Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “You know him!” she choked out, panicking. “The mage. He was at the festival. You were there when I took the ring from him.” Her focus sharpened on me. “You helped him,” she gasped, then began to laugh hysterically. “You protected him from me. If not for you, I would have ripped his throat out and taken Cincinnati as mine. You know who he is!”

            “Seriously?” I said as I fought with the urge to give her a smack. “The only people I protected at the festival were Trent and . . . Lee,” I trailed off in shock.

            Gasping in laughter, Parker held a hand to her ruined eye and nodded.

            “That piss-poor excuse of my ex-familiar is the mage?” Al said, and I turned to him, my denial hot on my lips. Beside me, Jenks’s dust went thin. No. Lee tried to protect us at the festival. Didn’t he?

            “He wants you in Alcatraz and Kalamack destitute,” Parker said, a bitter anger swamping her laughter. “Vincent trusted that was all the mage wanted and that we would have Cincinnati and the focus both. The fool would have let the mage use and discard us like curs. So I got rid of him. The mage, too, after I got the new ring and I had no more use for him.”

            Cold, I made a fist, holding the foul rings to my chest as Parker began a rasping laugh. “And then Rachel Morgan blunders in to save the day,” she gasped, trying to breathe around her cackling. “You not only helped him get what he needed to do the curse to bring you down, you stopped me from killing him once he twisted it!” Blood poured from her ruined eye as she shook. “You helped him find everything he needed to twist the curse.”

            “No,” I said, but I knew it was true when Al dropped his gaze and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lee? He had pictures of the curse book, of the pentagram, everything. We caught him trying to steal the lens. Breath catching, I felt my shoulder bag for the book. I had it. But the lens . . . I had left the lens in the church. Oh no . . .

            “Why?” David asked, expression drawn.

            “He blames Trent for the death of his baby girl,” Parker said, laughing. “He hates Kalamack and Morgan.” Her gaze came to me. “I gave you what you wanted. Let me go.”

            I couldn’t move. The sharp edges of the new chakra ring pinched my hand, tingling. Lee had tricked someone into casting the curse, killing them. Trent knew not to twist the curse, but what if Lee had pitted our lives against each other? Trent might willingly do the curse if it would keep me from doing it to save him. Hands shaking, I looked at my pinky ring, glowing as Jenks’s dust hit it. The pearl was white, but I had to see Trent for myself. I had to see him.

            “I have to go,” I said. I took a step to the parking lot only to have Al jerk me to a halt.

            “Trent’s okay, Rache!” Jenks was so close I couldn’t see him. “The timing is wrong.”

            “The pixy is right.” Al’s grip was tight as he pulled me back to his side with a rough yank. “Lee won’t kill Trent outright. He wants to see you in Alcatraz and Trent a pauper first.” Al hesitated, his hold on me easing as I stood frozen, panicking. “That’s how revenge works, itchy witch. Your ring says he is alive.”

            Breathless, I looked at my pearl ring. It was still white. But I had left Trent with Lee at the hospital, and the fear wouldn’t let go.

            “Rachel, it couldn’t be Trent who did the curse,” Cassie said as she drew David’s coat closer about herself, but I wasn’t listening, fumbling for my phone. “The second ring showed up at the coffee festival. Whoever Lee tricked died before then.”

            “He’s okay.” Jenks hovered over my phone, his dust blanking the screen. “Finish this so we can go find him. Rachel. Listen to me. We have to finish this first.”

            My pulse hammered as I stared at Jenks. I was afraid to believe his logic, and I turned to Parker. “Who did Lee trick into making the ring?” I said. Trent might not be dead, but Lee had been with him when I left him, and all I had was a text to indicate he was alive. A text that Lee could have sent on Trent’s phone.

            The battered woman hung her head, lank hair hiding her face. “I don’t know. Let me go.”

            But I couldn’t, and I stood there, phone in hand as I shook. She was right. I was twice the fool. Lee had opened Hodin’s room, taking pictures of the book and even trying to take the lens needed to perform the curse. All for the love of a child he had let die so as not to be indebted to Trent for saving her life?