Well, I did, but I wasn't going to tell Trent that there was another elf of pure descent living across the street from me. He'd use her badly in his biolabs.

Pulse fast, I braced myself when Quen stopped short at a light. We were almost to my neighborhood. Thank God. "Why should I help Lee?" I said angrily. "I don't know what you heard, but he took me into the ever-after, not the other way around. I tried to get us both out of there, but your friend wanted to give me to Al, and since I like where I live, I fought back. I warned him, and after Lee beat me to a pulp, Al took him instead—the better witch. I will not take the blame for that. Trying to give me to Al to pay off his debt was inhuman."

Trent's face lost none of its hard accusation. "Isn't that what you did to Lee?"

Teeth gritted, I held my arm out, palm up so he could see the demon scar on my wrist. "No," I said flatly, shaking for showing it to him so plainly. "I'm sorry, Trent. He was going to give me to Al, and I fought back. I didn't give him to Al. Lee did that to himself through his own mistaken beliefs. I didn't gain anything but my freedom."

Trent's breath came out softly, the sound seeming to wash away all his tension. He believed me. How about that? "Freedom," he said. "That's all anyone wants, isn't it?"

I looked at Quen to figure out what he felt about all of this, but his expression gave no clue as he drove through the city's quiet residential area, eyes ranging over the small houses and tidy yards with blow-up pools in back and fallen bikes in front. Most humans were surprised at how normal an Inderland neighborhood was. Old habits of hiding die hard.

"I'm not judging you, Rachel," Trent said, pulling my attention back to him. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping you could free Lee from the demon—"

"There isn't enough money in the world for that," I muttered.

"I want you to be in my wedding in case there's an attack against me or my fiancee."

I flopped back around, feeling the cushions enfold me.

"Rachel…" the elf started.

"Stop your car and let me off right here," I said tightly. "I can walk the rest of the way."

The car kept going. After a moment Trent said slyly, "It would really grill Ellasbeth's tomatoes if she was forced to make you one of her bridesmaids."

A smile flickered over me as I remembered the tall, icily beautiful, professional woman seething when she found Trent treating me to breakfast in his robe after I had pulled his freaking elf-ass out of the frozen Ohio River. They didn't even pretend to be in love, and their marriage was happening only because she was probably the purest-blooded elf out there for Trent to marry and have little baby elves with. I wondered if they'd been born with pointy ears and had them docked.

"It would cheese her off no end, wouldn't it?" I said, my mood lightening.

"Five thousand for two evenings."

I laughed, and beside me Quen's grip on the wheel tightened. "Not even if it was ten thousand for one event," I said. "And besides, it's too late to get the dress."

"They're in the trunk," Trent said quickly, and I cursed myself for even bringing it up as an excuse, since it implied that all he needed was to find my price.

Then I did a double take, turning to look at him. " 'They'?" I questioned.

Trent shrugged to shift from powerful drug lord to frustrated fiance. "She hasn't decided between the two of them. You're an eight tall, right? Long in the sleeves?"

I was, and it was flattering he remembered. But then so was Ellasbeth. "What color are they?" I asked, curious.

"Ah, she's narrowed it down to a modest black shift and a full-length sea green," he said.

Unflattering flat black and cucumber-puke green. Grea-a-a-a-at. "No."

Quen gently applied the brakes and put the car in park. We were at the church. I grabbed my bag to look into it and make sure I still had the focus. They were elves. I didn't know what they could do. "Thanks for the ride, Trent." The tension rose as I unbuckled myself. "It was nice seeing you, Quen," I said, then hesitated, meeting his green eyes as he sat with his hands on the wheel and waited. "You… ah, aren't going to show up tonight to convince me, are you?"

Breaking his stoic expression, he met my gaze levelly. "No, Ms. Morgan. The danger is real this time, so I respect your decision."

Trent cleared his throat in a nonverbal rebuke, and I gave Quen a thankful nod. The security expert had enough clout to defy Trent if his reasonings were sound, and it made me feel good that someone could say no to him—though I doubted that it happened very often.

"Thanks," I said, but instead of feeling relieved I only found myself more worried. 'The danger is real this time? Like it wasn't last time I worked for Trent?

The moist heat and the sound of cicadas hit me when I got out, the old trees that blocked the sun serving to trap the moisture as well. I glanced across the street to Keasley's house, hoping Trent and Quen would just leave. I didn't like them being this close to Ceri. I didn't know anything about elves. Hell, they might be able to smell each other if they got close enough.

I pulled my attention back to Trent as I hitched my bag higher and started for the church. There was a van at the curb, and I frowned at the sign proudly proclaiming WE SPECIALIZE IN EXORCISM. Great. Ju-u-u-u-ust great. Now the entire street knew we had a problem.

I spun when the sound of a car door closing thumped through the muggy air. Trent was out and was circling to the limo's back. My blood pressure spiked. "I said no," I repeated loudly.

"Having a problem with your church?" he asked, lifting the trunk when it popped open.

My lips pressed together, and I stood so I could see him and Ceri's house both. I didn't like this at all. "We had an incident. Look. I'm not doing it, so just leave, okay?" I felt like I was talking to a dog who had followed me home. Bad dog. Go home.

I boldly turned my back on him and, feeling the hair on the back of my neck prickle, strode to the stairs. Not wanting him to follow me in, I paused two steps down from the landing.

"Ten thousand for two nights," Trent said, pulling two garment bags from the trunk.

"Your rehearsal is on my birthday. I have plans. Reservations at Carew Tower." A thrill went through me at the admission. It was going to be a date to remember.

But Trent squinted, looking as if the heat couldn't touch him. "Bring your date along." He gently pushed the trunk's lid down. The motor engaged and the trunk whined shut. Adjusting the garment bags over his arm, he came forward. The closer he got, the more nervous I became.

"You may have breakfast in the Carew Tower every Tuesday," I said, "but I've never been up there, and I'm looking forward to it. I'm not asking my date to change it."

"Thirty thousand. And I'll get your reservations changed to whatever night you want."

He was a step down, and his eyes were even with mine. "Everything is so easy for you, isn't it?" I said, disgusted.

A tired, haunted look showed in his green eyes, and his hair shifted in the breeze to ruin his professional carriage. "No. It only looks that way."

"Poor baby," I muttered, and his jaw tightened. Carefully arranging his hair, he returned to his callous self.

"Rachel, I need your help," he said with an irritated acceptance. "There're going to be too many people, and I don't want an ugly scene. Your being there might be enough to stop any trouble before it starts. You won't be doing this alone. Quen has his entire staff—"

"I don't work under anyone's direction," I said, my gut tightening as I looked past him to Ceri's house. I wanted him gone. If she came out, everything would go to hell.

"They'd work around you," he persuaded. "You're there if something slips by them."