A Perfect Blood (The Hollows #10) - Page 4

Chapter Four

Someone had left the kitchen window over the sink open a crack, and after turning the water off, I leaned over and shut the old wooden frame with a thump, sealing out the chilly, damp air. It was closing in on midnight, but the kitchen, bright with electric lights, was soothing. Turning, I dried my fingers on a dish towel as I leaned against the stainless-steel counter and listened to the sound of pixies at play in the front of the church. They'd moved in last week, shunning my old desk that held memories of their mother, and instead finding individual hidey-holes all over the church. The separation seemed to be doing them good, and I'd already noticed a marked decrease from last year in the amount of noise they made. Maybe they were simply getting older.

Smiling faintly, I draped the dish towel to dry and began wiping down the counters with a saltwater-soaked rag. I loved my kitchen with its center island, hanging rack, and two stoves so I didn't have to cook and stir spells on the same surface. One might think that my herbs and prepped amulets, hanging in the cabinet from mug hooks, would made an odd statement given the modern feel of the rest of it, but somehow their dried simplicity blended in with the gleaming counters and shiny cooking utensils. Ivy had updated the original congregation kitchen before I'd moved in, and she had good taste and deep pockets.

Ivy was across the kitchen at the big farm table shoved up against an interior wall, the report she'd taken from Nina unstapled and set in careful piles so she could see everything at a glance. The table was Ivy's, the rest of the kitchen was mine, and right now, I was getting ready to use every last inch of it to prep some earth-magic, scattershot detection charms. I hadn't wanted to get involved in this, but now that I was, I'd go all out. I didn't need to tap a line to do earth magic.

Ivy was sleek and sexy as she stood leaning over the table, her long hair, no longer in a ponytail, falling to hide her face. Rain spotted her boots, and she moved with a marked grace as she tried to piece together three weeks of shoddy investigation. The I.S. relied on scare tactics and brute strength to get things done – not like the FIB, who used data. Lots of data.

"You sure know how to attract the powerful dead, Rachel." Taking a pencil from between her teeth, she straightened, head still angled to the table as she added, "God help me, he's old." Turning a photo sideways, she tilted her head to evaluate the difference.

I dropped the rag on the counter and reached for my second-to-smallest spell pot from the rack over the center island counter, setting it on the rag so it wouldn't wobble. "Walkie-talkie man?" I asked idly since I knew she wasn't talking about Nina. I liked it when we were both working in the kitchen, her with her computer and maps, and me with my magic. Separate but together, and Jenks's kids as a noisy backdrop.

Giving me a coy look, Ivy said, "Mmm-hmm. Walkie-talkie man. Who do you think he really is?"

"Besides psychotic?" I lifted a shoulder and let it fall, then hesitated as I looked at my spell library on the open shelves under the counter. Locator charms were out. They worked by finding auras, which existed only on living bodies. An earth-magic detection charm was an option, but all the ones the I.S. had on the street were coming up blank. I was going to try a scattershot detection charm. They were normally used to find lost people when there wasn't a good focusing object, pinging on minuscule bits of stuff that we left behind when we stayed somewhere, things too small to wipe down and clean out. It was a very complex spell, and I was worried it might not kindle from my blood, seeing that it contained higher than normal amounts of the demon enzyme that tended to interfere with the more complex witch charms.

"You're not liking him, are you?" I said as I pulled one of my spell books out and dropped it on the counter.

Ivy was silent, and I looked up, blinking. "He's going to make me take the blame for this if we can't find them, and you like him?" I asked again, and she winced. The more dangerous a vampire was, the more Ivy liked him or her, and Nina was channeling a very old, very powerful one. "Ivy . . ." I prompted, and her sigh made my brow furrow. "I'm the one who makes bad life choices, not you."

"No, I'm not interested," she said as our gazes touched and she looked away. "It's just been a while, that's all. Nina, though . . ." Lip twitching in a rare show of unease, Ivy sat at her keyboard. "The woman is in trouble and she doesn't know it," Ivy said softly, her long pianist's hands shifting papers as she concentrated. "She reminds me of Skimmer, in a lot of ways, but she's utterly oblivious and unprepared for what he is doing to her, to her body. Helping her survive it isn't my job. She'll figure it out, or die trying." Her head came up and she stared at the wall, probably remembering something she would never share with me. "But I feel bad for her. The highs let you touch the sky, and the lows give you no way out."

Concerned, I ran my finger down the index, searching. Been a while . . . What she meant was that it had been a while since she'd been with a master vampire. Her master, Rynn Cormel, didn't touch her. It wasn't a matter of lack of desire, but that he'd rather his "adopted daughter" find blood with me. Yeah. Like that was ever going to happen . . . again.

"Why do you think they had Trent out there?" I said. Page 442. Got it.

Ivy looked up, her pencil provocatively between her teeth. "I think they were considering him as a scapegoat in case they can't find HAPA. You're a better one, though."

She was right, which didn't bode well for me, and I began shifting pages for the correct charm. What I really wanted was some sort of spell to prevent an I.S. memory charm from making me forget that the I.S. owed me a big thank-you for taking care of their mess, because I would take care of it, and I didn't want to find myself wandering in the park wondering what I was doing out there. Besides, it looked bad when a demon couldn't remember who owed her what.

Trent might have one. The thought came unbidden, and I shoved it away, not trusting his wild magic. A memory rose up to replace it, even worse: me and Trent trapped in my subconscious, baking cookies at this very counter as he tried to untwist the elven magic he'd done to save my life. Saving me had taken a kiss. A rather . . . hot and heavy one that had prompted me to slap him when I woke up. I shouldn't have done that. At least I apologized. Eyes closing briefly, I quashed the memory.

The kitchen became quiet as I leafed through the spell book, knowing I wouldn't find anything as complex as a memory-retention charm in it. Ivy typed something from her papers into a search engine and began scrolling. I had hated Trent for a long time, and letting that go made me feel good. Lately, though, he had scared the crap out of me with his dabbling in wild magic, and my gaze became distant as I recalled Trent, ashen faced and wearing a cap and a ribbon of intent as the world fell down around us. He'd been afraid, but he'd done it. To help me? To help himself. I should stop being stupid and just call him. He probably didn't want to wake up not remembering this week, either.

My fingers turning pages slowed as I found the detecting charm's recipe, and I bent my head over the book, trying to decide if I could do it or not. It wasn't a matter of skill, but tools. Anything that required tapping a line was out, given my bracelet. Fortunately most earth magic was simply putting things into a pot, mixing, heating, and adding three drops of blood to kindle it, and then invoking it – and a knot of tension eased when I decided that I could do the scattershot charm. It called for a circle, but only as a precaution to keep undesirables out of the pot. I'd risk it.

Nodding sharply, I started moving from drawer to cupboard looking for my empty amulets, tick seeds, sticktights, and fairy-wing scales. The last made me flush, and I hoped Belle wasn't around. The de-winged fairy had moved in with the pixies, physically unable to hibernate or fly anymore to escape the cold.

"Jenks?" I shouted, knowing that if he didn't hear me, one of his kids would relay the message. "Do you have any sticktights and tick seed in that stash of yours?"

"Tink's tampons, Rache!" he called back, sounding like he was in the back living room. "It's raining!"

"Really? I hadn't noticed. Where else am I going to get them? Wally World?"

There was a small thump, and I smirked at Ivy in the following silence. He'd probably gone out the fireplace's flue. Bis, our resident gargoyle, kept it clean, claiming that the creosote tasted like burnt caramel. I wasn't going to question the teenager on his dietary needs, and he was cheaper than a chimney sweep.

"You're making a locator charm?" Ivy said as she went back to her Web search. "I didn't think you could invoke those."

"I can't," I said as I got out one of her bottled spring waters from the fridge. "I'm going to make a scattershot detection charm since the I.S.'s regular detection charms aren't turning up anything. Looking for scattered evidence of the man in the park might get better results." I cracked the bottle's cap and nuked it for a minute to take off the chill. Chances were good I might spend all night on these only to find I couldn't kindle them and I'd have to find a witch to invoke them for me. It wasn't as if I had many witch friends . . . anymore.

The microwave dinged and I took out the water, suddenly melancholy. Not that I'd ever had many species-specific friends. I'd always thought it was my personality, but now I was wondering if my "fellow" witches had known I was different on some basic level and had kept their distance, like chickens pecking the unhealthy bird to death.

I set the warmed water next to the tiny clip of hair that Jenks had swiped from the corpse before we'd left the park. I didn't like having to prep this without a protection circle, but I didn't have much choice.

A ping of guilt hit me as I shook the blood-caked hair out of the fold of paper I'd stored it in. How do you explain to the next of kin that your loved one had been tortured and drained for someone's political message? That HAPA was involved was still being kept out of the papers, but the FIB had released the information that a body with demonic symbols had been found in the park. They were hoping it would slow the perpetrators down, but I knew HAPA was on a schedule that couldn't be tweaked. Days. We had days. I wanted to believe that the I.S. and the FIB could work together on this, but I knew the reality was going to be difficult, if not impossible.

I heard Jenks before I saw him, his wings a harsh clatter, getting rid of the rain as he flew into the kitchen shedding water drops everywhere. I dove for the assembled ingredients, waving my hands to keep him back. "Watch it, Jenks!" I exclaimed. "I'm working without a circle!"

"All right, all right!" he crabbed at me, landing on the far side of the island. "I got your tick seed and sticktights. Tink loves a duck!" he exclaimed as he tried to open his jacket only to find that the prickly seeds had caught on the natural fibers. "Look at me! I hope you're happy, Rache. It's going to take me hours to get all this unhooked. Couldn't you have done this before it started to rain?"

"Thanks, Jenks," I said as I turned the oven on to give him a place to warm up, and three giggling pixy kids came in to play in the updraft. "I couldn't do this without you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said sourly, clearly pleased as he plucked one of the seeds from his chest with a sudden pull of motion. "I'll leave them here for you. Jrixibell! Get the Turn out of the oven! What if someone shut you in there!"

Her eyes on her monitor, Ivy clicked a few keys with the sound of finality. "They will have switched bases before you can find them," she predicted, then closed out her window and stood, stretching to show a glimpse of her belly-button ring. "Gone before you get there."

I carefully measured out the right amount of water and put it in my second-to-largest spell pot. My smallest had a dent in it from who knew what. "Probably," I said as the water went chattering in and the bowl rocked. "But I'd like to see what the FIB can pull from a crime scene that the I.S. can't."

Ivy smiled with her lips closed, and we watched as the three pixy kids in the kitchen rose up in a noisy swirl of silk and darted into the hall. "Me too," she said as she began to tidy her papers. "The I.S. is way outclassed when it comes to the detective work."

Her smile became wicked, and I wondered whom she was thinking about as my neck started to tingle, but then one of Jenks's kids flew in with an exuberant "Detective Glenn is here!"

Jenks rose up on his dragonfly-like wings and hovered a moment in the open archway to the hall. "I'll let him in," he said, proud that he could work the system of pulleys to open the heavy wooden doors. The two of them buzzed out, and I heard a small uproar in the sanctuary.

Ah, I thought as I made sure I hadn't gotten Jenks's sticktights on my shirt. That's why Ivy is tidying up her papers. Her hearing was better than mine. She'd probably heard him drive up in that big-ass SUV he had.

"About time. I'm starving," Ivy muttered as the distant sound of the door opening filtered back, and Glenn's cheerful "Hello in the church" came to us. I took in Ivy's soft flush of anticipation, making me wonder if she was simply talking about the pizza he was supposed to be bringing over – or something more earthy.

I reached for an apron as I recalled finding Glenn's coat last spring smelling like Ivy. They'd been out on more than a few dates. Normally I'd be worried if a human tried to keep up with Ivy – she was a living vampire who'd been warped by her previous master into not being able to love without physically hurting her partner – but Ivy was learning new patterns and Glenn was not your average guy.

Glenn was ex-military, not overly large but powerful, having the grace of a slow jazz song, the sure momentum of an ocean wave, and the need to raise a person to the best of her abilities. He was nothing if not steady, and Ivy needed steady. I thought it telling that the first time they'd met, he'd asked me why I risked living with her, calling her unreliable, dangerous, and a psychopath, none of which I had been able to deny at that point. But she was also loyal, strong, determined, and a damn good person trying to overcome her past.

I looked up from tying on Ivy's COOK THE STEAK, DON'T STAKE THE COOK apron as Glenn breezed into the kitchen from the dark hallway, a box of pizza in one hand, Jenks on his shoulder, and pixy kids wreathing his head, all of them talking at once. I smiled. So much for first impressions.

"Still working?" the tidy man said as he noted Ivy's papers and my spelling equipment. Rain spotted the short leather jacket that showed off his narrow waist and wide shoulders. He was a shade taller than Ivy, one ear having a diamond stud and his curly black hair in a flattop, making him look more military than usual.

"You too, I see," I said, my smile faltering as he dropped the pizza box next to my spelling supplies and a tuft of dandelion fuzz took to the air. The pixies were on it in an instant, and with a squeal of excitement, a bright-cheeked, excited boy who looked about four darted out of the kitchen with it, six of his siblings in hot pursuit.

"Come back with that!" Jenks shouted, almost as fast as he zipped after them.

Ivy leaned in to give Glenn a quick kiss on the cheek, and in a smooth motion, she shifted the pizza box to the kitchen table as she stood. There wasn't a mark on the man's beautifully dark skin, and as he took his coat off and draped it over a nearby chair, I couldn't help but wonder where Ivy had been biting him. Then I wished I hadn't.

"I'm off the clock, but who really stops working?" Glenn said as he shifted his shoulders to make his shirt fit better. He liked to dress the part of an FIB detective, especially when he was mingling with his I.S. counterparts, and he made it look good. "There's a lot of information to go over and only a short time to catch these maniacs."

"Besides," Jenks said as he brought me my dandelion fluff, "coming over here gave him an excuse to eat pizza."

"Thanks, Jenks," I said, wondering if the spell was ruined even before I'd lit the Sterno can. My stomach grumbled at the smell of the pizza. I hadn't eaten yet, but mixing spell prep and food was a very bad idea. I'd eat later.

Ivy turned from the cupboards with three plates. "You brought your copy, right?" she asked. "You're not using mine."

Grinning to show his very white teeth, Glenn pulled a creased, copied version of the I.S.'s information, still stapled together and showing signs of having been worked with. "I know better than to write on your paper." He smacked her on the butt with it, and Ivy turned, growling at him as she opened the pizza box. It was obvious she was enjoying the attention. I'd seen Ivy and Glenn interact before, but it still kind of freaked me out. Wiping my hands on the apron, I put myself behind the center counter where I could work, stay out of their way, and yet keep an eye on them. Jenks, too, looked uncomfortable, and together we pretended to read my recipe.

Sighing happily, Glenn sat in Ivy's chair before her computer, leaning forward to take a piece of pizza. He was the only human I knew who'd eat it, and he'd become quite the tomato junkie. I'd pimped ketchup to him in exchange for handcuffs until he got tired of the blackmail and admitted to his dad that he ate tomatoes. Most humans wouldn't since a bio weapon had accidentally slipped into a genetically modified tomato and killed a quarter of the world's human population about forty years ago.

Humanity owed its continued existence to us Inderlanders coming out of the closet to keep society intact as plague swept through their genome, killing everyone who had eaten the lethal fruit. It hadn't affected us, and they were understandably skittish about tomatoes even now. But Glenn . . . I smiled as he groaned in pleasure, a long string of cheese running from his mouth to his piece of pizza. Glenn had risked it when cornered in an Inderland eatery and the choice had been to eat it or admit to a room full of vampires that he was chicken.

"Mmm," he said, chewing slowly and savoring every morsel until he swallowed. "Ivy, I wanted to go over the distance between the dump sites and where the victims were held. See if we can narrow the search. The I.S. has their amulets all over the city, but if we can zero in on one borough, it will be faster."

I lit the Sterno can from the stove's pilot light and set the spell pot on the tripod. Competition between the I.S. and the FIB was good. I didn't trust the I.S. amulets, which was why I was making my own. That standard magic-based tests were not working normally also didn't sit well. They were usually as reliable and a great deal faster than the pre-Turn techniques of genetic comparisons, which were now barely legal.

"Besides," Glenn added, his voice a dark mutter, "I don't think they'll tell us immediately when they find the latest base of operations."

Ivy had sat down kitty-corner to him, angling her chair so that her back wasn't to me. "You think the I.S. will keep information from you now that you've got jurisdiction?" she said, her voice mocking and high. "Glenn, we're all in this together." Leaning over the pizza on her lap, she patted him on the cheek a little too hard.

Jenks and I exchanged a look, and his wings hummed nervously. I set the spring water to boil, hoping I wasn't going to have to watch them flirt all night.

"You know I won't withhold information," Glenn said, a smidgen of his usual business attitude showing. "I don't like that they managed to keep three HAPA crimes quiet for almost two weeks." Glenn's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and his pizza dangled, forgotten, from his thick hands. "That's almost too hard to believe."

I tended to agree with him. Memory charms. I was starting to have a real problem with them. My motions to grind the seeds up grew rougher, and I leaned into the job, taking my anger out on the dandelion fluff, tick seed, and sticktights. "They thought I was the one doing it," I said when I backed off to add the corn pollen.

Glenn looked first at me, then Ivy to see if I was joking. His expression was a mix of amazement and anger. "You?" he almost barked when she nodded.

Seeing that Ivy had quit tweaking the man's libido, Jenks darted to the open pizza box. "Rache set them straight," he said proudly as he hovered over the crust. "In loud words," he added, using a pair of chopsticks from his back pocket to help himself to the sauce.

"I'll bet." Glenn set his pizza down, reaching for the paper towels we kept out and tearing one off. "I'm sorry, Rachel. If I'd known that, I wouldn't have been so nice to them."

I shrugged, then cracked an egg, shifting the yolk from eggshell to eggshell to separate it from the white. Not many earth charms used eggs, but this one did to bind the dry ingredients to the wet. "I'm getting used to it," I said sourly, hoping we'd seen the last of Nina. "At least I got my license back and my car registered in my name." Until they wiped my memory. Damn it, those things were illegal for a reason! I knew the demons had a curse that would block memory charms, but that was out. Maybe the elves had one. Trent could make a Pandora charm, which was basically a spell that repaired the damage from one. I simply wanted to prevent it.

Frustrated, I promised myself I'd call Trent as soon as I had ten minutes to myself. He'd sounded mad at me, but that was all the more reason to talk to him. I wasn't going to let misunderstandings fester anymore, especially with Trent. The man was starting to scare me.

"Jenks, you want this?" I asked the pixy as I held up the yolk still in the shell half, and he shook his head. Eggs gave me migraines, so I dumped it down the sink, dusting my hands as I turned around. Almost done.

Glenn finished his first piece of pizza, and after a longing look at the rest of the pie, he moved his plate to the center counter. " 'Scuse me," he said as he reached across Ivy for one of her maps, intentionally brushing her. Ivy almost hit his jaw as she went for a pencil next to her keyboard, and I looked away when they put their heads together and began talking of walking speeds and the problems inherent in analyzing rapid transit.

Jenks took one look at them and flew back to me in disgust. "Jealous?" he asked me as he landed on the open spell book, and I frowned.

"No. Get off the spell book."

He was laughing as I shooed him away, landing on Glenn's plate instead, just about the only place I'd let him alight at this point. The water was boiling, and after checking the recipe, I carefully brushed the crushed seeds into it. It fizzed and foamed, and I blew out the flame. I'd add the egg white and fairy dust along with the focusing object after it cooled. In this case, I'd be using the man's hair. This was sympathetic magic, meaning it worked by making a connection between the amulet and whatever it was sensitized to. Sticktights, tick seed, and egg white were for binding. Corn pollen, fairy dust, and dandelion seed were for drifting on the ether to search, and my blood would be the catalyst to make it work. The man's blood would have made a better focusing object, but there wasn't a clean enough sample. Hair was a good substitute.

So why did I feel so weird using it?

I glanced at Ivy and Glenn, happy with maps and colored markers, then teased a hair from the bundle Jenks had snatched for me. It was black and fine, from his head and not the curse-modified pelt he'd had from the waist down.

Ivy laughed, low and throaty, and I looked up to see them absorbed in whatever point of contention they had deemed worthy of arguing over. Jenks snickered, and I glared at him. "Shut up," I muttered, my shoulders shifting uncomfortably. Damn vampire. It was starting to smell good in here, what with the pizza and the pheromones. And the scent of . . . wine and salt?

It was coming from the bundle of hair that Jenks had snitched for me, and with a sudden burst of connection, I brought it to my nose. As Glenn's deep voice murmured about property values and crime rates, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, smelling sweat and fear. Deeper was shampoo, and lightly, lacing it like a perfume that he'd once walked through, was the hint of wine and salt. I'd smelled it at the crime scene, too.

My eyes opened. "Jenks, come sniff this."

Jenks's wings clattered, but he didn't move from where he was licking his chopsticks clean. "Tink's panties, Rache. You're starting to sound like my kids." Turning his voice mocking and high, he said, "Dad! Come smell this! It stinks!" Shaking his head, he dropped his voice and added, "Why the hell would I want to smell something if it stinks?"

I put my forearms on the counter and loomed over him. "Seriously. Wine and salt?"

Eyeing me, he stood, walking over and making a big show of smelling it. "Yeah," he finally said, and my heart gave a thump. "Once you get past the meadow."

"Thanks," I said, and he went back to his dinner, his attitude cautious. Wine and salt . . . Motions slow, I set the hair aside and dropped one strand into the cooled liquid before adding the egg white and the fairy dust. All that was left was my blood to kindle it. I was afraid to try. It might not work, and it wasn't as if I could do the demon equivalent anymore.

My gaze dropped to the counter, as if I could see through it to the shelf where I kept my demon books next to my missing scrying mirror. I'd lost it and never replaced it since I didn't need the interdimensional chat charm if I was playing dead to the demons.

That's when it clicked.

Scrying mirror. Someone was trying to make a scrying mirror into a calling glyph. But to do that, they'd need demon blood.

Shit.

I gripped the counter, feeling my face go cold and wavering, as if I'd moved too quickly. That's what HAPA was doing. This wasn't merely a scare tactic and hate crime. They were trying to duplicate demon blood in order to perform curses. The mutilated corpses the I.S. had found were their attempts to turn a witch into a demon.

"Oh my God . . ." I whispered, and Ivy and Glenn both looked up, their expressions holding curiosity as well as banked heat. HAPA wanted a little magic of its own, and since demons were considered tools, they didn't have a problem using demon magic.

"You want to share with the class, Rache?" Jenks said, and I tried to find my voice.

"The blood analysis," I said softly, holding the counter to keep from swaying. "Ivy, what does it say about the magic-enzyme levels?"

Ivy shifted a few inches from Glenn as she reached for it, crossing her knees as she rocked back in the chair. " 'Blood composition in all the victims show elevated levels, progressively worse with each victim.' " She slowly blinked, her eyes going blacker as she sensed my dread. "Is that important?"

I nodded. "If they started from someone with naturally high levels of those enzymes, everything would go faster. Does it say if they are carriers for the Rosewood syndrome?"

Jenks made a high-pitched noise, and Ivy shook her head, her lower lip between her teeth as she double-checked. "You think . . ." she said, her words trailing off as I nodded.

Rosewood syndrome. I wasn't a carrier. I was a survivor. I had twice the enzymes they were playing with now. Crap on toast.

Glenn's chair creaked as he leaned back, concern pinching his usually smooth brow. "Aren't you – " he started.

"Rache!" Jenks shrilled, darting into the air to leave a puddle of yellow dust that dripped over the edge of the counter and to the floor. "You can't take this run! I don't care if you said you would. They're calling you out. They want your blood! If they get it, they're going to have what they need and . . . Crap, Rache! What are we going to do?"

My grip on the counter tightened until my knuckles were white. My head was bowed, and I could see the little spell pot with its uninvoked potion. "You think you could check and see if the victims had a history of Rosewood syndrome in their families, Glenn?" I finally said.

Ivy stood, and I tried to shove my unease aside so I could get on with what I had to do, but I knew, given her expression of concern, I must look sick.

Glenn too had stood, and he was taking a slim cell phone from his belt. "I'll get that started right now," he said. "Excuse me a moment." Punching numbers, he stepped across the hall and flicked on the light in the back living room, several pixy kids going with him.

Jenks landed on my shoulder, the cold draft from his wings making me shiver. "Everyone knows you're a demon."

"True," I said sourly as I smacked my empty amulets around, arranging them on the counter in a straight row. "But if they wanted me, they would've taken me by now. Bodyguard or not," I added. "Besides, I have a vested interest in seeing that this gets done right," I said as I carefully mixed the wet ingredients with the dry and poured the finished, but not invoked, brew onto the seven discs. It soaked in without a hint of redwood scent, but then, there wouldn't be any until they were invoked.

Damn it, what if they did try to snatch me? I didn't want to have to take the bracelet off, and I looked at it, around my wrist like a security band. I did not want Al to know I was alive. He'd risked everything he had to keep me alive, and in return I'd broken the ever-after, dropped a demon psychopath into his living room, and saved the elves from extinction after the demons had been trying to exterminate them for five thousand years.