"Chin high," Pierce said softly, but I was nauseated. I'd been running from this for what seemed like a lifetime.
His fingers touched mine, and I felt a tingle. He was wire tight, but it was the faint pulse of cracked ever-after in him that caught my attention. "How are you tapping a line?" I said as we settled in at the back of a short line to get in. They were checking badges, and I was doubly glad Pierce had picked up mine.
Pierce curled his fingers to take a stronger grip on me, and my shoulders eased when I felt the warmth of a masculine-tasting energy fill me. "I borrowed an amulet from a security member," he said, shooting me a sly glance, then looking dead ahead. "And his badge. Don't worry. Wallace never reported it. He's being entertained."
From Pierce's wry expression, I had a pretty good idea of how Wally was spending his evening. Oh, man. That is going to look great if they find out.
Beside us, Ivy chuckled, and I felt tons better as Pierce funneled energy into me, slippery or not. It would leave as soon as I let go of him, but in the interim it was nice. "You are a cad," I whispered, leaning in to smell his redwood scent mixing with a woodsy cologne. When did he have time to shower?
"But a smart one," Ivy said. "Good thinking."
Pierce pulled his gaze from the head of the line. "I won't let harm touch you. If there's trouble, I'll be there, and as soon as we get through security, I'll give you the amulet."
I could see the sense in that, and I nodded as my headache began to ease. The line moved forward, and I took the pen after checking my lethal-amulet detector. It wasn't working, but old habits die hard. As the bored woman behind the table talked to her neighbor, I signed the paper, adding a period at the end of my name to break any psychic connection. I handed it to Pierce, who immediately gave it to Ivy.
"I'm her security," he lied to the woman, taking my bicep a little more firmly.
I eyed Pierce, letting him manhandle me since he seemed to enjoy the excuse and I couldn't protest without causing a stir. A flash of interest broke across the woman's face, and she looked from the paper Ivy was signing, to the badge pinned to my bag, to me. In one breath, her expression went from pleasant to disgusted. "Oh, it's you. You have a reserved seat up front."
Oh, it's you? Nice. "Thank you," I said pointedly as Ivy pushed the paper back toward her. "Do you know if Trent Kalamack is here yet?"
"No." She was breathing fast, and the ladies to either side of her were silent.
My gut twisted. Black witch. They thought I was a black witch, and they could hardly stand me. "We're going to need one more place," I said, indicating Ivy, and the woman shook her head.
"She can't go in."
I'd had it with women who thought they had ultimate power because they'd been given a tiny task, but I exhaled, trying to relax. "Why not?" I asked, voice level as I hitched my shoulder bag higher.
"Witches only."
Pierce looked up, scanning the crowd behind us as someone began calling "Yoo-hoo!" in a loud, demanding voice.
"Trent Kalamack isn't a witch," I said, my temper rising.
Pierce let go of me to wave at someone, and the power that had been seeping through me drained away. A headache slammed into me, and I stiffened.
"Mr. Kalamack is part of the proceedings," the woman said. "She isn't."
Angry, I put my hands on the table and leaned into her slightly. Ivy drew me back, her eyes holding a surprising lack of anger. "I'll get in another way," she murmured.
"No." I pulled from her, and the woman looked frightened that Pierce wasn't paying attention to me. "I've been shot at, bugged, and attacked. I want you there, and there's no reason you can't come in!"
The woman fidgeted nervously, glancing first at Pierce, then the people starting to pile up behind me. "It's for security reasons," she said, and I nodded dramatically.
"Uh-huh. Which is exactly why I want her with me."
"Rachel!" a familiar cheerful voice exclaimed at my elbow, and I spun. Pierce was grinning. Beside him was my mother, a shopping bag under her arm, a big yellow hat on her head, and a broomstick in her hand. She was beaming, and every thought went flying out of my head.
"Mom!" I exclaimed, eyes wide as I gaped at her. "What are you doing here?"
"Damn, you make even white leather look good!" She gave me a huge hug, dropping her bag and pulling me close. The scent of lilac and redwood filled my senses, and the broomstick pressed into my back. She stepped away with a hand on her hat to keep it from falling off, and her eyes glinted with unshed tears.
"I flew in this morning," she said, glancing down at her badge. "I wanted to see you. I knew if I waited around, you'd show up in the middle of trouble. And here you are!"
I gave her another hug, not believing this. The woman at the table gestured for the next person in line, and we moved to the side.
"Mom, I'm glad you're here," I said, thinking she looked great, her red hair cut in a bob and her jeans and T-shirt showing off her figure. Now that she wasn't dressing down, we could almost be sisters. Dread hit me, though, as she started moving us to the double doors. If things didn't go well, this might be the last day I'd ever see her.
"Come on," she said, taking my arm and leading me forward as if we were going for coffee, not finding seats at my trial. "Trenton got us seats up front, but if you wait too long, numbnuts start trying to sit in them." She turned to look behind us. "Hi, Ivy. It's good to see you," she said, and Ivy murmured something back, never quite comfortable around my mother.
My mom's pace faltered as she gave Pierce the once-over. "Wallace, eh?" she said dryly. "You must be Pierce. Nice to finally meet the man who got my daughter her first I.S. record. You'll do, I suppose. I hope you're good in bed. It's a pain in the ass trying to train you men to do what pleases a woman."
I caught a glimpse of Pierce's shocked expression, but my last fear had been banished. It was my mother, not a look-alike. If it came into her head, it came out of her mouth.
"Mom...," I protested, but she was off again, saying it was good to see me and that she liked my hair like this, asking me if I'd been in St. Louis when the arch fell down, and what about that earthquake this afternoon? Wasn't that something? I knew her chatter was her way of coping, and I said nothing but made the odd noise at the right moment.
The double doors opened before us as someone went in. My eyes rose, and my feet kept moving. The muffled noise hit me first, and the smell of foam and the cotton fabric on the chairs. It was all blue and gray, and they were piping in music. It was nearly full already, and the sound of a hundred conversations was daunting, even if the acoustics had been arranged to soak it in. The stage was a good fifteen feet below where we'd come in, well lit, with a podium in the middle and an oval table holding six chairs facing the audience. Oliver and Leon were already there, ignoring the mass of people as Oliver talked and Leon listened.
My heart thumped, and I froze.
"Is that your mother?" Pierce whispered.
I started to answer, and the door attendant moved in front of us. "Ma'am, you can't go in," he said to Ivy, and my head snapped up.
Already inside, my mother turned, her chin up and her eyes glinting. "Get the hell out of the way," she said loudly as she shoved her way back to us and claimed Ivy's elbow. "Don't you know who this is? Move, or I'll jam this broomstick up your ass."
Pierce stood speechless, but I was grinning. "Yep, that's my mother," I said, then followed Ivy when my mother yanked her over the threshold, glaring at the man as if ready to make good on her threat if he made so much as a peep. The door attendant was way outclassed, and he gave up, cowed.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder at me as my mother led her down the steps to the floor of the amphitheater. Slowly my smile faded. There were too many people in here, and the stage looked huge.
"Your mother isn't afraid to speak her mind," Pierce said, and my shoulders eased as he took my hand and the ever-after seeped in. I knew it wouldn't last, and I gripped his fingers, afraid to let go.
"She's like that," I said, head down as I watched my step. People had noticed our entrance, and the conversations were shifting. More whispering, more bitter gossip.
Pierce's grip on mine tightened, and I looked up, feeling a warning in his touch. Vivian had come from the back, looking confident and unique in a flowing, princesslike robe of tie-dyed colors, all purple, blue, and green. Her hair was arranged off her neck, and she looked like an upscale San Francisco hippie, as far from my white-leather-clad sleekness as a bird was from a frog. Worry flashed through me. Robes flowing, she strode to the podium, bending to pull out an amulet. She looked good, rested and ready. I wished I was.
"Test," she said simply as she held the amulet, and when her voice rose with a pleasant volume over the babble, she dropped it into a pocket and went to talk to Oliver. The entire auditorium had the feeling of preparation and excitement, and I gave Vivian a stupid little hand wave when she looked up, following Oliver's finger pointing to me. He was wearing an impressive suit, and again I felt nervous in my outfit. White? Thanks a hell of a lot, Al.
Vivian straightened, breaking eye contact with me before I could get any sense of what she was thinking. Oliver was supposed to vote for me, but after this afternoon, I doubted that would happen despite the agreement we'd come to in an FIB interrogation room two thousand miles away. I was hoping I wouldn't need my gentle four-word reminder that I could bring witch society down. We came from demons.
Finally we made it to the ground floor and the small space before the stage. My mother and Ivy were waiting at the head of an empty row of seats. Actually, the three rows after that one were empty, too, no one wanting to get too close to us. Nerves wouldn't let me sit, and we clustered together in the aisle. As Pierce and my mother made small talk, I scanned the rising rows for Trent.
Ivy leaned in, smiling with her lips shut. "You look green. You want me to go up there with you and hold your hand?"
"Can't you be nice to me for once?" I said, and she laughed. "Trent isn't going to show," I added, wondering what my mother was telling Pierce. His eyes were wide, and my mother's expression was intent.
"Is that necessarily a bad thing?" Ivy asked, and I tried to decide if she was joking.
"I'm worried about Jenks," I said, and she nodded. "Has he called?" I asked for the umpteenth time, and she shook her head, eyes falling from mine.