love both.
“This would be an amazing place to work,” I said as Trent played the light over the long, empty room. But then my shoulders slumped. Ellasbeth. Change that outer office into a day nursery, and she’d never leave.
“How do you mesh two circles?” Trent said, a determined slant to his jaw as he strode into the dark, the light pulling me into his wake. “They just don’t. I mean, that’s the entire point behind making them. Do you think the demons might know?”
A hint of a tickle pricked through my toes, and I jerked to a halt before stepping into a huge circle inlaid on a massive, unbroken sheet of slate. Seating benches made a hundred-and-eighty-degree arc around it and I winced, imagining Al standing frustrated and peeved at its center, making deals with the intent to abduct Trisk if she made a mistake.
“I very much doubt it,” I said as I crouched to take a closer look. “If they knew how to merge circles to capture the baku, they wouldn’t be hiding from it.” A quiver rose in my chi as my finger met the old silver, and I pulled my hand back. It would be a fast circle invocation with such a base to work from: silver poured onto a slate floor with no cracks or seams.
Trent cleared his throat impatiently and I rose. “I’m betting it was elven magic,” I said, wiping my hands on my jeans as we headed for the open door at the end of the room.
Jenks darted out of the door, an odd green dust spilling from him. “I found the lights,” he said as he came to an abrupt halt before us. “I can’t trip them. I’m not heavy enough. There’s, like, no cameras down here, and it has its own ventilation.”
“Helpful when you’re dealing with demons,” I said, thinking about the observation benches around that large circle.
“I haven’t found how Quen is getting in here,” Jenks added. “Trent, wait until you see your mom’s office. It’s like she just stepped out for a coffee.”
This is going to hurt. Stomach clenched. I dropped back to let him go first. He strode past me with a wash of spoiled cinnamon to leave me in the dark. I slowly followed, hesitating on the threshold.
Trent stood before an ornate desk, the legs carved with flowering dogwood and birds. His head was bowed, and it looked as if he was struggling. Jenks perched on the antique lamp on one corner, his excitement gone as he probably realized how much this was hurting Trent. My globe was sitting beside an outdated computer and a desk pad dated nineteen eighty-nine. An ancient-looking keyboard and an even older intercom sat in a forgotten silence. Again, no dust.
The wall facing the pool was entirely bricked up, but curtains hung at the outlines of a large sliding-glass door. A leather couch with pillows and a knitted throw stood against the wall across from the desk. Beside it were a matching chair and lamp. Two more walls were entirely bookcases filled with leather bindings.
And the fading scent of coffee? I wondered, seeing an empty cup on the small table. Beside it was an ornate teacup. It was dry, the brown rings saying it had evaporated a long time ago. Twenty years? I wondered as I came forward, my bare feet finding a tight-pile rug as I put a hand around Trent’s waist and tugged him sideways into me. “You okay?”
Nodding, he pulled away, his eyes on the desk.
But he didn’t look okay as he reached for the photo propped up beside the pencil cup, his jaw clenching in obvious heartache. The woman had long dark hair, but the gleam in her eyes and the tight grip on the reins in her hand reminded me of Ceri. She was on an alert, ear-pricked silver horse. A little boy sat before her, no more than three. It had to be Trent, sweet in his riding outfit and scowling at the sun despite the hat. He was thin and gaunt, and I recognized the look of one who had been in and out of the hospital too often. Two more boys sat on their own ponies beside her, healthy and strong, their pride obvious.
“Trent,” I said in awe, and he seemed to shake himself back to life. I hadn’t known his mom was a dark elf. No wonder there were no other photos of her. No wonder Quen had been in love with her.
Hand