Every Which Way But Dead (23 page)

My eyes widened at her pleading tone. The only time I had heard it before was when she thought she was dead and was begging me to keep her safe. My jaw clenched as I remembered. God, that had been awful. When I looked up at his continued silence, I was startled to find Ivy's dad watching me. His lips were pressed tight and his gaze was angry, as if this was my fault.

“You're his scion,” he said, his eyes accusingly on mine. “Stop shirking your duties.”

Ivy's nostrils flared. I really didn't want to be here, but if I moved, I would only draw attention to myself. “I made a mistake,” she said angrily. “And I'm willing to pay the cost to get out of it, but he's going to start hurting people to make me do what he wants. That's not fair.”

He made a scoffing laugh and rose. “Did you expect anything different? He's going to use everything and everyone he can to manipulate you. He's a master vampire.” Putting his hands on the table, he leaned toward Ivy. “It's what they do.”

Cold, I sent my gaze down to the river below. It didn't matter if Piscary was in jail or not. All he had to do was say the word, and his minions would not only bring Ivy in line but get me out of his hair as well. Expensive, but effective.

But Ivy pulled her head up, shaking it in reassurance before turning her damp eyes to her father. “Dad, he said he's going to start calling on Erica.”

The man's face went ashen to make the small fever scars stand out starkly. Relief that Piscary wasn't targeting me flashed through me, then guilt that I could feel such a thing. “I'll talk to him,” he whispered, the worry in his voice for his innocent, so-alive daughter clear.

I felt sick. In their conversation were the dark, ugly shadows of the hidden pacts older children made to each other to protect a younger, innocent sibling from an abusive parent. The feeling solidified when her dad repeated softly, “I'll talk to him.”

“Thank you.”

All of us seemed to draw away in an uncomfortable silence. It was time to go. Ivy stood first, quickly followed by me. I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair and shrugged into it. Ivy's dad rose slowly, seeming twice as tired as when we came in. “Ivy,” he said as he came close. “I'm proud of you. I don't agree with what you're doing, but I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Smiling a close-lipped smile in relief, she gave him a hug. “We gotta go. I've got a run tonight.”

“Darvan's girl?” he asked, and she nodded, the hint of guilt and fear on her still. “Good. You keep doing what you're doing. I'll talk to Piscary and see what I can work out.”

“Thanks.”

He turned to me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel.”

“Same here, Mr. Randal.” I was glad the vampire talk seemed to be over. We could all pretend to be normal again; hide the ugliness under the five-thousand-dollar rug.

“Wait, Ivy. Here.” The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn wallet, turning himself from a vampire into just another dad.

“Dad,” Ivy protested. “I've got my own money.”

He smiled with half his mouth. “Think of it as a thank-you for watching Erica at the concert. Have lunch on me.”

I said nothing as he shoved a hundred dollar bill into Ivy's hand, pulling her forward into a one-armed hug. “I'll call you tomorrow morning,” he said softly.

Ivy's shoulders lost their usual upright posture. “I'll come by. I don't want to talk over the phone.” She shot me a forced, close-lipped smile. “Ready to go?”

I nodded, giving Ivy's dad a head bob as I followed her out into the dining room and to the front door. Knowing how good vamp hearing was, I kept my mouth shut until the elegantly carved door thumped shut behind us and our feet were again on the snow. It had grown dusky, and the snow-drifts seemed to glow in the light reflected off the sky.

Erica's car was gone. Key's jingling, Ivy hesitated. “Hold up,” she said, boots squeaking in the snow as she went to where the red car had been parked. “I think she ditched her caps.”

I stood by my open door and waited while Ivy came to a standstill beside the wheel marks. Eyes closed, she flung her hand as if throwing something, and then strode to the other side of the drive. As I watched in a mystified silence, she searched the snow. Bending at the waist twice, she picked something up. She came back and got into the car without comment.

I followed her in and fastened my belt, wishing it were darker so I didn't have to watch her drive. At my questioning silence, Ivy held out her hand and dropped two bits of hollow plastic into my grip. The car started, and I aimed the vents at me, hoping the engine was still warm. “Caps?” I asked, looking at them small and white in my palm as Ivy pulled away.
How on earth did she find these in the snow?

“Guaranteed to keep from breaking skin,” Ivy said, her thin lips pressing together. “And with that, she can't accidentally bind anyone to her. She's supposed to wear them until Dad says so. And at this rate, she's going to be thirty before that happens. I know where she works. Mind if we drop them off?”

I shook my head, extending them back to her. Ivy checked both ways at the end of the drive before pulling out in front of a blue station wagon, wheels spinning in the slush. “I've got an empty caps case in my purse. Would you put them in there for me?”

“Sure.” I didn't like digging around in her purse, but if I didn't, she'd do it while driving, and my stomach was in enough knots already. I felt odd as I put Ivy's purse on my lap and opened it up. It was disgustingly tidy. Not a single used tissue or lint-covered candy.

“Mine is the one with the colored glass on it,” Ivy said, watching the road with half her attention. “I should have a plastic one in there, somewhere. The disinfectant is probably still good. Dad would kill her if he knew she threw them in the snow. They cost as much as her summer camp last year in the Andes.”

“Oh.” My three summers spent at Kalamack's Make-A-Wish camp for dying children suddenly looked pale. Shifting past a small container that looked like an elaborately decorated pillbox was a thumb-sized white vial. I unscrewed the top to find it full of a bluish liquid.

“That's the one,” Ivy said, and I dropped them in. They floated, and when I went to stick my pinky in to sink them, she added, “Just put the top on and give it a shake. They'll sink.”

I did just that, dropping the vial into her purse and setting it beside her.

“Thanks,” Ivy said. “The time I ‘lost' mine, he grounded me for a month.”

I gave her a weak smile, thinking it was kind of like losing your glasses or retainer…or maybe your diaphragm.
Oh God. Did I really want to know all this?

“You still wear caps?” I said, curiosity getting the better of me. She didn't seem to be embarrassed about it. Maybe I should just go with it.

Ivy shook her head, signaling an instant before she crossed two lanes of traffic to get to the expressway's onramp. “No,” she said as I clutched the door handle. “Not since I was seventeen. But I keep them in case—” She cut her words off. “Just in case.”

Just in case what? I wondered, then decided I didn't want to know. “Uh, Ivy?” I questioned as I tried not to figure out where she was going to force herself into traffic. I held my breath while we merged and, from behind us, horns blew. “What the heck does bunny ears and ‘kiss, kiss' mean?”

She stared at me, and I made a peace sign and crooked my fingers twice in quick succession. An odd smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “Those aren't bunny ears,” she said. “Those are fangs.”

I thought about that, then flushed. “Oh.”

Ivy chuckled. I eyed her for a moment, then deciding there would be no better time, I took a slow breath. “Um, about Skimmer…”

Her good mood vanished. She shot me a look, then put her eyes back on the road. “We were roommates.” A faint flush came over her, telling me it was more than that. “We were
very
close roommates,” she added carefully, as if I hadn't already figured it out. Ivy hit the brakes hard to avoid a black BMW that wanted to pen her in behind a minivan. Accelerating quickly, she darted around to the right, leaving him behind.

“She came out here because of you,” I said, feeling my blood quicken. “Why didn't you tell her we aren't like that?”

Her grip on the wheel tightened. “Because…” She took a soft breath and tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a nervous tic that I didn't see very often. “Because I didn't want to,” she said as she settled in behind a red Trans-Am doing fifteen over the posted limit.

Eyes worried, she looked at me, ignoring the green minivan that both the Trans-Am and we were roaring up on. “I'm not going to apologize, Rachel. The night you decide taking and giving blood isn't sex, I'm going to be there. I'll take what I can until you do.”

Horribly uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat. “Ivy…”

“Don't,” she said lightly as she yanked the car to the right, hitting the gas to dart ahead of both of them. “I know how you feel about it. I can't change your mind. You're going to have to figure it out for yourself. Skimmer being here doesn't change anything.” She slipped in front of the van, giving me a soft smile that convinced me even more that blood was sex. “And then you'll spend the rest of your life kicking yourself for waiting so long to take that chance.”

T
he commercial cut in, the volume jarring me as I sat on the couch. Sighing, I pulled my knees to my chin and hugged my legs. It was early, just after two in the morning, and I was trying to find the gumption to go make something to eat. Ivy was still on her run, and even with the awkward conversation in the car, I was hoping she'd be home early enough so we could go out. Warming up a potpie and eating alone had all the appeal of pulling the skin off my shins.

Grabbing the remote, I muted the TV. This was depressing. I was sitting on the couch on a Friday night watching
Die Hard
, alone. Nick should have been there with me. I missed him. I think I missed him. I missed something. Maybe I just missed being held. Was I that shallow?

Tossing the remote down, I realized a voice was coming from the front of the church. I sat up; it was a man's voice. Alarmed, I tapped the line out back. Between one breath and the next, my center filled. With the force of the line running through me, I gathered myself to rise, only to sink down when Jenks flew into the room at head height. The soft hum of his wings told me in an instant that whatever was up front wasn't going to kill me
or
put money in my pocket.

Eyes wide, he landed on the lampshade. The dust sifting from him floated upward with the rising heat of the bulb. He was usually tucked in my desk asleep at this hour, which was why I was having my pity party now so I could sulk without interference. “Hey, Jenks,” I said as I let go of the line and the unfocused magic left me. “Who's here?”

His face became worried. “Rachel, we might have a problem.”

I eyed him sourly. I was sitting alone watching
Die Hard.
That was a problem, not whatever had come waltzing in our door. “Who is it?” I said flatly. “I already ran off the Jehovah Witnesses. You would think living in a church, they might get the idea, but no-o-o-o.”

Jenks frowned. “Some Were in a cowboy hat. He wants me to sign a paper saying I ate that fish we stole for the Howlers.”

“David?” I jerked out of the chair and headed for the sanctuary.

Jenks's wings were a harsh buzz as he flew beside me. “Who's David?”

“An insurance adjustor.” My brow furrowed. “I met him yesterday.”

Sure enough, David was sanding in the middle of the empty room, looking uncomfortable in his long coat and hat pulled down over his eyes. Pixy children were watching from under the crack of the rolltop desk, their pretty faces all lined up in a row. He was on a cell phone, and upon seeing me, he muttered a few words, closed the cover, and tucked it away.

“Hello, Rachel,” he said, cringing as his voice echoed. His eyes ran over my casual jeans and red sweater, and then went to the ceiling as he shifted from foot to foot. It was obvious he wasn't comfortable in the church, like most Weres, but it was psychological not biological.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he said as he took off his hat and crushed it in a tight grip. “But hearsay won't stand up in this case. I need your partner to verify he ate that wishing fish.”

“Holy crap! It was a wishing fish!” There was a chorus of shrill cries from the desk. Jenks made a harsh sound, and the faces lining the crack scattered back into the shadows.

David took a trifolded paper from a pocket of his duster and unfolded it atop Ivy's piano. “If you could sign here?” he said, then straightened, his eyes suspicious. “You
did
eat it?”

Jenks looked scared, his wings a blue so dark they were almost purple. “Yeah. We ate it. Are we going to be all right?”

I tried to hide my smile, but David grinned, his teeth looking white in the dim light of the sanctuary. “I think you'll be fine, Mr. Jenks,” he said, clicking open a pen and holding it out.

My eyebrows rose. David hesitated, looking from the pen to the pixy. The pen was the larger of the two. “Ummm,” he said, shifting on his feet.

“I've got it.” Jenks zipped to the desk, returning with a pencil lead. I watched him carefully write his name, the ultrasonic chatter from the desk making my eyes hurt. Jenks rose, pixy dust sifting from him. “Hey, uh, we aren't in any trouble, are we?”

The pungent scent of ink assailed me, and David looked up from notarizing it. “Not from our end of things. Thank you, Mr. Jenks.” He looked at me. “Rachel.”

A soft rattling of the windows from an air-pressure shift brought both our heads up. Someone had opened the back door to the church. “Rachel?” came a high voice, and I blinked.

It was my mom?
Bewildered, I looked at David. “Ah, it's my mom. Maybe you ought to go. Unless you want her to bully you into taking me on a date.”

David's face went startled as he tucked the paper away. “No. I'm done. Thanks. I probably should have called first, but it
is
normal business hours.”

My face warmed. I had just added ten thousand to my bank account, courtesy of Quen and his “little problem.” I could sit on my butt and sulk for one night if I wanted. And I wasn't going to prep the charms I'd be using on said run tonight. Spelling after midnight under a waning moon was asking for trouble. Besides, how I arranged my day was not his business.

Bothered, I looked at the back of the church, not wanting to be rude but not wanting my mom to play twenty questions with David, either. “I'll be right there, Mom!” I shouted, then turned to Jenks. “Will you see him out for me?”

“Sure thing, Rache.” Jenks rose up to head height to accompany David into the foyer.

“'Bye, David,” I said, and he gave me a raised-hand good-bye and put his hat on.

Why does it all happen at once?
I thought, hustling to the kitchen. My mom visiting unannounced would top off an already perfect day. Tired, I entered the kitchen to find her with her head in my fridge. From the sanctuary came the boom of the front door closing.

“Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice pleasant. “It's great to see you. But it's business hours.” My thoughts went to my bathroom, wondering if my undies were still atop the dryer.

Smiling, she straightened, peeking at me from around the door of the fridge. She was wearing sunglasses, and they looked really odd with her straw hat and sundress.
Sundress? She was in a sundress? It was below twenty out there.

“Rachel!” Smiling, she shut the door and opened her arms. “Give me a hug, honey.”

Thoughts whirling, I absently returned her embrace. Maybe I should call her psychologist and make sure she was still making her appointments. An odd smell clung to her, and as I pulled away, I said, “What is that you're wearing? It smells like burnt amber.”

“That's because it is, love.”

Shocked, my eyes went to her face. Her voice had dropped several octaves. Adrenaline shook me. I jerked back, only to find a white-gloved hand gripping my shoulder. I froze, unable to move as a ripple of ever-after cascaded over her, revealing Algaliarept.
Oh, crap. I was dead.

“Good evening, familiar,” the demon said, smiling to show me flat blocky teeth. “Let's find a ley line and get you home, hmm?”

“Jenks!” I shrieked, hearing my voice harsh with terror. Leaning back, I swung my foot up, kicking him square in the 'nads.

Al grunted, his red, goat-slitted eyes widening. “Bitch,” he said, reaching down and grabbing my ankle.

Gasping, I went down as he yanked me onto my butt. I hit with a thump, panicking. As I kicked ineffectively at him, he dragged me out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Rachel!” Jenks shrilled, black pixy dust sifting from him.

“Get me a charm!” I shouted as I grabbed the archway and hung on.
Oh God. He had me. If he got me to a line, he could physically drag me to the ever-after, me saying no or not.

Arms tensing, I fought to hold onto the wall long enough for Jenks to open my charm cupboard and grab one. I didn't need a finger stick; my lip was already bleeding from the fall.

“Here,” Jenks cried, hovering at ankle height to look me right in the eye. He had the cord to a sleep charm in his grip. His eyes were frightened and his wings were red.

“Don't think so, witch,” Al said, giving me a jerk.

Pain sliced through my shoulder, and my grip was torn away. “Rachel!” Jenks exclaimed as my fingernails scraped the hardwood floor and then the carpet in the living room.

Al muttered Latin, and I cried out as an explosion blew the back door off its hinges.

“Jenks! Get out! Get your kids safe!” I shouted when cold air raced in to replace the air the explosion had blown out. Dogs barked as I slid down the stairs on my stomach. Snow, ice, and rock salt scraped my middle and my chin. I stared up at the shattered doorframe as David's silhouette showed black against the light. I held my hand out for the charm Jenks had dropped. “The charm!” I screamed when he clearly had no idea what I wanted. “Throw me the charm!”

Al came to a halt. His English riding boots making prints on the unshoveled walk, he turned.
“Detrudo,”
he said, clearly a trigger word for a curse imprinted on his memory.

I gasped as a black and red shadow of ever-after struck David, throwing him into the far wall and out of my sight. “David!” I called as Al started dragging me again.

Wiggling, I twisted so I was on my butt and not my stomach. I cut a small swath through the snow behind Al as he pulled me kicking to the wooden gate at the front of the garden that led to the street. Al couldn't use the ley line in the graveyard to drag me into the ever-after, as it was entirely encircled by holy ground that he couldn't cross. The nearest ley line I knew about was eight blocks away.
I had a chance,
I thought, the cold snow soaking my jeans.

“Let go!” I demanded, kicking the back of Al's knees with my one free foot.

His leg buckled and he stopped, his irate look clear in the light from the streetlamp. He couldn't turn misty to avoid the strikes since I would be able to slip his grip. “What a canicula you are,” he said, taking both ankles with one hand and continuing.

“I don't want to go!” I shouted, grabbing onto the edges of the gate as we passed through it. We jerked to a stop, and Al sighed.

“Let go of the fence,” he said, sounding tired.

“No!” My muscles started to shake as I fought to keep unmoving while Al pulled. I had only one ley line charm imprinted on my subconscious, but trapping Al and me in a circle would get me nowhere. He could break it as easily as I, now that his aura would be tainting it.

A cry slipped from me when Al gave up trying to drag me through the gate and he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. My breath exploded out of me as his muscle-hard shoulder cut into my middle. He stank of burnt amber, and I fought to get free.

“This would be a lot easier,” he said as I jabbed my elbows between his shoulder blades to no effect, “if you would accept that I have you. Just say you'll come willingly, and I can pop us into a line from here and it will save you a lot of embarrassment.”

“I'm not worried about embarrassment!” I stretched to reach a passing limb of a tree, my breath coming out in relief as I snagged one. Al jerked back, pulled off balance.

“Oh, look,” he said as he yanked me free and my palms came away scraped and bleeding. “Your wolfie friend wants to play.”

David
, I thought, twisting to see past Al's shoulder. As I struggled to breathe, I saw a huge shadow standing at the center of the lamp-lit, snow-packed street. My mouth dropped. He had Wered. He had Wered in less than three minutes. God, that must have hurt.

And he was huge, having retained his entire human mass. His head would come to my shoulder, I'd guess. Black silky fur, more like hair, shifted in the cold wind. His ears were flat against his head, and an impossibly low warning growl came from him. Feet the size of my spread hands dug into the snow as he barred our way. He gave an indescribably deep warning bark, and Al chuckled. Lights were coming on in adjacent houses and curtains were being peeked around. “She's legally mine,” Al said lightly. “I'm carting her home. Don't even try.”

Al started down the street, leaving me torn between screaming for help and admitting I was a gonner. A car was coming, its lights throwing everything into stark relief. “Good, doggie,” Al muttered as we passed David with a good ten feet between us. Looking harsh in the light from the headlamps, David bowed his head, and I wondered if he had given up, knowing he could do nothing. But then his head came up and he started after us.

“David, there's nothing you can do! David, no!” I shrieked when his slow lope shifted into a full run. Eyes lost in a killing frenzy, he barreled right for me. Sure, I didn't want to be pulled into the ever-after, but I didn't want to be dead, either.

Swearing, Al turned around.
“Vacuefacio,”
he said, his white-gloved hand outstretched.

I twisted on his shoulder to see. A black ball of force shot from him, meeting David's silent attack two feet in front of us. David's huge feet skidded, but he ran right into it. Yelping, he rolled, tumbling into a snow pile. The scent of singed hair rose and was gone.

“David!” I cried, not feeling the cold that pinched me. “Are you all right?”

I yelped as Al dumped me on the ground, a blocky hand squeezing my shoulder until I cried out in pain. The thick sheet of compressed snow on the pavement melted up through me, and my rear went numb with hurt and cold. “Idiot,” Al grumbled to himself. “You've got a familiar, why by your mother's ashes aren't you using her?”

He smiled at me, thick eyebrows high in anticipation. “Ready to work, Rachel, love?”

My breath froze in me. Panicking, I stared up at him, feeling my face go pale and my eyes go wide. “Please don't,” I whispered.

He grinned all the wider. “Hold this for me,” he said.