The atmosphere in the Hummer shifted dramatically after Erica was dropped off at work. Relieved, I watched the happy vampire wave good-bye, then flounce into the computer-security firm, the armed doorman holding the door for her and giving us a short nod. She acted like an airhead, she talked like an airhead, she dressed like a wealthy airhead, but there was a brain attached to the elaborate Goth costume and bright outlook. And unlike Ivy, Erica's outward demeanor wasn't a mask for a deeper depression.
"Good God," one of Cormel's security guys muttered as we started off again. "That girl doesn't shut up."
I normally would have come back with something about women having to make up for men's inabilities in that area, but he was right. If Erica was awake, she was flapping her lip.
Shoulders relaxing, I eased into the leather to enjoy the space Erica had left. It was warm, and the vampire pheromones were building. It'd been a while since I'd been exposed to this much. My association with vamps had fallen drastically after Kisten died.
A faint alarm took root, and my eyes opened. I didn't want to get caught up with vampires again, as pleasant as that had been-as this was. It was a slow decline into passivity. It would kill me slowly or force me to react explosively. I knew it. Ivy knew it. Perhaps Kisten's death had been a blessing, as hard it had been. I couldn't say he was bad for me-he had strengthened me where I hadn't known I was weak, taught me a culture one had to learn by experience. His death broke my heart, my ignorance, and saved me from myself...and I didn't want it to be made meaningless by ignoring what he'd taught me.
Bittersweet memories swirled, and I sat up to put my bag firmly on my lap. Beside me, the elegant Rynn Cormel touched his mouth with the back of his hand. I think he was smiling. I warmed, guessing that he had seen me go on guard.
Rynn Cormel was not the stereotypical master vampire. He hadn't been dead long enough yet to pass the tricky forty-year barrier, and he didn't try to disguise the age at which he had died, maintaining an athletic forty-something appearance, his jet-black hair silvering slightly and his face having the first faint wrinkles that help men get higher-paying jobs and that women try to hide. He knew I had become suspicious, but he didn't pretend he hadn't noticed. He didn't make any cryptic statements that "it would do no good," making it part threat, part promise. He was just so damned...normal. Political.
I gave him the once-over, from his freshly arranged hair, down his black cashmere coat, to his shiny black shoes. The shoes were inappropriate for the weather, but it wasn't as if he was going to get cold. It was all for show.
Seeing my attention, Cormel smiled. The man was tall, well dressed, and had a good body. His laugh was pleasant and his manner comfortable, but he wasn't beautiful or otherwise remarkable, being too pale and wan to be attractive-until he smiled, and then he was breathtaking. His was the smile that had saved the world, literally holding it together as everything exploded and coalesced in a brand-new way after the Turn. It was the promise of gentle honesty, security, protection, freedom, and prosperity. Seeing it directed at me, I forced my eyes away and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
Ivy had stiffened, reading what was going on in the backseat by the signals I was unconsciously giving off. Hell, the entire car could. Her brow was pinched in concern when she turned to see us. "The hospital is going to have the cops looking for her until we can get the paperwork for an AMA," she said. "They don't want a lawsuit if she collapses."
From my coat, Jenks laughed, and I jumped, having forgotten he was there. "What are the chances that won't happen?" he quipped, then levered himself out to sit on my shoulder in the warmth of my scarf now that Erica was gone.
"We've made arrangements to stay with a friend, not too far from the church so Jenks can man the phones," Ivy said, her gaze flicking nervously from Cormel to me. There was a helpless fear there, not the raw fear Piscary had evoked in her when he'd looked at me, but the fear that Cormel might become interested in me. It wasn't jealousy-it was fear of abandonment. "If you head to the church, I can direct you when we get closer," she finished.
Jenks snickered. "How many times have you passed out this year, Rache?"
Miffed, I tried to see him, but he was too close. "You wanna pass out right now, Jenks?"
"I'd enjoy it if you would stay with me," Cormel said, his gloved hands folded quietly in his lap. "I have lots of room now that I've put the upper floors back into an apartment. There's only one bed up there, but one of you can sleep on the couch."
Couch? I thought dryly. He'd just as soon see Ivy and me sharing more than rent, but I couldn't find a hint of suggestion in his tone. Besides, I couldn't spend the night there. I had to get hold of my scrying mirror to call Al and get tomorrow off, and all before sunrise. This time of year put it at about eight, and I was starting to get anxious.
"The Chickering was delivered last week," Rynn Cormel said, shifting so his entire attention landed on me. "Have you heard Ivy play the piano, Rachel? She has such a sensitive touch. She should have been encouraged to go professional." Then he smiled. "Though she will have centuries to follow that path if she ever desires."
"Yes," I said, remembering the few times I'd walked in on Ivy lost at the keys. She quit every time; the piano left her more open and raw than she wanted me to see her.
"Wonderful." Cormel leaned to touch the driver in direction. "Call ahead to get the heat turned up, if you would."
My eyes closed briefly at the misunderstanding and I shook my head. "No, I mean I've heard her play, but we can't stay."
"Thank you anyway, Rynn," Ivy said softly, as if she'd been waiting for me to say no first. "Jenks needs to get home to mind the firm. No one will arrest a pixy, but it's likely there will be trouble, and I don't want to be halfway across the Hollows when it hits our door."
Cormel arched his dark eyebrows, his pale complexion making them appear stark in the dim light. "You'll have dinner with me at least? I don't have the chance since leaving office to entertain as often as I'm accustomed to. I find I miss it, surprisingly." He smiled faintly, settling himself with the sound of sliding cashmere. "It's impressive how many political understandings one can reach over a glass of good wine. Tasha is out, and I don't think I can stand another evening listening to our security procedures and how to improve them."
The driver chuckled, but when I took a breath to gracefully decline, Cormel inclined his head, stopping me. "I need a few hours to get your AMA pushed through. You can be sleeping in your own church this morning. Let me do this for you. I need to speak to Ivy as well about what I learned."
Ivy's eyes flicked to mine, asking me to say yes. She obviously liked the man, and knowing how Piscary had treated her, I found it hard to say no. Besides, I wanted to know who'd killed Kisten, too. Thinking I was vacillating, Jenks whispered, "Why the hell not?"
Dinner was a small price to pay for my AMA and information about Kisten, and I nodded, anticipation replacing my faint caution. Ivy smiled, and the driver made a slow U-bangy to head to the Hollows waterfront.
"Capital," Cormel said as he gave us all a closed-lipped but sincere smile. "Jeff, would you call ahead to make sure there's a bite to eat while dinner is being finished? And make sure we have two extra places, please, and something for Jenks."
The living vamp beside Ivy took out his cell phone and hit a single number. Jeff was the one with only a single visible scar, but I was willing to bet there were more hidden under his T-shirt. His low voice was pleasant and hardly audible over the blowing of the heater, turned high for Jenks or possibly me. Cormel and Ivy talked about nothing as my gut wound tighter, until Cormel cracked a window to get rid of the tension I was giving off. I thought my anticipation was from finding out what Cormel had learned about Kisten's death, but when we turned onto the waterfront, I realized where the adrenaline was really coming from.
The instant the wheels turned onto the less-used street, an old fear dripped through me, igniting memory. We were going to Piscary's.
I looked down to find that my hands were clenched, and I forced them apart as we slowed to a crawl. The place looked about the same, the two-story tavern peaceful under six inches of undisturbed snow. The lights were on upstairs, and someone was closing the drapes. A section of the parking lot had been torn up and young trees now stood where rusty two-doors had once parked. The beginnings of a wall had been started to fence in a garden, perhaps, not done and so left until the spring and warmer temperatures. There was no boat at the quay.
"You okay, Rache?" Jenks asked, and I exhaled, forcing my hands to unclasp again.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I haven't been here since Kisten died."
"Me neither," he said, but he hadn't ever been here to begin with. Except when I was here getting into trouble, that is.
I flicked a glance at Ivy as we crept to the side entrance where trucks had once delivered produce from all over the world. She looked fine, but she'd been here often enough that the pain had dulled. Everyone was silent as we stopped before the closed door to the loading dock. A vamp got out to open it, and Jenks's wings brushed my neck as he snuggled in against the cold.
"Rachel," Cormel asked solicitously as the roll-up door noisily raised. "Would you prefer a restaurant? I hadn't considered that my home had bad memories for you. I've made changes," he coaxed. "It's not the same."
Ivy was looking at me like I was a wimp, and I glanced at his eyes, almost black in the dim light. "Just memories," I said.
"Good ones mixed with the bad, I hope?" he said as we drove into the cold, dry, and dark loading dock. I felt a faint tingle at my scar as the darkness took us. Affronted, I stared at him until the tingle vanished. Was he making a play for me? If he bound me, I'd do anything he wanted, thinking it was my idea. And when the vampire pulled the roll-up door shut to make the darkness absolute but for the headlamps, I realized how vulnerable I was. Shit.
"Let's get inside, and you can see what I've done with the place," Cormel said pleasantly, and as my pulse quickened, the doors to the Hummer started opening.
I slid across the long seat to the door with my bag in my hand, and as everyone milled around to make their slow way up the cement steps to the back door, I pretended to adjust my coat before I got out. This might be the last time I could have a private word with Jenks until we got home. "What's my aura look like, Jenks?" I asked, and got a pixy-size sigh in return.
"It's thin, but no holes. I think the emotion the kids stirred up in you helped boost it."
"It comes from emotion?" I murmured, deciding at the last moment to leave my bag in the Hummer as I took the hand of the vamp holding the door and made the careful slide to the cement pad.
"Where did you think it came from?" he said, laughing, from my scarf. "Fairy farts?"
I sighed, shaking my head at Ivy's inquiring look. I didn't like being out with my aura so thin, but he said it was better, and I trusted that no one was going to bite me. I was clearly ill, and that was a turnoff in the vamp world, instilling an almost overboard, lavishing sense of caring in the undead and still living alike. Maybe that was what I was seeing.
One by one, the security vamps jostled for position until they were both ahead and behind us. I obediently headed for the stairway, seeing the tires of Ivy's cycle peeking out from under a tarp. She'd parked it here for the winter after I'd nearly hit it trying to get into our carport. The snowplows had blocked me out, and I had to gun it to get through the chunky, man-made drift.
My pulse raced from the exertion, and I followed Cormel into the kitchen. At least, I was telling myself, it was from the exertion and not anticipation. I wasn't looking forward to seeing Kisten everywhere.
The warmth of the kitchen surprised me, and I looked up from the white tiles as we entered. Most of the ovens had been taken out and a great deal of the counter space. A large, comfortable table now took up the corner beside the stairway that led to the underground apartments. The new amber light hanging over it and the cotton throw rug beneath it made the spot a pleasant place to relax and eat among company, warm from the heat of the ovens and the possibility of conversation.
I breathed deep to find that it didn't smell like a restaurant anymore with its many spices and the lingering scents of unfamiliar vampires. There was just Rynn Cormel's increasingly familiar scent and the lingering aroma of half a dozen or so living vamps, Ivy's among them.
I realized my boots were the only ones making any noise, and I nervously adjusted my collar until Jenks took to the air.
"We could eat here, but I think we will be more comfortable at the fireplace," Cormel said, watching the pixy with a polite but wary expression. "Jeff, find out why Mai hasn't started the appetizers, would you please?"
My concern eased when Ivy took off her coat, and leaving it at the table, strode directly through the old double doors. Jenks went with her and, curious, I followed. All my hesitancy vanished at the sight of the large room that had once entertained Cincy's finest partiers with gourmet pizza and mixed drinks.
The shiny bar remained, taking up one wall, the low ceiling making the dark oak look even darker. All the illuminating lights over the bar were off, and the lit fireplace pulled the eye. The little high tables had been replaced with comfortable furniture, coffee tables, and the occasional sideboard for appetizers, flower arrangements, or possible discarded wineglasses.
Cormel tossed his coat to a chair, reminding me of my dad coming home and settling in. He all but collapsed into one of the self-indulgent chairs by the fire and gestured for us to join him. His pale skin and dark, silvering hair gave him the look of a comfortable businessman home from work. Yeah, right.
I took off my scarf and unzipped my coat, but the winter's chill still hung in me and I kept it on. My eyes went everywhere as I followed Ivy to the hearth. To the right of the fireplace, one of the doors to what had once been a private dining room was open, and I could see a throw rug and part of a bed where a huge table once sat. One of the security vampires casually shut the door as he went by, and I guessed it was a guest room now. The floor was scratched in the old high-traffic areas and the light fixtures were still a table length apart, but it looked like a living room-a very large, low-ceilinged living room done up to look like a piece of up north with its round wooden timbers and dark paneling.
Cormel had chosen a chair, and Ivy had taken the couch before the fire. Thinking they were going to make judgments on where I sat, I carefully lowered myself onto the couch with Ivy between us, not too near her but not looking as if I was scrunched in the corner either.
The undead vampire smiled with half his mouth. Leaning forward, he rubbed his hands together and held them to the fire as if he was cold. Damn, he was good.
I felt silly in my coat, so I took it off to find it pleasantly warm. Rynn had beckoned one of his staff closer, and Ivy was giving the man my personal information so he could file for the AMA. I was just starting to get warm enough to pay attention when Jenks flew down the staircase, a content trail of gold dust spilling from him.
"You should be fine from AMA police for a while," he said as he unwound his winter wear to show the skintight black outfit he had on underneath. "He's got five vamps on security: the three who came with us plus two who were here. It wouldn't surprise me if the woman in the kitchen is security, too, by the way she's throwing the knives around."
"Thanks, Jenks," I said, knowing he was telling me this not because I was worried about the FIB or the I.S., but to tell our host we were not dumb about being here.
"Cormel has great security," he continued as more blue fabric joined the pile on the arm of the couch. "Professional. All new stuff, and don't mistake the smiles you're seeing for leniency in a stress situation."
"Gotcha," I said, then looked up when Cormel's aide nodded and left.
"I adore red tape," Cormel said, settling back with a pleased expression, "tied in a Gordian knot." I stared at him, and he added, "Any knot can be cut with a big enough sword. You'll have what you need in ten minutes."
Jenks rose an inch, then dropped when the guy with the savaged neck who had driven us here came in with an open bottle of white wine. I took my glass, vowing not to drink it, but when Cormel stood, gazing at the wine's hue, I knew he was going to make a toast.
"To immortality," he said, sounding almost forlorn. "For some, a burden; for others, a joy. Here's to long lives and long loves."
We went to drink, and Jenks muttered, "And longer lady-killers."
I choked, and Jenks rose up on a glittering column of laughter.
Ivy had heard him, and she leaned back with a sour look on her face, but Cormel had stood, and I jumped when one of his hands touched my shoulder and the other took my glass as I hacked and coughed. "Would you like a milder wine?" he said solicitously as he set it down. "Forgive me. You're still recovering. Jeff, bring out a sweeter white," he said, and I waved my protest.
"'S okay," I managed. "Went down the wrong pipe is all."
Ivy uncrossed her knees and took another sip. "Do you need to wait in the car, Jenks?"
The pixy grinned. I could see it through my watering eyes. I was probably as red as the throw pillow I wanted to smack him with. Tracking his motion to the warm mantel and out of my reach, I took another sip to clear my throat. The wine was superb, and my vow to avoid it was tempered by the knowledge that I'd probably never be able to afford a bottle like this. Ah, one glass sipped slowly wouldn't hurt...
Ivy unfolded herself and went to arrange the fire, leaving me and Rynn Cormel with a wide space between us. "Are you sure you won't stay the morning?" he said across the empty couch. "I've plenty of everything but company."
"Dinner, Rynn," Ivy said. Her shape was a sharp silhouette against the fire, and when her hand came down very close to Jenks, he took to the air muttering curses. "You said you know who killed Kisten. Is he someone who will be missed?" she said.
What she was asking was if she could claim a life in return, and I stifled a shiver at the depth of her pain.
A sigh slipped from Cormel, though he didn't need to breathe but to speak. "It's not that I know who killed him, but I do know who didn't." Ivy went to protest, and the man put up a hand for her to wait. "There was no one Piscary owed a favor to," Cormel said. "He hadn't had contact with any vampire out of the city, so it was a Cincy native, and likely still here."
Seeing his fatherly concern, something in me snapped. "There's you," I said bluntly, and Ivy stiffened. "Maybe you did it."
Jenks's wings clattered a nervous warning, but the undead vampire smiled with only the barest hint of an eye twitch giving away his annoyance. "I understand you're starting to remember certain things," he said flatly, and my bravado vanished. "Do I smell familiar to you? You wouldn't forget me if I'd pinned you to the wall." His eyes tightened. "I know it."
I started to breathe again when he turned to Ivy, the shell of his humanity back in place. "You've been to the boat, Ivy," he said in a soft voice. "Was I ever there?"
Ivy was tense, but she shook her head.
I would've pointed out that he could have had someone else do it, but that wasn't how vampires worked. If Kisten had been a gift to Cormel, Cormel would have taken him without a second thought and would admit it freely. I was dining with a freaking animal, and I bowed my head with a false contriteness and muttered, "Sorry. I had to ask."
"Of course you did. No insult taken."
I felt sick. We were all pretending. Well, at least Cormel and I were. Ivy might still be living the lie. I smiled at him, and Cormel smiled back, the picture of grace and understanding as he leaned to top off my wine, and I leaned forward to accept it.
"Besides myself," he said as he retreated and Ivy relaxed, "there have been no new major political powers entering the city, and none looking for upward mobility other than what one would expect when a master vampire dies his final death. No one has more power than he or she should, which wouldn't be the case if Piscary showed favor to someone." He took a sip, considering the flavor or his next words. "Many owed Piscary, but he owed no one."
Her back to the fire, Ivy was silent. We'd learned nothing, and I was starting to wonder if Kisten's death was another one of Ivy's freaking life lessons. Seeing her fidgeting in motions so subtle only Jenks or I would recognize, I hoped not. If it was, I might just dig the bastard Piscary back up and stake him again for the hell of it. Make a necklace out of his teeth and bathtub duckies out of his dried-up balls...
"I've met him," Ivy said, looking for a shred of hope to follow. "I just can't place him."
"Do you have a name?" Cormel asked.
I could hear faint activity in the kitchen, and Jenks flew to investigate.
"No. The scent is too old, and it's not quite the same. It's like he was alive when I knew him, and now he's dead, or maybe a large shift of status changed his diet and therefore his scent." Her head came up, showing that her eyes were red. "Maybe he tried to disguise his smell so I couldn't recognize it."
Cormel waved a hand in dismissal, his expression irate. "Then you really have nothing," he said, holding out his hand to lure her into sitting back down. "I'm sure the answer is here, but I have exhausted my leads. I'm not asking the right person. You could, though."
Ivy exhaled to try to find her composure. "And who is the right person?" she asked as she took his grip and sat.
"Skimmer," Cormel said, and my head came up sharply. "She knows all Piscary's political secrets. Lawyers..." The vampire sighed expressively.
"Skimmer is in jail," Jenks said as he darted back to the fire. "She won't see Ivy."
Ivy lowered her head, her brow pinched. Skimmer's refusal was tearing her up.
"She might see you if Rachel goes with you," Rynn Cormel suggested, and the hope of a possibility smoothed Ivy's expression. My mouth, though, went dry.
"You think it will make a difference?" I asked.
He shrugged as he sipped his wine. "She doesn't want Ivy to see her in her failure. But I expect she has a few words to say to you."
Jenks's breath hissed in, but Rynn was right. Ivy's face held the hope that Skimmer would talk to her, and I set my dislike for the petite, dangerous vampire aside. For Ivy. I would talk to her for Ivy. And to find out who killed Kisten. "It's worth trying," I said, thinking that going in there with a thin aura wasn't the best idea in the world.
Cormel shifted his feet uneasily. It was subtle, and he probably didn't even know he had done it, but I saw it, and so did Jenks. "Good," he said, as if everything had been decided. "I do believe there is some sushi headed our way."
His words were clearly a signal, since the doors to the kitchen promptly swung open and Jeff and another vamp, in an apron, came out with trays. Jenks's wings were a shimmer of motion though he hadn't moved from the arm of the couch. "I didn't know you liked sushi," I said.
"I don't, but there's honey in one of the dipping sauces."
"Jenks," I warned as Cormel and Ivy made a spot on the coffee table before the fire.
"Wha-a-a-a-at," he complained, his wings slowing until I could almost see the red bit of tape. "I wasn't going to eat any. I was going to take it home for Matalina. It helps her sleep better." And seeing the flicker of concern in his eyes, I believed him.
The trays looked fabulous, and glad now I'd said yes to dinner, I took up my chopsticks, pleased I didn't have to break them apart to use them. They looked expensive. All we had at home were the ones we saved from takeout.
I watched Ivy handle her sticks with the fluency of a native language, the extensions of her fingers taking three different sashimi and several rolls with cream cheese and what looked like tuna. Remembering our first disastrous dinner as roommates, I kept my eyes down and put a few bites on my plate followed by lots of ginger. Jenks hovered over an amber sauce, and I put some on my plate, making sure he knew it was for him by pointing at him with the sticks-though how he was going to get it home was beyond me.
Cormel was still fussing with the sauces by the time Ivy and I had retreated with full plates. "I'm so pleased you stayed," he said as he moved with that eerie vampire speed and put all of three bites on his plate. "Sushi alone is not the same. You never get the variety."
Ivy was smiling, but the display of vampiric speed had me on edge. I didn't need the reminder that he was stronger than me. And he didn't need to eat. Why he was sort of bothered me.
"I love sushi," I said, not wanting him to guess he had unnerved me. "Since I was a kid."
"Really." Cormel put a bite into his mouth and chewed. "I'm surprised."
"I was eight," I said, taking a slice of ginger and enjoying the sweet zing. "I thought I was dying. Well, I was, but I didn't know I was going to get better. My brother went on this big push for me to do everything. Made it his goal one summer."
My fumbling for a roll slowed as I thought about the girl in the hospital and the look in her eyes. I should go back and tell her the chance was real. If I survived, then she had a chance. I didn't even know her name.
"You still are, you know," Cormel said, startling me.
"Dying?" I blurted, and he laughed. Ivy smiled thinly, not appreciating the joke.
"I suppose," he said, eyes on his second roll. "I'm the only one here not performing that particular trick anymore, but what I meant was, you're still pushing to try new things."
My eyes flicked to Ivy. "No, I'm not."
Ivy shifted uncomfortably between us. Determined to not back down, I took one of the more mundane crunchy pieces of fried shrimp and ate it with a great deal of noise.
Cormel smiled and set his plate aside, having eaten only one roll. "You're in a tight spot, Rachel, and I'm curious as to what your plan is for getting out."
Jenks clattered his wings in warning, and the tension went up. "I'll get the AMA whether you help me or not-" I started, and he cut me off.
"I promised you your form, and you will have it," he said, sounding insulted. "That's short-term survival, and I'm talking progress. Moving forward. Establishing yourself in a safe, long-term situation." He took his glass and sipped from it. "You have been seen consorting with demons. You were refused traditional treatment on the witch floors because of your demon scars. What do you think that means?"
"It means they're idiots." My chin rose, and I set the plate of sushi down. "Human medicine worked fine."
"Humans don't like demons any more than anyone else," he said. "Less. If you continue dealing with them openly, you will be silenced. Probably by witches."
I laughed at that. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, waving my sticks about. "I don't know where you're getting your info, but witches don't do that to each other. They never have."
"And you know that how?" he asked. "Even so, you're acting out of character, and that will force them to do the same."
I made a scoffing sound, and returned to eating. Why do they make these rolls so darn big? I look like a freaking squirrel.
"Be cautious, Rachel," Cormel said, and I ignored him, continuing to try to chew a wad of rice and seaweed too big for my mouth. "Humans are vicious when cornered. That's why they survive and we don't. They came first, and they will probably persist long after we're gone. Rats, cockroaches, and humans."
Ivy rolled her eyes and ate a glob of the green stuff. Seeing her disbelief, Cormel smiled. "Ivy disagrees," he said, "but I've had to speak favorably for you more than once."
My motion to dip my last cucumber roll hesitated. "I never asked you to do that."
"It wasn't your place to give me permission," he said. "I'm not telling you this so you feel you owe me a debt, but to let you know your situation. If the witches don't react to you openly trafficking with demons, then the vampires will be pressed into it for another reason."
I set my sticks down, feeling sick. I had no choice but to traffic with demons, having bought Trent's freedom from them with a promise to be Al's student. "If you're not upset about the demons, then what's bothering you?" I asked, feeling trapped and angry.
"What you're doing to help the elves, of course."
Ivy exhaled, and I suddenly got it. "Oh." I took a steadying breath and pushed my plate away. I wasn't hungry anymore. Piscary had killed my dad and Trent's father for simply trying to help the elves. I had gone past trying and had actually saved them. Well, I'd gotten the sample that Trent used to do it.
"There have been three elf conceptions in the last three months," Cormel said, and my thoughts flew to Ceri. "All healthy from what I understand. Their population is going to slowly rise. The Weres, too, are poised to explode under the right circumstances. You can understand why the vampires are slightly concerned."
"David doesn't want a pack," I said, my jaw starting to clench.
Cormel crossed his knees and a grimace colored his expression. "Humans breed like flaming rabbits from hell, but we've been dealing with that for centuries. You, however, are responsible for the elves and Weres. Population wise," he amended before I could protest. "From what I understand, the elves would just as soon see you dead for some reason I haven't fathomed yet, which leaves the Weres to back you, and if they do, it will be with the power of the focus." He paused. "Which will increase their numbers," he finished.
I slumped back into the couch and sighed. No good deed and all...
Rynn Cormel mimicked my position, doing so with slow grace instead of dejected suddenness. "What can you do for us, Rachel?" he said, glancing at a very quiet Ivy. "We need something so that we may think more kindly of you."
I knew what he was asking. He wanted me to find a way for vampires to keep their souls after death, and he thought I'd do it to save Ivy. "I'm working on it," I muttered, arms crossed over my chest and staring at the fire.
"I don't see any progress."
My brow furrowed, and I gave him a look. "Ivy-"
"Ivy likes things the way they are," he interrupted, as if she wasn't sitting between us. "You need to be more aggressive."
"Hey!" I exclaimed. "That is none of your business."
Jenks took flight, hovering a careful three feet from him. "You need to keep your stick in your own flowers," he said, hands on his hips.
"Rynn," Ivy pleaded. "Please."
But the man proved who he was-what he was-when his eyes flashed black and his aura slammed into me. "Tell me you don't like this...," he whispered.
I gasped, shoving away from him when his eyes touched my demon scar. I was against the back and arm of the couch, and I could go no farther. My exhalation turned into a moan as feeling shivered over my skin, delving deep where my clothes touched me. I couldn't think-there had never been anything so shockingly intimate-and my blood pounded, telling me to submit, to give in, to take what he offered and revel in it.
"Stop!" Jenks shrilled. "Stop now, or I'll jam this stick so far up your nose, you'll be able to do calculus with it!"
"Please," I panted, my knees at my chin as I nearly writhed on the couch, the leather feeling like skin against me. The sensation had come from nowhere...and God, it felt so good. How could I ignore this? He had flung it in my face, showing me what Ivy and I had shunned.
"Rynn, please," Ivy whispered, and the sensation cut off with the suddenness of a slap.
My gasp was harsh, and I felt the dampness of tears. I realized my face was against the couch, and I was curled up, hiding from the passion, from the ecstasy. Panting, I slowly unkinked my arms and legs. I couldn't focus well, but I found him easily enough, sitting comfortably on his chair. Jenks hovered between us with a chopstick. God, the vampire looked as unruffled as stone, and about as compassionate. He wore a superb mask, but he was an animal.
"If you touch my scar again...," I threatened, but what could I do? He protected Ivy, protected me. Slowly my pulse eased, but the shaking of my legs didn't. He knew my threats were nothing, and he ignored me.
I followed his gaze to Ivy, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Ivy," I whispered in heartache. Her eyes were black and desperate. She was fighting every instinct she had. Her master had gone for me in front of her, then had drawn back, practically saying, "You finish." We struggled with this, and for him to callously break everything we had worked for pissed me off. "You have no right," I said, my voice shaking.
"I like you, Rachel," he said, surprising me. "I have since I first heard Ivy's impassioned description of you and then found it accurate. You're inventive, intelligent, and dangerous. I can't keep you alive if you continue to ignore the fact that your actions reach farther than next week."
"Don't do this to me and Ivy again," I seethed. "Do you hear me?"
"Why?" he said, and his confusion was too real to be faked. "I did nothing you didn't enjoy. Ivy's good for you. You're good for Ivy. I don't understand why both of you are ignoring this...perfect match."
I couldn't edge away from Ivy. She was balanced. Ignoring her was the only armor I could give her. "Ivy knows there can't be blood shared without dominance given. I won't, and she can't."
He seemed to think about that. "Then one of you needs to learn to bend." As if that was all there was to it. "To become second."
I thought of his scion, sent away because it was easier to do this without her here. "Neither of us will," I said. "That's why we can live together. Leave. Ivy. Alone."
A small noise came from him. "I was talking about Ivy bending, not you."
I shook my head, disgusted. "That's what I love about her," I said. "If she bends, I walk away. If I bend, she gets nothing but a shell."
His brow furrowed and the fire snapped as he thought. "Are you sure?" he asked, and I nodded, not sure if it would save or damn us. "Then maybe this won't work," he said distantly.
Jenks, silent until now, dropped the chopstick. "It will!" he protested as it clattered. "I mean, Rachel has found out so much already. She's working with a wise demon. She'll find a way for Ivy to keep her soul!"
"Jenks, don't," I said, but Cormel was thinking, even as I could see his unease that the wisdom to further his species would come from demons.
"Al might know a way for souls to be retained after death," Jenks pleaded, his angular features scrunched up in fear for me.
"Shut up!" I shouted.
Ivy was breathing easier, and I risked a look at her. Her hands were unfisted, but she was still looking at the floor and breathing shallowly.
"Ask your demon," Cormel said as Jeff cautiously came in with a fax. The man glanced at Ivy in alarm, then handed it to Cormel. Without even looking at it, the undead vampire coolly handed it past Ivy to me. "Your AMA."
I shoved it in my pocket. "Thank you."
"What good timing," Cormel said lightly, but I could see everything now. All the pretty talk and clever smiles wouldn't snare me again. "Now we can eat with relaxed stomachs."
Yeah. Right.
I turned to Ivy, and when she met my eyes with a growing band of brown around her pupils, I stood. "Thank you, Rynn, but we're leaving."
Jenks dropped to the arm of the chair and hurriedly wound fabric around himself, his wings drooping and rising as he worked.
"Ivy...," Rynn Cormel said, as if confused, and she backed away from him, closer to me.
"I'm happy," she said softly as she handed me my coat. "Please leave me alone."
We started for the kitchen, Jenks flying heavily behind us as a vanguard, trailing the last of his wrap along instead of sparkles. "There's more here to think about than two people's happiness," Cormel said loudly, and Ivy stopped, her hand on the swinging doors.
"Rachel won't be pushed," she said.
"Then pull her, before someone else does."
As one, we turned and left. Behind us was the sharp clatter of chopsticks and little ceramic dishes hitting the stone fireplace. The kitchen was empty, and I imagined everyone had gone somewhere else and out of Cormel's angry path. Jenks dove for my scarf as I wrapped it about my neck, and I sighed as I recalled how erotic a covered neck was to a vampire. God, I was stupid.
Ivy hesitated at the door to the loading dock. "I'll be right back," she said, a dangerous slant to her eyes.
"Are you sure?" I asked, and she strode away. Uncomfortable, I hustled into the cold garage. We weren't going to get home in the Hummer, so I got my bag out from the backseat, and with a grunt, shoved the door up, panting as the silent night met me. We'd be taking Ivy's bike, and it was going to be a very slow, very cold ride.
But I had to get home. We had to. We both needed to get back to the church and the patterns of behavior that kept us apart and together-sane. I had to call Al before the sun came up and beg for the time off. And now I had to ask him if he knew of a way to save a vampire's soul, because if I didn't, I might find myself dead.
The sound of Ivy's boots brought my attention up, and she strode down the stairs with her arms crossed. "You okay?" I asked as I pulled the tarp from Ivy's bike, and she nodded.
From my scarf came Jenks's snotty "I'm okay, you're okay, Ivy's freaking okay. We're all okay. Can we get the hell out of here?"
Ivy stashed my bag, got on the bike, and turned to look at me, waiting. "Are you going to pull me?" I asked, heart pounding as I stood on the hard cement with my feet going cold in my boots.
Her eyes were like liquid brown in the dim light, and I could see her misery. "No."
I had to trust her. Swinging my leg over, I got on the bike behind her and held on tight as Ivy idled the bike out of the sheltered warmth and into the cold snow of the last of the year.
