked out, “He's teaching her wild magic! She's already sensitized to it. Waves of it are coming out of her line. He's going to enslave us again. He needs to die. Now!” He was enraged, staring at the sun as if it was all he could do to speak. Slowly he turned himself over, grunting from the effort. “Oh God,” he moaned, his words making puffs in the dust. “I'm going to die.”

Newt blinked her black eyes at him. “Not today” was all she said as she looked at Trent, silent but unmoving. I jumped when she put an arm over my shoulder and turned our backs on them. “Rachel, dear, we need to talk.”

I looked over my shoulder at Trent. “But . . .”

Newt waved a hand, and I froze, terrified, when both Al and Trent vanished. “Just us girls.”

“Newt! Where are they!” I cried, and the crazy demon sniffed.

“Somewhere safe.”

Eyes wide, I stared at her. “Tell me before you forget?”

Again, the demon seemed annoyed at herself, and she tapped the butt of her staff into the dirt as she thought that over. “Perhaps you're right,” she muttered, and I breathed a sigh of relief when they popped back into existence. Al was white as he sat on the dry earth, and Trent's eyes were wide, but at least they could move now.

“Behave yourselves!” Newt said, clearly ticked. Nose wrinkling, she looked over the rain-starved ground. “I feel wild magic. Who pulled this? You?”

She was talking to Trent, who was currently wedging a rock out from under himself. “No,” he croaked, hand to his throat. “But I intend to find out who did.”