Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

flexing, I pushed her down the trail.
    I needed a faster horse.

Chapter Five
    C er-r-r-ri!”
    Trent’s voice raised in summons jerked my attention, and I yanked Molly to a halt. Just off the path was a clearing, the winding, shaded stream we’d been paralleling beyond it. The fresher wind shifted my hair, bringing the scent of burned grass and decaying vegetation—and spent magic, tingling like ozone before a lightning strike.
    There were two ugly burn marks and a large circle pressed into the tall grass, and the line I was connected to seemed to hum with the reminder of an energy draw. The fast-moving stream chattered among the rocks and tree roots, and I stifled a flash of fear when I saw Trent crouched over Quen, Tulpa standing a watchful guard. It was probably the same stream that I’d stumbled through once to lose the hounds chasing me.
    “Hie!” I shouted, giving Molly my heels, and she jumped forward, neck arching and hooves stepping high when her footing unexpectedly turned spongy. The low-lying area surrounded by craggy trees looked as if it flooded often; the grass that wasn’t burned was tall. Three trees managed to survive the wet ground, but they were spindly and let a lot of light through, especially this early in the spring.
    Jenks hovered over Quen, his dust seeming to melt into him as I came to a fast stop beside them. Ray sat in the crook of Quen’s twisted body, her little hands clutching her father’s jacket; she was too scared to cry. Quen was unconscious, no signs of attack but for a slight burn on his hands.
    “His aura is intact,” Jenks said as he darted to me, “but it’s doing something really weird, shifting outside its normal color spectrum like it doesn’t have a clear connection to his soul anymore.”
    Worried, I unfocused my attention to bring my second sight into play. Molly quivered as if feeling it, and I looked down. Trent’s aura was its usual gold with sparkles around his hands and head, a deeper slash of red running in the thin spots and a new shiny white at the center I’d not seen before. Quen’s was a dull green that mutated to red, then an orange as I watched. Whoa. Still holding my second sight, I looked away, shivering.
    The sunbaked surface of the ever-after overlaid itself atop reality, a dry streambed and sparse grass running to the distant profiles of broken buildings where Cincinnati would be. There were no demons, no eyes watching, and I let go of my second sight, trembling as I maintained my hold on the ley line. “That’s not right,” I said, and Trent stood.
    His eyes were haunted, and his hands cupped about his mouth. “Ceri!” he shouted again, but the silence was broken only by the sound of the water and wind. Ceri wasn’t here, nor were the horses.
    Jenks rose up on a column of purple dust as I slid down, my knees protesting. “How bad is he hurt? Is he okay?” I said as I crouched beside them. Ray made a sob that was too old for her, and I reached out as she leaned toward me, falling into my arms.
    “No.”
    I froze where I crouched. Ray’s grip tightened, and she twisted on my hip to see her dads. Still she didn’t cry, red, wet cheeks under deep green eyes. What had she seen? Turning, Trent squinted into the surrounding woods. “Ceri!” he called again, his voice holding fear now.
    I held my breath, listening. There was a burn mark on the closest tree, the part that hadn’t hit it spreading out behind in a long trail. There’d been a fight—short but powerful. Demons . . .
    “She’s not answering,” Trent muttered. His hair fell into his eyes as he looked down, cell phone in hand, and I stumbled to my feet when he shoved it at me. “Call the gatehouse. The number is there. Have them send the med copter. Stay with Quen. I have to find Ceri and Lucy. They could be hurt and unable to respond.”
    His leaving wasn’t a good idea, and I resettled Ray on my hip when she reached for him, small sounds of distress coming from her. “Trent . . .”
    Jenks’s wings clattered. “Stay here,” he said, hovering between both of us, Quen silent at our feet. “I can cover more ground faster than you can.”
    Trent looked awful, his grace mutated by fear. “No.” Turning, he broke into a jog for the nearby trees. I took a hesitant step, but Jenks was faster, and before Trent could even get past the horses, the pixy was in his face, dripping a silver-tinted red dust.
    “Hey!” the pixy shouted, and Ray’s whimpering cut