A Perfect Blood

long-toothed, scary smile, she ran into the brush. I watched the slowly swaying vegetation grow still, wondering what Trent felt about having become the first year-round landlord of a clan of fairies. They couldn’t migrate, and this was far better than inviting them inside the house. Maybe I should set up a little hothouse of my own. Nah, I liked the pixies too much.
    I dropped my keys into my bag, and seeing my phone, I pulled it out to text Ivy that I was at Trent’s with Al and that my car was parked at the DMV. There were soft steps on the slate walk, and I looked up, dampening down an unexpected wash of feeling at the sight of Trent. He was moving at a confident pace, but his stance was wary as he came forward, unbuttoning his suit’s jacket to show a soft linen shirt and a gray tie. I had no doubt that I’d tripped some sort of alarm, but the fact that it was Trent coming to see me, not Quen or a faceless security guard, did a lot to ease my mind.
    The memory of tagging HAPA at Junior’s swam up, and I flushed. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, but I had felt so free with him, talking about memory charms while having pie, and now everything was awkward again. I didn’t know why.
    “Rachel?” he said as he came to a stop beside the table, a long, narrow hand coming to rest atop the tiled surface. “When did you get here? Is Ceri with you?”
    I pulled my eyes from his hand, still bare of any ring save the one, twin to my own, on his index finger. “Uh, hi. No. Hey, I’m sorry, but Al is wandering around, looking for her.”
    Trent’s face lost its expression, a ribbon of fear sliding behind his eyes before he mastered it. “You’re joking, right?” he said, his hand with the missing fingers going behind his back.
    Wincing, I pulled my shoulder bag closer to me on my lap. “I wish I was. I’m sorry about this. He thinks that charm, uh, curse for Winona is ready. Trent, I’m sorry. If I’d had any warning, I would’ve called. He snagged me from the DMV parking lot thirty seconds ago.”
    His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, looking up into the vegetation. I followed his eyes and saw a camera blinking. “Really!” I insisted, scooting to the back of my chair. “He’s been like this lately. Popping into my kitchen like it’s his closet and he’s looking for his slippers. I think the other demons are giving him a hard time, and he’s using me as an excuse to leave. He keeps taking my spelling equipment and whipped cream.”
    Trent reached for an insanely thin phone from the inside of his suit’s jacket, flipping it open and beginning to tap fast with his thumbs, like an adolescent girl. “If there’s a demon wandering around, Quen should know,” he muttered.
    “Sorry.” It was the third time I’d said it, and my gaze lingered on his mutilated hand.
    “It happens around you,” he added sourly, eyes on his tiny keyboard.
    “You’re taking it rather well.”
    Trent snapped his phone closed and tucked it away, his remaining fingers curling, hiding the fact that some were missing. “If he so much as touches my girls, I will hold you responsible.”
    I stiffened. Taking my bag from my lap, I set it on the slate floor, leaned back in the chair, and crossed my legs to look more confident. “Al is not my responsibility,” I said lightly, even as I felt a new tension begin to take hold. If he touched Ray or Lucy . . .
    Pulling the other chair out, Trent sat, angled away from me but not enough to be rude. “He’s here because of you. Take responsibility.”
    I frowned, pulling my thoughts back from the curse I’d found to put maggots into food stocks. “Can we wait to see how bad he is before we start burning me in effigy?” I said sourly, and he cracked a smile.
    Relief spilled into me, and he shifted to put the flat of an arm on the table as he looked into his garden, his mind clearly on other things as we waited. “Have you seen any more evidence of HAPA?” he asked, and I uncrossed my legs, surprised.
    “Yes and no.” I forced my teeth to unclench. “Glenn is quitting the FIB.”
    Trent’s eyes flicked to mine and held. “Really?”
    I nodded. “As far as anyone knows, you took me out for coffee so I could blow off steam. I think Ivy and Jenks suspect something, since no one seems to care that Dr. Cordova is gone and I’m not hell-bent on finding HAPA, but Ivy tells me Glenn is quitting the FIB, packing up Daryl, and moving to Flagstaff where the air is cleaner.”