Part 43 (2/2)

Trent stared, his one look down and up making me flush. ”What the devil are you doing, Rachel?” he said as I s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 embarra.s.sment and premature victory. Try to scare me into signing that lame-a.s.s paper, huh? Try to scare me into signing that lame-a.s.s paper, huh? ”I'm trying to return your statue, dumb a.s.s,” 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'm trying to return your statue, dumb a.s.s,” 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 p.o.r.n at him like a girl, feeling a s.h.i.+ver 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 b.u.t.t. ”I made a mistake!” I shouted as I struggled to keep facing the a.s.sembled 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 h.e.l.l is Glenn? Where in h.e.l.l 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!” ”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!”

It was going too fast. The coven wasn't here yet! Rough hands were tugging me to the steps, and I hooked my foot behind the man's ankle and sent him down. I fell on him, my elbow somehow managing to hit his solar plexus. His grip on me fell away, and I got to my feet, struggling with the next guy. Where in h.e.l.l h.e.l.l was Glenn? was Glenn?

”Get back!” his voice thundered, and I almost cried. ”Get off the woman! Can't you see she doesn't have any weapons?”

”She hardly has any clothes,” a man at the front of the crowd said, but I didn't care when Glenn's muscular, bald, big-black-man's presence shoved his way to me. One hidden punch, and the I.S. guy holding me went down, gently eased to the stage floor by Glenn.

”About time you showed,” I said as he zipped my coat closed. ”I think that guy felt me up.”

”You okay?” his voice rumbled, and I searched his eyes.

”Just tell me you've got David's paperwork for an FIB arrest.”

His grin was like suns.h.i.+ne, and I felt this just might work.

”Ms. Morgan! Ms. Morgan!” the newscaster was shouting, holding her mike up over her head. ”You claim the coven told you to steal Mr. Kalamack's statue?”

I couldn't answer that without outright lying. ”Take me in!” I begged as Glenn pushed our way to the steps, and I tripped, falling right in front of her. ”Please,” I begged to the camera, stalling, so Vivian could show up. ”I'm a good witch! They made me do it! It was my only way out!” Which they did. Sort of. In a roundabout way.

”Corruption in the coven. I'm going to get an Emmy for this,” the woman said, then turned to Trent as Glenn hoisted me out of her reach. ”Mr. Kalamack! Sir! Is that your statue?”

Trent was behind three big guys, but he wasn't leaving. ”I've no idea what is going on.”

The FIB had taken the stage, and with his hand around my elbow, Glenn hesitated. ”Sir, if that's not yours, we need it as evidence.”

Trent's face went white. Slowly Quen brought the statue back into the sun, and cameras whirred and snapped as it changed hands. Trent's look at me was murderously calm. If this didn't work, I was going to be so-o-o-o dead.

”It's his,” I babbled for the cameras. ”I stole it out of his vault yesterday. The coven shunned me. I had no choice!” Where in h.e.l.l is Vivian? Where in h.e.l.l is Vivian?

”Will someone read that woman her rights and get her to shut up?” Trent said, but the cameras were on me.

”The coven told you to steal it?” one of the reporters asked.

Glenn's grip on me tightened, and I followed his gaze to where the crowd was parting. Black suits and power ties. It was the coven, but it wasn't Vivian, it was Oliver!

”That woman is mine!” Oliver shouted even before he found the steps, his face red as he strode forward, amulets swinging and Mobius cuff links s.h.i.+ning in the sun. ”I claim jurisdiction. She is a black witch, shunned, and I won t have her spreading lies of corruption in the coven!”

I pressed back into Glenn, the air cold on my knees. It was about to get tricky.

”Sir!” the reporter was saying, her mike aimed at Oliver as he found the stairs. ”Did you tell Morgan to steal the statue from Mr. Kalamack to get her shunning removed?”

The man stopped on the stairs, looking aghast. ”Of course not!”

She looked at her ring, and I realized the thing was an amulet, glowing a steady green. It was a truth charm. s.h.i.+t. I had to work fast. Good thing I hadn't lied.

”I tried to keep the demon from taking Brooke,” I babbled. ”Friday. At sunset. You heard the explosion. All of Cincinnati did! Oliver, you have to believe me. She summoned a demon. I told her not to, but she did. I tried to save her, and she told him to kill kill me!” me!”

The newscaster's amulet stayed green, and the woman's eyes grew bright. Corruption in the coven indeed.

Trent pushed forward. ”Get her out of here,” he hissed to Oliver.

”I'm trying,” Oliver said, his fingers encircling my arm.

”No!” I said, shrinking back, my fear real. ”I want due process!” Anywhere other than an FIB cell, and I was dead or lobotomized. And Trent smiled, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I hope you choke on it, elf hoy. I hope you choke on it, elf hoy.

The newscaster held her mike higher, flushed. ”Mr. Coven Leader, has a member of the coven been demon-napped in conjunction with Morgan's a.s.sa.s.sination attempt?”

Oliver hesitated. It was his downfall. Guilty or not, he looked it. Smooth as silk, Trent stepped forward. ”I'm sure the coven leader will give you a statement in due time.” Turning his back to the crowd, he hissed, ”Will you get her out of here?”

Oliver tugged on me, and I pressed into Glenn. ”I didn't want to do it!” I shrieked. ”I didn't want to break into Trent's vault. I don't care if I go to jail, but don't let the coven take me. They put me in Alcatraz with no trial. They sent fairies to burn my church. And they summoned a demon to kill me!”

And of course the newswoman's amulet stayed a nice, beautiful green. Eyes bright, she stood on tiptoe, her mike above her head. ”Sir! Is there any connection between Ms. Morgan's claims of an attack and the 911 call to the Hollows at 1597 Oakstaff yesterday morning?”

Innocent as a lamb, the man stammered, ”I wasn't aware of an explosion.”

Her ring glowed red. Trent's head bowed and he started distancing himself. I felt a glimmer of hope. Oliver had lied, and the reporter knew it.

”Sir, is it coven policy to take contracts out on shunned witches?” she insisted as if sensing blood. ”Did you tell Morgan to steal for you to escape such a punishment?”

”Uh...” He hesitated, then shouted, ”I'm taking custody. She is a black-arts witch! Look, I have the paperwork.”

c.r.a.p. I'd forgotten that the coven loved red tape as much as David. ”Glenn,” I said, my fear very real, ”don't let them take me. Please!”

But he could do nothing as a wheezing, red-faced Oliver handed him a paper. d.a.m.n it, I was not going to die from paperwork. ”Ah, Rachel...,” Glenn said, his face becoming concerned as he looked up from it. ”We might have a problem here.”

”Glenn,” I breathed, knees going weak. ”They'll kill me! Don't let them take me!”

Oliver made a satisfied huff. This was not happening. This was not happening! not happening!

As if in a dream, I heard Glenn promise he'd get me back, but it wouldn't matter. In five minutes, I'd be in a van, hopped up on drugs. An hour after that, I'd be on a surgery table.

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