Every Which Way But Dead (44 page)

Oh God. He had killed someone in a passionate rage.

“And then I ended sixteen lives tonight,” he whispered.

I was so stupid. He admitted to killing people—people the I.S. probably would thank him for getting rid of, but people nevertheless. I had come into this knowing he wasn't the “safe boyfriend,” but I'd had the safe boyfriend and always ended up hurt. And despite the brutality he was capable of, he was being honest. People had died tonight in a horrible tragedy, but that hadn't been his intent.

“Kisten?” My eyes dropped to his hands, his short round nails carefully kept clean and close to his fingertips.

“I had the bomb set,” he said, guilt making his voice harsh.

I hesitantly reached to take his hands from the wheel. My fingers felt cold against his. “You didn't kill them. Lee did.”

His eyes were black in the uncertain light when he turned to me. I sent my hand behind his neck to pull him closer, and he resisted. He was a vampire, and that wasn't an easy thing to be—it wasn't an excuse, it was a fact. That he was being forthright meant more to me than his ugly past. And he had sat there while he thought I was turning him in and did nothing. He had ignored what he believed and trusted me. I would try to trust him.

I couldn't help but feel for him. Watching Ivy, I had come to the conclusion that being a master vampire's scion was very much like being in a mentally abusive relationship where love had been perverted by sadism. Kisten was trying to distance himself from his master's masochistic demands. He
had
distanced himself, he had distanced himself so far that Piscary had dumped him for a soul even more desperate for acceptance: my roommate.
Swell.

Kisten was alone. He was hurting. He was being honest with me—I couldn't walk away. We had both done questionable things, and I couldn't label him as evil when I was the one with the demon mark. Circumstances had made our choices for us. I did the best I could. So did he.

“It wasn't your fault they died,” I said again, feeling as if I had found a new way to see. Before me lay the same world, but I was looking around corners.
What was I becoming? Was I a fool to trust, or a wiser person finding the capacity to forgive?

Kisten heard the acceptance of his past in my voice, and the relief reflected in his face was so strong that it was almost painful. My hand on his neck slid forward, drawing him closer over the console. “It's okay,” I whispered as his hands slipped from my fingers and took my shoulders. “I understand.”

“I don't think you can….” he insisted.

“Then we'll deal with it when I do.” Tilting my head, I closed my eyes and leaned to find him. His grip on my shoulder eased, and I found myself reaching after him, drawn in as our lips touched. My fingers pressed into his neck, urging him closer. A jolt struck through me, bringing my blood to the surface, tingling through me as his kiss deepened, promising more. It didn't stem from my scar, and I drew his hand to it, almost gasping when his fingertips traced the light, almost unseen scar tissue. The thought of Ivy's dating guide flitted through me, and I saw it all in an entirely new way.
Oh God, the things I could do with this man.

Maybe I needed the dangerous man,
I thought as a wild emotion rose in me. Only someone who had done wrong could understand that, yes, I did questionable things too, but that I was still a good person. If Kisten could be both, then maybe that meant I could be, too.

And with that, I abandoned all pretense of thought. His hand feeling my pulse and my lips pulling on his, I sent my tongue hesitantly between his lips, knowing a gentle inquiry would strike a hotter chord than a demanding touch. I found a smooth tooth, and I curled my tongue around it, teasing.

Kisten's breath came fast and he jerked away.

I froze as he was suddenly not there, the heat of him still a memory on my skin. “I'm not wearing my caps,” he said, the black swelling in his eyes and my scar pulsing in promise. “I was so worried about you, I didn't take the time to…I'm not…” He took a shaking breath. “God, you smell good.”

Heart pounding, I forced myself back into my seat, watching him as I tucked my hair behind an ear. I wasn't sure I cared if he had his caps on or not. “Sorry,” I said breathlessly, blood still pounding through me. “I didn't mean to go that far.”
But you just sort of pull it out of me.

“Don't be sorry. You're not the one who's been neglecting—things.” Blowing his breath out, Kisten tried to hide his heady look of want. Under the rougher emotions was a soft look of grateful understanding and relief. I had accepted his ugly past, knowing his future might not be any better.

Saying nothing, he put the car in first and accelerated. I held the door until we slid back onto the road, glad nothing had changed though everything was different.

“Why are you so good to me?” he said softly as we picked up speed and passed a car.

Because I think I could love you?
I thought, but I couldn't say it yet.

M
y head came up at the faint sound of knocking. Giving me a warning look, Ivy stood, stretching for the kitchen's ceiling. “I'll get it,” she said. “It's probably more flowers.”

I took a bite of cinnamon toast and muttered around my full mouth, “If it's food, bring it back, will you?”

Sighing, Ivy walked out, both sexy and casual in her black exercise tights and a thigh-length baggy sweater. The radio was on in the living room, and I had mixed feelings about the announcer talking about the tragedy of the boat explosion early last night. They even had a clip of Trent telling everyone I had died saving his life.

This was really odd,
I thought as I wiped butter from my fingers. Things had been showing up on our doorstep. It was nice to know I would be missed, and I hadn't known I had touched so many lives. It wasn't going to be pretty when I came out of the closet as being alive, though—kind of like standing someone up at the altar and having to give all the presents back. 'Course, if I died tonight, I'd go to my grave knowing just who my friends were. I kinda felt like Huck Finn.

“Yeah?” Ivy's wary voice came back through the church.

“I'm David. David Hue,” came a familiar voice, and swallowing the last bite of toast, I ambled up to the front of the church. I was starving, and I wondered if Ivy was slipping Brimstone into my coffee to try to build my body's reserves after that dunk in the river.

“Who is she?” Ivy asked belligerently as I entered the sanctuary and found them on the landing, the lowering sun coming in past their feet.

“I'm his secretary,” a tidy woman at David's side said, smiling. “Can we come in?”

My eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, waving my hands in protest. “I can't watch two of you and bring in Lee.”

David ran his eyes down my casual sweater and jeans, his eyes thick with a calculating evaluation. They lingered on my shortened hair, dyed a temporary brown just this afternoon as he had suggested over the phone. “Mrs. Aver isn't going to come with us,” he said, making what was probably an unconscious nod of approval. “I thought it prudent that your neighbors see me arrive with a woman as well as leave with one. You're close to the same body build.”

“Oh.”
Idiot,
I thought.
Why didn't I think of that?

Mrs. Aver smiled, but I could tell she thought I was an idiot, too. “I'll just pop into your bathroom and change, and then I'll go,” she said brightly. Taking a step into the room, she set her slim briefcase beside the piano bench and hesitated.

Ivy started. “This way,” she said, indicating that the woman should follow her.

“Thank you. You're so kind.”

Making a small face for all the hidden undercurrents, I watched Mrs. Aver and Ivy leave, the former making a lot of noise in her bland black heels, the latter silent in her slippers. Their conversation ended with the click of my bathroom door shutting, and I turned to David.

He looked like a completely different Were outside of his spandex running pants and shirt. And nowhere near the same person the time I saw him leaning against a park tree in a duster that went to his boot tops and a cowboy hat pulled over his eyes. His heavy stubble was gone, to leave sun-roughed cheeks, and his long hair was styled and smelled of moss. Only the highest ranking Weres could carry off polish and not look like they were trying, but David managed it. The three-piece suit and manicured fingernails helped. He looked older than his athletic physique would testify, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose and a tie snugged up to his neck. Actually, he looked really good—in a professional, educated sort of way.

“Thanks again for helping me get in to see Saladan,” I said, feeling awkward.

“Don't thank me,” he said. “I'm getting a huge bonus.” He set his expensive-looking suitcase on the piano bench. He seemed preoccupied—not angry with me, but wary and disapproving. It made me uncomfortable. Sensing me watching him, he looked up. “Mind if I do a little prep paperwork?”

I shifted back a step. “No. Go right ahead. You want some coffee?”

David looked at Jenks's desk and hesitated. Brow furrowing, he sat astride the piano bench and opened his briefcase up before him. “No thanks. We won't be here that long.”

“Okay.” I retreated, feeling his dissatisfaction heavy on me. I knew he didn't like that I had lied to my partner by omission, but all I needed was for him to get me in to see Lee. I hesitated at the top of the hallway. “I'll go change. I wanted to see what you were wearing.”

David looked up from his paperwork, his brown eyes distant as he tried to do two things at once. “You'll be wearing Mrs. Aver's clothes.”

My eyebrows rose. “You've done this before.”

“I told you the job was a lot more interesting than you would think,” he said to his papers.

I waited for him to say something more, but he didn't, so I went to find Ivy, feeling awkward and depressed. He hadn't said a word about Jenks, but his disapproval was clear.

Ivy was busy with her maps and pens when I entered, saying nothing as I poured a cup of coffee for me, and then her. “What do you think of David?” I asked, setting her cup beside her.

Her head went down and she tapped a colored pen on the table. “I think you'll be okay. He seems to know what he's doing. And it's not like I won't be there.”

Leaning against the counter, I held my mug with both hands and took a long sip. Coffee slid down, easing my jitters. Something in Ivy's posture caught my attention. Her cheeks were a shade red. “I think you like him,” I said, and her head jerked up. “I think you like older men,” I added. “Especially older men in suits that bite and can plan better than you.”

At that, she did flush. “And I think you should shut up.”

We both started at the soft knock on the archway to the hall. It was Mrs. Aver, and it was embarrassing that neither of us had heard her come out of the bathroom. She was dressed in my robe, her clothes over one arm. “Here you go, honey,” she said as handed me her gray suit.

“Thanks.” I set my coffee down and took it.

“If you would, drop them off at Weres-'N-Tears dry cleaners. They do a good job getting out blood and stitching up small rips. Do you know where that is?”

I looked at the matronly woman standing before me in my fuzzy blue robe, her long brown hair down about her shoulders. She looked to be about the same size as me, if a bit hippy. My hair was a shade darker, but it was close enough. “Sure,” I said.

She smiled. Ivy was back at her maps, ignoring us, her foot silently moving. “Great,” the Were said. “I'm going to change and say 'bye to David before I leave on four feet.” Flashing me a toothy grin, she sashayed to the hallway, hesitating. “Where's your back door?”

Ivy stood up with a noisy scrape of a chair. “It's broken. I'll get it for you.”

“Thank you,” she said with that same polite smile. They left, and I slowly I brought the woman's clothes to my nose. They were still warm from her body heat, and the faint scent of musk mixed with a light meadowy smell. My lips curved downward at the idea of wearing someone else's clothes, but the entire idea was to smell like a Were. And it wasn't as if she had brought me rags to put on. The lined wool suit must have cost her a bundle.

Steps slow and measured, I went to my room. That dating guide was still out on my dresser, and I looked at it with a mix of depression and guilt. What had I been thinking, wanting to read it again with the idea to drive Kisten wild? Miserable, I shoved it in the back of my closet. God help me, I was an idiot.

Resigned, I slipped out of my jeans and sweater. Soon the clack of nails in the hallway intruded, and as I put on my nylons, there was the pained sound of nails being pulled from wood. The new door wouldn't be in until tomorrow, and it wasn't as if she could slip out a window.

I was feeling very unsure about this, and it wasn't anything I could really pinpoint.
It wasn't going in charmless,
I thought as I shimmied into the gray skirt and tucked the white blouse in. Ivy and Kisten would be bringing in everything I needed; my duffel bag of spells was already packed and waiting in the kitchen. And it wasn't because I was going up against someone better in ley line magic. I did that all the time.

I shrugged into the jacket, slipping the warrant for Lee into an inner pocket. Wedging my feet into the low heels I had pulled from the back of my closet, I stared at my reflection. Better, but still it was me, and I reached for the contact lenses that David had couriered over earlier.

As I blinked and teared the thin brown bits of plastic into place, I decided that my unease was because David didn't trust me. He didn't trust my abilities, and he didn't trust me. I'd never had a partner relationship where I was the one under doubt. I had been thought of as an airhead before, and a flake, even incompetent, but never untrustworthy. I didn't like it. But looking back over what I had done to Jenks, it was probably deserved.

Movements slow and depressed, I styled my shorter hair up into a spare, businesslike bun. I put my makeup on heavy, using a base that was too dark, and so having to give my hands and neck a good layer as well. It covered my freckles, though, and with an unhappy feeling, I twisted my wooden pinky ring off; the charm was broken. With the darker makeup and the brown contact lenses, I looked different, but the clothes really turned the trick. And as I stood before my mirror and looked at myself in my dull boring suit and a dull boring hairstyle, and a dull boring look on my face, I didn't think even my mother would recognize me.

I dabbed a drop of Ivy's expensive perfume on me—the one that hid my scent—then followed it up with a splash of a musky perfume Jenks once said smelled like the underside of a log: earthy and rich. Clipping Ivy's phone onto my waist, I went into the hall, my heels making an unusual amount of noise. The soft sound of Ivy and David in conversation pulled me into the sanctuary, where I found them at her piano. I really wished Jenks were with us. It was more than needing him for reconnaissance and camera detail. I missed him.

David and Ivy looked up at the sound of my feet. Ivy's mouth dropped open. “Bite me and slight me,” she said. “That is the most god-awful thing I think I've seen you wear. You actually look respectable.”

I smiled weakly. “Thanks.” I stood there gripping my hands in a fig-leaf posture as David ran his gaze over me, the slight easing of his brow the only sign of his approval. Turning away, he tossed his papers into his briefcase and snapped it shut. Mrs. Aver had left hers behind, and I picked it up when David indicated I should. “You'll bring my spells?” I asked Ivy.

She sighed, turning her gaze to the ceiling. “Kisten is on his way over. I'll go over it with him one more time, then we lock up the church and leave. I'll give you a ping when we're in place.” She looked at me. “You do have my spare phone?”

“Ah…” I touched it on my waist. “Yes.”

“Good. Go,” she said as she turned and walked away. “Before I do something stupid like give you a hug.”

Depressed and unsure, I headed out. David was behind me, his pace silent but his presence obvious by the faint scent of fern. “Sunglasses,” he murmured when I reached for the door handle, and I paused to put them on. I pushed the door open, squinting from the late sun as I picked my way through the sympathy offerings ranging from professional flower arrangements to crayon-bright pages torn from coloring books. It was cold, the crisp air refreshing.

The sound of Kisten's car pulled my head up, and my pulse jackhammered. I froze on the steps and David almost ran into me. His foot bumped a squat vase, and it rolled down the steps to the sidewalk, spilling water and the single budded red rose it held.

“Someone you know?” he asked, his breath warm on my ear.

“It's Kisten.” I watched him park and get out.
God, he looked good, all trim and sexy.

David's hand went onto my elbow, pushing me into motion. “Keep going. Don't say anything. I want to see how your disguise holds up. My car is across the street.”

Liking the idea, I continued down the stairs, stopping only to pick up the vase and set it on the lowest stair. It was actually a jelly-jar glass, with a pentagram of protection on it, and I made a soft sound of recognition as I tucked the red rose back into it and straightened. I hadn't seen one of those in years.

I felt a flutter in my stomach when Kisten's steps grew loud.

“Bless you,” he said as he passed me, thinking I had put the flower there, not just picked it up. I opened my mouth to say something, closing it as David pinched my arm.

“Ivy!” Kisten shouted, hammering on the door. “Let's go! We're going to be late!”

David escorted me across the street and to the other side of his car, his hand firmly under my elbow—it was slick, and the heels I had on weren't made for ice. “Very nice,” he said, sounding begrudgingly impressed. “But it's not as if you've slept with him.”

“Actually,” I said as he opened the door for me, “I have.”

His eyes jerked to mine and a shocked look of revulsion crossed him. From inside the church came a faint, “You're fucking kidding! That was her? No fucking way!”

I pushed my fingers into my forehead. At least he didn't swear like that when I was around. My eyes went to David, the width of the door between us. “It's the species thing, isn't it?” I said flatly.

He said nothing. Jaw clenched, I told myself that he could think what he wanted. I didn't have to live up to his standards. Lots of people didn't like it. Lots of people didn't give a flip. Who I slept with should have nothing to do with our professional relationship.

Mood worsening, I got in and closed my door before he could do it. My belt clicked shut, and he slid behind the wheel and started his little gray car up. I didn't say a word as he pulled out and headed for the bridge. David's cologne became cloying, and I cracked the window.