The Book of Lost Souls (17 page)

Phoebe’s hand touched her and a hot bolt of pain shot up Ivy’s arm. Ivy jerked away. Phoebe left the table and made her way to where Nick stood at the counter, busily folding silverware inside napkins. She bumped him slightly with her hips, and smiled flirtatiously.
 

The ache in her wrist had been nothing compared to the pain coursing through her entire body at the sight of Phoebe’s open flirting with Nick. She wanted to hurt Phoebe back, wanted to... to what? She thought she could hear the book beckon to her from within her book bag. Ivy stood, feeling unsteady on her feet. She slung the book bag over her shoulder and pushed her way through a small crowd heading toward the table.

“Ivy?” Nick grabbed her wrist as she went past. His touch felt warm over the spot that had hurt just a second ago, but it didn’t begin to make the ache in her chest feel better.
 

His eyes were softer than before, concerned. “Are you okay?”

She was definitely
not
okay.
 

“I’ve got to go,” Ivy said, her feet still reluctant. Her whole body felt like it’d been stung and Ivy knew tears were only moments away. She turned and ran out of Saludo’s. She heard Nick right behind her, and then Phoebe calling him back.
 

Ivy sat in her car for a minute or two, trying to steady her breathing. Nick didn’t follow her outside. When she thought she’d collected herself enough, she drove home with the radio blaring. She had no right, no right at all to expect Nick to wait for her to make up her mind. Hadn’t he said as much? He couldn’t wait forever, even if she were worth it.
 

And what
was
she contemplating? That she preferred Nick over Dean? Did one kiss mean she and Dean were really even dating? Because, in her mind, they weren’t. It had been just a kiss. Why did everything she felt for Nick seem so out of control?

Ivy excused herself after dinner and went to her room, locked the door, and curled into a ball on the bed. Her phone buzzed, and Ivy checked the incoming text message. It was from Dean.
 

I hear you’re still trying to get together with Nick. No big deal. It was just a kiss, right? We’ll keep it our secret then?

She snapped the phone shut.

Devlin licked her face and whined. “Go lay down,” she said, turning her face into the pillows.
 

Not to be ignored, Devlin chewed at her hair and pawed at her arms. When she turned onto her side, he whimpered, blinked his almond-shaped eyes, and lay down. He scooted forward and flipped onto his back, resting his head on her pillow.
 

Ivy kissed his soft fur. “I hate my life, Dev.”
 

Devlin made a half-grrr, half-yowling noise that Ivy took as agreement.
 

How could she understand how to conjure up some of the most complicated spells possible for a witch her age, get straight A’s in every subject, and yet she couldn’t understand the person capable of all this grief—herself? She could control how far or how high to levitate a book, but had no control of the tears falling onto her pillow.

She thought she’d wanted Dean. She’d thought his wavy, golden hair, chiseled face, piercing blue eyes, and brilliant smile had been enough. That riding off his popularity would help define herself somehow. How long had she dreamed about kissing him? And yet today, when his perfect lips pressed against hers, she felt... nothing. No tingle, no spark. He had been all she’d dreamed about the past few months, and now he meant almost nothing to her.
 

She also hated being popular. Hated having all eyes on her like some actress on center stage. It annoyed her that everyone expected her to come up with some outrageous or cool new spell. Whatever was happening
wasn’t
cool. And she hated that she was supposed to behave a certain way just to give people something to talk about. Maybe that was the worst.
 

This wasn’t what she’d planned.
Nick
wasn’t what she’d planned. She wanted to hate him along with everything else, be mad at him for Phoebe, be mad at him for interrupting her plans with Dean, but she couldn’t. She wanted to let him go, let him fade from her thoughts and found she couldn’t do that, either. Far from it.

You know what to do, Ivy.
On both counts.

And she did. There were a lot of things Ivy needed to set right. Tonight, she’d see what she could do about two of them. As she wiped away her tears, Ivy picked up her cell phone.

Ivy waited until one in the morning, when she knew her mother would be sound asleep. Then she dressed in a pair of black sweats and a black sweatshirt that she enlarged enough to wear a long sleeve t-shirt underneath, eliminating the need for a bulky coat. She pulled her hair into a neat ponytail and levitated a white baseball cap from the top shelf in her closet.
 

“This won’t do,” she said quietly to Devlin, who sat on the edge of her bed, alert and wagging his tail. With a flick of her finger the cap changed color to black. Ivy positioned it on her head, and checked her book bag to ensure she had everything she needed: the power cord to her computer, an empty shoe box, a pair of sunglasses she’d already hexed to have night-vision, a squirrel squeaky toy (also hexed so that only Devlin would hear it), and
The Rise of the Dark Curse.
 

“It’s important that you stay close, okay?” she said sternly to Devlin.
 

He grinned and wagged his tail.
 

“
Devlin!
I mean it. No mischief.”
 

He stopped grinning, then sneezed indicating he understood.
 

“That’s better. Otherwise, you’ll have to stay.”
 

Ivy made a lifting, upward movement with her hands and her bedroom window slid open without a sound. She fetched the power cord from her book bag and zipped the bag shut. She hung the cord out the window, where it unfurled and changed into a vine, vigorously sprouting leaves and reaching the ground in seconds.
 

“Okay Devlin. Come here.”
 

Devlin hopped from the bed and stood beside Ivy. The end piece of vine spread out once more, down inside the window and around Devlin’s legs and under his chest and belly making a harness. The vines rose, lifting him off the floor and out the window, gently setting him on the ground below.
 

Ivy hoisted herself over the windowsill, took hold of the vine and repelled down the side of the house. When she reached the last couple of feet from the ground, she pushed off from the house and landed next to Devlin. She set the book bag down and unzipped it. Instantly, the vines traced their way into the bag, leaves retracting, until it became a power cord once more. A quick downward motion of her hand and her bedroom window slid shut.
 

“Shh!” Ivy warned Devlin as she collected the book bag, and the two took off down the darkened street as fast as their sneakered and padded feet would carry them.

CHAPTER 20

Only a vampire could stand directly under a streetlight and still blend in with the surrounding shadow.
 

“Who knew you had it in you,” Raven said, shoving away from the lamppost. Like Ivy, she had dressed in all black. Unlike Ivy, Raven didn’t need to wear black to be stealthy.
 

“I just hope this works,” Ivy replied. “I feel guilty, though. Shayde is going to kill us when she finds out we didn’t ask her to come along.”

Raven waved a dismissive hand. “If we get caught, she’d be in big trouble. The way I see it, you’re a good friend. Besides, you didn’t ask Shayde because she would have thought this was another one of your bad ideas. I, on the other hand, happen to like it.”

Ivy scanned the park. It was quiet, with a slight hint of breeze rustling the dry leaves. Raven was right about that much. Shayde would never have agreed to this. But, good thing Bane did. Well, he at least agreed to sneaking out in the middle of the night when he heard Raven was in on it. “Where’s Bane?”

Raven grinned. “Behind you.”

Although he could be anywhere, Ivy didn’t see him. She peered at the trees, bushes, and benches. Devlin saw him first. He let out a little gruff and bounded forward, tail wagging. Ivy saw two gold eyes blink as the black wolf stepped out into the open from his hiding spot in the shadows, the tiniest wisps of chilled air coming from his nostrils.

Ivy smiled. “Hey, Bane. Ready?”
 

Bane nodded his huge furry head.

Ivy sighed deeply. “We’re probably going to be grounded until Christmas, but this is our best chance. With Devlin and Bane’s sense of smell, and your hearing, we should be able to find Spike and nab him while he’s sleeping.” She turned to Bane and Devlin. “Okay, guys, do your thing.”

Devlin sniffed the ground and Bane sniffed the air. They exchanged glances and other body language too subtle for Ivy to understand. As much as the twins had taught her about canine posturing and body language, it was too complex and too fast for Ivy to take it all in. Still, she understood that the movement of the tail (to the left or right, high or low), the ears, mouth, even the tensing of certain muscles had meaning. If Shayde had been here, she could have translated Doglish or whatever it was that Bane and Devlin were saying to each other.

Bane and Devlin set off toward the woods. Ivy and Raven followed.
 

“It’s a shortcut,” Raven said. “Before Bane changed into wolf, I told him what you said about Tara probably hiding Spike on her family’s estate.”

“The sooner we get there and nab Spike, the better,” Ivy replied. “The property is pretty large, so as long as he isn’t in her house we’ll be good to go. It’s a long hike to Tara’s though. We’ll be up half the night.”

Bane grumbled, his ears flattened sideways against his head, clearly unhappy about losing sleep. It wasn’t making Ivy exactly happy, either.

“So,” Raven said as they ventured from the open field and into the woods. The grass had grown tall here before dying off. Long strands of grass stood clumped together. “You want to tell me how you came up with this idea about the Prescotts, Spike, and Dean?”

In the pale moonlight, Ivy could see that Bane and Devlin each had one ear turned backward, obviously listening in.
 

All the better to hear you with,
she thought.

Ivy adjusted her book bag. “Spike’s too hard to catch during the day. He’ll be sound asleep now. I’m betting he’s staying outside somewhere. Maybe in the gazebo out back. Tara’s Grandmother lives with them and I’ve heard Tara complain that she’s an insomniac and wanders the halls all night, which means he can’t be staying inside the house.”

“O
kay,”
Raven said tentatively. “Sounds reasonable. Tara’s family would have nothing to do with the likes of Spike in their house. We nab him, you change him and put him in the shoe box. I’ll take him back to Gareth. But, do you want to explain what catching Spike has to do with Dean?”

“If we catch Spike, Tara will want Dean back.”

“Have you been sniffing potions?” Raven asked.

“He’ll never leave himself without a girlfriend. He’s too vain. He thinks I’m too hung up on Nick, so he’ll try to get Tara back. So, all I have to do is get Spike away from Tara.”

Raven gave a wide, Cheshire cat grin, and Ivy felt uncomfortable.
 

“So, you
finally
admit there’s a thing between you and Nick. Spill. I want
all
the sordid details.”

Ivy felt heat rise in her face and hoped the darkness concealed it. “Yeah well... No! There aren’t any sordid details. It’s just that I’m not as interested in Dean as I thought, and, well, Nick is sorta nice. Don’t go jumping to conclusions. It’s not really like
that
between us.”

Especially with Phoebe still in the picture,
Ivy thought.

Raven smiled and bit her lip. “Too bad. Sordid could be fun. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Ugh! I don’t feel
that
way toward Nick,” Ivy said, brushing off a web she walked through.

“Denial, much?” Raven asked, as she hurried past, twirling in the moonlight that shone through the trees.
 

Bane coughed, a sound akin to Devlin hacking up hairballs. Or guinea pigs. It didn’t take lessons in Doglish to understand he was agreeing with Raven.

“Can we change the subject?” Ivy asked, and everyone held their tongue, although she swore the occasional heavy panting ahead was Bane’s way of laughing.
 

The remainder of their walk, no one said another word about Nick. When they finally exited the woods, Ivy was the only one winded. Vampires didn’t sweat and Bane and Devlin were none the worse for wear at all. Once again, when it came to anything physical, she was the wrong type of Kindred—built for spells, not a fast-paced, forty-minute hike over varying terrain and obstacles.

They continued their silent trek two blocks over to the Prescott manor. The brick and stone house was huge, at least five times the size of Ivy’s house. A four-foot stone wall with iron spikes enclosed the premises, and lights illuminated parts of the house and the surrounding shrubbery.
 

“Let’s go in from the far side of the property,” Ivy said. “I don’t want to take a chance that Spike will hear us coming.”

Raven huffed. “You’re traveling with Kindreds with padded feet or undead stealth and grace. The only one he’ll hear coming is you. Got a spell for that?”

Ivy groaned. “Probably. If I’d brought a normal spell book.”

“You mean to tell me you didn’t bring anything other that the
bad
spell book?” One moment, Raven was five feet away, and the next, she was standing eye to eye with Ivy. “Good thing I’m not hungry,” she said, tapping Ivy’s forehead. “Because there’s no blood flow.”

“Let’s just get in there and get him before anyone wakes up,” Ivy said, walking off, leaving everyone to trail behind her. When they were far enough away from the lighted gates and the driveway, Ivy stopped alongside the stone wall and retrieved her book bag.