A Fistful of Charms
Chapter Thirty-five
My boot heel slipped on the uneven sidewalk, and the sound of me catching my step was dull in the air heavy from the evening's rain. The faint twinge in my leg reminded me that it wasn't quite right yet. The sun was long gone, and clouds made the night darker than it ought to be, close and warm. I splashed through a puddle, in too good a mood to care if my ankles got wet. Pizza dough was rising in my kitchen, and I had a grocery sack of toppings.
Lunch was going to be early tonight; Ivy had a run, and Kisten was taking me to a movie and I didn't want to fill up on popcorn. Passing under a lamp-lit, pollution-stunted maple, I reached to touch its leaves in passing, smiling at the green softness brushing my skin. They were damp, and I let my hand stay wet and cool in the night air. The street was quiet. The only human family living there was inside watching TV, and everyone else was at work or school. The hum of Cincinnati was far away and distant, the rumble of sleeping lions.
I adjusted the strap of my new canvas grocery bag, thinking that in the time we'd been gone, spring had shifted into high gear. It was almost a year since I'd quit the I.S. "And I'm alive," I whispered to the world. I was alive and doing well. No, I was doing great.
A soft clearing of a throat zinged through me, but I managed not to jerk or alter my pace. It had come from across the street, and I searched the shadows until I found a well-muscled Were in jeans and a dress shirt. He had been shadowing me all week. It was Brett.
I forced my jaw to unclench and gave him a respectful nod, receiving a snappy salute in return. Free arm swinging, I continued down the street, hitting the puddles that were in my way. Brett wouldn't bother me. That he was looking for the focus had occurred to me - either wanting to confirm that it was truly gone, or use it to buy his way back into Walter's good graces if it wasn't - but I didn't think so. It looked like he was going loner when he dropped his cap on the Mackinac Bridge and walked away. But he was just watching now. David had done the same for months before he finally made his presence known. When unsure of their rank, Weres were patient and wary. He'd come to me when he was ready.
And I was in far too good a mood to worry about it. I was so glad to be home. My stitches were out and the scars were thin lines easily hidden. My limp was fading, and thanks to that curse I used to Were, I had absolutely no freckles. The soft air slipped easily in and out of my lungs as I walked, and I felt sassy. Sassy and badass in my vamp-made boots and Jenks's aviator jacket. I was wearing the cap Jenks had stolen from the island Weres, and it added a nice bit of bad girl. The guy behind the counter at the corner store had thought I was cute.
I passed my covered car in the open garage and my mood faltered. The I.S. had suspended my license. It just wasn't fair. I had saved them a dump truck of political hassle, and did I get even a thank-you? No. They took my license.
Not wanting to lose my good mood, I forced my brow smooth. The I.S. had publicly announced on the back page of the Community Section of the paper that I was cleared of all suspicion of any wrongdoing in the accidental deaths that had taken place on the bridge. But behind closed doors some undead vamp had given me a hard time for trying to handle such a powerful artifact instead of bringing it to them. He didn't back off until Jenks threatened to cut off his balls and give them to me to make a magic bola. You gotta love friends like that.
The undead vampire didn't get me to confess that I'd meant to kill Peter, and that cheesed him off to no end. He had been beautifully dangerous, with snow-white hair and sharp features, and even though he whipped me up to the point where I would have had his baby, he couldn't scare me into forgetting I had rights. Not after I'd survived Piscary - who didn't care about them. The entire nationwide I.S. was pissed at me, believing the focus had gone over the edge with Nick instead of being turned over to them.
There was a continuous twenty-four-hour search going on for the artifact on the bottom of the straits. The locals thought they were stupid since the current had put it in Lake Huron shortly after the truck hit the water, and I thought they were stupid because the real artifact was hidden in Jenks's living room. With their official stand being what it was, the I.S. couldn't lock me up, but with the added points after the accident with Peter, they could suspend my license. My choices were riding the bus for six months or gritting my teeth and taking driver's ed. God no. I'd be the oldest one in the class.
My mood tarnishing, I took the church's stairs two at a time, and felt my leg protest. I pulled the heavy wooden door open, slipped inside and breathed deeply, relishing the scent of tomato paste and bacon. The pizza dough was probably ready, and Kisten's sauce had been simmering for the better part of the day. He had kept me company in the kitchen all afternoon while I finished restocking my charm cupboard. Even helped me clean my mess.
I shut the door with hardly a thump. All the windows in the church were open to let in the moist night. I couldn't wait to get into the garden tomorrow, and even had a few seeds I wanted to try out. Ivy was laughing at me and the stack of seed catalogs that somehow found me despite my address change, but I'd caught her looking at one.
Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I wondered if I might splurge for the ten-dollar-a-seed packet of black orchids she'd been eyeing. They were wickedly hard to get and even more difficult to grow, but with Jenks's help, who knew?
Slipping off my wet boots and coat, I left them by the door and padded in my socks through the peaceful sanctuary. The hush of a passing car came in through the high transom windows above the stained-glass windows. The pixies had worked for hours chiseling the old paint off and oiling the hinges so I could open them with the long pole I'd found in the belfry stairway. There were no screens, which was why the lights were off. There were no pixies either. My desk was again my desk. Thank all that was holy.
My wandering attention touched on the potted plants Jenks had left behind on my desk, and I jerked to a halt, seeing a pair of green eyes under the chair, catching the light. Slowly my breath slipped from me. "Darn cat," I whispered, thinking Rex was going to scare the life out of me if she didn't break my heart first. I crouched to try to coax her to me, but Rex didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even twitch her beautiful tail.
Rex didn't like me much. She liked Ivy just fine. She loved the garden, the graveyard, and the pixies that lived in it, but not me. The little ball of orange fluff would sleep on Ivy's bed, purr under her chair during breakfast for tidbits, and sit on her lap, but she only stared at me with large, unblinking eyes. I couldn't help but feel hurt. I think she was still waiting for me to turn back into a wolf. The sound of Kisten and Ivy's voices intruded over the slow jazz. Hiking the canvas bag higher, I awkwardly inched closer to Rex, hand held out.
Ivy and I had been home a week, and we were all still in emotional limbo. Three seconds after Ivy and I walked in the door, Kisten looked at my dental floss stitches, breathed deeply, and knew what had happened. In an instant, Ivy had gone from happy-to-be-home to depressed. Her face full of an aching emptiness, she'd dropped her bags and took off on her bike to get it "checked over."
Just as well. Kisten and I had a long, painful discussion where he both sorrowed after and admired my new scars. It felt good to confess to someone that Ivy had scared the crap out of me, and even better when he agreed that in time she might forget her own fear and try to find a blood balance with me.
Since then he'd been his usual self. Almost. There was a sly hesitancy in his touch now, as if he was holding himself to a limit of action to see if I would change it. The unhappy result was the mix of danger and security that I loved in him was gone. Not wanting to interfere in anything Ivy and I might find, he had put me in charge of moving our relationship forward.
I didn't like being in charge. I liked the heart pounding rush of being lured into making decisions that might turn bad on me. Realizing as much was depressing. It seemed that Ivy and Jenks were right that not only was I an adrenaline junkie, but I needed a sensation of danger to get turned on.
Thinking about it now, my mood thoroughly soured, I crouched beside my desk, arm extended to try to get the stupid cat to like me. Her neck stretched out and she sniffed my fingers, but wouldn't bump her head under my hand as she would Ivy's. Giving up, I stood and headed for the back of the church, following the sound of Kisten's masculine rumble. I took a breath to call out and tell them I was there, but my feet stilled when I realized they were talking about me.
"Well, you did bite her," Kisten said, his voice both lightly accusing and coaxing.
"I bit her," Ivy admitted, her voice a whisper.
"And you didn't bind her," he prompted.
"No." I heard the creak of her chair as she repositioned herself, guilt making her shift.
"She wants to know what comes next," Kisten said with a rude laugh. "Hell, I want to know myself."
"Nothing," Ivy said shortly. "It's not going to happen again."
I licked my lips, thinking I should back out of the hallway and come in making more noise, but I couldn't move, staring at the worn wood by the archway to the living room.
Kisten sighed. "That's not fair. You strung her along until she called your bluff, and now you won't go forward, and she can't go back. Look at her," he said, and I imagined him gesturing at nothing. "She wants to find a blood balance. God, Ivy, isn't that what you wanted?"
Ivy's breath came harsh. "I could have killed her!" she exclaimed, and I jumped. "I lost control just like always and almost killed her. She let me do it because she trusted me." Her words were now muffled. "She understood everything and she didn't stop me."
"You're scared," Kisten accused, and my eyes widened at his gall.
But Ivy took it in stride as she laughed sarcastically. "You think?"
"No," he insisted, "I mean you're scared. You're afraid to try to find a balance you can both live with, because if you try and can't, she leaves and you've got nothing."
"That's not it," she said flatly, and I nodded. That was part of it, but not all.
Kisten leaned forward; I could hear the chair creak. "You think you don't deserve anything good," he said, and my face went cold, wondering if there was more to this than I had thought. "Afraid you're going to ruin every decent thing you get, so you're going to stick with this shitty half relationship instead of seeing where it might go."
"It's not a half relationship," Ivy protested.
He touched the truth, I thought. But that's not what keeps her silent.
"Compared to what you might have, it is," he said, and I heard someone get up and move. "She's straight, and you're not," Kisten added, and my pulse quickened. His voice was now coming from where Ivy sat. "She sees a deep platonic relationship, and you know that even if you start one, you'll eventually delude yourself into believing it's deeper. She'll be your friend when what you want is a lover. And one night in a moment of blood passion, you're going to make a mistake in a very concrete way and she'll be gone."
"Shut up!" she shouted, and I heard a slap, perhaps of a hand meeting someone's grip.
Kisten laughed gently, ending it with a sigh of understanding. "I got it right that time."
His liquid voice, gray with truth, sent a shiver through me. Back up, I told myself. Back up and go play with the cat. I could hear my heartbeat in the silence. From the disc player, the song ended.
"Are you going to share blood with her again?"
It was a gentle, hesitant inquiry, and Ivy took a noisy breath. "I can't."
"Mind if I do?"
Oh God. This time I did move, pulling the canvas bag tight to me. Kisten already had my body. If we shared blood, it would be too much for Ivy's pride. Something would break.
"Bastard," Ivy said, pulling my retreat to a halt.
"You know how I feel about her," he said. "I'm not going to walk away because of your asinine hang-ups about blood."
My lips parted at his bitter accusation, and Ivy's breath hissed. "Hang-ups?" she said vehemently. "Mixing sex with bloodletting is the only way I can keep from losing control with someone I love, Kisten! I thought I was better, but obviously I'm not!"
It had been bitter and accusing, but Kisten's voice was harsh with his own frustration. "I don't understand, Ivy," he said, and I heard him move away from her. "I never did. Blood is blood. Love is love. You aren't a whore if you take someone's blood when you don't like them, and you aren't a whore for wanting someone you don't like to take your blood."
"This is where I am, Kisten," she said. "I'm not touching her, and neither are you."
My pulse pounded, and I heard in his heavy exhalation the sound of an old argument that had no answer. "Rachel's worth fighting for," he said softly. "If she asks me, I won't say no."
I closed my eyes, seeing where this was heading.
"And because you're a man," Ivy said bitterly, "she won't have a problem when the blood turns to sex, will she."
"Probably not." It was confident, and my eyes opened.
"Damn you," she whispered, sounding broken. "I hate you."
Kisten was silent, and then I heard the soft sound of a kiss. "You love me."
Mouth dry, I stood in the hallway, afraid to move in the silence the last sound track had left.
"Ivy?" Kisten coaxed. "I won't lure her from you, but I won't sit by and pretend I'm a stone either. Just talk to her. She knows where your feelings are, and she still has the room next to yours, not an apartment across the city. Maybe..."
My eyes closed in the swirl of conflicting feelings. The image of me sharing a room with Ivy flitted through my mind, shocking me. Of me slipping between those silken sheets and sliding up to her back, smelling her hair, feeling her turn over and seeing her easy smile four inches from mine. I knew how her eyes would be lidded and heavy with sleep, the soft sound of welcome she would make. What in hell was I doing?
"She's rash," Kisten said, "impulsive, and the most caring person I have ever met. She told me what happened, but she doesn't think anything less of you, or herself, even when it went wrong."
"Shut up," Ivy whispered, pain and self-reproach in her voice.
"You opened the door," he accused, making her come to grips with what we had done. "And if you don't walk her through it, she'll find someone who will. I don't have to ask your permission. And unless you tell me right now that someday you're going to try to find a blood balance with her, I will if she asks me."
I shivered, jerking when a soft brush on my leg made me jump. It was Rex, but I was little more to her than something to brush up against as she headed to the living room, following the sound of Ivy's distress.
"I can't!" Ivy exclaimed, and I jumped. "Piscary..." She took a gasping breath. "Piscary will step in and he'll make me hurt her, maybe kill her."
"That's an excuse," he hammered on her. "The truth is that you're scared."
I stood in the hallway and trembled, feeling the tension rise in the unseen room. But Kisten's voice was gentle now that he'd gotten her to admit her feelings. "You should tell her that," he continued softly.
Ivy sniffed, half in sorrow, half in bitter amusement. "I just did. She's in the hall."
I sucked in my breath and jerked upright.
"Shit," Kisten said, his voice panicked. "Rachel?"
Pulling up my shoulders, I raised my chin and went into the kitchen. Kisten scuffed to a halt in the hall, and tension slammed into me. His lanky build, wide shoulders, and my favorite red silk shirt took up the archway. He had on boots, and they looked good peeping from under his jeans. His bracelet felt heavy on me, and I twisted it, wondering if I should take it off.
"Rachel, I didn't know you were there," he said, his face creased. "I'm sorry. You aren't a toy that I have to ask Ivy's permission to play with."
I kept my back to him, shoulders stiff while I opened the canvas sack and took things out. Leaving the cheese, mushrooms, and the pineapple where they were, I strode to the pantry, hanging my grocery bag up on the hook I'd nailed in yesterday. Images of Ivy's comfortable room, of Kisten's face, his body, the way he felt under my fingers, the way he made me feel, all flashed through me. Pace stilted, I went to the stove and took the lid off the sauce. Steam billowed up, the rising scent of tomato making the wisps of my hair drift. I stirred without seeing as he came up behind me. "Rachel?"
My breath came out, and I held the next one. I was so confused.
Softly - almost not there - Kisten put a hand on my shoulder. Tension slipped from me, and sensing it, he leaned until his body pressed against my back. His arms went around me, imprisoning me, and my motions to stir the pot stilled. "She knew the moment I came in," I said.
"Probably," he whispered into my ear.
I wondered where Ivy was - if she had stayed in the living room or fled the church entirely, shamed that she had needs and fears like the rest of us. Kisten took the spoon from me, setting it between the burners before turning me around. I pulled my eyes to his, not surprised to see them narrow with concern. The glow from the overhead light shimmered on his day-old stubble, and I touched it because I could. His arms were about my waist, and he gave a tug, settling me closer into him. "What she can't say to your face, she'll say when she knows you're listening," he said. "It's a bad habit she picked up in therapy."
I had already figured that one out, and bobbed my head. "This is a mess," I said, miserable as I looked over his shoulder to the dark hallway. "I never should have - "
My words cut off when Kisten pulled me closer. Arms about his waist and my head against his chest, I breathed deeply the scent of leather and silk, relaxing into him. "Yes," he whispered. "You should have." He pushed me back until I could see his eyes. "I won't ask," he said earnestly. "If it happens, it happens. I like things the way they are." His expression grew sly. "I'd like it better if things changed, but when change is too quick, the strong break."
My eyes on the archway, I stood and held him, not wanting to let go. I could hear Ivy in the living room, trying to find a way to make a graceful entrance. The warmth of his body was soothing, and I held my breath against the thought of his teeth sinking into me. I knew exactly how good it would feel. What was I going to do about that?
Kisten's head came up an instant before the peal of the front doorbell echoed through the church. "I got it!" Ivy shouted, and Kisten and I pulled apart before her boots made a soft brush down the hall. The light flicked on in the hallway, and I heard the beginnings of a low conversation. The mushrooms needed cutting, and Kisten joined me as I washed my hands. We jostled for space at the sink, bumping hips as he pushed me into a better mood.
"Cut them at an angle," he admonished when I reached for the cutting board. He had his hands in the flour bag, then clapped them once over the sink before putting himself at the center island counter and the ball of dough he had set to rise under a piece of linen.
"It makes a difference?" Still melancholy, I moved my stuff to the opposite side of the counter so I could watch him. "David?" I shouted, eating the first mushroom slice. It was probably him, seeing as I'd asked him to come over.
A low noise escaped Kisten, and I smiled. He looked good over there. A brush of flour made a domestic smear on his shirt, and he had rolled up his sleeves to show his lightly tanned arms. Seeing him gently handling the dough and watching me at the same time, I realized the thrill was back - the delicious danger of what-if. He had told Ivy he wasn't going to walk away from me; I was on dangerous ground. Again.
God save me. I thought in disgust. Could I be any more stupid? My life was so messed up. How could I just stand here and cut mushrooms as if everything was normal? But compared to last week, maybe this was normal.
My attention came up when David walked in ahead of Ivy, his slight build looking blocky before her sleek grace. "Hi, David," I said, trying to clear my mind. "Full moon tonight."
He nodded, saying nothing as he took in Kisten casually pulling the dough into a circle. "I can't stay," he said, realizing we were making lunch. "I have a few appointments, but you said it was urgent?" He smiled at Kisten. "Hi, Kisten. How's the boat?"
"Still afloat," he said, eyebrows rising as he took in David's expensive suit. He was working, and he looked the part despite the heavy stubble the full moon made worse.
"It won't take long," I said, slicing the last mushroom. "I've got something I want you to take a look at. Picked it up on vacation, and I want your opinion."
His eyes went wondering, but he unbuttoned his long leather duster. "Now?"
"Full moon," I said cryptically, sliding the sliced mushrooms into my smallest spell pot and quashing the faint worry that I was breaking rule number two by mixing food prep and spell prep, but they were just the right size to hold toppings. Ivy quietly went to the fridge, getting out the cheese, cooked hamburger, and the bacon left over from breakfast. I tried to meet her eyes to tell her we were okay, but she wouldn't look at me.
Angry, I slammed the knife down, careful to keep my fingers out of the way. Silly little vamp, afraid of her feelings.
Kisten sighed, his eyes on the disk of dough he had tossed professionally into the air, "Someday, I'm going to get you two ladies together."
"I don't do threesomes," I said snidely.
David jerked, but Kisten's eyes went sultry and pensive, even as he caught the dough. "That's not what I was talking about, but okay."
Ivy's cheeks were red, and David froze as he took in the sudden tension. "Uh," the Were said, half out of his coat. "Maybe this isn't a good time."
I dredged up a smile. "No," I said. "It's just everyday normal crap. We're used to it."
David finished taking off his coat, frowning. "I'm not," he muttered.
I went to the sink and leaned toward the window, thinking David was a bit of a prude. "Jenks!" I shouted into the dusky garden, alight with pixy children tormenting moths. It was beautiful, and I almost lost myself in the sifting bands of falling color.
A clatter of wings was my only warning, and I jerked away when Jenks vaulted through the pixy hole in the screen. "David!" he called out, looking great in his casual gardening clothes of green and black. Hovering at eye level, he brought the scent of damp earth into the kitchen. "Thank Tink's little red shoes you're here," he said, pulling up two feet when Rex appeared in the doorway, her eyes big and her ears pricked. "Matalina is about ready to dewing me. You gotta get this thing out of my living room. My kids keep touching it. Making it move."
I felt myself blanch. "It's moving now?"
Ivy and Kisten exchanged worried looks, and David sighed, putting his hands into his pockets as if trying to divorce himself from what was coming. He wasn't that much older than me, but at that moment he looked like the only adult in a room full of adolescents. "What is it, Rachel?" he said, sounding tired.
Suddenly nervous, I took a breath to tell him, then changed my mind. "Could you...could you just take a look at it?" I said, wincing.
Jenks landed on the windowsill and leaned casually against the frame. He looked like Brad Pitt gone sexy farmer, and I smiled. Two weeks ago he would have stood with his hands on his hips. This was better, and might explain Matalina's blissful state lately.
"I'll have the boys bring it up," Jenks said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "We've got a sling for it. Won't take but a tick, David."
He zipped back out the window, and while David looked at his watch and moved from foot to foot, I pushed the window all the way up, struggling with the rain-swollen frame. The screen popped out, and the air suddenly seemed a lot fresher.
"This doesn't have anything to do with the Were sentry at the end of the block, does it?" David asked wryly.
Whoops. I turned, my eyes going immediately to Ivy, sitting before her computer. I hadn't told her Brett was shadowing me, knowing she'd throw a hissy. Like I couldn't handle one Were who was scared of me? Sure enough, she was frowning. "You saw him, huh?" I said, putting my back to her and moving the sauce to Kisten.
David shifted his weight and glanced at Kisten as he nonchalantly spread it thinly on the dough. "I saw him," David said. "Smelled him, and nearly dropped my cell phone down the sewer calling you to ask if you wanted me to, ah, ask him to go away until he...mmmm."
I waited in the new silence broken by shrill pixy whistles coming from the garden. David's face was red when he swung his head back up and rubbed a hand across his stubble.
"What?" I said warily.
David looked discomfited. "He, ah..." A quick glance at Ivy, and he blurted, "He gave me a bunny kiss from across the street."
Ivy's lips parted. Eyes wide, her gaze touched on Kisten, then me. "Excuse me?"
"You know." He made a peace sign and bent his fingers twice in quick succession. "Kiss, kiss? Isn't that a vampire...thing?"
Kisten laughed, the warm sound making me feel good. "Rachel," he said, sifting the cheese over the red sauce. "What did you do to make him leave his pack and follow you all the way down here? By the looks of it, I'd say he's trying to insinuate himself into your pack."
"Brett didn't leave. I think they kicked him out," I said, then hesitated. "You knew he was there, too?" I asked, and he shrugged, eating a piece of bacon. I ate one too, considering for the first time that perhaps Brett was looking for a new pack. I had saved his life. Sort of.
Jenks came in the open window, making circles around Rex until the cat chittered in distress. Laughing, Jenks led her into the hall as five of his kids wafted over the sill, toting what looked like a pair of black lace panties cradling the statue.
"Those are mine!" Ivy shrieked, standing up and darting to the sink. "Jenks!"
The pixies scattered. The statue wrapped in the black silk fell into her hand.
"These are mine!" she said again, red with anger and embarrassment as she pulled them off the statue and shoved them in her pocket. "Damn it, Jenks! Stay out of my room!"
Jenks flew in just under the ceiling. Rex padded in under him, her steps light and her eyes bright. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed, making circles around Ivy, wreathing her in a glittering band of gold. "How did your panties end up in my living room?"
Matalina zipped in, her green silk dress furling and her eyes apologetic. Immediately, Jenks joined her. I don't know if it was his joy of reuniting with Matalina or his stint at being human-sized, but he was a lot faster. With her was Jhan, a solemn, serious-minded pixy who had recently been excused from sentry duties in order to learn how to read. I didn't want to think about why.
Ivy dropped the new focus onto the counter beside the pizza, clearly in a huff as she backed away and sat sullenly in her chair, her boots on the table and her ankles crossed. David came closer, and this time I couldn't stop my shudder. Jenks was right. It had shifted again.
"Good God," David said, hunched to put it at eye level. "What is it?"
I bent my knees, crouching to come even with him, the focus between us. It didn't look like the same totem that I had put in Jenks's suitcase. The closer we had gotten to the full moon, the more it looked like the original statue, until now it was identical except for a quicksilver sheen hovering just above the surface like an aura.
Ivy was wiping her fingers off on her pants, and she quit when she saw my attention on them. I couldn't blame her. The thing gave me the willies.
Kisten added the last of the meat, pushing the pizza aside and putting his elbows on the counter, an odd look on him as he saw it for the first time. "That has got to be the ugliest thing in creation," he said, touching his torn earlobe in an unconscious show of unease.
Matalina nodded, a pensive look on her beautiful features. "It's not coming back in my house," she said, her clear voice determined. "It's not. Jenks, I love you, but if it comes back in my house, I'm moving into the desk and you can sleep with your dragonfly!"
Jenks hunched and made noises of placation, and I met the small woman's eyes with a smile. If all went well, David would be taking it off our hands.
"David," I said, pulling myself straight.
"Uh-huh..." he murmured, still staring at it.
"Have you ever heard of the focus?"
At that, a fearful expression flashed across his rugged features, worrying me. Taking a step forward, I slid the pizza stone off the counter. "I couldn't just give it to them," I said, opening the oven door and squinting in the heat that made my hair drift up. "The vampires would slaughter them. What kind of a runner would I be if I let them get wiped out like that?"
"So you brought it here?" he stammered. "The focus? To Cincinnati?"
I slid the stone into the oven and closed it, leaning back to take advantage of the heat slipping past the shut door. David's breath was shallow and the scent of musk rose.
"Rachel," he said, eyes riveted to it. "You know what this is, right? I mean...Oh my God, it's real." Tension pulling his small frame tight, he straightened. His attention went to Kisten, solemn behind the counter, to Jenks standing beside Matalina, to Ivy, snapping a fingernail on the rivet on her boot. "You hold it?" he said, looking panicked. "It's yours?"
Running my fingers through the hair at the back of my head, I nodded. "I, uh, guess."
Kisten jerked into motion. "Whoops," he said, reaching. "He's going down!"
"David!" I exclaimed, shocked when the small man's knees buckled.
I stretched for him, but Kisten had already slipped an arm under his shoulders. While Ivy fiddled with the rivet on her boot with a nail in feigned unconcern, Kisten lowered him into a chair. I edged the vampire out of the way, kneeling. "David?" I said, patting his cheeks. "David!"
Immediately his eyes fluttered. "I'm okay," he said, pushing me away before he was fully conscious. "I'm all right!" Taking a breath, he opened his eyes. His lips were pressed tightly together and he was clearly disgusted at himself. "Where...did you get it?" he said, his head down. "The stories say it's cursed. If it wasn't a gift, you're cursed."
"I don't believe in curses...like that," Ivy said.
Fear slid through me. I believed in curses; Nick had stolen it - Nick had fallen off the Mackinac Bridge. No, he had jumped. "Someone sent it to me," I said. "Everyone who knew I had it thinks it went over the bridge. No one knows I've got it."
At that, he pulled himself upright. "Just that loner out there," he said, shifting his feet but staying seated. He glanced at Kisten, who was at the sink, washing the topping bowls as if this was all normal.
"He doesn't know," I said, wincing when Ivy went to set the timer on the stove. Crap, I'd forgotten to again. "I think Kisten's right that he might be trying to get into our pack, seeing as I trounced him." I frowned, not believing that he was digging for information and would go back to Walter after the insult of being given to the street pack.
Nodding, David's gaze returned to the focus. "I got notification that you won another alpha contest," he said, clearly distracted. "Are you okay?"
Jenks lifted off the table, making glittering sparkles around me and bringing Rex to my feet when he landed on my shoulder. "She did great!" he said, ignoring the small cat. "You should have seen her. Rachel used the Were charm. She came out the size of a real wolf but had hair like a red setter." He flitted up, moving to Ivy. "Such a pretty puppy she was," he crooned, safely on Ivy's shoulder. "Soft fuzzy ears...little black paws."
"Shut up, Jenks."
"And the cutest little tail you've ever seen on a witch!"
"Put a cork in it!" I said, lunging for him. Fighting Pam hadn't been a fair contest, and I wondered who had credited me with the win at the Were registery. Brett maybe?
Laughing, Jenks zipped up and out of my reach. Ivy smiled softly, never moving except for putting her feet on the floor where they belonged. She looked proud of me, I think.
"Red wolf," David murmured, as if it was curious but not important. He had scooted his chair to the table and was reaching to the statue. Breath held, he touched it, and the carved bone gave way under his pressure like a balloon. He pulled back, an odd sound slipping from him.
Nervous, I sat down kitty-corner to him, the statue between us. "When I moved the curse to it, it looked like a totem pole, but every day it looked more like it did when we first got it, until now it looks like this. Again."
David licked his lips, dragging his attention from it for a brief second to meet my eyes, then back to the statue. Something had shifted in him. The fear was gone. It wasn't avarice in his gaze, but wonder. His fingers curled under, a mere inch from touching it, and he shuddered.
That was enough for me. I glanced at Ivy, and when she nodded, I turned to Jenks. He stood beside Mr. Fish and his tank of sea monkeys on the windowsill, his ankles crossed and his arms over his chest, but I still saw him as six-foot-four. Feeling my gaze on him, he nodded.
"Will you hold it for me?" I asked.
David jerked his hand away and spun in his chair. "Me? Why me?"
Jenks lifted smoothly into the air in a clatter of wings and landed next to it. "Because if I don't get that freaky thing out of my living room, Matalina is going to leave me."
My eyebrows rose, and Ivy snickered. Matalina had almost pinned Jenks to the flour canister when we had walked in, crying and laughing to have him home again. It had been hard on her, so hard. I'd never ask him to leave again.
"You're the only Were I trust to hold it," I said. "For crying out loud, David, I'm your alpha. Who else am I going to give it to?"
He looked at it, then back to me. "Rachel, I can't. This is too much."
Flustered, I moved my chair beside him. "It's not a gift. It's a burden." Steeling myself, I pulled the statue closer. "Something this powerful can't go back into hiding once it's in the open," I said, looking at its ugly curves. I thought I saw a tear in its eye - I wasn't sure. "Even if accepting it might cause everything I care about to go down the crapper. If we ignore it, it's going to bite us on our asses, but if we meet it head on, maybe we can come out better than when we went in."
Kisten laughed, and in front of her computer, Ivy froze. By her suddenly closed expression, I realized that what I had said could also be applied to her and myself. I tried to catch her gaze, but she wouldn't look up, fiddling with the same rivet on her boot. From the corner of my sight Jenks's wings drooped as he watched us.
Oblivious, David stared at the statue. "Okay," he said, not reaching for it. "I'll...I'll take it, but it's yours." His brown eyes were wide and his shoulders were tense. "It's not mine."
"Deal." Pleased to have gotten rid of it, I took a happy breath. Jenks, too, puffed out his air. Matalina hadn't been happy with it being in their living room. It was sort of like bringing a marlin home from vacation. Or maybe a moose head.
The pizza had a bubble starting to rise, and Kisten opened the oven to stick a toothpick through the dough to release the hot air under it. The odor of tomato sauce and pepperoni billowed out, the scent of security and contentment. My tension eased, and David picked the focus up.
"I, ah, I think I'll take this home before I finish my appointments," he said, hefting it. "It feels...Damn, I could do anything with it."
Ivy put her feet on the floor and stood. "Just don't go starting a war," she grumbled, heading out to the hall. "I've got a box you can put that in."
David set it back on the table. "Thanks." Face creasing in worry, he edged it closer in a show of possession - not greed, but of protection. A smile came over Kisten as he saw it too.
"You, ah, sure the vampires won't be after it?" the small man said, and Kisten pulled out a chair and sat in it backward.
"No one knows you have it, and as long as you don't start rallying the Weres to you, they won't," he said, draping his arms over the top of his chair. "The only one that might know about it would be Piscary." He glanced at the empty hallway. "By way of Ivy," he said softly. "But she's very closed with her thoughts. He would have to dig for it." Kisten's look went worried. "He doesn't have any reason to think it's surfaced, but word gets around."
David put his hands into his pockets. "Maybe I should hide it in my cat box."
"You have a cat?" I asked. "I'd put you as a dog person."
His gaze darted over the kitchen when Ivy came in and put a small cardboard box on the table. Jenks landed on it and started tugging at the tape holding it. "It belonged to an old girlfriend," David said. "You want it?"
Ivy went to flick Jenks away to open the box herself, then changed her mind. "No," she said as she sat and forced her hands into her lap. "Do you want ours?"
"Hey!" Jenks shouted as the tape gave way and he flew back from the momentum. "Rex is my cat. Stop trying to give her away."
"Yours?" David said, surprised. "I thought she was Rachel's."
Embarrassed, I shrugged with one shoulder. "She doesn't like me," I said, pretending to check on the pizza.
Jenks landed on my shoulder in a soft show of support. "I think she's waiting for you to turn back into a wolf, Rache," he teased.
I went to brush him off, then stopped. A ribbon of memory pulled through me - of how he had treated me when he was big - and I made a soft "Mmmm" instead. "Have you seen her stare at me?" I turned, seeing her doing it now. "See?" I said, pointing at her in the middle of the threshold, her ears pricked and a curious, unafraid look on her sweet, kitten face.
David pulled the scarf from the collar of his duster and wrapped the focus up. "You should make her your familiar," he said. "She'd like you then."
"No fairy crap way!" Jenks shouted, wings a blur as he went to hold the box open for David. "Rachel isn't going to draw any ever-after through Rex. She'll fry her little kitty brain."
Might be an improvement, I thought sourly. "It doesn't work that way. She has to choose me. And he's right. I'd probably fry her little kitty brain. I fried Nick's."
A shudder rippled over David. The entire kitchen seemed to go still, and I looked worriedly at Ivy and Kisten. "You okay?" I said when they met my blank stare with my own.
"Moon just rose," David said, wiping a hand across his dark stubble. "It's full. Sorry. Sometimes it hits hard. I'm cool."
I gave him a once-over, thinking he looked different. There was a smoother grace, a new tension to him - like he could hear the clock before it ticked. I yanked open the drawer for the pizza cutter, shuffling around. "You sure you can't stay for some lunch?" I asked.
There was the skitter of cat claws on the linoleum, then David gasped. "Oh my God," he breathed on the exhale. "Look at it."
"Holy crap!" Jenks exclaimed, and Ivy took an audible breath.
I turned, pizza cutter in hand. My eyebrows rose and I blinked. "Whoa."
The cursed thing had turned completely silver, malleable like liquid. It looked entirely like a wolf now too, lips pulled from her muzzle and silver saliva dripping down to melt into the fur at the base. And it was her. Somehow I knew it. A shudder went through me as I thought I might hear something but wasn't sure. "You know what?" I said, my voice shaky as I looked at it in its box, cushioned by David's scarf. "You can have it. I don't want it back. Really."
David swallowed. "Rachel, we're friends and everything, but no. There is no way in hell I'm taking that thing into my apartment."
"It's not going back into my house!" Jenks said. "No freakin' way! Listen to it! It's making my teeth hurt. I already get misery once a month from twenty-three females, and I'm not putting up with it from some weird-ass Were statue on the full moon. Rachel, cover it up or something. Tink's tampons, can't you all hear that?"
I picked the box up, and the hair on my arms rose. Stifling a shudder, I opened the freezer and shoved it between the cold-burned waffles and the banana bread that tasted like asparagus that my mom had brought over. The fridge was stainless steel. It might help.
The phone rang and Ivy jumped up, heading for the living room as Jenks hovered over the sink and shed golden sparkles. "Better?" I said when I closed the freezer, and he sneezed, nodding as the last glitters fell.
Ivy appeared in the archway with the phone, her eyes black, and clearly ticked, to judge by her wire-tight stance. "What do you want, crap for brains?"
Nick.
Jenks jerked three feet into the air. I was sure my eyes were full of pity, but Jenks shook his head, not wanting to talk to his son. That Nick had romanced his son from him for a life of crime was far worse than anything Nick had ever done to me.
Not knowing what I was feeling, I held my hand out. Ivy hesitated, and my eyes narrowed. Grimacing, she slapped the phone into my palm. "If he comes here, I'll kill him," she muttered. "I mean it. I'll drive him up to Mackinaw and throw him over for real."
"Take a number," I said when she sat in her spot before her computer. Clearing my throat, I put the receiver to my ear. "Hello-o-o-o-o, Nick," I said, hitting the k hard. "You're the world's biggest jerk for what you did to Jax. You ever show your scrawny face in Cincinnati again, and I'm going to shove a broomstick up your ass and set it on fire. You got that?"
"Rachel," he said, sounding frantic. "It's not real!"
I glanced at the fridge, putting my hand over the receiver. "He says he's got the fake one," I said, simpering. Kisten snorted, and suddenly smug, I turned back to Nick. "What?" I said, my voice light and flowery. "Didn't your statue go silvery, Nickie da-a-a-a-arling?"
"You know damn well it didn't," he said, voice harsh. "Don't mess with me, Rachel. I need it. I earned it. I promised - "
"Nick," I soothed, but he was still talking. "Nick!" I said louder. "Listen to me."
Finally there was silence but for the hiss and buzz of the line. I looked over the kitchen, warm with the scent of pizza and the companionship of my friends. The new picture of Jenks and me that I'd stuck to the fridge caught my eye. His arm was over my shoulder, and we were both squinting from the sun. Ivy wasn't in it, but she had taken it, and her presence was as strong as the bridge behind us. The picture seemed to say it all.
So I lived in a church with pixies and a vampire who wanted to bite me but was afraid to. So I dated her old boyfriend who was likely going to spend his free time convincing me he was a better choice, when he wasn't angling for a threesome. And yeah, I was alpha of a pack and the only curse I could Were with was black, but that didn't mean I was going to. No one knew I had a Were artifact in my freezer that could set off a vamp/Were power struggle. My soul was coated with darkness from saving the world, but I had a hundred years to get rid of it. And so what if Nick might be smarter than me? I had friends. Good ones.
"Tag, darling," I said into the receiver. "You lose."
I hit the off button mid-protest. Tossing the phone to Ivy, I smiled.
Lunch was going to be early tonight; Ivy had a run, and Kisten was taking me to a movie and I didn't want to fill up on popcorn. Passing under a lamp-lit, pollution-stunted maple, I reached to touch its leaves in passing, smiling at the green softness brushing my skin. They were damp, and I let my hand stay wet and cool in the night air. The street was quiet. The only human family living there was inside watching TV, and everyone else was at work or school. The hum of Cincinnati was far away and distant, the rumble of sleeping lions.
I adjusted the strap of my new canvas grocery bag, thinking that in the time we'd been gone, spring had shifted into high gear. It was almost a year since I'd quit the I.S. "And I'm alive," I whispered to the world. I was alive and doing well. No, I was doing great.
A soft clearing of a throat zinged through me, but I managed not to jerk or alter my pace. It had come from across the street, and I searched the shadows until I found a well-muscled Were in jeans and a dress shirt. He had been shadowing me all week. It was Brett.
I forced my jaw to unclench and gave him a respectful nod, receiving a snappy salute in return. Free arm swinging, I continued down the street, hitting the puddles that were in my way. Brett wouldn't bother me. That he was looking for the focus had occurred to me - either wanting to confirm that it was truly gone, or use it to buy his way back into Walter's good graces if it wasn't - but I didn't think so. It looked like he was going loner when he dropped his cap on the Mackinac Bridge and walked away. But he was just watching now. David had done the same for months before he finally made his presence known. When unsure of their rank, Weres were patient and wary. He'd come to me when he was ready.
And I was in far too good a mood to worry about it. I was so glad to be home. My stitches were out and the scars were thin lines easily hidden. My limp was fading, and thanks to that curse I used to Were, I had absolutely no freckles. The soft air slipped easily in and out of my lungs as I walked, and I felt sassy. Sassy and badass in my vamp-made boots and Jenks's aviator jacket. I was wearing the cap Jenks had stolen from the island Weres, and it added a nice bit of bad girl. The guy behind the counter at the corner store had thought I was cute.
I passed my covered car in the open garage and my mood faltered. The I.S. had suspended my license. It just wasn't fair. I had saved them a dump truck of political hassle, and did I get even a thank-you? No. They took my license.
Not wanting to lose my good mood, I forced my brow smooth. The I.S. had publicly announced on the back page of the Community Section of the paper that I was cleared of all suspicion of any wrongdoing in the accidental deaths that had taken place on the bridge. But behind closed doors some undead vamp had given me a hard time for trying to handle such a powerful artifact instead of bringing it to them. He didn't back off until Jenks threatened to cut off his balls and give them to me to make a magic bola. You gotta love friends like that.
The undead vampire didn't get me to confess that I'd meant to kill Peter, and that cheesed him off to no end. He had been beautifully dangerous, with snow-white hair and sharp features, and even though he whipped me up to the point where I would have had his baby, he couldn't scare me into forgetting I had rights. Not after I'd survived Piscary - who didn't care about them. The entire nationwide I.S. was pissed at me, believing the focus had gone over the edge with Nick instead of being turned over to them.
There was a continuous twenty-four-hour search going on for the artifact on the bottom of the straits. The locals thought they were stupid since the current had put it in Lake Huron shortly after the truck hit the water, and I thought they were stupid because the real artifact was hidden in Jenks's living room. With their official stand being what it was, the I.S. couldn't lock me up, but with the added points after the accident with Peter, they could suspend my license. My choices were riding the bus for six months or gritting my teeth and taking driver's ed. God no. I'd be the oldest one in the class.
My mood tarnishing, I took the church's stairs two at a time, and felt my leg protest. I pulled the heavy wooden door open, slipped inside and breathed deeply, relishing the scent of tomato paste and bacon. The pizza dough was probably ready, and Kisten's sauce had been simmering for the better part of the day. He had kept me company in the kitchen all afternoon while I finished restocking my charm cupboard. Even helped me clean my mess.
I shut the door with hardly a thump. All the windows in the church were open to let in the moist night. I couldn't wait to get into the garden tomorrow, and even had a few seeds I wanted to try out. Ivy was laughing at me and the stack of seed catalogs that somehow found me despite my address change, but I'd caught her looking at one.
Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I wondered if I might splurge for the ten-dollar-a-seed packet of black orchids she'd been eyeing. They were wickedly hard to get and even more difficult to grow, but with Jenks's help, who knew?
Slipping off my wet boots and coat, I left them by the door and padded in my socks through the peaceful sanctuary. The hush of a passing car came in through the high transom windows above the stained-glass windows. The pixies had worked for hours chiseling the old paint off and oiling the hinges so I could open them with the long pole I'd found in the belfry stairway. There were no screens, which was why the lights were off. There were no pixies either. My desk was again my desk. Thank all that was holy.
My wandering attention touched on the potted plants Jenks had left behind on my desk, and I jerked to a halt, seeing a pair of green eyes under the chair, catching the light. Slowly my breath slipped from me. "Darn cat," I whispered, thinking Rex was going to scare the life out of me if she didn't break my heart first. I crouched to try to coax her to me, but Rex didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even twitch her beautiful tail.
Rex didn't like me much. She liked Ivy just fine. She loved the garden, the graveyard, and the pixies that lived in it, but not me. The little ball of orange fluff would sleep on Ivy's bed, purr under her chair during breakfast for tidbits, and sit on her lap, but she only stared at me with large, unblinking eyes. I couldn't help but feel hurt. I think she was still waiting for me to turn back into a wolf. The sound of Kisten and Ivy's voices intruded over the slow jazz. Hiking the canvas bag higher, I awkwardly inched closer to Rex, hand held out.
Ivy and I had been home a week, and we were all still in emotional limbo. Three seconds after Ivy and I walked in the door, Kisten looked at my dental floss stitches, breathed deeply, and knew what had happened. In an instant, Ivy had gone from happy-to-be-home to depressed. Her face full of an aching emptiness, she'd dropped her bags and took off on her bike to get it "checked over."
Just as well. Kisten and I had a long, painful discussion where he both sorrowed after and admired my new scars. It felt good to confess to someone that Ivy had scared the crap out of me, and even better when he agreed that in time she might forget her own fear and try to find a blood balance with me.
Since then he'd been his usual self. Almost. There was a sly hesitancy in his touch now, as if he was holding himself to a limit of action to see if I would change it. The unhappy result was the mix of danger and security that I loved in him was gone. Not wanting to interfere in anything Ivy and I might find, he had put me in charge of moving our relationship forward.
I didn't like being in charge. I liked the heart pounding rush of being lured into making decisions that might turn bad on me. Realizing as much was depressing. It seemed that Ivy and Jenks were right that not only was I an adrenaline junkie, but I needed a sensation of danger to get turned on.
Thinking about it now, my mood thoroughly soured, I crouched beside my desk, arm extended to try to get the stupid cat to like me. Her neck stretched out and she sniffed my fingers, but wouldn't bump her head under my hand as she would Ivy's. Giving up, I stood and headed for the back of the church, following the sound of Kisten's masculine rumble. I took a breath to call out and tell them I was there, but my feet stilled when I realized they were talking about me.
"Well, you did bite her," Kisten said, his voice both lightly accusing and coaxing.
"I bit her," Ivy admitted, her voice a whisper.
"And you didn't bind her," he prompted.
"No." I heard the creak of her chair as she repositioned herself, guilt making her shift.
"She wants to know what comes next," Kisten said with a rude laugh. "Hell, I want to know myself."
"Nothing," Ivy said shortly. "It's not going to happen again."
I licked my lips, thinking I should back out of the hallway and come in making more noise, but I couldn't move, staring at the worn wood by the archway to the living room.
Kisten sighed. "That's not fair. You strung her along until she called your bluff, and now you won't go forward, and she can't go back. Look at her," he said, and I imagined him gesturing at nothing. "She wants to find a blood balance. God, Ivy, isn't that what you wanted?"
Ivy's breath came harsh. "I could have killed her!" she exclaimed, and I jumped. "I lost control just like always and almost killed her. She let me do it because she trusted me." Her words were now muffled. "She understood everything and she didn't stop me."
"You're scared," Kisten accused, and my eyes widened at his gall.
But Ivy took it in stride as she laughed sarcastically. "You think?"
"No," he insisted, "I mean you're scared. You're afraid to try to find a balance you can both live with, because if you try and can't, she leaves and you've got nothing."
"That's not it," she said flatly, and I nodded. That was part of it, but not all.
Kisten leaned forward; I could hear the chair creak. "You think you don't deserve anything good," he said, and my face went cold, wondering if there was more to this than I had thought. "Afraid you're going to ruin every decent thing you get, so you're going to stick with this shitty half relationship instead of seeing where it might go."
"It's not a half relationship," Ivy protested.
He touched the truth, I thought. But that's not what keeps her silent.
"Compared to what you might have, it is," he said, and I heard someone get up and move. "She's straight, and you're not," Kisten added, and my pulse quickened. His voice was now coming from where Ivy sat. "She sees a deep platonic relationship, and you know that even if you start one, you'll eventually delude yourself into believing it's deeper. She'll be your friend when what you want is a lover. And one night in a moment of blood passion, you're going to make a mistake in a very concrete way and she'll be gone."
"Shut up!" she shouted, and I heard a slap, perhaps of a hand meeting someone's grip.
Kisten laughed gently, ending it with a sigh of understanding. "I got it right that time."
His liquid voice, gray with truth, sent a shiver through me. Back up, I told myself. Back up and go play with the cat. I could hear my heartbeat in the silence. From the disc player, the song ended.
"Are you going to share blood with her again?"
It was a gentle, hesitant inquiry, and Ivy took a noisy breath. "I can't."
"Mind if I do?"
Oh God. This time I did move, pulling the canvas bag tight to me. Kisten already had my body. If we shared blood, it would be too much for Ivy's pride. Something would break.
"Bastard," Ivy said, pulling my retreat to a halt.
"You know how I feel about her," he said. "I'm not going to walk away because of your asinine hang-ups about blood."
My lips parted at his bitter accusation, and Ivy's breath hissed. "Hang-ups?" she said vehemently. "Mixing sex with bloodletting is the only way I can keep from losing control with someone I love, Kisten! I thought I was better, but obviously I'm not!"
It had been bitter and accusing, but Kisten's voice was harsh with his own frustration. "I don't understand, Ivy," he said, and I heard him move away from her. "I never did. Blood is blood. Love is love. You aren't a whore if you take someone's blood when you don't like them, and you aren't a whore for wanting someone you don't like to take your blood."
"This is where I am, Kisten," she said. "I'm not touching her, and neither are you."
My pulse pounded, and I heard in his heavy exhalation the sound of an old argument that had no answer. "Rachel's worth fighting for," he said softly. "If she asks me, I won't say no."
I closed my eyes, seeing where this was heading.
"And because you're a man," Ivy said bitterly, "she won't have a problem when the blood turns to sex, will she."
"Probably not." It was confident, and my eyes opened.
"Damn you," she whispered, sounding broken. "I hate you."
Kisten was silent, and then I heard the soft sound of a kiss. "You love me."
Mouth dry, I stood in the hallway, afraid to move in the silence the last sound track had left.
"Ivy?" Kisten coaxed. "I won't lure her from you, but I won't sit by and pretend I'm a stone either. Just talk to her. She knows where your feelings are, and she still has the room next to yours, not an apartment across the city. Maybe..."
My eyes closed in the swirl of conflicting feelings. The image of me sharing a room with Ivy flitted through my mind, shocking me. Of me slipping between those silken sheets and sliding up to her back, smelling her hair, feeling her turn over and seeing her easy smile four inches from mine. I knew how her eyes would be lidded and heavy with sleep, the soft sound of welcome she would make. What in hell was I doing?
"She's rash," Kisten said, "impulsive, and the most caring person I have ever met. She told me what happened, but she doesn't think anything less of you, or herself, even when it went wrong."
"Shut up," Ivy whispered, pain and self-reproach in her voice.
"You opened the door," he accused, making her come to grips with what we had done. "And if you don't walk her through it, she'll find someone who will. I don't have to ask your permission. And unless you tell me right now that someday you're going to try to find a blood balance with her, I will if she asks me."
I shivered, jerking when a soft brush on my leg made me jump. It was Rex, but I was little more to her than something to brush up against as she headed to the living room, following the sound of Ivy's distress.
"I can't!" Ivy exclaimed, and I jumped. "Piscary..." She took a gasping breath. "Piscary will step in and he'll make me hurt her, maybe kill her."
"That's an excuse," he hammered on her. "The truth is that you're scared."
I stood in the hallway and trembled, feeling the tension rise in the unseen room. But Kisten's voice was gentle now that he'd gotten her to admit her feelings. "You should tell her that," he continued softly.
Ivy sniffed, half in sorrow, half in bitter amusement. "I just did. She's in the hall."
I sucked in my breath and jerked upright.
"Shit," Kisten said, his voice panicked. "Rachel?"
Pulling up my shoulders, I raised my chin and went into the kitchen. Kisten scuffed to a halt in the hall, and tension slammed into me. His lanky build, wide shoulders, and my favorite red silk shirt took up the archway. He had on boots, and they looked good peeping from under his jeans. His bracelet felt heavy on me, and I twisted it, wondering if I should take it off.
"Rachel, I didn't know you were there," he said, his face creased. "I'm sorry. You aren't a toy that I have to ask Ivy's permission to play with."
I kept my back to him, shoulders stiff while I opened the canvas sack and took things out. Leaving the cheese, mushrooms, and the pineapple where they were, I strode to the pantry, hanging my grocery bag up on the hook I'd nailed in yesterday. Images of Ivy's comfortable room, of Kisten's face, his body, the way he felt under my fingers, the way he made me feel, all flashed through me. Pace stilted, I went to the stove and took the lid off the sauce. Steam billowed up, the rising scent of tomato making the wisps of my hair drift. I stirred without seeing as he came up behind me. "Rachel?"
My breath came out, and I held the next one. I was so confused.
Softly - almost not there - Kisten put a hand on my shoulder. Tension slipped from me, and sensing it, he leaned until his body pressed against my back. His arms went around me, imprisoning me, and my motions to stir the pot stilled. "She knew the moment I came in," I said.
"Probably," he whispered into my ear.
I wondered where Ivy was - if she had stayed in the living room or fled the church entirely, shamed that she had needs and fears like the rest of us. Kisten took the spoon from me, setting it between the burners before turning me around. I pulled my eyes to his, not surprised to see them narrow with concern. The glow from the overhead light shimmered on his day-old stubble, and I touched it because I could. His arms were about my waist, and he gave a tug, settling me closer into him. "What she can't say to your face, she'll say when she knows you're listening," he said. "It's a bad habit she picked up in therapy."
I had already figured that one out, and bobbed my head. "This is a mess," I said, miserable as I looked over his shoulder to the dark hallway. "I never should have - "
My words cut off when Kisten pulled me closer. Arms about his waist and my head against his chest, I breathed deeply the scent of leather and silk, relaxing into him. "Yes," he whispered. "You should have." He pushed me back until I could see his eyes. "I won't ask," he said earnestly. "If it happens, it happens. I like things the way they are." His expression grew sly. "I'd like it better if things changed, but when change is too quick, the strong break."
My eyes on the archway, I stood and held him, not wanting to let go. I could hear Ivy in the living room, trying to find a way to make a graceful entrance. The warmth of his body was soothing, and I held my breath against the thought of his teeth sinking into me. I knew exactly how good it would feel. What was I going to do about that?
Kisten's head came up an instant before the peal of the front doorbell echoed through the church. "I got it!" Ivy shouted, and Kisten and I pulled apart before her boots made a soft brush down the hall. The light flicked on in the hallway, and I heard the beginnings of a low conversation. The mushrooms needed cutting, and Kisten joined me as I washed my hands. We jostled for space at the sink, bumping hips as he pushed me into a better mood.
"Cut them at an angle," he admonished when I reached for the cutting board. He had his hands in the flour bag, then clapped them once over the sink before putting himself at the center island counter and the ball of dough he had set to rise under a piece of linen.
"It makes a difference?" Still melancholy, I moved my stuff to the opposite side of the counter so I could watch him. "David?" I shouted, eating the first mushroom slice. It was probably him, seeing as I'd asked him to come over.
A low noise escaped Kisten, and I smiled. He looked good over there. A brush of flour made a domestic smear on his shirt, and he had rolled up his sleeves to show his lightly tanned arms. Seeing him gently handling the dough and watching me at the same time, I realized the thrill was back - the delicious danger of what-if. He had told Ivy he wasn't going to walk away from me; I was on dangerous ground. Again.
God save me. I thought in disgust. Could I be any more stupid? My life was so messed up. How could I just stand here and cut mushrooms as if everything was normal? But compared to last week, maybe this was normal.
My attention came up when David walked in ahead of Ivy, his slight build looking blocky before her sleek grace. "Hi, David," I said, trying to clear my mind. "Full moon tonight."
He nodded, saying nothing as he took in Kisten casually pulling the dough into a circle. "I can't stay," he said, realizing we were making lunch. "I have a few appointments, but you said it was urgent?" He smiled at Kisten. "Hi, Kisten. How's the boat?"
"Still afloat," he said, eyebrows rising as he took in David's expensive suit. He was working, and he looked the part despite the heavy stubble the full moon made worse.
"It won't take long," I said, slicing the last mushroom. "I've got something I want you to take a look at. Picked it up on vacation, and I want your opinion."
His eyes went wondering, but he unbuttoned his long leather duster. "Now?"
"Full moon," I said cryptically, sliding the sliced mushrooms into my smallest spell pot and quashing the faint worry that I was breaking rule number two by mixing food prep and spell prep, but they were just the right size to hold toppings. Ivy quietly went to the fridge, getting out the cheese, cooked hamburger, and the bacon left over from breakfast. I tried to meet her eyes to tell her we were okay, but she wouldn't look at me.
Angry, I slammed the knife down, careful to keep my fingers out of the way. Silly little vamp, afraid of her feelings.
Kisten sighed, his eyes on the disk of dough he had tossed professionally into the air, "Someday, I'm going to get you two ladies together."
"I don't do threesomes," I said snidely.
David jerked, but Kisten's eyes went sultry and pensive, even as he caught the dough. "That's not what I was talking about, but okay."
Ivy's cheeks were red, and David froze as he took in the sudden tension. "Uh," the Were said, half out of his coat. "Maybe this isn't a good time."
I dredged up a smile. "No," I said. "It's just everyday normal crap. We're used to it."
David finished taking off his coat, frowning. "I'm not," he muttered.
I went to the sink and leaned toward the window, thinking David was a bit of a prude. "Jenks!" I shouted into the dusky garden, alight with pixy children tormenting moths. It was beautiful, and I almost lost myself in the sifting bands of falling color.
A clatter of wings was my only warning, and I jerked away when Jenks vaulted through the pixy hole in the screen. "David!" he called out, looking great in his casual gardening clothes of green and black. Hovering at eye level, he brought the scent of damp earth into the kitchen. "Thank Tink's little red shoes you're here," he said, pulling up two feet when Rex appeared in the doorway, her eyes big and her ears pricked. "Matalina is about ready to dewing me. You gotta get this thing out of my living room. My kids keep touching it. Making it move."
I felt myself blanch. "It's moving now?"
Ivy and Kisten exchanged worried looks, and David sighed, putting his hands into his pockets as if trying to divorce himself from what was coming. He wasn't that much older than me, but at that moment he looked like the only adult in a room full of adolescents. "What is it, Rachel?" he said, sounding tired.
Suddenly nervous, I took a breath to tell him, then changed my mind. "Could you...could you just take a look at it?" I said, wincing.
Jenks landed on the windowsill and leaned casually against the frame. He looked like Brad Pitt gone sexy farmer, and I smiled. Two weeks ago he would have stood with his hands on his hips. This was better, and might explain Matalina's blissful state lately.
"I'll have the boys bring it up," Jenks said, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "We've got a sling for it. Won't take but a tick, David."
He zipped back out the window, and while David looked at his watch and moved from foot to foot, I pushed the window all the way up, struggling with the rain-swollen frame. The screen popped out, and the air suddenly seemed a lot fresher.
"This doesn't have anything to do with the Were sentry at the end of the block, does it?" David asked wryly.
Whoops. I turned, my eyes going immediately to Ivy, sitting before her computer. I hadn't told her Brett was shadowing me, knowing she'd throw a hissy. Like I couldn't handle one Were who was scared of me? Sure enough, she was frowning. "You saw him, huh?" I said, putting my back to her and moving the sauce to Kisten.
David shifted his weight and glanced at Kisten as he nonchalantly spread it thinly on the dough. "I saw him," David said. "Smelled him, and nearly dropped my cell phone down the sewer calling you to ask if you wanted me to, ah, ask him to go away until he...mmmm."
I waited in the new silence broken by shrill pixy whistles coming from the garden. David's face was red when he swung his head back up and rubbed a hand across his stubble.
"What?" I said warily.
David looked discomfited. "He, ah..." A quick glance at Ivy, and he blurted, "He gave me a bunny kiss from across the street."
Ivy's lips parted. Eyes wide, her gaze touched on Kisten, then me. "Excuse me?"
"You know." He made a peace sign and bent his fingers twice in quick succession. "Kiss, kiss? Isn't that a vampire...thing?"
Kisten laughed, the warm sound making me feel good. "Rachel," he said, sifting the cheese over the red sauce. "What did you do to make him leave his pack and follow you all the way down here? By the looks of it, I'd say he's trying to insinuate himself into your pack."
"Brett didn't leave. I think they kicked him out," I said, then hesitated. "You knew he was there, too?" I asked, and he shrugged, eating a piece of bacon. I ate one too, considering for the first time that perhaps Brett was looking for a new pack. I had saved his life. Sort of.
Jenks came in the open window, making circles around Rex until the cat chittered in distress. Laughing, Jenks led her into the hall as five of his kids wafted over the sill, toting what looked like a pair of black lace panties cradling the statue.
"Those are mine!" Ivy shrieked, standing up and darting to the sink. "Jenks!"
The pixies scattered. The statue wrapped in the black silk fell into her hand.
"These are mine!" she said again, red with anger and embarrassment as she pulled them off the statue and shoved them in her pocket. "Damn it, Jenks! Stay out of my room!"
Jenks flew in just under the ceiling. Rex padded in under him, her steps light and her eyes bright. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed, making circles around Ivy, wreathing her in a glittering band of gold. "How did your panties end up in my living room?"
Matalina zipped in, her green silk dress furling and her eyes apologetic. Immediately, Jenks joined her. I don't know if it was his joy of reuniting with Matalina or his stint at being human-sized, but he was a lot faster. With her was Jhan, a solemn, serious-minded pixy who had recently been excused from sentry duties in order to learn how to read. I didn't want to think about why.
Ivy dropped the new focus onto the counter beside the pizza, clearly in a huff as she backed away and sat sullenly in her chair, her boots on the table and her ankles crossed. David came closer, and this time I couldn't stop my shudder. Jenks was right. It had shifted again.
"Good God," David said, hunched to put it at eye level. "What is it?"
I bent my knees, crouching to come even with him, the focus between us. It didn't look like the same totem that I had put in Jenks's suitcase. The closer we had gotten to the full moon, the more it looked like the original statue, until now it was identical except for a quicksilver sheen hovering just above the surface like an aura.
Ivy was wiping her fingers off on her pants, and she quit when she saw my attention on them. I couldn't blame her. The thing gave me the willies.
Kisten added the last of the meat, pushing the pizza aside and putting his elbows on the counter, an odd look on him as he saw it for the first time. "That has got to be the ugliest thing in creation," he said, touching his torn earlobe in an unconscious show of unease.
Matalina nodded, a pensive look on her beautiful features. "It's not coming back in my house," she said, her clear voice determined. "It's not. Jenks, I love you, but if it comes back in my house, I'm moving into the desk and you can sleep with your dragonfly!"
Jenks hunched and made noises of placation, and I met the small woman's eyes with a smile. If all went well, David would be taking it off our hands.
"David," I said, pulling myself straight.
"Uh-huh..." he murmured, still staring at it.
"Have you ever heard of the focus?"
At that, a fearful expression flashed across his rugged features, worrying me. Taking a step forward, I slid the pizza stone off the counter. "I couldn't just give it to them," I said, opening the oven door and squinting in the heat that made my hair drift up. "The vampires would slaughter them. What kind of a runner would I be if I let them get wiped out like that?"
"So you brought it here?" he stammered. "The focus? To Cincinnati?"
I slid the stone into the oven and closed it, leaning back to take advantage of the heat slipping past the shut door. David's breath was shallow and the scent of musk rose.
"Rachel," he said, eyes riveted to it. "You know what this is, right? I mean...Oh my God, it's real." Tension pulling his small frame tight, he straightened. His attention went to Kisten, solemn behind the counter, to Jenks standing beside Matalina, to Ivy, snapping a fingernail on the rivet on her boot. "You hold it?" he said, looking panicked. "It's yours?"
Running my fingers through the hair at the back of my head, I nodded. "I, uh, guess."
Kisten jerked into motion. "Whoops," he said, reaching. "He's going down!"
"David!" I exclaimed, shocked when the small man's knees buckled.
I stretched for him, but Kisten had already slipped an arm under his shoulders. While Ivy fiddled with the rivet on her boot with a nail in feigned unconcern, Kisten lowered him into a chair. I edged the vampire out of the way, kneeling. "David?" I said, patting his cheeks. "David!"
Immediately his eyes fluttered. "I'm okay," he said, pushing me away before he was fully conscious. "I'm all right!" Taking a breath, he opened his eyes. His lips were pressed tightly together and he was clearly disgusted at himself. "Where...did you get it?" he said, his head down. "The stories say it's cursed. If it wasn't a gift, you're cursed."
"I don't believe in curses...like that," Ivy said.
Fear slid through me. I believed in curses; Nick had stolen it - Nick had fallen off the Mackinac Bridge. No, he had jumped. "Someone sent it to me," I said. "Everyone who knew I had it thinks it went over the bridge. No one knows I've got it."
At that, he pulled himself upright. "Just that loner out there," he said, shifting his feet but staying seated. He glanced at Kisten, who was at the sink, washing the topping bowls as if this was all normal.
"He doesn't know," I said, wincing when Ivy went to set the timer on the stove. Crap, I'd forgotten to again. "I think Kisten's right that he might be trying to get into our pack, seeing as I trounced him." I frowned, not believing that he was digging for information and would go back to Walter after the insult of being given to the street pack.
Nodding, David's gaze returned to the focus. "I got notification that you won another alpha contest," he said, clearly distracted. "Are you okay?"
Jenks lifted off the table, making glittering sparkles around me and bringing Rex to my feet when he landed on my shoulder. "She did great!" he said, ignoring the small cat. "You should have seen her. Rachel used the Were charm. She came out the size of a real wolf but had hair like a red setter." He flitted up, moving to Ivy. "Such a pretty puppy she was," he crooned, safely on Ivy's shoulder. "Soft fuzzy ears...little black paws."
"Shut up, Jenks."
"And the cutest little tail you've ever seen on a witch!"
"Put a cork in it!" I said, lunging for him. Fighting Pam hadn't been a fair contest, and I wondered who had credited me with the win at the Were registery. Brett maybe?
Laughing, Jenks zipped up and out of my reach. Ivy smiled softly, never moving except for putting her feet on the floor where they belonged. She looked proud of me, I think.
"Red wolf," David murmured, as if it was curious but not important. He had scooted his chair to the table and was reaching to the statue. Breath held, he touched it, and the carved bone gave way under his pressure like a balloon. He pulled back, an odd sound slipping from him.
Nervous, I sat down kitty-corner to him, the statue between us. "When I moved the curse to it, it looked like a totem pole, but every day it looked more like it did when we first got it, until now it looks like this. Again."
David licked his lips, dragging his attention from it for a brief second to meet my eyes, then back to the statue. Something had shifted in him. The fear was gone. It wasn't avarice in his gaze, but wonder. His fingers curled under, a mere inch from touching it, and he shuddered.
That was enough for me. I glanced at Ivy, and when she nodded, I turned to Jenks. He stood beside Mr. Fish and his tank of sea monkeys on the windowsill, his ankles crossed and his arms over his chest, but I still saw him as six-foot-four. Feeling my gaze on him, he nodded.
"Will you hold it for me?" I asked.
David jerked his hand away and spun in his chair. "Me? Why me?"
Jenks lifted smoothly into the air in a clatter of wings and landed next to it. "Because if I don't get that freaky thing out of my living room, Matalina is going to leave me."
My eyebrows rose, and Ivy snickered. Matalina had almost pinned Jenks to the flour canister when we had walked in, crying and laughing to have him home again. It had been hard on her, so hard. I'd never ask him to leave again.
"You're the only Were I trust to hold it," I said. "For crying out loud, David, I'm your alpha. Who else am I going to give it to?"
He looked at it, then back to me. "Rachel, I can't. This is too much."
Flustered, I moved my chair beside him. "It's not a gift. It's a burden." Steeling myself, I pulled the statue closer. "Something this powerful can't go back into hiding once it's in the open," I said, looking at its ugly curves. I thought I saw a tear in its eye - I wasn't sure. "Even if accepting it might cause everything I care about to go down the crapper. If we ignore it, it's going to bite us on our asses, but if we meet it head on, maybe we can come out better than when we went in."
Kisten laughed, and in front of her computer, Ivy froze. By her suddenly closed expression, I realized that what I had said could also be applied to her and myself. I tried to catch her gaze, but she wouldn't look up, fiddling with the same rivet on her boot. From the corner of my sight Jenks's wings drooped as he watched us.
Oblivious, David stared at the statue. "Okay," he said, not reaching for it. "I'll...I'll take it, but it's yours." His brown eyes were wide and his shoulders were tense. "It's not mine."
"Deal." Pleased to have gotten rid of it, I took a happy breath. Jenks, too, puffed out his air. Matalina hadn't been happy with it being in their living room. It was sort of like bringing a marlin home from vacation. Or maybe a moose head.
The pizza had a bubble starting to rise, and Kisten opened the oven to stick a toothpick through the dough to release the hot air under it. The odor of tomato sauce and pepperoni billowed out, the scent of security and contentment. My tension eased, and David picked the focus up.
"I, ah, I think I'll take this home before I finish my appointments," he said, hefting it. "It feels...Damn, I could do anything with it."
Ivy put her feet on the floor and stood. "Just don't go starting a war," she grumbled, heading out to the hall. "I've got a box you can put that in."
David set it back on the table. "Thanks." Face creasing in worry, he edged it closer in a show of possession - not greed, but of protection. A smile came over Kisten as he saw it too.
"You, ah, sure the vampires won't be after it?" the small man said, and Kisten pulled out a chair and sat in it backward.
"No one knows you have it, and as long as you don't start rallying the Weres to you, they won't," he said, draping his arms over the top of his chair. "The only one that might know about it would be Piscary." He glanced at the empty hallway. "By way of Ivy," he said softly. "But she's very closed with her thoughts. He would have to dig for it." Kisten's look went worried. "He doesn't have any reason to think it's surfaced, but word gets around."
David put his hands into his pockets. "Maybe I should hide it in my cat box."
"You have a cat?" I asked. "I'd put you as a dog person."
His gaze darted over the kitchen when Ivy came in and put a small cardboard box on the table. Jenks landed on it and started tugging at the tape holding it. "It belonged to an old girlfriend," David said. "You want it?"
Ivy went to flick Jenks away to open the box herself, then changed her mind. "No," she said as she sat and forced her hands into her lap. "Do you want ours?"
"Hey!" Jenks shouted as the tape gave way and he flew back from the momentum. "Rex is my cat. Stop trying to give her away."
"Yours?" David said, surprised. "I thought she was Rachel's."
Embarrassed, I shrugged with one shoulder. "She doesn't like me," I said, pretending to check on the pizza.
Jenks landed on my shoulder in a soft show of support. "I think she's waiting for you to turn back into a wolf, Rache," he teased.
I went to brush him off, then stopped. A ribbon of memory pulled through me - of how he had treated me when he was big - and I made a soft "Mmmm" instead. "Have you seen her stare at me?" I turned, seeing her doing it now. "See?" I said, pointing at her in the middle of the threshold, her ears pricked and a curious, unafraid look on her sweet, kitten face.
David pulled the scarf from the collar of his duster and wrapped the focus up. "You should make her your familiar," he said. "She'd like you then."
"No fairy crap way!" Jenks shouted, wings a blur as he went to hold the box open for David. "Rachel isn't going to draw any ever-after through Rex. She'll fry her little kitty brain."
Might be an improvement, I thought sourly. "It doesn't work that way. She has to choose me. And he's right. I'd probably fry her little kitty brain. I fried Nick's."
A shudder rippled over David. The entire kitchen seemed to go still, and I looked worriedly at Ivy and Kisten. "You okay?" I said when they met my blank stare with my own.
"Moon just rose," David said, wiping a hand across his dark stubble. "It's full. Sorry. Sometimes it hits hard. I'm cool."
I gave him a once-over, thinking he looked different. There was a smoother grace, a new tension to him - like he could hear the clock before it ticked. I yanked open the drawer for the pizza cutter, shuffling around. "You sure you can't stay for some lunch?" I asked.
There was the skitter of cat claws on the linoleum, then David gasped. "Oh my God," he breathed on the exhale. "Look at it."
"Holy crap!" Jenks exclaimed, and Ivy took an audible breath.
I turned, pizza cutter in hand. My eyebrows rose and I blinked. "Whoa."
The cursed thing had turned completely silver, malleable like liquid. It looked entirely like a wolf now too, lips pulled from her muzzle and silver saliva dripping down to melt into the fur at the base. And it was her. Somehow I knew it. A shudder went through me as I thought I might hear something but wasn't sure. "You know what?" I said, my voice shaky as I looked at it in its box, cushioned by David's scarf. "You can have it. I don't want it back. Really."
David swallowed. "Rachel, we're friends and everything, but no. There is no way in hell I'm taking that thing into my apartment."
"It's not going back into my house!" Jenks said. "No freakin' way! Listen to it! It's making my teeth hurt. I already get misery once a month from twenty-three females, and I'm not putting up with it from some weird-ass Were statue on the full moon. Rachel, cover it up or something. Tink's tampons, can't you all hear that?"
I picked the box up, and the hair on my arms rose. Stifling a shudder, I opened the freezer and shoved it between the cold-burned waffles and the banana bread that tasted like asparagus that my mom had brought over. The fridge was stainless steel. It might help.
The phone rang and Ivy jumped up, heading for the living room as Jenks hovered over the sink and shed golden sparkles. "Better?" I said when I closed the freezer, and he sneezed, nodding as the last glitters fell.
Ivy appeared in the archway with the phone, her eyes black, and clearly ticked, to judge by her wire-tight stance. "What do you want, crap for brains?"
Nick.
Jenks jerked three feet into the air. I was sure my eyes were full of pity, but Jenks shook his head, not wanting to talk to his son. That Nick had romanced his son from him for a life of crime was far worse than anything Nick had ever done to me.
Not knowing what I was feeling, I held my hand out. Ivy hesitated, and my eyes narrowed. Grimacing, she slapped the phone into my palm. "If he comes here, I'll kill him," she muttered. "I mean it. I'll drive him up to Mackinaw and throw him over for real."
"Take a number," I said when she sat in her spot before her computer. Clearing my throat, I put the receiver to my ear. "Hello-o-o-o-o, Nick," I said, hitting the k hard. "You're the world's biggest jerk for what you did to Jax. You ever show your scrawny face in Cincinnati again, and I'm going to shove a broomstick up your ass and set it on fire. You got that?"
"Rachel," he said, sounding frantic. "It's not real!"
I glanced at the fridge, putting my hand over the receiver. "He says he's got the fake one," I said, simpering. Kisten snorted, and suddenly smug, I turned back to Nick. "What?" I said, my voice light and flowery. "Didn't your statue go silvery, Nickie da-a-a-a-arling?"
"You know damn well it didn't," he said, voice harsh. "Don't mess with me, Rachel. I need it. I earned it. I promised - "
"Nick," I soothed, but he was still talking. "Nick!" I said louder. "Listen to me."
Finally there was silence but for the hiss and buzz of the line. I looked over the kitchen, warm with the scent of pizza and the companionship of my friends. The new picture of Jenks and me that I'd stuck to the fridge caught my eye. His arm was over my shoulder, and we were both squinting from the sun. Ivy wasn't in it, but she had taken it, and her presence was as strong as the bridge behind us. The picture seemed to say it all.
So I lived in a church with pixies and a vampire who wanted to bite me but was afraid to. So I dated her old boyfriend who was likely going to spend his free time convincing me he was a better choice, when he wasn't angling for a threesome. And yeah, I was alpha of a pack and the only curse I could Were with was black, but that didn't mean I was going to. No one knew I had a Were artifact in my freezer that could set off a vamp/Were power struggle. My soul was coated with darkness from saving the world, but I had a hundred years to get rid of it. And so what if Nick might be smarter than me? I had friends. Good ones.
"Tag, darling," I said into the receiver. "You lose."
I hit the off button mid-protest. Tossing the phone to Ivy, I smiled.
