Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

sparkling in the fluorescent light. “I’m go-o-od. I’m go-o-od. I’m so bad I’m go-o-od,” he sang, doing one of Jenks’s hip wiggles, his tail curved over his head and wings spread wide.
    I had just left Etude there, and I fought with the desire to go back. Beyond the thick plate glass, the babies slept, the light dim and making the glass somewhat reflective. Trent was gesturing sharply as he and Quen talked in hushed whispers, and I didn’t like the chagrined expression that Quen was now wearing. Al was right. I was a fool.
    My hands were shaking, and I leaned against a counter, wondering if I was going to throw up. Ku’Sox would figure out where we’d gone eventually. The slaver glinted on my finger, and I wanted it off. “Thanks, Bis,” I said when the adolescent gargoyle finished his well-deserved “happy dance” and dropped to the counter, his claws scraping. His smile was wide, and I didn’t know how I was going to tell him about his dad. Taking a breath, I whispered, “Your dad is a wonder.”
    Bis’s ears pricked, and the hair on the end of his tail stood straight up. “You saw him?”
    I nodded. “He came to the church, then helped keep Ku’Sox off us at the castle. We left him there, but Ku’Sox was after us, not him. I think he’ll be okay.” God, please let him be okay. A baby was crying, and I turned to the nursery windows. The woman was furtively weaving her way to the cradle—as if she’d be punished. “Bis, start jumping the babies and women out of here.” I was down to salvage, but I knew getting their children back would mean the end of a nightmare for a handful of families. At least, until their children started doing demon magic, hosts to Ku’Sox’s favorites.
    Bis took to the air in little hops. “You bet. Where do you want them? Trent’s place?”
    I was going to say the church, but if Bis knew the line in Trent’s office . . .
    “My office?” Trent exclaimed, and I pushed myself up from the counter, angry. His hands were in the pockets of his lab coat. Quen’s were behind his back. I didn’t know who had the ring, and suddenly it was really important.
    “The church’s garden is full of pained gargoyles right now,” I said as Bis crawled on the ceiling into the nursery. Oh God, what if Ku’Sox was there now? Looking for us? “I want the ring off, and I want it off now.” Neither one of them said anything, and I stiffened. “Did you hear me?”
    “Yes, of course,” Trent said, but neither one of them was moving. “Can it wait until we get out of here? Apparently you and Quen working together is the only way you survived this long. It would be foolish to halve our strength until we are sure we can afford it.”
    “Survived!” I blurted. “That’s the word for it. This isn’t working! We need to go!”
    Trent jerked into motion, rolling his chair across the lab to a bank of cabinets. Maybe I should just cut my finger off. I didn’t really need ten fingers, did I? Trent got along okay with less than that. “I’m not leaving until the infants are gone,” Trent said, rummaging in a drawer. “And until they are, the rings stay on.” His gaze went to the blood seeping from the scratch Ku’Sox had given me, and I tugged the torn fabric to cover it.
    I glared at Quen, feeling betrayed. “Soon as they’re out of here, the ring comes off.” But neither one of them said anything, and I headed for Trent, hands clenched. “And then it comes off!” I said again. “I am not going to be your battery to try to kill Ku’Sox. Understand?”
    “Yes, of course.” Glancing at Bis, Trent stood, his hands full of bandages and ointment he’d taken from the drawer. “Sit, you’re injured.”
    “My arm is fine!” I said, glancing behind me to see only seven, then six babies left. Trent had dropped his head, and then it hit me. I wasn’t the only slave here. “How much can you do?” I asked Trent, and his lips twitched. “I mean, are you like his slave slave, or do you still have free will?”
    Trent glanced at Quen. “Ah, as long as Ku’Sox isn’t paying me any attention, I have my will. And when he makes one mistake, he’s going to die.”
    He was looking at my hand, and suddenly my warning flags tripped. Ashen, I hid my hands and looked between Quen and Trent. There hadn’t been enough time in that hushed conversation for Quen to bring Trent all the way up to speed. “You knew I reinvoked the slavers,” I said, and Trent seemed to