Summary: Set about two months after BMS. Rachel and Trent find a way to fix their personal problems and begin treating each other like adults. But while their childish ways caused problems for them, seeing each other as adults brings about an entirely new set of issues. Rachel x Trent.

Disclaimer: None of the wonderful Hollows characters are mine, a good thing because I could never write them as well as Kim Harrison does. Additionally I don't make any money off of this stuff.

Spoilers: Probably, for Black Magic Sanction and everything before it.

Chapter 1: Hypothetical Spells

"No way, Trent!" Rachel Morgan glared at me across my desk. "I don't care how important it is to you. Find someone else to do it because I'm not going to work for you."

I stifled a sigh of frustration, though I'm sure my irritation was plain on my face. The woman could drive a saint to murder. "Thirty thousand, then." At least my voice still sounded calm.

She leaned back in the chair, her posture sloppy. "You don't get it, Trent. I'm not broke right now. It doesn't matter how much money you throw at me, I won't do your dirty work." She smiled nastily, and I took a deep breath, uncurling my fists slowly.

My impending tirade was interrupted by a knock on my office door. "Come in," I said, composing myself. I knew my staff wouldn't interrupt me if it wasn't important.

Quen, my head of security, stepped inside and closed the door. "My apologies for interrupting, but we just received a message about tomorrow's shipment. There's been an incident."

I nodded my understanding, keeping my displeasure at this turn of events off my face. "I'll take care of it as soon as I'm finished here."

Quen bowed slightly and turned to go.

"And you wonder why I won't work for you? You're just drug-dealing scum. I don't know how you can sleep at night!"

"Is that so?" I said, letting the anger I felt creep into my voice. "At least I know exactly what I am. I don't pretend to be pure and righteous with stained hands and aura."

I saw her jaw clench; apparently that had hit home. She stood abruptly, fists clenched at her sides. Quen tensed behind her, ready to move in if she should be foolish enough to attack me.

"Everything I've done has been to save my friends, the people I care about. You wouldn't understand, though. You don't care about anyone but yourself." She turned, pushing past Quen to the door, and left, slamming it behind her.

I took another deep breath to calm myself. I could feel the heat in my face and knew it was red from anger. I closed my eyes, focusing on a mental image of my waterfall to regain my center. I heard Quen settle in the chair opposite my desk.

"Sa'han," he began softly, "I don't mean to be unkind, but you and Miss Morgan are fighting like children. I might expect such childish behavior from her, but you should know better. It's beneath your station.

I sighed and opened my eyes. "I know that, Quen, I really do. I don't understand how she affects me like that. We can't seem to interact like normal, rational adults. Goodness knows I don't have this problem with anyone else."

Quen frowned. "Doesn't that seem odd to you? There must be a reason why only she has that effect on you."

Her personality, I thought, but I took in the serious, almost concerned cast of Quen's features and considered it more seriously. I twirled a pen thoughtfully on my desk. "Well, it certainly would explain some things."

I thought about it for a moment longer, then picked up my phone and dialed the gate guard. "Has Rachel Morgan left yet?" I asked curtly, not waiting for his greeting.

"No, sir," the man replied.

Good, I thought. "Do not allow her to leave. If she throws a fit, tell her to talk to me about it. Understood?"

I waited for his acknowledgment, then hung up the phone. I pulled the paperwork for tomorrow's brimstone shipment out of my desk, checked the number, and called the foreman in charge of it.

I listened patiently to his excuses for about a minute before interrupting him. "Fascinating, I'm sure, but I want solutions, not excuses." I paused for a second to make sure he'd gotten the idea. "Now this is what I want you to do. How much of the product is ready?"

"Uh, all but ten pounds, sir."

"Take what you've got and send it on an earlier shipment, just get it out of town. No need to change the rest of the schedule when the problem is local. The rest can be sent out with the next shipment."

"Oh! Very good, sir. That's just what I'll do," he babbled.

"Now you see, that wasn't so hard. Perhaps next time instead of panicking you should try to solve the problem yourself, without needing to trouble me."

My office door flew open and Rachel stormed in, madder than when she'd left. Quen, who had jumped up at the sudden commotion, moved subtly toward my desk to stand almost between us. I held up a finger to hold her off as the foreman thanked me profusely and finally hung up. I replaced the phone in its cradle and looked up at the fuming redhead.

"Care to explain why you told your lackey not to let me leave?" Her green eyes flashed with anger.

"Certainly," I said, gesturing for her to sit down. She ignored me, remaining standing. "I have a job for you."

"That's all?" she said, her incredulity overcoming her anger for a second. "I already said no. Maybe you forgot!"

I frowned at her. "This is a different job, Miss Morgan. I suggest you pay close attention as it affects you as well as me."

She narrowed her eyes at me, but I could tell I had her attention now. I collected my thoughts, reorganizing them to try and explain my suspicion.

"It seems to me that the effect you have on me, that is, short-circuiting my rational mind, is something completely unique to you. In short, I deal with many annoying people on a daily basis and manage not to lose my temper. It's only when dealing with you that I have this issue.

"There is, to my mind, something...unnatural about the way we simply cannot get along. I'd like you to investigate the possibility of some kind of spell or other effect that could be causing this."

During my speech her expression changed from surprise and skepticism to one of consideration and some concern. She sat down, frowning slightly.

"I'll pay you ten thousand for the job, and if you manage to reverse the spell I'll double it."

I sat back and watched her think. I found it amusing to see every thought she had written on her face. Anger at me was warring in her with curiosity and growing suspicion. And what do you know, her anger seemed to be losing. She was probably considering the possibility that the anger she felt was not even her own, but caused by some unknown spell. That certainly worked in my favor, better than I could ever have planned.

"Okay, I'll do it," she said, sounding almost subdued after how she had been yelling earlier.

I smiled, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from me. Maybe this mess actually could be fixed. "Thank you. Please call me with your findings."

She left with a nod, shutting the door quietly behind her this time. Quen looked at me for a long moment, an odd gleam in his eyes, before leaving as well.

I began organizing the evening's paperwork on my desktop, then paused and dialed the gate guard again, instructing him to allow Rachel Morgan to enter and exit freely.

I worked diligently on my paperwork for about 2 hours, the only break being a brief business call from one of my labs. Ah, the glamorous life of the rich and famous. It really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

After most of the staff went home for the night I found my attention wandering. I pulled up the internet on a whim and began checking online spell databases for a spell that could cause strife between two specific people, or make everything another person said come off as irritating. 45 minutes of searching found me nothing that would have the effect I was looking for, and I gave up, discouraged.

Frustrated at my lack of success, I hit the intercom. "Quen?"

He answered almost immediately. "Yes, Sa'han?"

"Would you mind asking Ceri about that spell we discussed earlier?"

"Certainly. But I believe she is asleep right now."

"Don't wake her, it can wait." She was due to give birth within two weeks, and none of us in the household would do anything to discomfit her.

"Curious, Sa'han?" Quen's voice carried a hint of amusement.

It was rare that I could hide anything from that man. "Quite," I replied, rolling my eyes to myself. Peeved, I glared at the remaining paperwork for several minutes before finally giving up, sitting down to a light dinner, and going to bed early.

The next morning I found Quen and Ceri eating breakfast when I entered the dining area. I was a bit surprised as we usually ate separately, but I figured it probably had something to do with my inquiry from yesterday evening.

"Good morning," I said politely, seating myself opposite from the couple. They were eating sausages and blueberry pancakes, and I helped myself to some from the serving plate in the center of the table. They both nodded at my greeting. I poured melted butter and maple syrup over my pancakes and began eating in silence.

After a few minutes Ceri delicately wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Quen says you wanted to know if I knew anything about a spell."

I nodded, my mouth full of pancake, and chewed quickly so I could speak. "I was hoping you might know of a spell that would make Rachel Morgan and myself fight all the time."

She nodded. "I'm afraid I don't know of any spell like that. I don't know much about earth magic, but I'm not familiar with any ley line spell or demon curse that would do that. Now," she put a hand up, smiling almost sadly, "I certainly don't know everything about spells. There may well be a spell like that which I don't know about. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help."

I shook my head. "Not at all. Everything we can do to narrow down the possibilities helps." I smiled warmly at her. "Your input is much appreciated."

She smiled back at me. She looked like an angel when she smiled, and it almost hurt me to know that her soul was hopelessly stained with smut from her time as a demon's familiar. Unfortunately for me, despite her beauty, her relative genetic purity and her royal status, I couldn't bear to get close to her for simple fear of that stain. It shamed me somewhat that Quen could accept it and trust her and I couldn't, but the shame wasn't strong enough to overcome the fear. After all, she could slough that imbalance off on another if she so chose.

And who in their right mind wouldn't seize the chance to lessen such a terrible stain?

I know, Ceri wouldn't, but Trent can't understand that, being his untrusting, opportunistic self. Please review, I thrive on encouragement and constructive criticism!