Chapter Thirty-four
I didn't like being small. And I was just small, I wasn't a pixy. Unlike Jenks, I didn't have a quick escape if Pierce stumbled other than to grab a silky fold of his vest and hope he didn't squish me when he fell down. If being small in the garden was bad, being small in the streets of Cincy was terrifying. Everything was loud, big, and heavy. I honestly didn't know how Jenks survived. About the only pleasant thing to have come out of this so far was that I was clean - really clean - again. I didn't even care that I was hairy once more.
Jenks had stayed with me while Pierce jumped back to the church for the size-down curse and something small for me to wear to go with it, and I glanced down at the exquisite light green silk that fluttered about my bare feet in the draft of our motion. I was guessing it belonged to one of Jenks's daughters, and I held a hand to the low neckline as I began to feel seasick at Pierce's quick pace. I didn't have a scrap of red on, and it worried me.
Jenks was quiet as he stood beside me on Pierce's shoulder. He wasn't wearing any red either, dressed for work in his usual skintight black silk and thin-soled high boots. If we entered another pixy's territory without red on, we'd be accused of poaching and might find ourselves attacked. His wings were a depressed blue even as they hummed to maintain his balance, but he stood ready to grab me and fly if anything should happen.
The heat of the city felt good, and I shivered when Pierce hit the shade of a tall building. He was getting nervous, and the smell of the witch overpowered the stink of the city. I breathed him in, liking the redwood scent and the bite of shoe polish. He'd taken the time for a hasty shower at the church before borrowing Ivy's sister's car and coming out to find me, and the smell of soap mingled with the silk scent of his heavily patterned vest. Looking at him, you'd never know he had a chunk of elf porn in his pocket as he gave everyone we passed a nod.
And yet, he was nervous, feeling his pocket for the statue yet again as we slowed at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. I could see a slice of the square a block up, and anticipation made me shiver. "I'm of a mind we might be able to walk right up," he said softly.
"Not likely," I said, the only reason Pierce could hear me was because I was right next to his ear.
"You go straight here," Jenks said, his voice magnified by "pixy magic" and attracting the attention of the woman next to us. She gave a start until she saw Jenks and me, and then she was charmed, scaring me and putting Jenks in a foul mood if his comment about her perfume and a fairy's hind end was any indication.
Edging away from her thick finger poking toward us, Pierce adjusted his hat and muttered, "I know how to get to the square. The dash-it-all thing is right in front of us."
Impatient, I held my breath against the gas fumes and fidgeted. Jenks could fly me across the street, but I didn't want to leave Pierce and the statue behind. Trent's voice was being piped out over the sound system and a live video was being displayed on the news screen they'd put up the last time they revamped the square.
Son-of-a-bitch elf, I thought, remembering the Pandora charm and his claim that he hadn't tried to kill me. Add to that the fact that he and Nick had been in cahoots to nab me, and I had no problem embarrassing Trent in front of national TV cameras with an erotic statue. Unless Nick had gone to Trent after I hired him? Sort of a last-minute effort to stick me with more trouble? I just didn't know enough.
Impatient, I got to my feet, and Pierce winced when I grabbed his ear for support. But my nervousness shifted to fear when my gaze found a pair of uniforms standing across the street - waiting for us. Damn. I had hoped to get closer before we were IDed.
"Uh, Jenks?" I said, pointing, and the pixy's wings lifted, taking on a more normal hue.
"I see them," Pierce said, having heard my tiny voice. "I'll cross Main instead and come up on the other side of the street."
With a last awkward look at the cooing woman, Pierce sidestepped away and crossed Main, almost jogging to make the light. I clutched his ear, my dress flying up as Jenks took my shoulder to keep me from falling.
It had begun. Steady and sure, the adrenaline seeped in, bringing me alive.
"Good going, Sherlock," Jenks's dry voice said tightly as we reached the curb and Pierce slowed. "They're watching you now because you changed your mind."
"They were watching us before, Jenks. No big diff," I said. "Pierce, you want to shift your look?"
He nodded, and I shivered as a wave of ever-after cascaded over him when he stepped off the curb to cross Government. No one noticed, or at least no one commented on it in the throng of people trying to get to the square. Pierce now looked like Tom Bansen, which might get us stopped, or it might get us through, seeing that the dead witch had also been a corrupt I.S. cop. In either case, if the two officers on the corner had been watching for Pierce, they'd be looking for the wrong man.
We were almost there, but when I looked back, they were following us on the other side of the street. "It didn't work!" I shouted, and Pierce winced.
"I see them," he said, not looking. "I opine things will get rough from here. Rachel, watch yourself. I'll get you as close as I can." "No black magic!" I exclaimed, and he sighed.
Jostled, we reached the corner of Fifth and Main, stymied by the light again. The square was right in front of us, and Trent's speech was in full swing. The cops shadowing us were clearly from the I.S., and I scanned the area for FIB agents, not seeing any. The I.S. flunkies were watching, waiting to see what we were going to do. One was on the radio. The net was being thrown. I had to stay smaller than the holes they were leaving. Pixy small.
The skin around Pierce's eyes crinkled as he glanced at the waiting I.S. officers. "Jenks, we're going to be here a moment. Why don't you see what they're talking about? Make yourself useful, little man?"
Snarling something lost in the roar of a bus, Jenks darted over the organized chaos. I felt naked without him, and I held Pierce's ear more tightly. "News vans, news vans," I murmured, feeling better when I spotted them. I hated news vans, but they were going to save my butt today. The coven could be anywhere. If they didn't show, I was screwed.
My attention went to Trent, at the podium. Quen was behind him, and I felt a jump of worry. The man was better than me at just about everything. "I have enjoyed serving you in the capacity of councilman," Trent was saying, "and could be happy for years more, but I see the corruption, I hear your frustration, and I want to do more. It is my responsibility to do more!"
The crowd liked that, and I jumped when Jenks landed next to me with a clatter of wings. "I don't know how, but they know it's you, Rache."
Nick maybe? I thought, but I didn't say it aloud.
"We've got two I.S. agents ahead of us, four behind, and the two on the right," Jenks continued. "Trent has his staff on the stage, but it's mixed up with I.S. people. I say we get our asses up there, and trust wonder ghost here to join us when he can."
Pierce tried to look at us, failing. "I can get you across the street."
He looked almost eager for a fight, and I became even more nervous. Damn it, if Pierce messed this up I was going to be pissed! "No black magic!" I demanded, and his jaw clenched. "I mean it! The coven is out there. No black magic! If you can't do it the way I want, I'm not going to let you help me!"
"Let me help you?" he muttered, clearly upset. "I opine you wouldn't know help if it smacked you in the face. Stubborn, bullheaded, wild fey thing of a woman."
I frowned, teeth clenched. Clearly we had a few things to work out. But the crossing light had switched. I wobbled when Pierce took a step, and Jenks's wings hummed, ready to snatch me if I fell. The pavement threw up a wave of heat, buoying Jenks up like a balloon, and he finally took to the air to maintain his balance. Ahead of us waited two more cops. Vamps by the looks of it.
"Steady, Rache," Jenks said. "I'll be with you the entire time."
"Don't you patronize me, too," I said, heart beating fast. How did he survive being so small?
From the stage, Trent was saying, "My family has lived on this land for three generations. In that time, Cincinnati has grown to magnificence, but today she falters. We need to cull the programs that don't work and foster the ones that do, throw out political agendas and instead give the power back to the people so that Cincinnati may regain her greatness! My record speaks for me, and I will speak for you!"
Head down, Pierce angled to get away from the cops, but it wasn't going to happen.
"Hey, you with the hat!"
"I'll get to the stage, Rachel. Don't worry," Pierce whispered, and I shrieked as Jenks snatched me around the waist and darted off. Pierce went the other way, gone in an instant.
"Get the pixy!" rang out, but Jenks and I were across the street and in the square, flying through a forest of polyester slacks.
"Up! Go up!" I shrilled, terrified he was going to run into something, but Jenks laughed.
"They can't hit us down here," he said, and I shrieked, my legs swinging when he darted suddenly to the right. I caught a whiff of ozone. There was an ugly splat, and a woman screamed in pain. Great, they were using spells.
"Son of a Tink," Jenks muttered. I never even saw what it was - Jenks was already three people deeper into the crowd. He went low, wings clattering as the shade of lunkers cooled us. I hung from Jenks's arms, helpless, wide eyed, and feeling like I was on a roller coaster with no brakes. "Hold on!" he shouted as he jerked to a stop.
My head swung forward, then back, hitting his middle. The momentum of my legs pulled us forward, and I squinted at the sudden silver dust as Jenks back-winged us through it.
A haze of brown-tinted ever-after hissed in front of us. It hit the legs of a man. He turned. Shock registered, first at us, and then his legs, now encased in the brown goo. He shrieked, making everyone around him look. Horror filled him, and he tried to push it off, but it clung to his hands and crept up his arms. In seconds he was on the ground, unconscious in a widening circle of fear.
"Oh, that's nasty!" Jenks exclaimed, and I lost my breath as he shot straight up, my ears popping. For an instant, the entire Fountain Square spread before us, a mass of noise and movement, and then he dropped.
"Je-e-e-enks!" I shrieked, terrified. I flopped like a rag doll, but we were almost there.
The pop of radio chatter was a blur as we headed for the stage. "Where in hell is the sticky silk!" someone shouted. Another voice demanded, "Get Kalamack out of here! She's got something in her arms!"
They thought I was Jenks? Were they blind?
News crew lines lay across the gray granite, and the whine of electronics hurt my ears as we dipped and swooped. Adrenaline surged as we found the stage. People in suits fell back at Jenks's darting form, as if he was a deadly bumblebee, and I found Trent at the podium. Two I.S. cops were with him: a vamp and a witch. I pointed to the plywood stage, and Jenks dove for it.
I stumbled as my feet found purchase. Jenks's grip slipped from me, and I looked up to see Quen trying to hustle Trent away. Trent's eyes met mine, and he stopped dead in his tracks, wanting his statue back, no doubt.
"Morgan?" he whispered, his voice finding me over the noise. His eyes narrowed, and Jenks flew up to protect me. There was a hiss of propellant, and he darted away, one wing tangled in sticky silk.
"Non sum qualis eraml" I shouted as brown shoes circled me, making the stage shake.
The world seemed to collapse into me. Sound sucked inward, taking the heat of the sun and the rising damp from the plywood under my bare feet. I felt the curse take hold, and the clicking of a thousand abacuses grew as I was reduced to a thought and rebuilt from the idea of myself stored in the demon database.
I pay this cost, I thought in the perfect silence of nothing. No heartbeat, no pixy wings. Nothing. The smut from the curse coated me in a soothing layer of black, and I shuddered.
I felt the magic rise from the singular point of existence that I was, rushing through me, and I expanded. My aura rang as it adjusted, and suddenly... I was back.
Noise hit me, and I sucked in air. Jenks had gotten me here, but he was paying the price for it, sitting on a news crew antenna trying to get the sticky silk off.
"She was a pixy! You see that? She was a pixy! That's Rachel Morgan! Get a picture!"
"Oh my God," a feminine voice exclaimed as the crowd reacted. "She's naked! Where did she come from? Are you getting this, Frank?"
Frank, the cameraman, was indeed getting this, and I looked for Pierce, almost panicking when I didn't see him. I was absolutely naked and in front of rolling video cameras. I didn't want to think about the Internet in two hours' time. God, my mother...
Trent stared, his one look down and up making me flush. "What the devil are you doing, Rachel?" he said as I snatched his speech from the podium and tried to cover myself.
"Rachel!" I heard, and my head swung around. It was Pierce, three I.S. cops elbowing and tossing people out of their way to get to him. "Catch!"
He threw the statue over six rows of people. It glittered in the sun even as the I.S. agents fell on him. Fear and surprise rang out when Pierce vanished from right under them and they landed on nothing. My hand went up, and with a solid thump, the erotic statue hit my palm. Everyone was looking at the I.S. cops on the ground, not me. Everyone but Trent. He'd seen the statue, and he shoved the pulling hands off him, his want showing, full and hungry.
I eyed Trent, flushed with embarrassment and premature victory. Try to scare me into signing that lame-ass paper, huh? "I'm trying to return your statue, dumb ass," I said to him over the noise. "Come talk to me in jail if you want it back." Then louder, I wailed, "I can't do this! I'm not a thief. I'm a good girl! I don't care if the coven gives me a lobotomy, I'm not a thief. Take your freaky statue back, Mr. Kalamack!"
I threw the elf porn at him like a girl, feeling a shiver go through me as it left my aura. He caught it, and someone grabbed me from behind. A coat fell over my shoulders, hitting just under my butt. "I made a mistake!" I shouted as I struggled to keep facing the assembled people. "I'm not a bad witch!"
Trent gripped the statue, frozen, wonder on his face.
"Get a shot of that," the newswoman said, then smacked Frank. "Not her, the statue!"
At my feet, Frank panned to the left, and my hands were wrenched behind me, making the coat flop open. "Hey!" I shouted, going down on my stomach. Flat on the stage, I was at the same level as the news crews. I tossed my hair out of my eyes and looked at Trent. He'd slipped the statue into his suit jacket's pocket, but Quen - wise-to-the-world Quen - was pulling it back out and tucking it in his own.
"Watch it!" I shouted, trying to breathe as there was the cool feel of a zip strip around both my wrists and the ever-after flowed out of me. I was yanked to my feet, stumbling. Where in hell is Glenn? "I'm a good witch!" I shouted over the uproar. "The coven made me do it! But I had to give it back to Trent. I'm a good witch. I am! I'm just scared! The coven is trying to kill me!"