A Perfect Blood

it.
    “I trust him,” I said, thinking Ford would be proud of me. “He let me handle Al my way.” I chuckled, remembering Trent’s ball of magic ricocheting into his fish tank. “Mostly.”
    “Sex changes people more than wars,” Wayde said as he dried his hands, then dunked the spoons in the saltwater.
    I blinked. “Where does sex come into this?”
    His back to me, Wayde pulled himself to his full height, hesitating, as if to collect his thoughts. From the front of the church, the big farm bell we used as a doorbell gonged.
    “Jenks!” I shouted, still wondering where Wayde had been headed with his thoughts. “You want to get that?”
    There was a brief silence, and then Jenks exclaimed, “It’s Trent! What the hell does he want?”
    My eyes widened, and I froze, Wayde grunting as he turned around with a handful of dripping spoons. Trent? Here? Why?

Chapter Twenty-one

    T he doorbell gonged again, the big farm bell echoing through the church like, well, a church bell. I looked down at my jeans and white T-shirt, glad I wasn’t still sporting the sweatpants I’d come home in. My clothes were probably a far cry from what he had on, but this was my church, damn it. I shouldn’t have to dress up.
    “What’s he doing here?” I muttered as I shut the demon book and tucked my shirt in.
    Jenks hovered up and down, a bright silver dust lighting the hallway. “You want me to let him in or go out and swear at him?”
    Distracted, I bunched my hair up into a ponytail, then let it go. “Yes. Let him in, I mean,” I said, and he darted off. “At least the kitchen is clean.” I flashed Wayde a smile. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”
    The Were ducked his head, a hand raised. “No worries. Ah, I’ll be across the hall. Unless you want me with you?”
    Jenks had worked the series of pulleys and weights we had so he could open the front door, and I heard Trent’s voice mixing with that of the Weres up front. Jenks was yelling at his kids, and it was noisy. “No, no thanks,” I said, answering Wayde. My thoughts went back to having touched Trent this morning, and I winced. Why on earth was that more embarrassing than when we had kissed?
    Wayde scuffed his way to the back living room, hesitating when Trent appeared at the archway, Jenks on his shoulder and a black craft bag in his hand. He was in a suit, but it was more casual than usual, and his shoes looked comfortable and not shiny.
    “Rachel, if you have a moment?” Trent said as he halted before Wayde and me. “I can’t stay. I’ve got a meeting downtown in fifteen minutes, but I wanted to give you these since I was in the area.”
    The memory of Trent, calm and collected in a black thief suit, flashed before me, and then the sight of him angry and belligerent, his shirt off as he stood at the back of my mom’s car and changed. Jenks snickered at the silence, and Wayde came forward, his hand extended to fill the obvious gap. “Mr. Kalamack. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Wayde Benson.”
    Trent glanced at me warily, his hand going out to the Were. “Mr. Benson. Of course. Last year’s Halloween concert. Good to see you again. Rachel tells me you’re keeping her out of trouble lately. Sorry about that spell.”
    I shook myself out of my funk as Jenks landed on my shoulder, laughing at me.
    “When she lets me,” Wayde said, seeing that I still hadn’t said anything. “Thank you for getting Rachel’s ass out of a sling yesterday.”
    Trent thought for a moment, gaze distant. “The observatory? It was a lucky guess.”
    “Lucky guess,” Jenks scoffed from my shoulder. “Piss on my daisies, he had three spells going when I broke into his spell hut and caught him trying to—”
    “Can I talk to you for a moment?” Trent interrupted, his twitching eye belying his cool exterior, the bag in his hand crackling in his grip. “I promise it won’t take long.”
    Wayde dropped back a step. “If you’ll excuse me, I was going to talk to Jenks and Bis about how we’re going to arrange security now that HAPA might make a go for Rachel.”
    “Say what?” Jenks blurted out. “You think those moss wipes are coming back?”
    “I wish,” I muttered. “I’ve got some serious hurt with their name on it.”
    Trent stifled a sigh, and Wayde shifted to his back foot. “It was nice talking with you, Mr. Kalamack.”
    “Likewise.”
    Catching Jenks’s eye, the Were nodded to the back living room, and the