believe him - I couldn't. He had turned my own people on me because he knew they were the only ones who had the finesse to bring me down.
"You planned this, didn't you?" I accused softly, very aware that a room full of FIB officers was just out of earshot. "You told them what I'm capable of so they'd come after me; then you hold out your little safety net thinking I'd fall right into it. Playing both of us against each other so you can't lose. God, Trent, Ceri was right. You are a demon."
Jaw clenched, Trent went to push the door shut. I leapt into motion and got in front of it, and Trent pulled back, stymied. "I didn't tell them," he said, so close I could smell his aftershave. "But if you own me in the ever-after, I'm going to own you here."
My mouth dropped open. "Those are words on a paper! I made you my familiar to get your ass out of there, that's it! Have I ever once even hinted at using you? Have I done the charm to forge a link between us? No! And I'm not going to!"
"But you could," he said, and for an instant, I saw fear flicker under his anger.
Disgusted, I crossed my arms over my chest. "I should have let you rot there, that's what I should have done, you ungrateful snot. Do you have any idea what I put up with from Big Al every week so you can sit at home and watch TV instead of playing blow-up doll to a demon?"
Stone faced, Trent looked at me, his tan pale and the hem of his slacks shaking. "I will not be owned, Rachel," he said softly. "Not even on paper. And never by a demon\"
I took a breath, exhaling when the sound of pixy wings broke the tense silence. Trent retreated, his head down as he calmed himself. The familiar cadence of Ivy's boots sounded over the ringing of a single phone, and I retreated deeper into Glenn's office.
"Rache!" Jenks shouted, his high voice coming clearly as he rounded the door ahead of Ivy. The pixy stopped short, hovering at head height, his wings flashing red with anger as he saw Trent tugging his cuffs down. "Holy crap, Rache," he exclaimed, coming in to buzz irritating circles around me. "What did you get greenie weenie for this time? Bowling in black socks?"
Trent gave us a dry look, eyes going to Ivy when she halted in the doorway. Glenn was behind her, and the man had to push to get past her, anxious to be back in his office and head off the coming interspecies incident. His jaw was clenched, but what had he really expected? Trent and I didn't like each other and we argued. A lot.
Even as angry as I was, I watched the swift exchange between Ivy and Glenn, wondering if the tension in the room was solely because of me, or if there was an undercurrent of a secret not shared. Ivy's irritation could easily be a cloak to hide guilt, and Glenn was equally hard to read when he was in his hard-assed FIB detective mode.
I wouldn't hold out my hand for Jenks to land, so the pixy alighted on my shoulder instead, coating my sticky jacket in a fading glitter of dust. He was dressed for the chill spring weather, his wife, Matalina, finally having perfected pixy winter wear that gave him both freedom of movement and protection against the cold that might send him into hibernation and possible death. The tight black silk, red bandanna, and wooden-handled sword about his middle made the four-inch man look like a mix of theater and inner-city gang member.
In a smooth motion, Trent swooped forward to pick up the paper from under my chair. I stepped back out of his reach, my instinct to keep space between us kicking in. Refolding the contract, he tucked it away in his jacket. "Let my office know when you change your mind," he said, then headed for the door, jerking to a stop when Ivy didn't get out of his way.
"Let us know when cherry lollypops come out your ass," Jenks said, and I leaned back against the tall file cabinet, arms crossed over my middle.
Glenn cleared his throat, and Ivy slowly moved out of Trent's way.
"Your team is as professional as always, Morgan," Trent said lightly. Nodding at Glenn, he turned and walked out. A buzz of