by Ким Харрисон
The living room was clean and empty, smelling of water and sunshine through the open windows. Pulse fast, I followed Jenks into the hall, past the bathroom, and to the back bedroom. The rasp of Ivy's ragged breath sent a chill through me, and I jerked from Edden's grasp only to stop dead just inside the door.
Ivy stood alone with her back to the dresser, arms over her middle, and her head bowed. Before her, on the floor slumped upright against the bed, was Kisten.
My eyes closed, and a lump filled my throat. Grief slammed into me, and I staggered to stand against the doorframe. He was dead. And it hadn't been easy.
Edden's soft curse behind me cut through my awareness, and I took a gasping breath. "You son of a bitch," I whispered to no one. "You son of a bitch bastard." I was far too late.
Kisten's barefoot body was dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a shirt I'd never seen. His neck and body had been savaged, and his arms and torso were torn as if he had tried to defend himself. Silvered blue eyes told me he had died undead, but the blood pooled in his legs and heels said that he hadn't been drained, simply killed twice. Dark blood matted his once-bright hair, and his smile was gone.
I took another breath, trying to keep upright, though the room was starting to waver.
"I'm sorry, Rachel," Edden said softly, his hand landing on my shoulder in a show of comfort. "I know he meant a lot to you. This wasn't your fault."
At that the tears started to dribble out, one by one. "Kisten?" I warbled, not wanting to believe he was gone. I had been here. I had tried to keep him alive. I must have. But I hadn't been able to, and the guilt must have been why I'd tried to forget.
I took a helpless step closer, wanting to fall on my knees and pull him to me. "I'm sorry, Kisten." I started to cry in earnest. "I must have tried. I must have."
From behind me in the hall, Ford said, "You did."
Both Ivy and I turned. He looked ragged as both of our personal hells resonated in him. "It's in your thoughts," he said, and I just about lost it. Giving up, I sank to my knees before Kisten, the tears flowing unchecked as I tried to arrange his shirt collar to hide his ravaged skin.
"I don't remember," I gushed. "I don't remember any of it. Tell me what happened."
Ford's voice was strained. "I don't know. But you're feeling guilt and remorse. There's hatred, but not at him. Someone made you forget."
I looked up, wanting to believe. Everything was blurry, unreal.
"You didn't forget because you couldn't handle it," he said, guilt in his voice for having labeled me weak. "Someone made you forget against your will. It's all there in your emotions."
Blinking fast, I tried to clear my sight. The pain in my chest wouldn't go away and let me think. Someone had been here besides me. Someone else knew what had happened. Someone had forced me to forget? Why?
A new fear, pulled my attention to Ivy, still standing apart and miserable as Kisten lay cold and dead between us. She hadn't wanted Ford to help me to remember. Had she… had she killed him because he'd bitten me?
"I don't remember," Ivy whispered as if knowing my thoughts, her head bowed and arms wrapped around herself to keep from falling apart. "I could have. I don't remember."
Edden put his weapon back in the holster, snapping it shut. Arms crossed aggressively, he took a firm stance. I stood, torn between anger at him and fear for Ivy.
"She wouldn't do it," I said, frightened, and I went to give her a shake. "You wouldn't do that, Ivy. Look at me! You loved him!"
She shook her head, her black hair hiding her face.
"She was Piscary's scion," Edden said. "She would if he told her to."
"She loved Kisten!" I exclaimed, appalled and scared. "She wouldn't do it!"
Edden took a harder line. "Word on the street is she'd kill him if he touched your blood. Did he?"
Guilt seemed to stop my heart, and I looked frantically for a way out. Jenks stood on the dresser, miserable. We were in the same room where I'd bitten Kisten in a blood passion I scarcely knew how to comprehend. He hadn't bitten me, but it didn't seem to matter now.
Ivy brought her head up at my silence. Her beautiful face was twisted in pain. "I might have done it," she whispered. "I don't remember. Everything up to Piscary attacking you is a… a jumbled nightmare. I think someone told me you tasted Kisten. I can't remember if someone told me or if I made it up." Tear-wet eyes rose to mine, framed by black hair iced in gold. A terrible fear lay in her gaze. "I might have. I might have done it, Rachel!"
My stomach was in knots, but the terror was gone, and in a sudden surge I understood. She hadn't wanted to come out here, afraid she might find she'd killed him. She hadn't wanted Ford to help me remember for the same reason. Someone had killed Kisten, but I knew to the bottom of my soul that it hadn't been Ivy, though centuries of evolution and conditioning made her want to.
"You didn't kill him," I said, putting my arms around her to help her believe. Her muscles tensed, and she started to silently tremble. "You didn't. I know it, Ivy. You wouldn't."
"I don't remember," she sobbed, admitting her fear. "I don't remember anything but being angry and confused and out of control." She moved, and I let go so she could pull her head up. "Did you bite him?" she whispered, her eyes begging me to say no.
I was glad I wasn't wearing that amulet so at least I could pretend Ford wasn't watching the drama play out. If I said yes, she would assume she had killed Kisten. But to lie was not possible. "I bit him," I said, the guilty words coming quick so I could get it out before she decided she'd killed him to end the pain inside her. "He gave me a pair of caps for my birthday. He knew you'd made a pass at me. Looking back on it, I'm sure I did it to convince him that I wasn't going to leave him. That he was important to me."
Ivy moaned and pulled away.
"Damn it, Ivy!" I exclaimed, wiping at the slowly leaking tears. "You wouldn't kill him for that! You loved him! Piscary never touched that part of you. He couldn't! You were never his. He only thought you were! Kisten said Piscary never asked you to kill me, but Piscary did, didn't he?" I said, watching her. I could hardly breathe, and her misery hesitated as she tried to remember. "He told you to kill me, and you said no. You wouldn't kill me for Piscary, and you wouldn't kill Kisten for him either. I know it, Ivy. That's why you shut yourself off. You didn't kill him. You didn't."
For six heartbeats she simply stared, thoughts sifting through her. Behind her I saw Ford drop his head into his hand, trying not to eavesdrop—but hell, that was his job. She took a deep breath, and all her muscles went limp. "Kisten," she finally breathed, falling to her knees to touch him, and I knew she believed. Her hands went to his hair, his and she started to cry.
The first heavy cry was her undoing, and proud, stoic Ivy finally let go. Huge, racking sobs shook her shoulders. Tears for his death, yes, but for herself as well, and I felt my own eyes fill and spill over as I dropped down to hold her beside his cold stillness. Kisten was the only person who had known the depth of depravity to which Piscary had sunk them, the heights of ecstasy. The breath-stealing power he had granted them, and the terrible price he extracted for it. The only one who had forgiven her for what she was, who understood who she wanted to be. He was gone, and there'd be no one else who could possibly understand. Not even me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, rocking her while her ragged sobs broke the silence as we sat on the floor of the tiny bedroom in a backwater tributary of the Ohio River. "I know what he was to you. We'll find out who did this. We will find out, and then we'll track them down."
And still she wept, as if her grief would never end.
And then grief came for me as well, cold and hard, grief defined by bright blue eyes and the smile I loved so much and would never see again. As my hand found his, bitter salt tears spilled from my eyes, in sorrow and pain and regret that I had so utterly failed him.
Thirty-nine
Two weeks later
I jiggled the handle of the canvas bag to the crook of my arm so I could ope
n the door to the church, squinting up at the VAMPIRIC CHARMS sign glowing wetly. Ivy wanted ice cream, and since she didn't want it enough to go out in the rain for it, I had been suckered into it. I'd do just about anything to see her smile again. It had been a rough two weeks. 'Course, we needed cat food, too, and dish soap. And we were out of coffee. It was scary how fast my quick run to the store had turned into a three-bag trip.
The door to the church creaked open, and I slid inside. Leaning against the closed door for balance, I wedged my shoes off. It was dark, seeing as the moon wasn't up and the clouds were thick. I paused just inside the sanctuary, flicking the light switch with my elbow. Nothing.
"Crap on toast," I muttered, smacking it a few more times just for fun. "Jenks!" I shouted. "The fuse in the sanctuary blew again!"
I didn't really expect an answer, but where was Ivy? She had to have noticed.
Shifting the bags awkwardly, I headed for the kitchen. Three steps in, I froze. I could smell unfamiliar vampire. Lots of them. And old smoke. And beer.
"Shit," I whispered, adrenaline whipping through me.
"Now!" someone yelled, and the lights flashed on.
Panicked, I dropped the bags and fell into a fighting stance, blinded by the sudden glare.
"Surprise!" came a chorus of voices from the front of the church, and I spun, heart pounding. "Happy birthday!"
I stared, my mouth hanging open and my hands in fists as the pint of Choco-Chunk rolled to Ivy's feet. She was actually smiling, and I slowly stood straight. My heart was still hammering her, and Jenks was making darting loops from me to her, shedding a brilliant gold.
"We got her!" he was shouting, and what looked like all his kids took up the refrain, filling the air with color and sound. "We got her good, Ivy. Look at her. Not a clue!"
Shocked, I fumbled for the bags. David, Keasley, and Ceri were at the couch, and Ivy was standing by the far light switch. Everyone was smiling, but then, as Jenks had said, they'd gotten me good.
There were no vampires here other than Ivy, and the only drink I could see were the three two-liters of soda on the coffee table. The smell of vampire, cigarettes, and old beer was coming from the battered pool table now set up to one side of the sanctuary. It hadn't been there when I had left. Seeing it, I felt my throat close up. It had been Kisten's. "But my birthday was last month," I said, still confused.
Ceri came forward. There was a cone hat on her head, but she somehow made it look more dignified than one had any right to expect. "We didn't forget," she said, giving me a quick hug. "We were distracted. Happy birthday, Rachel."
I honestly didn't know what to say. Keasley had on a hat, too, and when he saw me look at him, he took it off. The pixies, though, kept theirs on, darting about like mad.
My gaze went to the pool table, and tears pricked at my eyes. From there I looked to the surrounding faces. Under their smiles they were pleading, almost desperate for me to pretend everything was normal. That life was getting back to what it should be. That I wasn't missing a huge piece of myself. That there was one person that should be here who wasn't, and never would be again.
So I smiled.
"Wow," I said, coming to take the ice cream Ivy had picked up off the floor. "This is great! And yeah, I'm surprised." I let the bags of groceries slip to the couch and took off my coat. "I really don't believe this. Thanks, guys."
Ceri gave my upper arm a squeeze in support, and then her expression blanked. "I forgot the cake!" she exclaimed, green eyes going wide. "I left it on my table!"
"There's cake?" I said, wincing when Jenks flicked on the stereo and Marilyn Manson's "Personal Jesus" blared out before he turned it down. Ceri must have made it, because we'd thrown the old one out. I hadn't been able to eat it while Kisten lay in the morgue, and now that he was cremated and in Ivy's room, I felt no different. But tonight other people's feelings were involved, and I realized I was going to have to eat Ceri's cake or risk hurting her feelings.
Jenks flitted back to me, shooing his kids away from the soda. "Hell yes there's cake!" he said, loud to cover Ceri's distress. Can't have a birthday without cake. "I'll help you, Ceri."
The pretty elf shook her head. "You stay," she said, halfway to the door. "No need for you to leave. I'll go get it. I'll be right back." She jerked to a stop and retraced her steps, smiling and bright. "Here," she said, taking her hat off and putting it on me. "Wear this."
Ivy snickered, and I reached up to touch it. "Thanks," I said, cursing my outright fear of hurting her feelings. Great. I was going to be eating cake in a silly hat. Damn it, no one had better have a camera.
Keasley's brown, arthritic hands gathered up the handles of the canvas grocery sacks. "I'll take those. You entertain," he said, pulling them from the couch. Hesitating, he turned, bending his once-tall height to give me a fatherly kiss on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Rachel. You're quite the young woman. Your father would be proud of you."
If they were trying to cheer me up, they were doing a lousy job of it. "Thanks," I said, feeling my throat start to take on a lump.
I turned, looking for something to do. Ivy was supervising Jenks handing out soda to his kids in little cups made from the plastic plugs they put in pressboard furniture to hide the holes. David caught my eye and started over. His worn brown boots showed from under his blue jeans, and he scuffed to an uncertain halt. I hadn't seen him since the night I'd been lying on the floor, drugged as he told Minias that he had a legal right to make decisions for me. David had saved my life as much as Ceri.
"Happy birthday," he said, clearly wanting to say something more. Hell, a handshake wasn't going to do it, and as a wash of gratitude warmed me, I reached out and brought him close, taking him in a hug. His arms were solid and real. Comforting. The complicated scent of Were filled my senses, and I closed my eyes, feeling my chest grow heavy when I noticed the differences between being held by him and Kisten. I'd never hold Kisten again.
I clenched my jaw and refused to cry. I didn't want to talk about Kisten. I wanted to pretend we were all normal. But I had to say something, I couldn't let David think I wasn't grateful for what he'd done. "Thank you," I said into his shirt. "Thank you for saving my life."
"It was an honor." His voice rumbled from him to me through his chest, and his hold on me grew more certain now that he knew that the depth of my emotion was coming from gratitude.
"I'm sorry about Brett," I said miserably, and his grip tightened.
"Me too," he said, and I heard the pain in his voice, the loss of more than a fellow Were, but a possible friend. "I want to make him a member of our pack posthumously."
"I'd like that," I said, throat closing. Giving my arms a squeeze, he let go and backed up.
I met his eyes, surprised at the flash of fear. It was the curse. It was afraid of me, and it was only David's alpha confidence that held it in check. Anyone else might have misunderstood the fleeting, deep-seated terror, but I'd had that thing in my thoughts. I knew what it was. And it was dangerous. "David…"
"Don't," he said, his dark eyes fixing on me to stop my words. "I did the right thing. I turned five women, and it killed three of them. If I have the curse in me, I can help Serena and Kally." His anger left him as he got lost in a memory. "And it's not that bad," he finished, gesturing helplessly. "I feel good. Whole. Like this is the way I was supposed to be."
"Yeah, but David…"
He confidently shook his head. "I have this under control. The curse is like the devil itself. I feel it in me, and I have to weigh my thoughts to decide if it's me or the curse, but it's happy to be able to run again, and I have that as a threat. It knows if it makes me angry, I'll come to you and you'll take it out and put it in a prison of bone."
"It's right," I said, remembering the fear in his eyes from just my touch. "David, this is so dangerous. Let me take it out. Everyone thinks the focus is destroyed. We can hide it—"
He held up a hand, and I stopped. "With the curse in me, Serena and Kally can shift withou
t pain. Do you really want to take that from them? And it's okay. I didn't want a pack, but… sometimes our choices are made for us. The curse belongs to the Weres. Leave it where it is," he said firmly, as if the conversation were done.
Slumping against the back of the couch, I gave up. David ducked his head and relaxed. He had won, and he knew it. Ivy glanced at me from where she was handing out soda when Jenks whispered something in her ear, and her questioning gaze turned into a smile. Taking two plastic cups, she moved to sit against the pool table where she could watch everyone.
"Do you want something to drink, Rachel?" David asked, and Ivy raised one to say she'd already poured me something.
"Ivy's got it," I said, and he touched my arm before going to see what Keasley wanted.
I wasn't thirsty, but I went over to Ivy, leaning against the table beside her. Her thin eyebrows were high, and she silently handed me my drink. My gaze strayed to her neck. Piscary had bitten her so cleanly that the bites had healed with almost no scar. My neck still was a nasty mess, and it would likely stay that way. I didn't care. My soul was black, and the outward scarring seemed to fit.
Piscary had been dead for two weeks, and the minor camarillas were chomping at each other's heels to find out who would be Cincinnati's next master vampire. The mourning period was nearly over, and all of Cincy was gearing up for the squabbles and power plays. Ivy's mom had a good shot at it, which didn't fill me with any confidence. Though Ivy would be exempt from being a blood source, she'd probably have more backroom responsibility. All of Piscary's vampires had banded together under her; if a different camarilla came out on top, their lives wouldn't be worth the grape leaves Piscary had used to wrap around his lamb sandwiches. Ivy said she wasn't worried, but it had to be preying on her.
Now she cleared her throat in warning, and I forced my hand down from my own neck before I accidentally set the scar resonating to her pheromones. The scent of the pool table rose around me, the combined scent of vampires, cigarette smoke, and beer bringing back memories of me knocking around the balls as I waited in a peaceful, empty dance club for Kisten to finish locking up and our evening to begin.