“I locked the door, okay!” Trisk exclaimed, and Daniel began to edge down the Camaro’s side to the door. “I didn’t know Daniel had a master bypass key. I spelled him into forgetting. I thought it would stick.” Daniel froze when she turned to him, her eyes pleading. “Daniel, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
Demons? Spells? Trisk thought she was a witch? Thinks, or is? he wondered in a growing panic as he looked at the still-smoldering pits. God help him, they both were. In a surge of fear, he fumbled for the door handle of the Camaro. Quen had tried to kill him, and Trisk had deflected the strike. With magic.
“I’m not letting you drive my car out of here,” Quen said, and with a thunk, the doors locked on their own. Horrified, Daniel pulled his hand off the vehicle. Magic . . .
“And I’m not letting you kill him for my mistake,” Trisk said, apparently not having a problem with the fact that Quen had locked the doors from ten feet away without touching the car.
But Quen shook his head, ignoring Daniel as if he were dead already. “I know you like him, but your charms aren’t enough. Eventually he’s going to blab, and then we’ll all be dead.”
“I won’t let you kill him,” Trisk said. “Don’t push me on this, Quen,” she intoned, but a horrible emptiness had taken the man’s eyes, dark in the dim light.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You know there’s no choice.”
“There’s always a choice!” she exclaimed, then turned to Daniel, making him jump. “It’s okay,” she said quickly. She was trying to smile, but it wasn’t coming off as reassuring. “Quen won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t care that you’re spies. I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” Daniel said.
“Spies?” Trisk hesitated, an odd expression crossing her face. “No.”
“Then who are you? What are you?” Daniel exclaimed.
“I’m the same person I was yesterday,” she said, and Daniel shook his head vehemently as Quen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yeah?” Daniel pointed at the fading glow in the drive. “You can do . . . that. And he wants to kill me because I know about it? What are you people?”
“I’m not going to let him kill you,” Trisk said, arms over her chest. “I’m not!” she said louder, looking at Quen. But Daniel could see the panic gathering in her eyes, the determination in Quen, his hands clenching into fists and his shoulders stiffening.
“You know forget curses aren’t reliable,” Quen said, and she nodded miserably.
“It would have been fine if I hadn’t triggered the latent memory,” she said, then louder when Quen took a breath to protest, “If my charms aren’t strong enough, I know someone whose are.”
Quen’s expression blanked. “The demon?” he questioned, and Trisk nodded.
“The demon.”
12
Daniel’s breath came fast. Trisk had thrown a glowing ball of something to deflect the one Quen had aimed at him. And now, Quen wanted to kill him. This can’t be happening.
“We can do it in the barn,” Trisk said, her voice low and her face hidden by her hair. “I’m not having that horrid smell in my house.”
“Trisk, this is a bad idea,” Quen prompted, and she rounded on him.
“If you don’t want to help me, fine, but I’m doing it,” she said, then spun to stride toward the barn. Her shadow vanished fast, leaving only the stars shining over the black hulk of the old building and the sound of her steps.
Quen frowned at Daniel as if everything was his fault. “After you, Dr. Plank,” he said, gesturing sarcastically, and Daniel began to follow.
Fifty feet away, Trisk had reached the barn, her small shadow struggling as the door noisily rolled open. A moment later, light blossomed from inside, spilling out to glint on his car parked nearby. “I should have known Trisk wouldn’t own three vehicles,” Quen muttered.
A forget spell, Daniel thought. He wouldn’t believe it except he’d seen the glowing energy coming from both Trisk and Quen. And what about that little woman in my flowers?
He slowed as he entered the barn, glad to see the light was coming from a mundane gas lantern, hissing as it threw new shadows to the edges of the wide two-story space. “Where do you want him?” Quen said, and Trisk looked up from where she’d swept a wide area, the old boards shiny with age and polished by decades of straw.
“Daniel, why don’t you sit there,” she said, pointing to a bale of straw, and Daniel’s jaw tightened. He was still wearing his scowl when Trisk turned to him, and he let it linger, angry something was going on, something he’d been kept out of—had been for a long time. He didn’t think she was a spy anymore, but she was up to something. He wasn’t sure if she was courageous or a whore. Maybe men were the bastards for making women have to choose between the two in order to get credit for their own work.
“I wish I could explain,” Trisk said, but her evident guilt only made Daniel angrier.
“What’s to explain?” he said flippantly. “You can do magic and you have to kill me to keep it a secret.”
Beside him, Quen smacked a thick support post in agreement. “See?” he exclaimed. “Even he gets it.”