The Good, the Bad, and the Undead

by Kim Harrison

  “Ivy!” I shrieked as she pulled me against her. Adrenaline scoured my veins. Pain followed it, punishing me for my defiance. Terrified, I found the strength to keep her from my neck. She pulled me with an increasing power. Her lips drew back from her teeth. My muscles began to shake. Slowly she pulled me closer. Her soul was lost from her eyes. Her hunger shone like a god. My arms trembled, ready to give out.

  God save me, I thought desperately, my eyes finding the cross incorporated into the ceiling.

  Ivy jerked as a metallic bong reverberated through the air.

  She stiffened. The need in her flickered. Her eyebrows rose in bewilderment and her focus wavered. Breath held, I felt her grip slacken. Fingers slipping from me, she collapsed at my feet with a sigh.

  Behind her stood Nick with my largest copper spell pot.

  “Nick,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. I took a breath and reached out for him, passing out as he touched my hand.

  Thirteen

  It was warm and stuffy. I could smell cold coffee. Star-bucks: two sugars, no cream. I opened my eyes to find a red stringy mass of my hair blocking my sight. My arm aching, I pushed it out of the way. It was quiet, with only the hushed sound of traffic and the familiar hum of Nick’s alarm clock to break the stillness. I wasn’t surprised to find I was in his bedroom, safe on my occasional side of the bed, facing both the window and the door. Nick’s dilapidated dresser with the missing knob never looked so good.

  The light slanting in past the drawn curtains was faint. I was guessing it was getting close to sunset. A glance at his clock showed 5:35. I knew it was accurate. Nick was a gadget guy, and the clock received a signal from Colorado every midnight to reset it from the atomic clock there. His watch was the same way. Why someone had to be that accurate was beyond me. I didn’t even wear my wristwatch.

  The gold and blue afghan Nick’s mother had crocheted him was snuggled under my chin, smelling faintly of ivory soap. What I recognized as a pain amulet lay on the night-stand—right beside the finger stick. Nick thought of everything. If he could have invoked it, he would have.

  I sat up looking for him, knowing by the scent of coffee that he was probably nearby. The afghan pooled about me as I swung my feet to the floor, Muscles protesting, I reached for the amulet. My ribs hurt and my back was sore. Head bowed, I pricked my finger for the three drops of blood to invoke the charm. Even before I slipped the cord over my head, I felt myself relax in immediate relief. It was all muscle aches and bruises, nothing that wouldn’t heal.

  I squinted in the artificial dusk. An abandoned coffee cup pulled my eyes to a slump of clothes on the chair. It moved in a gentle rhythm, becoming Nick asleep with his long legs sprawled out before him. He was sock-footed, since he wouldn’t let shoes on his carpet, and his big feet pulled a smile from me.

  I sat, content to do nothing for the moment. Nick’s day started six hours earlier than mine, and a faint stubble made early shadows on his long face slack in slumber. His chin rested on his chest, his short black hair falling to hide his eyes. They opened as a primitive part of him felt my gaze on him. My smile grew as he stretched in the chair, a sigh slipping from him.

  “Hi, Ray-ray,” he said, his voice pooling like brown puddle-warm water about my ankles. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay.” I was embarrassed that he had witnessed what happened, embarrassed he’d saved me, and heartily glad he had been there to do both.

  He came to sit beside me, his weight making me slide into him. My breath made a relieved, contented sound as I fell against him. He put his arm around me and gave me a sideways squeeze. I rested my head against his shoulder, taking the scent of old books and sulfur deep into me. Slowly my heartbeat became obvious as I sat and did nothing, taking strength simply from his presence.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his hand buried deep in my hair as he held me.

  I pulled away to look at him. “Yes. Thanks. Where’s Ivy?” He didn’t say anything, and my face went slack in alarm. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

  His hand dropped from my hair. “She’s on the floor where I left her.”

  “Nick!” I protested, pushing myself away from him so I could sit straight. “How could you just leave her there?” I stood, looking for my bag and realizing he hadn’t brought it. I was still barefoot, too. “Take me home,” I said, knowing the bus wouldn’t pick me up.

  Nick had risen when I did. His face flashed into alarm and his eyes dropped. “Shit,” he said under his breath. “I’m sorry. I thought you said no to her.” His gaze flicked to mine and away, his long face looking pained, disappointed, and red with embarrassment. “Aw, shit, shit, shit,” he muttered. “I’m really sorry. Yeah. Yeah, come on. I’ll get you home. Maybe she hasn’t woken up yet. I’m really, really sorry. I thought you said no. Oh God. I shouldn’t have interfered. I thought you said no!”

  He was hunched with discomfort, and bewildered, I reached out and pulled him back before he could walk out the bedroom door. “Nick?” I said as he jerked to a halt. “I did say no.”

  Nick’s eyes widened even farther. His lips parted and he stood there, seeming unable to even blink. “But … you want to go back?”

  I sat on the bed and looked up at him. “Well, yeah. She’s my friend.” I gestured in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just left her lying there!”

  Nick hesitated, confusion thick in his pinched eyes. “But I saw what she tried to do,” he said. “She almost bit you, and you want to go back?”

  My shoulders slumped and I dropped my gaze to the stain-spotted, ugly yellow carpet. “It was my fault,” I said softly. “We were sparring and I was angry.” I glanced up. “Not with her. With Edden. Then she got cocky, and it ticked me off, so I jumped her, catching her off guard … landed on her back, pulled her head back by her hair and breathed on her neck.”

  His lips pressed together, Nick lowered himself to sit on the edge of the chair and put his elbows on his knees. “Let me get this straight. You decided to spar with her while you were angry. You waited until you were both emotionally charged, and then you jumped her?” He exhaled loudly through his nose. “Are you sure you didn’t want her to bite you?”

  I made a sour face at him. “I did say it wasn’t her fault.” Not wanting to argue with him, I got up and moved his arms to make a spot for me in his lap. He made a surprised grunt, then curved his arms about me as I sat down. I tucked my head against his cheek and shoulder, breathing in his masculine scent. The memory of the vamp-saliva-induced euphoria flickered through me and was gone. I hadn’t wanted her to bite me—I hadn’t—but a niggling thought wouldn’t go away that the baser, pleasure-driven side of me might have. I had known better. It hadn’t been her fault. And as soon as I could convince myself of that and get out of Nick’s lap, I was going to call and tell her so.

  I snuggled and listened to the traffic as Nick ran a hand over my head. He seemed inordinately relieved. “Nick?” I questioned. “What would you have done if I hadn’t said no?”

  He took a slow breath. “Put your spell pot just inside the door and left,” he said, his voice rumbling up through me.

  I straightened, and he winced as my body weight shifted against him. “You would have let her tear out my throat?”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Ivy wouldn’t have drained you and left you for dead,” he said reluctantly. “Even in the frenzy you had her whipped up to. I heard what she offered you. That was no one night stand. It was a life commitment.”

  My demon scar tingled at his words, and frightened, I pushed the feeling away. “Just how long were you standing there?” I asked, going cold with the thought that the nightmare might have been far more than Ivy simply losing control.

  His grip around me tightened as his eyes failed to reach mine. “Long enough to hear her ask to make you her scion. I wasn’t going to stand in your way if it was something you wanted.”

  My mouth dropped open and I pulled my arm from around b
ehind him. “You would have walked away and let her make me into a plaything?”

  A flash of anger flickered in his brown eyes. “A scion, Rachel. Not a shadow or plaything, or even a thrall. There’s a world of difference.”

  “You would have walked away?” I exclaimed, not willing to get out of his lap for fear pride might make me leave his apartment. “You would have done nothing?”

  His jaw clenched but he made no move to dump me onto the floor. “I am not the one living in a church with a vamp!” he said. “I don’t know what you want. I can only go on what you tell me and what I see. You live with her. You date me. What am I supposed to think?”

  I said nothing, and he added in a softer voice, “What Ivy wants is not wrong or unusual, it’s a cold, scary fact. She’s going to need a trustworthy scion in about forty years or so, and she likes you. To tell you the truth, it’s a damn fine offer. But you had better make up your mind as to what you want before time and vamp pheromones make it for you.” His voice grew halting, reluctant. “You wouldn’t be a plaything. Not with Ivy. And you would be safe with her, untouchable by just about every nasty thing Cincinnati has.”

  Gaze distant, my thoughts lit on small, seemingly unrelated instances of friction between Ivy and Nick, seeing them in a new light. “She’s been hunting me all this time,” I whispered, feeling the first hints of real fear.

  The wrinkles around Nick’s eyes creased. “No. It’s not just blood she’s after, though an exchange is involved. But I have to be honest. You complement each other like no vamp and scion pair I’ve seen.” A flicker of unknown emotion swelled and died within his eyes. “It’s a chance at greatness—if you’re willing to give up your dreams and bind yourself to hers. You would always be second. But you would be second to a vamp slated to rule Cincinnati.”

  Nick’s hand ceased its motion over my hair. “If I made a mistake,” he said carefully, not looking at me, “and you want to be her scion, then fine. I’ll drive you and your toothbrush home and walk away, letting you two finish what I interrupted.” His hand began moving again. “My only regret will be that I wasn’t enough to lure you away from her.”

  My eyes drifted across Nick’s hodgepodge of furniture, hearing the busy traffic outside his apartment. It was so unlike Ivy’s church with its wide open spaces and breathing room. All I had wanted was to be her friend. She desperately needed one, unhappy with herself and wanting to be something more, something clean and pure, something untouched and unsullied. She was trying so hard to escape her vampiric existence, and I knew she harbored a belief that someday I might find a spell to help her. I couldn’t leave and destroy the one thing that kept her going. God save me if I was a fool, but I admired her indomitable will and belief that someday she’d find what she sought.

  Despite the potential threat she posed, her asinine demands for organization, and her strict adherence to structure, she was the first person I’d roomed with who said nothing about my mind-slips, like draining the water heater or neglecting to turn off the heat before opening the windows. I’d lost too many friends over such petty arguments. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. The scary thing was that Nick was right. We did do well together.

  And now I had a new fear. I hadn’t realized the threat of my vamp scar until she told me. Marked for pleasure and unclaimed. Passed from vampire to vampire until I begged to be bled. Remembering the waves of euphoria and how hard it had been to say no, I saw how easy Ivy’s prediction could turn real. Though she hadn’t bitten me, I was sure the word on the streets was that I was taken goods and to back off. Damn. How did I get to this place?

  “Do you want me to take you back?” Nick whispered, pulling me close.

  I shifted my shoulder to mold myself into him. If I was smart, I’d ask his help in moving my stuff out of the church tonight, but what came out of my mouth was a small, “Not yet. I’ll call to make sure she’s all right, though. I’m not going to be her scion, but I can’t leave her to be alone. I said no, and I think she’ll respect that.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  I tucked in closer. “I don’t know …. Maybe I’ll put a bell on her.”

  He chuckled, but I thought I heard a trace of pain in it. I felt his amusement fade. His chest shifted my head as he breathed. What happened had scared me more than I wanted to admit. “You aren’t under a death threat anymore,” he whispered. “Why don’t you leave?”

  I didn’t move, hearing his heartbeat. “I don’t have the money,” I protested softly. We’d been over this before.

  “I told you that you can move in with me.”

  I smiled, though he couldn’t see it, my cheek scraping against his cotton shirt. His apartment was small, but that wasn’t why I had always kept our sleepovers to the weekends. He had his own life, and I would get in his way if he had to take me in more than small doses. “It would last for a week, and then we would hate each other,” I said, knowing from experience it was true. “And I’m the only thing keeping her from falling back into being a practicing vamp.”

  “So let her fall. She’s a vampire.”

  I sighed, not finding the strength to get angry. “She doesn’t want to be. I’ll be more careful. It’ll be all right.” I put a confident, persuasive tone in my voice, but was left wondering if I was trying to convince him or me.

  “Rachel…” Nick breathed, his breath shifting the hair atop my head. I waited, almost able to hear him trying to decide whether he should say anything more. “The longer you stay,” he said reluctantly, “the harder it’s going to be to resist the vamp-induced euphoria. That demon that attacked you last spring pumped more vamp saliva into you than a master vampire. If witches could be turned, you’d be one by now. As it is, I think Ivy could bespell you simply by saying your name. And she’s not even dead yet. You’re making unsafe rationalizations for staying in an unsafe situation. If you think you will ever want to leave, you should go now. Believe me, I know how good a vampire scar feels when a vamp’s need kicks in. I know how deep the lie goes, and how strong the lure.”

  I sat up, my hand going to cover my neck. “You know?”

  His eyes went sheepish. “I went to high school in the Hollows. You don’t think I got through that without being bitten at least once?”

  My brow rose at his almost guilty look. “You have a vamp bite? Where?”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It was a summer fling. And she wasn’t dead so I didn’t contract the vamp virus. There wasn’t much saliva in it to begin with, so it stays pretty quiet unless I get in a situation where there are a lot of vampire pheromones. It’s a trap. You know that, don’t you?”

  I slumped back into him, nodding. Nick was safe. His scar was old and made by a living vampire barely out of adolescence. Mine was new and laced with so much neurotoxin that Piscary could set it into play with just the weight of his eyes. Nick went still, and I wondered if his scar had flamed to life when he’d walked into the church. It might explain why he had said nothing and simply watched. How good had his scar felt? I wondered, unable to blame him.

  “Where is it?” I asked slowly. “Your vamp scar?”

  Nick jiggled me farther up onto his lap. “Never mind that—witch,” he said playfully.

  I suddenly became very aware of him pressing up against me, his arms draped around me to keep me from falling off. I glanced at the clock. I had to go to my mom’s and get my old ley line stuff before I could do my homework. If I didn’t do it tonight, it wouldn’t get done. My gaze tilted to Nick’s, and he smiled. He knew why I was looking at the clock.

  “Is this it?” I asked. Shifting on his lap, I pulled the collar of his shirt aside to show a faint white scar on his upper shoulder from a deep scratch.

  He grinned. “I don’t know.”

  “Mmmm,” I said. “Bet I could tell.” As he laced his hands to cradle me about the hips, I undid the top button of his shirt. The angle was awkward, and I shifted to straddle his lap, my knees to either side of him. His hands moved to hol
d me a trifle lower, and arching my eyebrows at our new position, I leaned closer. My fingers went behind his neck and I nuzzled aside his collar to set my lips against the scar, leaving it with an audible pop.

  Nick took a noisy breath, shifting under me into more of a slouch so he wouldn’t have to hold me from falling. “That’s not it,” he said. His hand went to my back, tracing a trail down my spine, bumping as he found the waistband of my sweats.

  “Okay,” I murmured as his fingers tugged the hem of my sweatshirt. He reached up under it, his fingertips making a long tingle across my skin. “I know it isn’t this one.” Bending over him, I let my hair fall about his chest as I flicked my tongue against first one then the second puncture mark I had given him when I’d been a mink and thought he was a rat trying to kill me. He said nothing, and I carefully worried the three-month-old scar with gentle teeth.

  “No,” he said, his voice suddenly strained. “You gave me those.”

  “That’s right,” I breathed, my lips grazing his neck as I steadily worked my way to his ear with little hop-kisses. “Hmmm…” I breathed. “I guess I’ll have to do some investigating. You are aware, Mr. Sparagmos, that I am professionally trained in the field of investigation?”

  He said nothing, his free hand making a delicious sensation as he traced a path along the small of my back, testing.

  I pulled back, and his hands followed the curves of my waist under my sweatshirt with an increasing pressure. I was glad it was near dark. So still and warm. An eager anticipation was in his gaze, and leaning forward to brush the tips of my hair over his face, I whispered, “Close your eyes.”

  His entire body shifted as he sighed, doing as I asked.

  Nick’s touch became more insistent, and I settled my forehead into the crook between his neck and shoulder. Eyes closed, I felt for the buttons on his shirt, enjoying the rising feeling of expectation as each one gave way. I struggled with the last, tugging his shirt out from his jeans.