by Kim Harrison
His sudden fright had filled the air with pheromones. They acted as a potent aphrodisiac only she could taste, jerking into play thousand-year-old instincts fixed deep in her virus-changed DNA. In a breath, they had turned her from my slightly disturbing roommate to a predator that could kill both of us in three seconds flat if the desire to sate her long-suppressed hunger outweighed the consequences of draining an FIB detective. It was that balance that frightened me. I knew where I was on her personal scale of hunger and reason. Where Glenn stood, I hadn’t a clue.
Like flowing dust, her posture melted and she leaned back against the counter on one bent elbow, hip cocked. Deathly still, she ran her gaze up Glenn until it locked upon his eyes. Her head tilted with a sultry slowness until she was eyeing him from under her straight bangs. Only now did she take a slow, deliberate breath. Her long pale fingers flicked about the deep V-neck of her spandex shirt tucked into her leather pants.
“You’re tall,” she said, her gray voice pulling remembered fear from me. “I like that.” It wasn’t sex she was after, it was dominance. She would have bespelled him if she could have, but she’d have to wait until she was dead before she had power over the unwilling.
Swell, I thought as she pushed herself from the counter and headed for him. She’d lost it. It was worse than the time she found Nick and I snuggled up together on her couch not watching pro wrestling. I still didn’t know what had set her off then—she and I had a concrete understanding that I wasn’t her girlfriend, plaything, lover, shadow, or whatever the newest term for vampire flunky was these days.
My thoughts scrambled for a way to bring her back without making things worse. Ivy drifted to a stop before Glenn, the hem of her duster seeming to move in slow motion as it edged forward to touch his shoes. Her tongue slipped across her very white teeth, hiding them even as they flashed. With a recognizable restrained power, she put a hand to either side of him at head height, pinning him to the wall. “Mmmm,” she said, breathing in through parted lips. “Very tall. Lots of leg. Beautiful, beautiful dark skin. Did Rachel bring you home for me?”
She leaned into him, almost touching. He was only a few inches taller than she was. She tilted her head as if to give him a kiss. A drop of sweat slid down his face and neck. He didn’t move, tension pulling every muscle tight.
“You work for Edden,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the line of moisture as it pooled at his collarbone. “He’d probably be upset if you died.” Her eyes darted to his at the sound of his quick breath.
Don’t move, I thought, knowing if he did, instincts would take over. He was in trouble with his back to the wall like that. “Ivy?” I said, trying to distract her and avoid having to tell Edden why his son was in intensive care. “Edden gave me a run. Glenn is along for the ride.”
I willed myself not to shudder as she turned the black pits her eyes had become to me. They tracked me as I put the island counter between us. She stood unmoving but for a hand tracing Glenn’s shoulder and neck, her finger running a perfect half inch above him. “Uh, Ivy?” I said hesitantly. “Glenn might want to leave now. Let him go.”
My request seemed to break through, and she took a quick, clean breath. Bending her elbow, she pushed herself away from the wall.
Glenn darted out from under her. Weapon drawn, he stood in the archway to the hall, his feet spread and his gun trained upon Ivy. The safety clicked off, and his eyes were wide.
Ivy turned her back on him and went to the bag of forgotten groceries. It might look as if she was ignoring him, but I knew she was aware of everything down to the wasp bumping about at the ceiling. Back hunched, she set a bag of shredded cheese on the counter. “Tell that bloodsack of a captain I said hi the next time you see him,” she said, her soft voice carrying a shocking amount of anger. But the hunger—the need to dominate—was gone.
Knees weak, I let my breath out in a long puff of air. “Glenn?” I suggested. “Put the gun away before she takes it from you. And the next time you insult my roommate, I’m going to let her tear your throat out. Understand?”
His eyes flicked to Ivy before he holstered the weapon. He stayed in the archway, breathing hard.
Thinking the worst had to be over, I opened the fridge. “Hey, Ivy,” I said lightly, to try and get everyone back to normal, “toss me the pepperoni?”
Ivy met my gaze from across the kitchen and blinked the last of her runaway instincts from her. “Pepperoni,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “Yeah.” She felt a cheek with the back of her hand. Frowning at herself, she crossed the kitchen with what I recognized as a deliberately slow pace. “Thanks for bringing me down,” she said softly as she handed me the pouch of cut meat.
“I should have warned you. I’m sorry.” I put the pepperoni away and straightened, giving Glenn a black look. His face was grayed and drawn as he wiped the perspiration away. I think he just figured out we were in the same room with a predator held back by pride and courtesy. Maybe he learned something today. Edden would be pleased.
I shuffled through the groceries and pulled out the perishables. Ivy leaned close as she put a can of peaches away. “What’s he doing here?” she asked, loud enough for Glenn to hear.
“I’m baby-sitting.”
She nodded, clearly waiting for more. When it wasn’t forthcoming, she added, “It’s a paying job, right?”
I glanced at Glenn. “Uh, yeah. A missing person.” I snuck a glance at her, relieved to see her pupils were almost back to normal.
“Can I help?” she asked.
Ivy had done almost nothing but run for missing persons since she quit the I.S., but I knew she would side with Jenks that it was a ploy of Trent Kalamack’s once she learned it was Sara Jane’s boyfriend. Putting off telling her would only make it worse, though. And I wanted her to come out to Piscary’s with me. I’d get more information that way.
Glenn stood with an affected casualness as Ivy and I put the groceries away, not seeming to care that we were ignoring him. “Oh, come on, Rachel,” the vamp cajoled. “Who is it? I’ll put my feelers out.” She looked as far from a predator now as a duck. I was used to the shifts in temperament, but Glenn looked bewildered.
“Uh, a witch named Dan.” I tuned away, hiding my head in the fridge as I put the cottage cheese away. “He’s Sara Jane’s boyfriend, and before you get all huffy, Glenn is coming with me to look at his apartment. I figure we can wait until tomorrow to check out Piscary’s; he works there as a driver. But no way is Glenn coming with me to the university.” There was a heartbeat of silence, and I cringed, waiting for her shout of protest. It never came.
I looked past the door of the fridge, going slack in surprise. Ivy had put herself at the sink and was hunched over it, a hand to either side. It was her “count to ten” spot. It had never failed her yet. She pulled her eyes up and put them on me. My mouth went dry. It had failed.
“You are not taking this run,” she said, the smooth monotone of her voice pulling the chill of black ice through me.
Panic flashed before settling into a churning burn in the pit of my stomach. All that existed was her pupil-black eyes. She inhaled, taking my warmth. Her presence seemed to swirl behind me until I fought to keep from turning around. My shoulders tensed and my breath came fast. She had pulled a full-blown, soul-stealing aura. Something was different, though. This wasn’t anger or hunger I was seeing. This was fear. Ivy was afraid?
“I’m taking the run,” I said, hearing a thin thread of fear in my voice. “Trent can’t touch me, and I already told Edden I would.”
“No you aren’t.”
Silk duster furling, she jerked into motion. I started, finding her right before me almost as soon as I noticed she had moved. Face whiter than usual, she pushed the fridge door shut. I jumped to get out of the way. I met her eyes, knowing if I showed the fright that was making my stomach knot, she would feed on it, making her fervor stronger. I’d learned a lot in the last three months, some of it the hard way, some of it I wished I ha
dn’t needed to know.
“The last time you took on Trent, you almost died,” she said, sweat trickling down her neck to disappear behind the deep V of her shirt. She was sweating?
“The key word there is ‘almost,’ ” I said boldly.
“No. The key word is ‘died.’ ”
I could feel the heat coming from her and stepped back. Glenn was in the archway, watching me with wide eyes as I argued with a vamp. There was a knack to it. “Ivy,” I said calmly, though I was shaking inside. “I’m taking this run. If you want to come with Glenn and me when we talk to Piscary—”
My breath cut off. Ivy’s fingers were around my throat. Gasping, my air exploded from me as she slammed me up against the kitchen wall. “Ivy!” I managed before she picked me up with one hand and pinned me there.
Air coming in short, insufficient pants, I hung off the floor.
Ivy put her face next to mine. Her eyes were black, but they were wide with fear. “You aren’t going to talk to Piscary,” she said, panic a silver ribbon through the gray silk of her voice. “You aren’t taking this run.”
I braced my feet against the wall and pushed. A breath of air made it past her fingers, and my back smacked back into the wall. I kicked out at her, and she shifted to the side. Her hold on me never altered. “What the hell are you doing?” I rasped. “Let me go!”
“Ms. Tamwood!” Glenn shouted. “Drop the woman and step to the center of the room!”
Digging my fingers into her one-handed grip, I looked past Ivy. Glenn was behind her, his feet braced, ready to shoot. “No!” my voice grated. “Get out. Get out of here!”
Ivy wouldn’t listen to me if he was here. She was afraid. What the hell was she afraid of? Trent couldn’t touch me.
There was a sharp whistle of surprise as Jenks darted in. “Howdy, campers,” he said sarcastically. “I see Rachel told you about her run, huh, Ivy?”
“Get out!” I demanded, my head pounding as Ivy’s grip tightened.
“Holy crap!” the pixy exclaimed from the ceiling, his wings flashing into a frightened red. “She’s not kidding.”
“I know…” Lungs hurting, I pried at the fingers around my neck, managing a ragged breath. Ivy’s pale face was drawn. The black of her eyes was total and absolute. And laced with fear. Seeing the emotion on her was terrifying.
“Ivy, let her go!” Jenks demanded as he hovered at eye level. “It’s not that bad, really. We’ll just go with her.”
“Get out!” I said, taking a clean breath as Ivy’s eyes went confused and her grip faltered. Panic took me as her fingers shook. Sweat trickled down her forehead, pinched in confusion. The whites of her eyes showed strong against the black.
Jenks darted to Glenn. “You heard her,” the pixy said. “Get out.”
My heart raced as Glenn hissed, “Are you crazy? We leave, and that bitch will kill her!”
Ivy’s breath came in a whimper. It was as soft as the first snowflake, but I heard it. The smell of cinnamon filled my senses.
“We gotta get out of here,” Jenks said. “Either Rachel will get Ivy to let go, or Ivy will kill her. You might be able to separate them by shooting Ivy, but Ivy will track her down and kill her the first chance she gets if she overthrows Rachel’s dominance.”
“Rachel is dominant?”
I could hear the disbelief in Glenn’s voice, and I frantically prayed they’d get out before Ivy finished throttling me.
The buzz of Jenks’s wings was as loud as my blood humming in my ears. “How else do you think Rachel got Ivy to back off of you? You think a witch could do that if she wasn’t in charge? Get out like she said.”
I didn’t know if dominant was the right word. But if they didn’t leave, the point would be moot. The honest to God’s truth was, in some twisted fashion Ivy needed me more than I needed her. But the “dating guide” Ivy had given me last spring so I would stop pressing her vamp-instinct buttons hadn’t had a chapter on “What to Do If You Find Yourself the Dominant.” I was in uncharted territory.
“Get—out,” I choked as the edges of my sight shifted to black.
I heard the safety click back on. Glenn reluctantly holstered his weapon. As Jenks flitted from him to the rear door and back again, the FIB officer retreated, looking angry and frustrated. I stared at the ceiling and watched the stars edging my sight as the screen door squeaked shut.
“Ivy,” I rasped, meeting her eyes. I stiffened at their black terror. I could see myself in their depths, my hair wild and my face swollen. My neck suddenly throbbed under her fingers where they pressed against my old demon bite. God help me, but it was starting to feel good, the remembrance of the euphoria that had surged through me last spring as the demon sent to kill me had ripped my neck open and filled it with vamp saliva.
“Ivy, open your fingers a little so I can breathe,” I managed, spittle dripping down my chin. The heat from her hand made the smell of cinnamon stronger.
“You told me to let him go,” she snarled, baring her teeth as her grip tightened until my eyes bulged. “I wanted him, and you made me let him go!”
My lungs tried to work, moving in short splurges as I struggled for air. Her hold slackened. I took a grateful gulp of air. Then another. Her face was grim, waiting. Dying with a vampire was easy. Living with one took more finesse.
My jaw ached where it rested upon her fingers. “If you want him,” I whispered, “go get him. But don’t break your fast in anger.” I took another breath, praying it wouldn’t be my last. “Unless it’s for passion, it won’t be worth it, Ivy.”
She gasped as if I had hit her. Face thunderstruck, her grip loosened without warning. I fell into a heap against the wall.
Hunching into myself, I gagged on the air. I felt my throat, my stomach knotting as the demon bite on my neck continued to tingle in bliss. My legs were askew, and I slowly straightened them. Sitting with my knees to my chest, I shook my charm bracelet back to my wrist, wiped the spit from me, and looked up.
I was surprised to find Ivy still there. Usually when she broke down like this, she went running to Piscary. But then, she had never broken down quite like this before. She had been afraid. She had pinned me to the wall because she had been afraid. Afraid of what? Of me telling her she couldn’t tear out Glenn’s throat? Friend or not, I’d leave if I saw her take someone in my kitchen. The blood would give me nightmares forever.
“Are you okay?” I rasped, hunching into myself when it triggered a spate of coughing.
She didn’t move, sitting at the table with her back to me. She had her head in her hands.
I had figured out shortly after we had moved in together that Ivy didn’t like who she was. Hated the violence even as she instigated it. Struggled to abstain from blood even as she craved it. But she was a vampire. She didn’t have a choice. The virus had fixed itself deep into her DNA and was there to stay. You are what you are. That she had lost control and let her instincts have sway meant failure to her.
“Ivy?” I got to my feet, listing slightly as I stumbled to her. I could still feel the impressions of her fingers around my neck. It had been bad, but nothing like the time she had pinned me to a chair in a cloud of lust and hunger. I pushed my black bow back where it belonged. “You all right?” I reached out, then drew back before touching her.
“No,” she said as my hand dropped. Her voice was muffled. “Rachel, I’m sorry. I—I can’t…” She hesitated, taking a ragged breath. “Don’t take this run. If it’s the money—”
“It’s not the money,” I said before she could finish. She turned to me, and my anger that she might try to buy me off died. A shiny ribbon of moisture showed where she had tried to wipe it away. I’d never seen her cry before, and I eased myself down in the chair beside her. “I have to help Sara Jane.”
She looked away. “Then I’m going out to Piscary’s with you,” she said, her voice holding a thin memory of its usual strength.
I clutched my arms about myself, one hand rubbing the faint s
car on my neck until I realized I was unconsciously doing it to feel it tingle. “I was hoping you would,” I said as I forced my hand down.
She gave me a frightened, worried smile and turned away.
Six
Pixy children swarmed around Glenn as he sat at the kitchen table as far from Ivy as he could without looking obvious about it. Jenks’s kids seemed to have taken an unusual liking to the FIB detective, and Ivy, sitting before her computer, was trying to ignore the noise and darting shapes. She gave me the impression of a cat sleeping before a bird feeder, seemingly ignoring everything but very aware if a bird should make a mistake and get too close. Everyone was overlooking that we had nearly had an incident, and my feelings for being saddled with Glenn had waned from dislike to a mild annoyance at his new, and unexpected, tact.
Using a diabetic syringe, I injected a sleepy-time potion into the last of the thin-walled, blue paint balls. It was after seven. I didn’t like leaving the kitchen a mess, but I had to make these little gems up special, and there was no way I would go out to meet Sara Jane at a strange apartment unarmed. No need to make it that easy for Trent, I thought as I took off my protective gloves and tossed them aside.
From the nested bowls under the counter I pulled out my gun. I had originally kept it in a vat hanging over the island counter, until Ivy pointed out I’d have to put myself in plain sight to reach it. Keeping it at crawling height was better. Glenn perked up at the sound of iron hitting the counter, waving the chattering, green-clad adolescent pixy girls off his hand.
“You shouldn’t keep a weapon out like that,” he said scornfully. “Do you have any idea how many children are killed a year because of stupid stunts like that?”