took, but I’ll give you a hint. Hodin isn’t happy.”
“Uh, this isn’t Trent,” he said, and I froze, thoughts scrambling.
“Zack?” I said, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment. “You sound just like him. Is Trent available?”
“Ah, hang on a sec. He asked me to answer his phone if it was you.” He chuckled. “Itchy witch, huh? You should see the picture that comes up.”
Please not my old I.S. ID. Please? But it would have been like Trent to track it down and use it. He liked—no, needed—that I was real, that I had bad-hair days and got tired, and that I wasn’t trying to be perfect. No, I was simply trying to survive. “Zack?” I said when there came a distinctive pop and Trent’s elegant, seldom heard swearing rose up in the background. From across the room, Jenks grinned and hummed closer.
“No, I’m fine. I’m fine!” Trent said, voice irate. “Here. I’ll take it. Could you . . . ? Thanks.” There was a pause, and then, “Rachel.”
He sounded annoyed, but I think he’d had a spell misfire, and I could relate. “Sorry to interrupt. You okay?”
“Yes.” Trent sighed, and I could imagine him sitting back on a desk, table, armchair . . . whatever. “The lower magic is working, but the more complex the spell, the more resistance we’re seeing. I’d swear it gets worse the longer we work at it. Were you able to modify Hodin’s curse?”
I nodded, feeling good at the pride in his voice, and Jenks gave me a thumbs-up. “Yes, but I had to invoke the Goddess’s attention to get it to work.”
“Mmmm,” he started, and I quickly interrupted.
“Stop. I’m fine. Jenks was with me, and Hodin, actually. Both of them agree there was no abnormal mystic activity. Mixing demon and elf magic did the trick, which makes me think you ought to prick your finger and put a little blood on whatever you’re doing.”
“Like witch magic?” he asked, voice hesitant.
“Like demon,” I said, and Trent sighed.
“Why?” he protested. “Elves don’t have the right blood enzymes to invoke charms.”
“It’s not to kindle the magic. It’s to pay the Goddess,” I said, and he made a soft sound of understanding. “Promising to sacrifice a goat won’t impress Newt. But a drop of blood? Something she’s used to? Something elves would see as a major sacrifice? It might work.”
“Huh. It can’t hurt. Hang on a sec. Zack?” I heard distantly. “Rachel thinks you should prick your finger and put a little blood on it somewhere. Use the knife there.”
Knife? “Trent,” I protested.
“Seriously?” Zack said, and hearing their voices side by side, I could tell the difference.
“Trent, don’t make him do that,” I protested, and Trent chuckled.
“Why not? He heals fast.”
Somehow we’d gotten off track, and I strove to bring it back. “Hey, now that we’ve got a curse to show baku damage, we could prove Landon has been hosting it. I just need some blood and five minutes in a corner.”
“Landon would simply claim he was a victim,” Trent said, and I slumped.
True. “Okay. But if he makes a statement to that effect, the I.S. would be forced to act. Even if all they did was let the suspects go under the Unlawful Coercion Act, it would be something.”
Again, Trent made an unsure “Mmmm,” punctuated by Zack’s whoop in success. “It worked!” the kid crowed, muffled. “Trent, it worked! Look at that. It finally worked!”
I smiled thinly. Elves buying success with their blood and demons getting it for free by saying please: what was the crazy Goddess up to? “Congratulations,” I said sourly. “You’re all going to have to pretend to be demons to get your magic to work,” I said, and Trent sighed.
“This is going to be a hard sell.” Trent’s voice held a heavy worry. “I might have to invest in a finger-stick company. Maybe if it had ‘elf’ on it somewhere, they might go for it.”
I slumped, then began to shove more things into my bag. “I think the Goddess is trying to force the two branches of magic together again, laughing all the way. Hodin practically threw up when he realized he had to invoke her attention to get the new curse to work.” But throwing up would have been better than shunning me, which was what had happened the last time I dabbled in elven magic. “Trent, do you think we can get a drop of Landon’s blood?”
“Sure. I’ll call him up and ask,” Trent said sourly. The sarcasm was unusual,