A Perfect Blood

when he used it to spell with. He looked angry, and I thought back to seeing him earlier today at the park, upset, frustrated, and altogether appealing.
    Seeing me silent, he nodded as if not surprised. Expression becoming dark, he spun on his heel. Panic slid through me, and I didn’t know why. “I’m sorry. I should have taken your call. I don’t know why I didn’t,” I blurted out. “The I.S. already said as much, that they’re going to use me as a scapegoat if I can’t find HAPA, so I think you’ll be okay.”
    He hesitated, his foot reaching to find the next step down. Slowly he turned back, the tension in his shoulders easing. The motion was slight, but I caught it in the dim light from the sign above the door. “I thought that’s why I was out there,” he said guardedly, shifting his weight to his back foot as he found the top of the stoop again. “Though they told me they wanted my opinion as to the possibility that you did it. I told them you didn’t. I was hoping to get to you before they took you out there.”
    “It wouldn’t have made any difference,” I whispered.
    Trent took a steadying breath, glancing down at Wayde as he stepped closer. “That’s not the only reason I came over. Rachel, have you given any thought to taking the bracelet off?”
    I backed up, feeling sick. The church loomed behind me, safe and secure, and yet fear coursed through me like a red ribbon. “No.”
    His jaw tightened as he came closer. “Whatever trouble you’re in with the demons, I can help. I gave the bracelet to you so you could have a choice, but you aren’t choosing anything. You’re letting your fear make your decision for you.”
    “Fear!” I exclaimed, stiffening, and the last of the pixies vanished deeper into the church.
    His head dropped for a moment. When it came up, in the streetlight I could see his anger clearly. I could tell I wasn’t going to like whatever was going to come out of his mouth next. “You aren’t being a demon,” he said, actually stepping over Wayde. “You aren’t being a witch. You’re hiding, and that’s not why I gave you the bracelet.”
    Peeved because he was right, I jerked away from him, the silver glinting between us like a guilty secret. “I’m trying to be me, okay? But they won’t let me. I had to take this stupid job just to get my license back.”
    Behind him, Wayde’s breathing quickened, and Trent’s expression became frustrated. “That’s great, Rachel, but do you want to live the rest of your life doing crap jobs to win what is your god-given right?”
    Damn it, I hated it when he was right, but I hated admitting it to his face even more. I did have my pride. “If I take this off, I’m in the ever-after,” I said as I shook the bracelet at him, sure now that Jenks and Ivy were listening. “I’m in the ever-after washing dishes and fending off demon advances for the rest of my life. I don’t like it there, okay?”
    “I said I’d help you,” he said quickly, his frustration probably because I wasn’t being reasonable, but I couldn’t help it. The man was scaring me, and I didn’t know why. He never had before. Help me? Why would he help me? And could I trust that?
    “You need to consider the risk that you’re putting yourself and those around you in by choosing to sever your ability to do quick, adaptive magic,” he finished softly, persuasively, his beautiful voice coaxing me to just . . . listen.
    My head drooped, and I looked past Trent to Wayde, his face down and his hand reaching for nothing. “I can’t, Trent,” I whispered. “If I start hurting people, then I start killing them. I don’t want to be that person.”
    I looked up and was shocked by his understanding. I blinked, and he hid it by rubbing his hand over the cup of his ear and ducking his head. “I understand where you’re coming from,” he said. “I really do, but this?” He gestured behind him to Wayde. “This isn’t safe for you or anyone else. One good charm could have prevented this altogether.”
    “I know that,” I said, feeling the sting of guilt, but he only came closer, his expression softening more.
    “Instead, you did nothing, letting it escalate until someone else had to step in, and now instead of a sprained wrist, he might have a concussion.”
    “I am not going to kill people!” I said, and he winced as my voice echoed in the rain-emptied street.
    “I’m not asking you to,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine.