"The zip strip," I said, not seeing it. "One of the I.S. guys zipped me, and it just snapped." Worried, I dug down between the seat and the back to find an old pen and a plastic cup lid, but no zip strip. "You sure you didn't break it?"

Trent shook his head, and my heart seemed to stop. The strip hadn't broken. I had destroyed it. I had destroyed it with a wish, with a want, and I'd done it without access to the ley lines. There was only one way to do magic without access to a ley line, and my jaw clenched.

I had mystics in me. I might not be able to hear them, but they could hear me. And I think Al knew it. Was counting on it, maybe. He wanted me to close the lines, and it would take magic to open them back up again.

"Trent-" I started, then scrambled to grab my phone when it began humming again. It was Ivy, and I thumbed the answer tab, fingers shaking. "Ivy! Where are you?"

A velvety, angry voice flowed out, chilling me. "Don't wait too long," Uric said, and the phone clicked off.

Chapter 20.

Trent's tiny car was plush, the fan pushing a warm breeze over me, making my hair tickle against my neck. My hands were on the wheel, but we were parked in one of the few spots on the street right outside the I.S. building. It had been a good hour since leaving the square, and Ivy was probably in there by now, settled in whatever cell they'd picked out for her.

Fidgeting, I tapped my nails on the wheel. I'd chipped one somewhere, and I ran my thumb over the rough edge as I looked at Trent drowsing, slumped against the window on the passenger side. Jenks was in the back window doing the same. I didn't want to wake either of them, but if I waited much longer, Cormel would start tormenting Ivy. I had one shot at getting her out, and I was lucky Trent was with me, sleepy or not. His bangs shifted as he breathed, and I stifled my urge to arrange them.

He shouldn't be here. He's too important, I thought, but Trent had flatly refused to leave. And I could use his help-a lot-so I sat here in his car hoping something would happen and I wouldn't have to risk Trent's life in order to save Ivy's.

Love stinks.

My attention flicked behind me to a car beeping as someone locked it. Trent stirred, quickly placing himself and straightening with a soft sound and a stretch. From the back, I heard the hum of wings. "How long have we been sitting here?" Trent asked, fuzzy with sleep.

"About five minutes," I lied, then shot a look at Jenks to shut up when the pixy darted into the front, his dust a tattletale orange. "You were tired. I was thinking."

Trent frowned as he looked at his watch and then to a smug Jenks. "About what?"

About the mystics in me, I thought, then decided to keep lying. "How good that island you offered me three years ago sounds."

"Yeah, Rache, but think of all the stuff you would have missed lounging on a beach with an umbrella drink." Jenks parked it on the dash and ran a hand over a wing, looking for tears.

Trent's smile took on a touch of longing. "Mmmm, yes." He began gathering his things to get out, and I just sat there, not moving. We had a plan, but I didn't like it. He hesitated, glancing at Jenks before settling back. Taking my hand, he pulled me to him across the small space. Eyes inches apart, he earnestly said, "We either go in under our terms, or they come get us when the sun goes down."

"I know," I said, thinking of how little I had in my shoulder bag. I needed his help, but I didn't want to risk his getting hurt-or worse.

Trent's grip on me tightened. "Ivy is down there," he said, and I almost pulled away. "Fighting our way in and out is chancy. This gets us halfway there."

"I know." Damn it, I'd worked hard to stay out of Cormel's grip.

"That is where we need to be," Trent said, and I blinked fast. He'd said us. He'd said we.

"This isn't your fight," I whispered.

"Rachel . . ." Trent squeezed my hand, bringing my eyes to him. "It is. This is more than Ivy, and even if that's all it was, I'm not about to let you walk into Cormel's office alone. Cormel knows Landon is lying about giving him his soul. He needs you alive to give him what he wants."

Jenks was watching us solemnly. "How does that make this your problem?" I asked, and Trent's eye twitched.

"He needs me, too. He just doesn't know it yet. I have to make him aware of it before he tries to kill me again," he said, and Jenks frowned.

Sighing, I looked past Trent and to the lobby door wishing I knew how to play this political game better. I'd spent two of the last three years of my life hating Trent and the last six months realizing it hadn't been hate at all. "I fail to share your optimism about our intrinsic worth to a master vampire," I said dryly, and Trent ran a hand over his stubbled cheeks, a flicker of surprise crossing him at the rough feel.

"Landon is trying to find enough support to close the lines," he said. "It's the only way to keep the surface demons in reality. If the lines close, magic ends . . ." He hesitated, unable to look at me. ". . . for the most part. If it happens, we need to be in a position to open them back up again."

My lips pressed in disbelief. "And we get that seven stories down in the earth?"

Trent nodded, shrugging helplessly. "If that's where you are, then yes."

He wasn't going to let me out of his sight. The soft snick of Jenks sharpening his sword seemed loud. "I still say that's a bunch of hooey, so I'll let you come with me," I said, and Trent smiled, leaning across the space to give me a kiss. His lips met mine, warm and tasting of cinnamon and wine. My eyes closed, and my heart gave a thump, almost an ache for how much he loved me-I loved him.

"There's that, too," he whispered as he pulled back, his fingers leaving tingles. "Ready?"

I was going straight into the devil's lair, but at least I had company. "Okay, you can come," I said as I looked behind the car for traffic and reached for the door handle.

Trent's touch pulled me to a stop, and I turned to see his worried smile. "Thanks," he said, and I choked back a bitter laugh before I got out, scared for Ivy, scared for me, scared for Jenks and Trent.

But I did get out, breathing in the good Cincy air as I sent my eyes up the imposing facade. Trent and Jenks were waiting for me at the curb, and I hustled forward. "Thanks for driving," he said as I came even and I hooked my arm in his. "The nap did me good."

"Me too, Rache," Jenks chimed in, and I tossed my hair so he could land on my shoulder.

"No problem," I said, playing along with the idea that we could actually do this. I wasn't leaving without Ivy and Nina, and my fingertips tingled as I strengthened my hold on the lines and filled my chi, then spindled even more in my head.

Trent held the door for me, and the wind blew my hair back as I went in. The first floor of the lobby was almost empty, and noise from the second- and third-floor offices filtered down the huge stairway. I looked up at the glass railings and desks, feeling my stomach knot. Head down, we angled toward the bank of elevators. There were at least seven levels downstairs, maybe more. I'd never been there, but Ivy had told me about them one night when she'd had too much to drink.

"The treasurer is on the third floor," Trent said, eyes flicking from the information sign.

"You think they'd let us post bail and leave with her?" I said, and Jenks snorted.

Trent's arm slipped from mine. "It will get their attention."

It would at that, but I figured we already had their attention. I'd sat outside their building for almost an hour. "I say we go down as far as we can," I said as I pushed the button for the elevator.

"Excuse me!" a somewhat feminine voice called out. "Yes, at the elevator?"

We turned to the tall man coming down the stairway. He was in a trendy suit, a living vampire by the way he moved, having confidence and fear mixed in all together. "Jenks, don't go too far but see what you can find out," I muttered, and he tweaked my ear before flying away, his dust matching the color of the marble floor exactly.

Trent sighed as he pulled himself upright and found a professional expression. The sharp taps of dress shoes on the stairs echoed as the man jogged down, his hands free and arms swinging. "Ms. Morgan?" he said as he got close, clearly nervous and more than a little excited. "Could you accompany me downstairs?"

"Maybe." Damn it, this felt wrong.

The clerk moved as if to put a hand to my back, and I jumped to avoid him. Flustered, the man tried to find his aplomb. "Mr. Cormel would like to speak with you," he said, all civilized, but there were two big guys at the lobby doors now, and people lined the glass railings, watching.

Trent scratched the side of his nose, not being ignored as such, but clearly not the focus of the man's interest. "I want to pay Ivy's bond," I said, though it was actually Trent's money that would do it.

Nodding, the clerk pushed the down button on a different panel. "He can arrange that."

"I bet he can," I said as the door opened and Trent and the clerk got in. Eyes wide, the clerk gestured for me to join them, and sullen, I stomped into the lift. "This is not a good idea," I grumbled as the doors closed and the clerk ran a card. Jenks hadn't made it, but elevators had never stopped him before.

"It's better than having them come at us over dinner," Trent said softly, and the clerk caught back a snort.

My eyes went to the panel. Sixth floor? Way out of reach of a ley line.

"Cormel is a reasonable man," Trent said, more for the aide than me. "He's not going to shove us in a hole." Trent's voice had been confident, but the tension in his fingers against my back gave him away. He was wire tight, and my own alarm ratcheted higher.

"Yeah, well, if he tries, I'm going to burn his office down to his red stapler." I could talk to the aide, too, and Trent's hand fell from my back as the doors opened to show a wide, brightly lit carpeted hallway. Two more pretty men and one sexy woman waited by the narrow table against the wall. Orchids and cut flowers made it less six stories under and more thirty stories up. The silk, linen, and jewelry they wore made no attempt to hide the scars.

The clerk with us hit a button to freeze the lift, clearing his throat and holding his hand out. "Your purse, Ms. Morgan. And your cap and ribbon, Mr. Kalamack."

My grip on it tightened. I'd lost contact with the ley lines at about level three. There wasn't much in the bag to begin with, but I was loath to let it go. One by one, I was being stripped of my defenses.

"And your phones?" he added smugly.

Sighing, Trent dug in his pocket. Expression amused, he handed the clerk his phone, cap, and ribbon.

I hesitated, but when Trent glanced at his watch, I shoved my bag at the clerk and stomped out of the elevator. Was I a demon, or was I a demon?

I swear, Trent was smiling when he caught up, slipping an arm in mine and slowing me down. Ivy was here somewhere. If they didn't give her to me, I was going to tear the place apart. "I hope your chess game is better than mine," I said softly.

"Me too," he breathed, and I wondered where Jenks was.

"This way, please," one of the men said, and I stifled a shiver at the two guards following. The walls were bright, and with the artwork from multiple periods and schools on the walls and pedestals, it felt as if we were in a museum. The air stank of vampire. No wonder Ivy had worked so hard to get out of here. Damn, my scar was tingling.

"You okay?"

"Ask me tomorrow," I said as the escort stopped before a glass-and-wood door and gestured for us to enter. Heart pounding, I went first, thinking it looked like any other corner office apart from the no-window thing. "It's better than an interrogation room," I said, then spun when Cormel bustled in right behind us, his motions vampire quick.

"I don't like it much either," he said as he moved behind the opulent, but largely bare, desk. "This is my office. Please, sit down. We have time to chat before everyone arrives."

"You mean Ivy, right?" I said, and he laughed, gesturing at the chairs.

"Sit down, Rachel."

That made me feel oh so fuzzy and warm, and I eased into the leather chair closest to the door. Trent hesitated, then took the other. "I wasn't aware that you worked for the I.S.," Trent said.

Cormel laced his fingers atop his desk, clearly pleased. "I don't. The office came with Piscary's title. I do enough business here to warrant keeping it, but not enough to have a secretary. Thank you for saving me the effort to find you. Can I get you anything?"

My eyes narrowed. "Ivy," I stated, and he smiled. It was the smile that had saved the free world during the Turn, but it fell flat against me.

"Pleasure before business," he said, chuckling.

Lifting the chair under me, I scooted it forward until my knees were almost touching the desk. Sitting back, I put my ankles up on it. It was meant to bother him, and it did, but instead of pushing back, Cormel leaned forward until I could see he wasn't breathing. "Would you like something to drink?" he said, the words precise and clear.

I took my feet off his desk and leaned over it, the flat of my arms stretched out until my fists were right under his face and I could watch his eyes dilate to a full, angry black. "Where's Ivy?"

Trent cleared his throat. "I'd like a black coffee," he said pleasantly. "I don't know what Rachel wants. Second-guessing her is a mistake."

He'd given me a way to back off, and I took it, settling into the leather chair and trying to keep my breathing shallow and avoid taking in so much vampire pheromones. My God, they were thick down here. "Coffee," I said, and the man eased out of the room, shutting the door behind him. "Cormel, this is stupid. Felix walked into the sun. How much proof do you need?"

"Right to the point," Cormel said, sighing. "But wrong nevertheless."

"It will kill you," I continued, wanting to get out of here. "Don't ask me why, but I don't want to see you dead."

"Dead?" Cormel's pupils shrank, and I breathed easier. "No, you simply don't want to see us progress out of the trap we're in. Felix was not sane. I am."

"You think you're sane?" I said, almost laughing. "The longer you've been sucking people dry, the harder it is to survive the trauma of your soul. Give me Ivy and I'll see what I can do for the newly undead, but you having your soul will cause you to suncide. Landon knows it. He's counting on it. Why are you listening to him?"

Trent dryly cleared his throat, but I fixed my eyes on Cormel, daring him to look away. His lip had curled up to show a little more fang, making me wonder if I should back off.

"Landon is doing exactly what I want," the vampire said. "We will not perish but be stronger for our souls after we . . . adapt. Can you imagine it?" he said, eyes alight. "The power of the undead with the strength of the living?"

I thought of Nina, swaying the crowd with just that. "It's a dream, Cormel."

A flicker of unease crossed him. He knew, and yet he still persisted. Why? Steepling his fingers, he said, "Indications show that with enough time the emotions will fade."

"Guilt takes forever to fade."

"We have forever," he shot back, and agitated, I turned to the man bringing in three cups of coffee. It smelled wonderful, and no one said anything as he gave Cormel his first, then Trent, and finally me. The man practically backed out, and my eyes narrowed at his fear.

"To live forever will elevate us, make us strong," Cormel said, his attention on the tiny spoon as he sifted what was probably salt into his coffee. I'd be willing to bet it shifted the flavor more to a mug of warm, salty blood.

"Ask the demons how great forever is," I said, deciding to skip the coffee.

"Yet you've given Ivy hope," Cormel said. "You must believe it's possible for the undead to survive with their souls if you gave Ivy a magic to capture hers."

Shit, he'd found the soul bottle. "If you took it from her," I threatened, wishing I hadn't pushed my chair up so close. It was Ivy's, damn it! He had no right.

"I didn't take her magic," Cormel said. Expression blank, he sipped his coffee. "You've failed to convince me of the danger. I'll trust Landon a little longer."

"Then you're going to die!" I exclaimed, frustrated as he gestured for someone outside the office. "The longer you're dead, the more wrong things you do to stay alive, and the harder it is to survive the guilt in your soul. It's only the newly undead that might make it."

"There is no wrong!" Cormel shouted, suddenly standing. "I've done nothing wrong!"

I said nothing, not having even seen him move. Trent, too, was a little disconcerted, and I grimaced, not wanting to have Cormel at my throat but needing to make him understand.

Cormel edged from his desk, a hint of confusion marring his confidence. "They gift me with their blood, their aura, their soul. How can it be wrong?"

"It is," I said softly. "That's why you weep when you get your soul back. You can't have everything you want."

"Remember that," Cormel said as the door to the hall opened and Landon was shoved in. He looked disheveled, in the same robes I'd seen him wearing on TV. I figured he was about as happy as we were to be here, but the shimmer of satisfaction in the tilt to his head gave me pause. Slowly I stood, not wanting to be at a disadvantage. Trent remained seated, his fingers steepled and his ankle across one knee. You shouldn't be here, I thought, worried.

Landon pulled himself straight, seeming official in his purple and green robes and that hat that Newt favored. "Rachel," he said, giving me a nod. "Trent," he added sarcastically before turning to Cormel. "I told you it wouldn't last if they're alive. Kill them or the surface demons remain in the ever-after."

My gaze flicked to the two thugs just inside the door and back again. "We didn't send them back. Your spell fell apart."