My eyes flicked to a stoic Quen, then him. "Piscary almost killed me trying to find out if you hired me to go into the ever-after. It's not going to happen. I'm not going there." I thought of Al waiting for me, my agreement worthless on his side of the lines. "No way."

An apologetic slant came into Trent's eyes as he watched me from across the coffee table. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for Piscary to focus on you. I would have rather told you the entire story last year when you quit the I.S., but I was concerned…" He took a slow breath. "I didn't trust you to keep your mouth shut about our existence."

"You trust me now?" I said, thinking of Jenks.

"Not really, but I have to."

Not really, but I have to. What the hell kind of an answer is that?

"We're too few to let the world know we exist," Trent was saying, his eyes on his laced fingers. "It would be too easy for a zealot to pick us off, and I have enough trouble with Piscary trying to do just that. He knows the threat we will pose to his standing if our numbers increase."

My mouth twisted and I pushed back into the leather. Politics. It was always political. "Can't you just untwist the curse?"

His face was weary as he turned to the window. "We did when we discovered what had happened. But the damage remains, and would be worsening if we didn't find every elven child and fix what we can."

My lips parted in understanding. "The camp. That's why you were there?"

He shifted reluctantly in his chair, looking suddenly nervous. "Yes."

I pressed back farther into the cushions, not knowing if I wanted him to answer my next question. "Why…why was I at that camp?"

Trent's stiff posture eased. "You have a somewhat unusual genetic defect. A good five percent of the witch population has it—a recessive gene which is harmless unless they pair up."

"One in four chance?" I guessed.

"If both parents have it. And if the two recessive genes pair up, it kills you before your first birthday. My father managed to keep it suppressed in you until you were old enough to handle a full course of treatment."

"He did this a lot?" I asked, my stomach knotting. I was alive because of illegal genetic manipulation. It was what I had guessed, but now I knew for sure. Maybe I shouldn't let it bother me. The entire elf race relied on illegal medicine to remain in existence.

"No," Trent said. "Records indicate that with very few exceptions, he allowed infants with your affliction to die, their parents not knowing there was a cure. It's rather expensive."

"Money," I said, and Trent's jaw clenched.

"If the decision was based on money, you wouldn't have seen your first birthday," he said tightly. "My father didn't take one cent for saving your life. He did it because he was friends with your father. You and Lee are the only two running about under the sun that he pulled back from that death, and that was because of friendship. He didn't take a dime for saving either of you. Personally, I'm starting to think he made a mistake."

"This isn't making me want to help you," I said snidely, but Trent gave me a tired look.

"My father was a good man," he said softly. "He wouldn't refuse to help your father save your life when your father had already devoted his life to help him save our entire race."

Frowning, I put a hand to my stomach. I didn't like what I was feeling. My father didn't sacrifice his life in exchange for mine—which was a good thing. But he wasn't the upright, honest, hardworking I.S. runner I had thought. He had willingly helped Trent's father with his illegal activities long before I got sick.

"I'm not a bad person, Rachel," Trent said. "But I will eliminate anyone who threatens to stop the flow of money coming in. My research to repair the damage the demons did to my people's genome isn't cheap. If we could find an old enough sample, we could fix it completely. But it has degraded to the point where we don't know even the color of the pieces anymore."

My thoughts lighted on Ceri, and I steeled my face. The thought of her and Trent meeting was intolerable. Besides, she was only a thousand years old.

Trent's smooth features went tired with a worry far beyond his years. "If the money stops, the next generation of elves will start to slip again. Only if we find a sample from before the curse was twisted can we fix it completely and my species will have a chance. Your father thought it was a task worth dying for."

My eyes flicked to the tarot card with Ceri's likeness and I kept my mouth shut. Trent would use her like a tissue and throw her away.

Trent leaned back, his gaze going sharp on mine. "Well, Ms. Morgan," he said, managing to appear in control even wearing a robe and pj's. "Have I given you enough?"

For a long moment I looked at him, watching his jaw slowly tighten when he realized I was balancing and not knowing which way I was going to jump. Feeling cocky and self-assured, I raised my eyebrows. "Oh hell, Trent. I was going after Lee anyway. What do you think I was doing in your bathtub for two hours? Washing my hair?"

I had no choice but to tag Lee after he tried to blow me up. If I didn't, every mark I put behind bars was going to come out gunning for me.

Trent's face went annoyed. "You've got it figured out already, don't you?" he asked, irritation thick in his river-gray voice.

"Mostly." I beamed, and Quen sighed, clearly having seen beforehand that I was going to snooker his boss but good. "I just need to call my insurance agent and set it up."

Knowing I had gotten the better of Trent was worth more than he could ever line my pockets with, and I snorted when Quen whispered, "Her insurance agent?"

Still sitting, I pointed a finger at Trent. "I've got two things for you to do. Two things, then you back off and let me work. I'm not doing this as a committee. Understand?"

Eyebrows high, Trent said flatly, "What do you want?"

"First, I want you to go to the FIB and tell them Lee knocked out all those people and locked the doors knowing there was a bomb on the boat."

Trent laughed, his warm voice taking on a biting edge. "What is that going to get you?"

"They'll go looking for him. He'll go underground. A warrant will be filed, and with that, I have a legal right to pick him up."

Trent's eyes widened. Behind him, Quen nodded. "That's why…" Trent murmured.

I couldn't help my smile. "You can run from the law, but standing up your insurance adjustor?" I shook my head. "Not a good idea."

"You're going to get in to kill him posing as an insurance agent?"

I wished I could say I was surprised. God, he was so arrogant. "I don't kill people, Trent. I haul their asses to lockup, and I need a reason for keeping him there. I thought he was your friend."

A hint of uncertainty flickered over Trent. "I thought he was, too."

"Maybe his girlfriend knocked him on the head and forced him into leaving?" I said, not believing it. "Wouldn't you feel bad if you killed him, then found out he had tried to save you?"

Trent gave me a weary look. "Always seeing the best in a person, Ms. Morgan?"

"Yeah. Except with you." I started making a mental list of who I had to tell I was alive: Kisten, Jenks—if he'd listen—Ceri, Keasley…Nick? Oh God, my mom. That one ought to be fun.

Pushing his fingers into his forehead, Trent sighed. "You have no idea how this works."

Affronted, I puffed at him and his smarter-than-thou attitude. "Work with me here, huh? Letting the bad guy live might be good for your soul."

He didn't look convinced; he looked patronizing. "Letting Lee live is a mistake. His family won't like him in jail. They'd rather have him dead than be an embarrassment."

"Well isn't that just too bad. I'm not going to kill him, and I'm not going to let you kill him, either, so sit down, shut up, hold on, and watch how real people solve problems."