Every Which Way But Dead (22 page)

I blinked, and Ivy laughed nervously. “Hardly. Rachel doesn't let anyone bite her.” She took a step to her sister, giving her a hug. I felt good when the young woman returned it with a careless attention, apparently not knowing or caring how rarely Ivy touched anyone. The two pulled apart, and Ivy's features stilled. She took a breath, nostrils widening.

Erica grinned like the cat who ate the canary. “Guess who I picked up at the airport?”

Ivy straightened. “Skimmer's here.”

It was almost a whisper, and Erica all but danced back a step. “Came in on a morning flight,” she said, as proud as if she had landed the plane herself.

My eyes widened. Ivy was wire-tight. Breath catching, she spun to an archway at the sound of a door closing. A feminine voice echoed, “Erica? Is that my cab?”

“Skimmer!” Ivy took a step to the archway, then rocked back. She looked at me, more alive than I'd seen her in a long time. A small scuff at the archway pulled her attention from me. Emotion cascaded over her, and the happiness settled in to stay, telling me that Skimmer was one of the few people Ivy felt comfortable to be herself around.

So there were two of us,
I thought, turning to follow her gaze to a young woman standing in the threshold. I felt my brows rise in speculation as I took in what had to be Skimmer. She was dressed in faded jeans and a crisp, white button-down shirt to make a nice mix of casual sophistication. Understated black boots brought her height to about mine. Slim and well-proportioned, the blond woman stood with a confident grace typical of living vampires.

She had a single silver chain about her neck, and her blond hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail to accentuate a bone structure that models could spend a small fortune on plastic surgery to find. I stared at her eyes, wondering if they were really that blue or if they just seemed that way because of her incredibly long eyelashes. Her nose was small and turned up at the end to give her smile a look of shy confidence.

“What are you doing here?” Ivy said, her face alight as she went to greet her. The two women gave each other a long hug. My lips parted and I froze at the lingering kiss before they parted.
Okay…

Ivy slipped me a glance, but she was smiling when she turned back to Skimmer, smiling, still smiling, with her hands on the woman's elbows. “I can't believe you're here!” she said.

Skimmer glanced at me once before focusing on Ivy. She looked like she had enough confidence and smarts to break horses, teach aboriginal children, and dine out at a five-star restaurant all in one day.
And she and Ivy had kissed? Not just a peck, but a real…kiss?

“I'm out here on business,” she said. “Long-term business,” she added, her pleasant voice thick with a pleased emotion. “A year, I'm guessing.”

“A year! Why didn't you call me? I would have picked you up!”

The woman took a step back, and Ivy's hold on her fell away. “I wanted to surprise you,” she said, her smile rising to encompass her blue eyes. “Besides, I wasn't sure of your situation. It's been so long,” she finished softly.

Her eyes fell on me, and I warmed in my new understanding.
Aw, crap on toast. How long had I been living with Ivy? How could I have not known? Was I blind or just stupid?

“Damn,” Ivy swore, still obviously excited. “It's good to see you. What are you out here for? Do you need a place to stay?”

My pulse quickened and I tried to keep my worry from showing. Two of them together in the church? Not good. Even more disturbing was that Skimmer seemed to relax at her offer, losing interest in me and focusing entirely on Ivy.

Erica stood beside me, grinning mischievously. “Skimmer came out to work for Piscary,” she said, clearly eager to tell what she thought was good news, but my face went cold. “It's all arranged. She looks to him now.” Twirling her necklaces, the young vampire beamed. “Just like I always thought she should.”

Ivy took a breath and held it. Wonder crossed her, and she reached out to touch Skimmer's shoulder as if not believing she was really there. “You look to Piscary?” she breathed, and I wondered what the significance was. “Who or what did he give for you?”

Skimmer shrugged, lifting one narrow shoulder and letting it fall. “Nothing yet. I've been trying the last six years to wiggle into his camarilla, and if I work this right, it will be permanent.” She dropped her head briefly, her eyes alight and eager when they rose. “I'm staying at Piscary's place meantime,” she said, “but thanks for the offer to bunk with you.”

Piscary's,
I thought, my worry strengthening. That was where Kisten was living. This was getting better and better. Ivy, too, seemed to have to think about that. “You left your place with Natalie to run Piscary's restaurant?” she asked, and Skimmer laughed. It was comfortable and pleasant, and the volumes that were left unsaid made me uneasy.

“No. Kist can have that job,” she said lightly. “I'm here to get Piscary out of prison. My permanent inclusion into Piscary's camarilla is contingent upon it. If I win my case, I stay. If I lose, I go back home.”

I froze.
Oh my God. She was Piscary's lawyer.

Skimmer hesitated at Ivy's lack of response. Ivy turned to me, a panicked look on her face. I watched the wall come down, sealing everything away. Her happiness, her joy, her excitement at reuniting with an old friend; it was all gone. Something slipped between us, and I felt my chest tighten. Erica's bangles clanked as the young vampire clearly realized something was wrong but not understanding. Hell, I didn't think I understood.

Suddenly wary, Skimmer glanced from me to Ivy. “So, who's your friend?” she asked into the awkward silence.

Ivy licked her lips and turned to face me more fully. I shifted forward, not knowing how to react. “Rachel,” Ivy said, “I'd like you to meet Skimmer. We roomed together for our last two years of high school out on the West Coast. Skimmer, this is Rachel, my partner.”

I took a breath, trying to decide how I should handle this. My hand went out to shake hers, but Skimmer walked past it, taking me into an expansive hug.

I tried not to stiffen, determined to go with the flow until I had a chance to talk to Ivy about just what we were going to do about this. Piscary couldn't get out of prison; I'd never sleep again. My arms went about her in a loose generic hug, and I froze when the woman put her lips under my ear and breathed, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Adrenaline jolted through me as my demon scar flashed into waves of heat. Shocked, I shoved her away, collapsing to a defensive posture. The living vampire fell back, surprise making her long lashes and blue eyes look enormous. She caught her balance a good five feet away. Erica gasped, and Ivy was a black blur coming between us.

“Skimmer!” Ivy shouted, her voice almost panicked as she stood with her back to me.

My heart pounded and sweat broke out. The flaming promise on my neck hurt, it was so strong, and I put a hand to it, feeling betrayed and shocked.

“She's my business partner!” Ivy exclaimed. “Not my blood partner!”

The slim woman stared at us, flashing into a red-faced embarrassment. “Oh God,” she stammered, hunching into a slightly submissive posture. “I'm sorry.” She put a hand to her mouth. “I am really, really sorry.” She looked at Ivy, who was slowly relaxing. “Ivy, I thought you'd taken a shadow. She smells like you. I was just being polite.” Skimmer's gaze darted to me as I tried to slow my heartbeat. “You asked me to stay with you. I thought—God, I'm sorry. I thought she was your shadow. I didn't know she was your…friend.”

“It's all right,” I lied, forcing myself upright. I didn't like the way she had said “friend.” It implied more than what we were. But I currently wasn't up to trying to explain to Ivy's old roommate that we weren't sharing blood or a bed. Ivy wasn't much help, standing with a deer-in-the-headlights look. And I had this weird feeling I was still missing something.
God, how did I get to this place?

Erica was standing by the foot of the stairs, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Skimmer looked distressed as she tried to cover her error, smoothing her hands on her pants and touching her hair. She took a deep breath. Still flushed, she stiffly extended her hand in an obvious show of intent and stepped forward. “I'm sorry,” she said as she halted before me. “My name is Dorothy Claymor. You can call me that if you want to. I probably deserve it.”

I managed to dredge up a stilted smile. “Rachel Morgan,” I said, shaking her hand.

The woman froze, and I pulled away. She looked at Ivy, the pieces falling into place.

“The one who put Piscary in prison,” I added, just to be sure she knew where I stood.

A sick smile came over Ivy. Dropping back a step, Skimmer's gaze went between us. Confusion made her cheeks bright red. This was a mess. This was a sticky, stinking mess of crap, and the levels were steadily rising.

Skimmer swallowed hard. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” Hesitating, she added, “Boy, this is awkward.”

I felt my shoulders ease at her admission. She was going to do what she had to do, and I was going to do what I had to do. And Ivy? Ivy was going to go insane.

Erica moved forward, the jingling of her jewelry sounding loud. “Hey, ah, does anyone want a cookie or something?”

Oh yeah. A cookie. That would make everything better. Dunked in a shot of tequila, maybe? Or better yet, just the bottle? Yeah, that ought to do it.

Skimmer forced a smile. Her crisp mien was wearing thin, but she was holding up well considering she had left her home and master to rekindle a relationship with her high school girlfriend who was rooming with the woman who had put her new boss behind bars.
Join us next time for
Days of the Undead
when Rachel learns her long lost brother is really a crown prince from outer space.
My life was so screwed up.

Skimmer glanced at her watch—I couldn't help but notice it had diamonds on it in place of numbers. “I've got to go. I'm meeting with—someone in about an hour.”

She was going to meet someone in about an hour. Just after the sun went down. Why didn't she just say Piscary?

“You need a ride?” Ivy said, sounding almost wistful, if she would ever let that particular emotion come from her.

Skimmer looked from Ivy to me and back to Ivy, hurt and disappointment flickering in the back of her eyes. “No,” she said softly. “I've got a cab coming.” She swallowed, trying to scrape herself back together. “Actually, I think that's it now.”

I didn't hear anything, but I didn't have a living vampire's hearing.

Skimmer shifted awkwardly forward. “It was nice meeting you,” she said to me, then turned to Ivy. “I'll talk to you later, sweets,” she said, eyes closed as she gave her a long hug.

Ivy was still in a shocked quandary, and she returned it looking numb.

“Skimmer,” I said as they broke apart and the shaken, subdued woman took a thin jacket from the hall closet and put it on. “This isn't what you think.”

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, looking at Ivy for a long moment with deep regret. “It's not what I think that matters,” she said as she opened the door. “It's what Ivy wants.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she left, latching the door softly behind her.

S
kimmer's departure left an awkward silence. As the cab accelerated down the drive, I looked at Ivy standing in the sterile white entryway with its elegant decorations that utterly lacked any warmth. Guilt was thick on her. I knew it was from the reminder that she still harbored the belief that someday I'd be her scion—apparently with a little extra something on the side. It was a position that I think Skimmer had moved out here hopefully to fill.

Not sure what I was feeling, I faced her. “Why did you let her think we were lovers?” I said, shaking inside. “God, Ivy. We aren't even sharing blood, and she thinks we're lovers.”

Ivy's face closed, the barest tightening of her jaw giving away her emotion. “She doesn't think that at all.” She strode out of the room. “Do you want some juice?” she called back.

“No,” I said softly as I followed her deeper into the house. I knew if I pressed the issue right now, she would likely become more closed. This conversation wasn't over, but having it in front of Erica wasn't a good idea. My head hurt. Maybe I could get her to talk about it over coffee and cheesecake while we were shopping. Maybe I should move to Timbuktu, or the Tennessee mountains, or somewhere else where there weren't any vampires. (Don't ask. It's weird, even for Inderlanders—which is saying a lot.)

Erica was tight on my heels, her mindless chatter an obvious attempt to cover up the issues that Skimmer had raised. Her bright voice filled the sterile house with life as she trailed after us through large dim rooms full of hardwood furniture and cold drafts. I made a mental note to never get Erica and Jenks in the same room. No wonder Ivy didn't have a problem with Jenks. Her sister was cut from the same cloth.

Ivy's boots were slow on the polished floor when we left a dark blue formal dining room and entered a brightly lit, spacious kitchen. I blinked. Ivy met my startled gaze and shrugged. I knew that Ivy had remodeled the church's kitchen before I had moved in, and as I looked around, I realized she had patterned it after the one she grew up with.

The room was nearly as spacious, that same center island counter taking up the middle. Cast-iron pots and metal utensils hung over it instead of my ceramic spoons and copper spell vats, but it made the same comfortable spot to lean against. There was a heavy antique table—twin to ours—against the near wall, right where I'd expect it. Even the cupboards were the same style, and the counters had an identical color. The floor, though, was tile instead of linoleum.

Past the sink where I had a single window overlooking the graveyard, there was a bank of windows that showed a long snowfield running down to the gray ribbon of the Ohio River. Ivy's parents owned a lot of property. You could graze cattle down there.

A kettle steamed on the stove, and as Ivy moved it off the burner, I dropped my bag on the table where my chair would be if I was home. “This is nice,” I said wryly.

Ivy gave me a cautious look, clearly glad I had shelved the pending discussion about Skimmer. “It was cheaper to do both kitchens at once,” she said, and I nodded. It was warm, and I took my coat off, draping it on the back of the chair.

Stretching to show the small of her back, Erica stood on one foot to reach a glass jar half full of what looked like sugar cookies. Leaning against the counter, she ate one, offering Ivy another but none to me. I had a feeling they weren't sugar cookies but those awful cardboard-tasting disks that Ivy had kept shoving down my throat last spring when I was recovering from a massive blood loss. Sort of a vampire pick-me-up that helped support their—ah—lifestyle.

A muffled thumping grew louder, and I turned to what I had thought was a pantry door. It creaked opened to show a staircase leading down. A tall gaunt man was coming up and out of the shadows. “Hi, Dad,” Ivy said, and I straightened, smiling at the softness in her voice.

“Ivy…” The man beamed as he set a tray with two tiny empty cups down on the table. His voice was gravely, matching his skin: rough and pebbly. I recognized the texture as scars left from the Turn. It had affected some more than others, and witches, pixies, and fairies not at all. “Skimmer's here,” he said gently.

“I saw her,” Ivy said, and he hesitated at the lack of anything more.

He looked tired, his brown eyes content as he gave Ivy a quick hug. Gently waving black hair framed his serious face softly lined with what looked like worry rather than age. It was obvious that this was where Ivy got her height. The living vampire was tall, with a refinement that turned his gaunt frame pleasing rather than unattractive. He was wearing jeans and a casual shirt. Small, almost unseen lines scarred his neck, and his arms showing past his rolled-up sleeves had the same marks on the underside. It must be hard being married to an undead.

“I'm glad you came home,” the man said, his eyes flicking briefly to me and the cross on my charm bracelet before settling back on his daughter with an obvious warmth. “Your mother will be up in a bit. She wants to talk to you. Skimmer put her in a rare mood.”

“No.” Ivy dropped back out of his touch. “I wanted to ask you something, is all.”

He nodded once, his thin lips falling into a resigned disappointment. I felt a slight tingle from my demon scar as he poured the steaming water into a second teapot. The clanking of the porcelain was loud. Arms crossed before me, I leaned to rest against the table to distance myself. I hoped the tingle was a lingering sensation from Skimmer and didn't stem from Ivy's dad. I didn't think it was him. He looked too calm to be fighting a need to slack his hunger.

“Dad,” Ivy said, seeing my unease. “This is Rachel. Rachel, this is my dad.”

As if aware my scar was tingling, Ivy's dad stayed at the other end of the kitchen, taking the cookies from Erica and putting them back into the cookie jar. The girl huffed, then grimaced at her dad's raised eyebrow. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his attention returning to me.

“Hello, Mr. Randal,” I said, not liking the way he was eyeing Ivy and me standing beside each other. I suddenly felt as if I was on a date, meeting the parents, and I flushed. I didn't like his knowing smile. Apparently neither did Ivy.

“Stop it, Dad.” Ivy pulled out a chair and sat. “Rachel is my roommate, not my live-in.”

“You'd better make sure Skimmer knows that.” His narrow chest moved as he breathed deeply to take in the emotions on the air. “She came out here for you. Left everything. Think hard before you walk away from that. She has good breeding behind her. An unbroken millennium line is hard to find.”

Tension slammed back into me and I felt myself stiffen.

“Oh God,” Erica moaned, her hand back in the cookie jar. “Don't start, Daddy. We just had an ugly in the hallway.”

Smiling to show teeth, he reached across to take the cookie from her and ate a bite. “Don't you have to be to work soon?” he said when he swallowed.

The young vampire jiggled. “Daddy, I want to go to the concert. All my friends are.”

My eyebrows rose. Ivy shook her head with the smallest of movements, a private answer to my question as to whether we should tell him we were going and that we'd keep an eye on her.

“No,” her father said, brushing the crumbs from himself as he finished his cookie.

“But, Daddy…”

Opening the jar, he took out three more. “You don't have enough control—”

Erica puffed, slumping against the counter. “My control is fine,” she said sulkily.

He straightened, the first hints of steel tightening his face. “Erica, your hormones are jumping up and down right now. One night you have control in a stressful situation, the next you lose it while you're watching TV. You aren't wearing your caps like you're supposed to, and I don't want you to accidentally bind someone to you.”

“Daddy!” she cried, flushing a dull, embarrassed red.

Getting two glasses from the cupboard, Ivy snickered. My uneasiness faded slightly.

“I know…” her father said, his head bowed and a hand raised. “A lot of your friends have shadows, and it looks like fun having someone trailing behind you, seeking your attention and always there. You're the center of their world, and they see only you. But Erica, bonded shadows are a lot of work. They aren't pets you can give to a friend when you tire of them. They need reassurance and attention. You're too young to have that kind of responsibility.”

“Daddy, stop!” Erica said, clearly mortified. I sat as Ivy got a carton of orange juice from the fridge. I wondered how much of this was for Erica and how much of it was his way of trying to scare me off from his eldest daughter. It was working. Not that I needed any encouragement.

The living vampire's face went stern. “You're being careless,” he said, his gravely voice harsh. “Taking risks that might put you in a place you don't want to be yet. Don't think I don't know you take your caps off as soon as you leave this house. You aren't going to that concert.”

“That's not fair!” she shouted, spiked hair bobbing. “I'm pulling all A's
and
working part-time. It's
just
a
concert!
There won't even be any Brimstone there!”

He shook his head as she huffed. “Until that bad Brimstone is off the streets, you will be home before sunrise, young lady. I'm not going down to the city tombs to identify and bring a member of my house home. I've done that once, and I'm not ready to do it again.”

“Daddy!”

Ivy handed her father a glass of juice, then sat down with her drink in the chair adjacent to mine. Crossing her legs at the knees, she said, “I'm going to the concert.”

Erica gasped, her jewelry tinkling as she jumped. “Daddy!” she cried. “Ivy's going. I won't take any Brimstone and I won't bite anyone. I promise! Oh God! Please let me go!”

Eyebrows high, Ivy's dad looked at Ivy. She shrugged, and Erica held her breath. “If it's all right with your mother, it's all right with me,” he finally said.

“Thank you, Daddy!” Erica squealed. She flung herself at him, almost knocking her taller father down. In a clatter of boots, she yanked the door to the stairwell open and thumped downstairs. The door arched closed, and Erica's shouts grew muffled.

The man sighed, his thin shoulders moving. “Just how long were you going to let her beg before you told me you were going?” he asked wryly.

Her eyes on her juice, Ivy smiled. “Long enough that she will listen to me when I tell her to wear her caps or I'll change my mind.”

A chuckle rose. “You learn well, young grasshopper,” he said, affecting a strong accent.

There was a thumping on the stairs and Erica burst out, eyes black in excitement, chains swinging. “She said yes! Gotta go! Love you, Daddy! Thanks, Ivy!” She made a pair of bunny ears with her fingers, crooking them as she said, “Kiss, kiss!” and darted out of the room.

“Do you have your caps?” her father shouted after her.

“Yes!” she called back, her voice faint.

“Take some of those necklaces off, young lady!” he added, but the door slammed. The quiet was a relief, and I met Ivy's smile with bemused wonder. Erica could really fill a room.

Ivy's father put his glass down. His face seemed to take on more wrinkles, and I could see the strain his body was enduring to supply the blood his undead wife needed to stay sane.

I watched Ivy shift her fingers on her glass to spin it where it sat. Slowly her smile faded. “Has she been to see Piscary?” she asked softly, the sudden worry in her voice drawing my attention. This was why Ivy had come to talk to her dad, and as I thought of Erica's carefree, wild innocence in Piscary's manipulative embrace, I worried, too.

Ivy's dad, though, didn't seem to have a problem with it, taking a slow sip of juice before answering, “Yes. She visits him every two weeks. As is respectful.” My brow pinched at the implied question, and I wasn't surprised when he followed up with, “Have you?”

Ivy stilled the fingers encircling her glass. Uncomfortable, I looked for a way to excuse myself and go hide in the car. Ivy glanced at me, then her father. He leaned back, waiting. From outside came the rumble of Erica's car, fading to leave the hum of the clock on the oven the only sound. Ivy took a breath. “Dad, I made a mistake.”

I felt Ivy's dad's eyes land on me, even though I was staring out the window trying to divorce myself from the conversation. “We should talk about this when your mother is available,” he said, and I took a quick breath.

“You know,” I said as I got up, “I think I'll go wait in the car.”

“I don't want to talk about it with Mom, I want to talk about it with you,” Ivy said crossly. “And there's no reason Rachel can't hear this.”

The hidden request in Ivy's voice stopped me short. I sank back down, ignoring the obvious disapproval from her dad. This wasn't going to be fun. Maybe she wanted my opinion of the conversation to balance out her own. I could do that for her.

“I made a mistake,” Ivy said softly. “I don't want to be Piscary's scion.”

“Ivy…” There was a tired weariness in that one word. “It's time to start taking on your responsibilities. Your mother was his scion before she died. The benefits—”

“I don't want them!” Ivy said, and I watched her eyes closely, wondering if the ring of brown about her pupil was shrinking. “Maybe if he wasn't in my head all the time,” she added, moving her juice away. “But I can't take it anymore. He just keeps pushing.”

“He wouldn't if you would go see him.”

Ivy sat straighter, eyes on the table. “I did go see him. I told him that I wasn't going to be his scion and to get out of my head. He laughed at me. He said I had made a choice and now I had to live and die by it.”

“You did make a choice.”

“And now I'm making another one,” she shot back, her eyes lowered submissively but her voice determined. “I'm not going to do it. I don't want to run Cincinnati's underground, and I won't.” She took a deep breath, her eyes rising to his. “I can't tell if I like something anymore because
I
like it or because Piscary likes it. Dad, will you talk to him for me?”