Every Which Way But Dead (31 page)

“Where did he bite you?” she said, her gray voice trembling. “I'll kill him. I'll freaking kill him! I can smell him all over you!”

Her hand jerked to the hem of my sweater.

It tripped me over the panic line, and instinct took over. “Ivy! Stop!” I shouted. Frightened, I tapped the line. She reached for me, face twisted in anger. The line filled my chi, wild and out of control. A burst of energy flamed from my hands, burning them, as I hadn't harnessed it with a charm.

We both cried out as a black and gold sheet of ever-after expanded from me, knocking Ivy back into the plywood door. She slid to the floor in an awkward heap, her arms over her head and her legs askew. The windows shook at the boom. I rocked back, then caught my balance. Anger replaced my fear. I didn't care if she was all right or not.

“He didn't bite me!” I shouted, spitting my hair out of my mouth as I stood over her. “Okay? We had sex. All right? God help you, Ivy. It was only sex!”

Ivy coughed. Red-faced and gasping, she found her breath. The plywood sheet behind her was cracked. Shaking her head, she peered up at me, clearly not focusing yet. She didn't get up. “He didn't bite you?” she rasped, her face shadowy in the candlelight.

My legs trembled from adrenaline. “No!” I exclaimed. “You think I'm stupid?”

Clearly shaken, she looked askance at me. Taking a slow breath, she wiped her lower lip with the back of her hand. My gut tightened as it came away red with blood. Ivy stared at it, then gathered her legs under her and got to her feet. I breathed easier when she reached for a tissue, wiping her hand off and crumpling it into a ball.

She reached out, and I sprang back. “Don't touch me!” I said, and she raised a hand in acquiescence.

“Sorry.” She looked at the cracked plywood, then winced as she felt her back. Carefully she tugged her coat down. Eyes going to mine, she took a slow breath. My heart pounded in time to the pain in my head. “You slept with Kisten and he didn't bite you?” she asked.

“Yes. And no, he didn't bite me. And if you
ever
touch me again, I'm walking out the front door, forever. Damn it, Ivy. I thought we were clear on this!”

I expected an apology or something, but all she did was eye me speculatively and ask, “Are you sure? You might not even notice if he cut your inner lip.”

Goose bumps rose, and I ran my tongue across the inside of my mouth. “He wore caps,” I said, feeling ill for how easily he could have tricked me. But he hadn't.

Ivy blinked. Slowly she sat on the edge of the couch, her elbows on her knees and her forehead cupped in the cradle of her hands. Her thin body looked vulnerable in the light from the three candles on the table. Crap. It suddenly occurred to me that not only did she want a closer relationship with me, but that Kisten was her old boyfriend. “Ivy? Are you okay?”

“No.”

I cautiously sat on the chair across from her, the corner of the table between us. By any standards, this was a complete shitfest. I cursed silently, then reached out. “Ivy. God, this is awkward.”

She jumped at the weight of my hand on her arm, looking up with frighteningly dry eyes. I pulled back, laying my hand like a dead thing in my lap. I knew I shouldn't touch her when she wanted more. But to sit and do nothing was so cold.

“It just kind of happened.”

Ivy touched her lip to see that it had stopped bleeding. “It was just sex? You didn't give him your blood?”

The vulnerability in her voice struck me. My head bobbed. I felt like a doll, my eyes wide and my thoughts empty. “I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't think you and Kisten…” I hesitated. This wasn't about the sex, but the blood she thought I had given him. “I didn't think you and Kisten had a formal relationship anymore,” I fumbled, unsure if I was putting it right.

“I don't share blood with Kisten but for the rare occasion when he's been dumped and needs some TLC,” she said, her gray silk voice soft. Still she wouldn't look up. “Blood is not sex, Rachel. It's a way to show you care for someone. A way to show…you love them.”

It was barely a whisper. My breath grew fast. I felt we were balanced on a knife's edge, and it scared the crap out of me. “How can you say sex isn't blood, when you'll have sex with anyone?” I said, adrenaline making my voice harsher than I intended. “Good God, Ivy, when was the last time you had sex
without
blood?”

Only now did she bring her head up, shocking me with the fear in her eyes. She was afraid, and not because she thought I'd given my blood to Kisten. She was afraid of the answers I was demanding. I don't think she had faced them before, even in the chaos her desires had left her in. I felt hot, then cold. Pulling my knees to my chin, I tucked my bare heels against me.

“Okay,” she said with the last of her exhaled breath, and I knew the next thing she said would be stark honesty. “You have a good point. I usually include blood with sex. I like it that way. It's a rush. Rachel, if you would only…” she said, her hands coming up from her knees.

I felt myself pale. I shook my head, and she changed her mind about what she was going to say. She seemed to de-flate, all the tension pooling out of her. “Rachel, it's not the same,” she finished weakly, brown eyes pleading.

My thoughts went to Kist. The twinge from my scar dove to my groin and brought my breath even faster. Swallowing, I forced the feeling from me. I pulled back, glad the table was between us. “That's what Kisten says, but I can't separate it. And I don't think you can either.”

Ivy's face went red, and I knew I was right.

“Damn it, Ivy. I'm not saying it's wrong they're the same,” I said. “Hell, I've been living with you for seven months. Don't you think by now you'd know if I thought it was? But that's not the way I'm put together. You're the best friend I've ever had, but I'm not going to share a pillow with you, and I'm never going to let anyone taste my blood.” I took a breath. “I'm not put together that way, either. And I can't live my life avoiding a real relationship with someone because it might hurt your feelings. I told you it's not going to happen between us, and it's not. Maybe…” I felt sick. “Maybe I should move out.”

“Move out?”

It was a breathy sound of dismay, and the warmth of tears stung my eyes. I stared at the wall, jaw clenched. The last seven months had been the most frightening, scary, and best months of my life. I didn't want to leave—and not just because she was protecting me from another vampire biting and claiming me—but staying here wasn't fair to either of us if she couldn't let it go.

“Jenks is gone,” I said, my voice low so it wouldn't shake. “I just slept with your old boyfriend. It's not fair to stay here if there is never going to be anything more than friendship between us. Especially now that Skimmer is back.” I looked at the broken door, hating myself. “We should just call everything quits.”

God, why was I almost crying? I couldn't give her any more, and she desperately needed it. Skimmer could; Skimmer wanted to. I should leave. But when I looked up, I was shocked to see the candlelight glinting upon a ribbon of moisture under her eye.

“I don't want you to go,” she said, and the lump in my throat thickened. “A good friendship is reason enough to stay, isn't it?” she whispered, her eyes so full of pain that a tear leaked out of me.

“Damn it,” I said, wiping a finger under my eye. “Look what you made me do.”

I jerked when she reached across the table and took my wrist. My eyes were riveted to hers as she pulled it to her and touched my tear-damp fingertips to her lips. Her eyes closed and her lashes fluttered. A zing of adrenaline struck me. My pulse quickened, the memory of vampire-induced ecstasy high in my thoughts. “Ivy?” I said weakly, pulling away.

She let go. My heart pounded as she took a slow breath, tasting the air with her senses, running my emotions through her incredible brain, reading the balance of what I might and might not do. I didn't want to know what her calculations totaled to.

“I'll pack my things,” I said, frightened that she might know more about me than I did.

Her eyes opened. I thought I saw a faint glimmer of strength. “No,” she said, the first hint of her iron will returning. “We're both crap when we're alone, and I'm not just talking about the stupid firm. I promise I won't ask anything of you except to be my friend. Please…” She took a breath. “Please don't go because of this, Rachel. Do what you want with Kist. He's a good man and I know he won't hurt you. Just…” She held her breath, her determination faltering. “Just be here when I come home tonight?”

I nodded. I knew she wasn't just asking about tonight. And I didn't want to leave. I loved it here: the kitchen, the witch's garden, the cool-factor of living in a church. That she valued our friendship meant a lot to me, and after avoiding true friendship for years because of what had happened to my dad, having a best friend meant a lot to me too. She had once threatened to withdraw her desperately needed protection from me if I left. This time, she hadn't. I was afraid to look for the reason, afraid that it might stem from that tiny thrill I had felt when she had tasted my tears.

“Thank you,” she said, and I froze as she leaned forward over the table to give me a quick hug. The scent of almonds and leather filled my senses. “If Kisten can convince you that blood isn't sex,” she said, “promise to tell me?”

I stared at her. The memory of Skimmer kissing her flashed through me and was gone.

Apparently satisfied, she let go, stood, and went into the kitchen.

“Ivy,” I breathed, too numb and strung out to speak louder, knowing she could hear me. “How many rules are we breaking?”

She hesitated as she appeared in the hallway, satchel and sword in hand, shifting from foot to foot and not answering me. “I'll be back after sunrise. Maybe we can have a late dinner? Gossip about Kisten over lasagna? He's actually a nice guy—he'll be good for you.” Giving me an awkward smile, she left.

Her voice had held a faint ribbon of regret, but I didn't know if it was for having lost me or Kisten. I didn't want to know. I stared at the carpet, not seeing the candles or smelling the scent of wax and perfume as the faint boom of the door shifted the air. How had my life gotten this screwed up? All I had wanted to do was quit the I.S., help a few people, make something of myself and my degree. Since then I had found and driven away my first real boyfriend in years, insulted a pixy clan, become Ivy's golden ring, and had sex with a living vampire. That wasn't even counting the two death threats I'd survived or the precarious situation with Trent. What the hell was I doing?

Rising, I stumbled into the kitchen, face cold and legs feeling like rubber. Looking up at the sound of running water, I froze. Algaliarept was at the sink filling the teapot, its tarnished copper beading with condensation.

“Good evening, Rachel,” he said, smiling to show me flat teeth. “Hope you don't mind me making a pot of tea. We have a lot to do before the sun comes up.”

Oh God. I'd forgotten about that.

“
D
amn!” I swore, backpedaling. The sanctuary. If I could reach holy ground, he couldn't touch me. I shrieked as a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. Spinning, I clawed at his face. It went misty, and I lurched when his grip vanished. In an instant he had my ankle and jerked me off my feet. “Let go!” I shouted when I hit the floor, my voice harsh as I kicked him.

He spun me sliding into the fridge. His long face took on a sun-starved complexion and his red goat eyes turned eager over his smoked glasses. I scrambled up, and he lunged, grabbing me with his white-gloved hand and giving me a shake to rattle my teeth. He shoved me, and I landed against the center island counter like a rag doll. Turning, I put my back against it, wide-eyed and heart beating fast. I was so stupid. I was
so stupid!

“If you run again, I'll call you in breach of our agreement,” he said calmly. “That's your warning. Please run. It will make everything so-o-o-o much simpler.”

Shaking, I held onto the counter for balance. “Go away,” I said. “I didn't summon you.”

“It's not that simple anymore,” he said. “It took me a day in the library, but I found precedence.” His precise accent became even more officious, and he put the back of his knuckles to his velvet green frock and quoted, “‘If said familiar is stationed at a beta site by way of loan or similar event, the master may seek the familiar out to perform duties.'You opened the door by tapping a line,” he added. “And since I have a task for you, I'm here until you finish it.”

I felt sick. “What do you want?” There was a spell pot on my counter full of an amber liquid smelling of geranium. I hadn't counted on him bringing his work to me.

“What do you want—master,” Al prompted, smiling to show me his thick, blocky teeth.

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I want you to get the hell out of my kitchen.”

His smile never flickered as, with a powerful motion, he backhanded me. I stifled a gasp, lurching for balance. Adrenaline surged as he gripped my shoulder, keeping me upright.

“Funny, funny girl,” he murmured, his British elegance chilling me and his beautiful chiseled looks turning harsh. “Say it.”

The sharp taste of blood edged my tongue. My back pressed into the counter painfully. “What do you want, oh gracious master from my ass.”

I didn't have time to duck as the flat of his hand swung. Pain shocked through my cheek, and I hit the floor. Al's silver-buckled boots edged my vision. He was wearing white stockings, and there was lace where they met the bottom of his trousers.

Nausea rose. I touched my cheek, feeling it burn and hating him. I tried to rise, unable to when he put a foot on my shoulder and forced me down. Hating him all the more, I tossed my hair aside so I could see him.
What difference did it make?
“What do you want, master?”

I felt like I was going to vomit.

His thin lips curled up in a smile. Tugging the lace from his sleeves, he bent to solicitously help me up. I refused, but he yanked me up so fast that I found myself pressed against him, breathing in the scent of crushed velvet and burnt amber. “I want this,” he whispered, running a hand up under my sweater, searching.

My heart raced. Stiffening, I clenched my teeth.
I'll kill him. Somehow, I'll kill him.

“Such a touching conversation with your roommate,” he said, and I twitched, as his voice had shifted to Ivy's. Ever-after zinged through me as his appearance shifted while still touching me. Red goat eyes stared at me from Ivy's perfect face. Lean and tight, the image of her body wrapped in leather pressed against me, pinning me to the counter. The last time, he had bitten me.
Oh, God. Not again.

“But maybe you want this instead,” he said with her gray silk voice, and sweat started at the small of my back. Her long straight hair brushed my cheek, the silky whisper pulling an unstoppable shiver from my skin. Feeling it where our bodies touched, he leaned close until I recoiled.

“Don't pull away,” he said with her voice, and my resolve grew. He was slime. He was a bastard. I'd kill him for this. “I'm sorry, Rachel….” he breathed, long fingers burning into tingles where they touched, tracing a line from my shoulder to my hip. “I'm not angry. I understand you're afraid. But the things I could teach you—if you knew the heights of passion we could find.” His breath shuddered. Ivy's arms were around me cool and light—gentling me to him against my will. I could smell her rich scent of dark incense and ash. He had her perfectly.

“Let me show you?” the vision of Ivy whispered, and I closed my eyes. “Just a taste…I know I can change your mind.”

It was pleading, heavy with her vulnerable desires. It was everything she hadn't said, everything she wouldn't. My eyes opened as my scar flashed to life.
God, no.
Fire raced to my groin. Knees buckling, I tried to push away. Demon-red eyes shifted to a liquid brown, and his grip grew firmer, pulling me closer until his breath came and went on my neck. “Gently, Rachel,” her voice whispered. “I could be so gentle. I could be everything a man can't be. Everything you want. Just one little word, Rachel. Tell me you will?”

I couldn't…I couldn't deal with this right now. “Didn't you have something for me to do?” I said. “The sun will be up soon and I need to get to bed.”

“Slowly,” he crooned, Ivy's breath smelling of oranges. “There's only one first time.”

“Let go of me,” I said tightly. “You aren't Ivy and I'm not interested.”

Ivy's passion-filled black eyes narrowed, but Al's attention was over my shoulder and I didn't think it was anything I had said. He let go of me, and I stumbled to catch my balance. A shimmer of ever-after cascaded over him, melting his features back to his usual vision of a young British lord of the eighteenth century. The glasses were back to hide his eyes, and he adjusted them on his thin-bridged nose. “How grand,” he said, his accent shifting as well. “Ceri.”

There was the distant boom of the front door crashing open. “Rachel!” came her voice, high and frightened. “He's this side of the lines!”

Heart pounding, I spun. I took a breath to warn her, but it was too late. My outstretched hand fell as she lurched into the room, her simple white dress furling about her bare feet as she stopped in the archway. Green eyes wide and soulful, she put a hand to her chest atop Ivy's crucifix. “Rachel…” she breathed, dismay slumping her shoulders.

Al took a step and she spun in a dancer's circle, toe pointed and unbound hair furling. She recited an unheard poem laced with darkness, and a ripple of line energy cascaded between us. White-faced and holding her arms, she stared at him, trembling within her small circle.

The stately demon beamed, adjusting the lace about his collar. “Ceri. How splendid to see you. I miss you, love,” he almost purred.

The young woman's chin trembled. “Banish him, Rachel,” she said, her fear obvious.

I tried to swallow, failing. “I tapped a line. He found precedence. He has a task for me.”

Her eyes widened. “No…”

Al frowned. “I haven't been in the library in a thousand years. They were whispering behind my back, Ceri. I had to renew my card. It was most embarrassing. Everyone knows you're gone. Zoë is making my tea. It's the most awful tea I've ever had—he can't hold the sugar spoon with only two digits. Do come back.” His pleasant face creased into a smile. “I'll make it worth your soul.”

Ceri jerked. Chin high, she said haughtily, “My name is Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate.”

A rough sound of mirth escaped him. Taking off his glasses, he leaned an elbow against the counter. Mocking gaze on mine, he murmured, “Ceri, be a dear and make a spot of tea?”

My face went slack as Ceri dropped her head and took a step. Al chuckled when she made a cry of self-disgust and stopped at the edge of her circle. Tiny fists clenched, she fumed.

“Old habits die hard,” he mocked.

Bile bubbled up. Even now she was his. “Leave her alone,” I snarled.

From nowhere, a white-gloved hand struck me. I spun into the counter, jaw burning. Gasping, I hunched over it with my hair falling about my face. I was getting tired of this.

“Don't hit her!” Ceri said, her voice high and virulent.

“Does it bother you?” he said lightly. “Pain moves her more than fear. Which is good—pain keeps a person alive longer than fear.”

My hurt turned to anger. Eyebrows high, he dared me to protest as I found my breath. His goat eyes slid to the head-sized vat he had brought with him. “Let's get started, shall we?”

I looked at the pot, recognizing the brew by the smell. It was the one to make a person into a familiar. Fear chilled me, and I wrapped my arms about myself. “I'm already coated with your aura,” I said. “Making me take more isn't going to make a difference.”

“I didn't ask for your opinion.”

I sprang back as he moved. Grinning, he extended the basket that had appeared in his hand. I could smell wax. “Set the candles,” he ordered, amused at my quick reaction.

“Rachel…” Ceri whispered, but I couldn't look at her. I had promised to be his familiar, and now I would be. Miserable, my thoughts went to Ivy as I set the milky green candles at the spots marked by black nail polish. Why couldn't I make good choices?

My grip on the last candle trembled. It had gouges on it, as if something had tried to break the circle by going through it. Something with big nasty claws.

“Rachel!” Al barked, and I jumped. “You didn't set them with their place names.”

Still holding the last candle, I stared blankly. Past him, Ceri nervously licked her lips.

“You don't know their place names,” Al added, and I shook my head, not wanting to be hit again, but Al only sighed. “I'll set them myself when I light them,” he grumbled, his pale face taking on a ruddy tinge. “I expected more of you than this. Apparently you've been spending most of your time with earth magic, neglecting your ley line arts.”

“I'm an earth witch,” I said. “Why would I bother?”

Ceri jerked as Al threatened to smack me again, her almost translucent hair swirling. “Let her go, Algaliarept. You don't want her for a familiar.”

“Offering to take her place?” he mocked, and I took a fearful breath that she might.

“No!” I shouted, and he laughed.

“Don't fret, Rachel, love,” he crooned, and I flinched when he ran a gloved finger across my jawline, tracing the path down my arm to my hand to take the last candle from me. “I keep my familiars until something better comes along, and despite you being as ignorant as a frog, you're capable of holding almost twice the line energy that she can.” He leered. “Lucky you.”

Clapping his white-gloved hands once, he spun to make his coattails furl. “Now. Watch closely, Rachel. You'll be lighting my candles tomorrow. These are words that move mortals and gods alike, making all equal and capable of keeping my circle whole against even Newt.”

Swell.

“Salax,”
he said as he lit the first candle from the pencil-thick red taper that had appeared in his gloved hand.
“Aemulatio,”
he said as he lit the second.
“Adfictatio, cupidus,
and my favorite,
inscitia
,” he said as he lit the last one. Smiling, the still-glowing taper vanished. I felt him tap a line, and with a translucent swirl of red and black, his circle rose to arch closed over our heads. My skin prickled from its strength, and I clasped my arms about myself.

These are a few of my favorite things,
I heard patter through my mind, and I stifled a hysterical giggle. I was going to be a demon's familiar. There was no way out of it now.

Al's head jerked up at the ugly choking sound, and Ceri's face went still. “Algaliarept,” she pleaded. “You're pushing her too hard. Her will is too strong to bend easily.”

“I'll break my familiars the way I see fit,” he said calmly. “A little grounding, and she'll be as right as rain in the desert.” One hand on his hip and the other cupping his chin, he eyed me speculatively. “Time for your bath, love.”

Algaliarept snapped his fingers with a showman's flair. His hand opened, and a cedar-slatted bucket appeared hanging from it. My eyes widened as he threw its contents at me.

Cold water smacked into me. My breath whooshed out in an affronted yelp. It was saltwater, stinging my eyes and dribbling into my mouth. Reality washed through me, clearing my head. He was making sure I didn't have any potions in me to contaminate the coming spell. “I don't use potions, you big green turd!” I shouted, shaking my arms in my sodden sleeves.

“See?” Al was clearly pleased. “All better.”

The slight ache of my ribs intruded as my pain charm broke. Most of the water was soaking my spell book library. If I survived this, I'd have to air them all out. What a jerk.

“Ooooh, your eye is doing nicely,” he said as he reached forward to touch it. “Eating your roommate's Brimstone, are we? Wait until you try the real stuff. It will knock your socks off.”

I jerked back when his gloved hand brushed my skin with the scent of lavender, but Al's hand dropped lower to grasp my hair. Shrieking, I swung my foot up. He caught it, moving faster than I could follow. Ceri watched in pity as I fought, helpless. Holding my foot high, he forced me against the counter. His glasses had been knocked aside, and he smiled at me with a domineering delight. “The hard way,” he whispered. “Marvelous.”

“No!” I exclaimed as a pair of sheers suddenly glinted in his hand.

“Hold still,” he said, dropping my foot and pinning me against the counter.

I wiggled and spit at him, but he had me against the counter and I could do nothing. I panicked as I heard metal sheering. He let go by turning misty, and I fell to the floor.