His last words, though dry, held a hint of anxiety, and my instincts kicked in. "How's Glenn?" I asked, and Edden's jaw clenched. Ivy saw it, too, and when Jenks flew up, we all faced him square on, not letting him leave. "My God. You didn't put Glenn back on duty, did you?" I looked over the edge of the windows to the party below and the FIB cruisers. "Is he down there? At Fountain Square? With his compromised aura? Edden, are you crazy? I told you I'm not ready to face a banshee, and Glenn sure as hell isn't."

Ivy set her plate down, and Edden's squat form shifted uncomfortably. "He's fine. He's got one of those amulets and he knows what she looks like. The minute she shows, he calls. Lower your voice."

My pulse quickened, and I put my face right by Edden's. "He is not fine," I almost hissed. "And I'm not so sure those amulets are all working."

Feeling the tension rise, Ivy gave us a professional smile. "Rachel, it's getting stuffy in here," she said pleasantly. "I'm going to go downstairs and get some air. Jenks, you got this okay?"

"Tink's panties, yes," he said as he landed on my shoulder protectively.

My breath slipped out in relief. She'd watch him. Good. I didn't think Mia would show, but she sure as hell wouldn't be up here. Jenks and I could handle Al. Pierce, if he wasn't hurt, could help, too.

"My son is fine," Edden said, his brow furrowed and his posture hunched.

"I like watching fine men," Ivy said, and checking that her phone was on, she slid it away in her clutch purse and started for the elevator. "You're the one who wanted us to work the party. I'll be downstairs. Call me if you need me."

Edden took that with a bad grace, muttering, "You do the same. I have a warrant for both of them now."

She nodded, and sashayed off. Not three steps away, and two guys approached her. Don't do it, I mentally warned them, but she laughed like the happy woman she'd never be, and the two men thought they had it made. They were going to be made all right. Made into happy little burgers if they weren't careful.

"I want to talk to Ivy before she goes," Jenks said, spilling heavy dust as he hovered beside me. "Be nice to Trent, okay? You're going to need his help someday."

"Trent?" I asked, stiffening at the faint scent of wine and cinnamon. Jenks inclined his head to someone behind me before darting off to join Ivy in the elevator, and Edden and I turned. My jaw clenched, and I forced my teeth apart. It was Trent, and oh my God, he looked good.

"Hi, Trent," I said wryly as I tried not to show my appreciation, as hard as that was, seeing him in a slim tux that showed off his height and frame. The fabric looked silky and free moving, making me want to run my hand down his shoulder just to feel it. A sharp, professional-looking tie with a pattern that said he wasn't uptight gave the impression of a clever, witty man, but it was his bearing that made it all work. He had a nearly full wineglass in hand, and he was clearly comfortably in control with no doubts about who he was and what he wanted—and how to get it.

Feeling his eyes on me, I stood a little straighter and remembered how good we had looked together the night Kisten had blown up the casino boat we'd been on. Kisten hadn't known we were on it, but thanks to Ivy's warning, Trent and I had survived. We'd been the only two to do so. My brow furrowed as I considered that. We had gotten out of the ever-after together, as well. We were survivors.

Trent saw my frown, and the cocky boyish front that he used to beguile grew stilted. He touched his baby-fine hair to make sure it was lying flat, and I knew he was nervous. "Ms. Morgan," he said, saluting me with his glass so I wouldn't shake his hand.

That just ticked me off. And I wasn't happy he'd been keeping Ceri away from me like I was the plague. Even if I was.

"We've shared a cell in the ever-after," I said. "I think we ought to be on a first-name basis, don't you?"

A single pale eyebrow rose. "They're dressing the help nicely this year," he said, and Edden disguised a laugh as a cough. It was all I could do to not give the FIB captain a backhanded swat.

The distinctive click and whine of a shutter snapping pulled my head around and I froze. It was the Cincinnati Enquirer, the photographer looking odd dressed in a full-length sequined gown with two cameras draped over her. "Councilman Kalamack," she said enthusiastically. "Can I get a picture of you, the lady, and Captain Edden together?"

Edden shifted closer, hiding a smile as he muttered for me alone, "She ain't no lady. She's my witch."

"Stop that," I whispered. Then I stiffened as Trent sidled closer, slipping his hand about my waist so that his fingers would show for the camera. It was possessive, and I didn't like it.

"Smile, Ms. Morgan," the woman said brightly. "You might make the front page!"

Swell. Trent's touch was light compared to Edden's heavy pressure on my shoulder. I sucked in my gut and turned a little sideways to put my back to Trent to balance out his hand on my waist. He smelled like the outdoors. The shutter clicked several times, and I stiffened when I spotted Quen, Trent's bodyguard, watching. Jenks zipped over us to talk to Quen, and the woman snapped another picture when his dust glittered upon us. My tension eased; Jenks was back.

"Wonderful," the photographer said as she looked at the back of the camera. "Thank you. Enjoy the party."

"Always a pleasure to talk to the press," Trent said as he started drifting away.

The woman looked up. "Captain Edden, if I could get a picture of you and the dean of the university? I promise I'll leave you alone after that."

Edden gave me a severe look that told me to behave myself, then smiled benevolently as he talked to the woman about the FIB's annual fund-raiser while she led him away.

Trent was gazing at nothing in the hope that either I would go away or someone would come rescue him, but the photographer had given everyone the idea that we were here together and they were leaving us alone. I wanted to talk to him about a Pandora charm to possibly return my memory, but I couldn't come right out and ask. Cocking my hip, I tapped my heel once, then turned to him.

"How is Ceri?"

He hesitated, and still not looking at me, he said, "Fine."

His voice was beautiful, and I nodded as if waiting for more. When he remained silent, I added, "My calls are being stopped at the switchboard."

He didn't even twitch. "I'll look into it." His eyes were mocking when they met mine, and then he started to walk away.

"Trent," I said as I jumped to keep up with him.

"Don't touch me, Morgan," he said without moving his lips, waving pleasantly at someone across the room.

Jenks made a noise of affronted surprise, and angry, I got in front of Trent. The man rocked to a halt, clearly bothered. "Trent," I said as my heart pounded. "This is stupid."

Again his eyebrows rose high. "You are a demon. If I could, I'd have you jailed on that alone. Shunning is hardly justice."

My expression became stiff, but I wasn't surprised he knew I'd been shunned. "Take me down and you go with me, eh?" I said as Jenks landed on my shoulder in support.

Trent smiled mirthlessly. "That's about it."

"I'm not a demon," I protested softly, aware of the people around us.

The man sniffed, as if smelling something rank. "You're close enough for me."

He started to push by me again, and I muttered, "It was your dad's fault."

At that, he jerked to a stop. "Ooooh," Jenks mocked, sparkles sifting down my front as his wings made a draft, "don't you talk about my daddy!"

"He saved your life," Trent said, clearly affronted. "It was a mistake that cost him his own. My father didn't make you. You were born what you are, and if you need any more proof, just look at who you settled into an apprenticeship with."