by Kim Harrison
One by one, the security vamps jostled for position until they were both ahead and behind us. I obediently headed for the stairway, seeing the tires of Ivy’s cycle peeking out from under a tarp. She’d parked it here for the winter after I’d nearly hit it trying to get into our carport. The snowplows had blocked me out, and I had to gun it to get through the chunky, man-made drift.
My pulse raced from the exertion, and I followed Cormel into the kitchen. At least, I was telling myself, it was from the exertion and not anticipation. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Kisten everywhere.
The warmth of the kitchen surprised me, and I looked up from the white tiles as we entered. Most of the ovens had been taken out and a great deal of the counter space. A large, comfortable table now took up the corner beside the stairway that led to the underground apartments. The new amber light hanging over it and the cotton throw rug beneath it made the spot a pleasant place to relax and eat among company, warm from the heat of the ovens and the possibility of conversation.
I breathed deep to find that it didn’t smell like a restaurant anymore with its many spices and the lingering scents of unfamiliar vampires. There was just Rynn Cormel’s increasingly familiar scent and the lingering aroma of half a dozen or so living vamps, Ivy’s among them.
I realized my boots were the only ones making any noise, and I nervously adjusted my collar until Jenks took to the air.
“We could eat here, but I think we will be more comfortable at the fireplace,” Cormel said, watching the pixy with a polite but wary expression. “Jeff, find out why Mai hasn’t started the appetizers, would you please?”
My concern eased when Ivy took off her coat, and leaving it at the table, strode directly through the old double doors. Jenks went with her and, curious, I followed. All my hesitancy vanished at the sight of the large room that had once entertained Cincy’s finest partiers with gourmet pizza and mixed drinks.
The shiny bar remained, taking up one wall, the low ceiling making the dark oak look even darker. All the illuminating lights over the bar were off, and the lit fireplace pulled the eye. The little high tables had been replaced with comfortable furniture, coffee tables, and the occasional sideboard for appetizers, flower arrangements, or possible discarded wineglasses.
Cormel tossed his coat to a chair, reminding me of my dad coming home and settling in. He all but collapsed into one of the self-indulgent chairs by the fire and gestured for us to join him. His pale skin and dark, silvering hair gave him the look of a comfortable businessman home from work. Yeah, right.
I took off my scarf and unzipped my coat, but the winter’s chill still hung in me and I kept it on. My eyes went everywhere as I followed Ivy to the hearth. To the right of the fireplace, one of the doors to what had once been a private dining room was open, and I could see a throw rug and part of a bed where a huge table once sat. One of the security vampires casually shut the door as he went by, and I guessed it was a guest room now. The floor was scratched in the old high-traffic areas and the light fixtures were still a table length apart, but it looked like a living room—a very large, low-ceilinged living room done up to look like a piece of up north with its round wooden timbers and dark paneling.
Cormel had chosen a chair, and Ivy had taken the couch before the fire. Thinking they were going to make judgments on where I sat, I carefully lowered myself onto the couch with Ivy between us, not too near her but not looking as if I was scrunched in the corner either.
The undead vampire smiled with half his mouth. Leaning forward, he rubbed his hands together and held them to the fire as if he was cold. Damn, he was good.
I felt silly in my coat, so I took it off to find it pleasantly warm. Rynn had beckoned one of his staff closer, and Ivy was giving the man my personal information so he could file for the AMA. I was just starting to get warm enough to pay attention when Jenks flew down the staircase, a content trail of gold dust spilling from him.
“You should be fine from AMA police for a while,” he said as he unwound his winter wear to show the skintight black outfit he had on underneath. “He’s got five vamps on security: the three who came with us plus two who were here. It wouldn’t surprise me if the woman in the kitchen is security, too, by the way she’s throwing the knives around.”
“Thanks, Jenks,” I said, knowing he was telling me this not because I was worried about the FIB or the I.S., but to tell our host we were not dumb about being here.
“Cormel has great security,” he continued as more blue fabric joined the pile on the arm of the couch. “Professional. All new stuff, and don’t mistake the smiles you’re seeing for leniency in a stress situation.”
“Gotcha,” I said, then looked up when Cormel’s aide nodded and left.
“I adore red tape,” Cormel said, settling back with a pleased expression, “tied in a Gordian knot.” I stared at him, and he added, “Any knot can be cut with a big enough sword. You’ll have what you need in ten minutes.”
Jenks rose an inch, then dropped when the guy with the savaged neck who had driven us here came in with an open bottle of white wine. I took my glass, vowing not to drink it, but when Cormel stood, gazing at the wine’s hue, I knew he was going to make a toast.
“To immortality,” he said, sounding almost forlorn. “For some, a burden; for others, a joy. Here’s to long lives and long loves.”
We went to drink, and Jenks muttered, “And longer lady-killers.”
I choked, and Jenks rose up on a glittering column of laughter.
Ivy had heard him, and she leaned back with a sour look on her face, but Cormel had stood, and I jumped when one of his hands touched my shoulder and the other took my glass as I hacked and coughed. “Would you like a milder wine?” he said solicitously as he set it down. “Forgive me. You’re still recovering. Jeff, bring out a sweeter white,” he said, and I waved my protest.
“’S okay,” I managed. “Went down the wrong pipe is all.”
Ivy uncrossed her knees and took another sip. “Do you need to wait in the car, Jenks?”
The pixy grinned. I could see it through my watering eyes. I was probably as red as the throw pillow I wanted to smack him with. Tracking his motion to the warm mantel and out of my reach, I took another sip to clear my throat. The wine was superb, and my vow to avoid it was tempered by the knowledge that I’d probably never be able to afford a bottle like this. Ah, one glass sipped slowly wouldn’t hurt….
Ivy unfolded herself and went to arrange the fire, leaving me and Rynn Cormel with a wide space between us. “Are you sure you won’t stay the morning?” he said across the empty couch. “I’ve plenty of everything but company.”
“Dinner, Rynn,” Ivy said. Her shape was a sharp silhouette against the fire, and when her hand came down very close to Jenks, he took to the air muttering curses. “You said you know who killed Kisten. Is he someone who will be missed?” she said.
What she was asking was if she could claim a life in return, and I stifled a shiver at the depth of her pain.
A sigh slipped from Cormel, though he didn’t need to breathe but to speak. “It’s not that I know who killed him, but I do know who didn’t.” Ivy went to protest, and the man put up a hand for her to wait. “There was no one Piscary owed a favor to,” Cormel said. “He hadn’t had contact with any vampire out of the city, so it was a Cincy native, and likely still here.”
Seeing his fatherly concern, something in me snapped. “There’s you,” I said bluntly, and Ivy stiffened. “Maybe you did it.”
Jenks’s wings clattered a nervous warning, but the undead vampire smiled with only the barest hint of an eye twitch giving away his annoyance. “I understand you’re starting to remember certain things,” he said flatly, and my bravado vanished. “Do I smell familiar to you? You wouldn’t forget me if I’d pinned you to the wall.” His eyes tightened. “I know it.”
I started to breathe again when he turned to Ivy, the shell of his humanity back in place. “You’ve been to the boat, Ivy,” he
said in a soft voice. “Was I ever there?”
Ivy was tense, but she shook her head.
I would’ve pointed out that he could have had someone else do it, but that wasn’t how vampires worked. If Kisten had been a gift to Cormel, Cormel would have taken him without a second thought and would admit it freely. I was dining with a freaking animal, and I bowed my head with a false contriteness and muttered, “Sorry. I had to ask.”
“Of course you did. No insult taken.”
I felt sick. We were all pretending. Well, at least Cormel and I were. Ivy might still be living the lie. I smiled at him, and Cormel smiled back, the picture of grace and understanding as he leaned to top off my wine, and I leaned forward to accept it.
“Besides myself,” he said as he retreated and Ivy relaxed, “there have been no new major political powers entering the city, and none looking for upward mobility other than what one would expect when a master vampire dies his final death. No one has more power than he or she should, which wouldn’t be the case if Piscary showed favor to someone.” He took a sip, considering the flavor or his next words. “Many owed Piscary, but he owed no one.”
Her back to the fire, Ivy was silent. We’d learned nothing, and I was starting to wonder if Kisten’s death was another one of Ivy’s freaking life lessons. Seeing her fidgeting in motions so subtle only Jenks or I would recognize, I hoped not. If it was, I might just dig the bastard Piscary back up and stake him again for the hell of it. Make a necklace out of his teeth and bathtub duckies out of his dried-up balls…
“I’ve met him,” Ivy said, looking for a shred of hope to follow. “I just can’t place him.”
“Do you have a name?” Cormel asked.
I could hear faint activity in the kitchen, and Jenks flew to investigate.
“No. The scent is too old, and it’s not quite the same. It’s like he was alive when I knew him, and now he’s dead, or maybe a large shift of status changed his diet and therefore his scent.” Her head came up, showing that her eyes were red. “Maybe he tried to disguise his smell so I couldn’t recognize it.”
Cormel waved a hand in dismissal, his expression irate. “Then you really have nothing,” he said, holding out his hand to lure her into sitting back down. “I’m sure the answer is here, but I have exhausted my leads. I’m not asking the right person. You could, though.”
Ivy exhaled to try to find her composure. “And who is the right person?” she asked as she took his grip and sat.
“Skimmer,” Cormel said, and my head came up sharply. “She knows all Piscary’s political secrets. Lawyers…” The vampire sighed expressively.
“Skimmer is in jail,” Jenks said as he darted back to the fire. “She won’t see Ivy.”
Ivy lowered her head, her brow pinched. Skimmer’s refusal was tearing her up.
“She might see you if Rachel goes with you,” Rynn Cormel suggested, and the hope of a possibility smoothed Ivy’s expression. My mouth, though, went dry.
“You think it will make a difference?” I asked.
He shrugged as he sipped his wine. “She doesn’t want Ivy to see her in her failure. But I expect she has a few words to say to you.”
Jenks’s breath hissed in, but Rynn was right. Ivy’s face held the hope that Skimmer would talk to her, and I set my dislike for the petite, dangerous vampire aside. For Ivy. I would talk to her for Ivy. And to find out who killed Kisten. “It’s worth trying,” I said, thinking that going in there with a thin aura wasn’t the best idea in the world.
Cormel shifted his feet uneasily. It was subtle, and he probably didn’t even know he had done it, but I saw it, and so did Jenks. “Good,” he said, as if everything had been decided. “I do believe there is some sushi headed our way.”
His words were clearly a signal, since the doors to the kitchen promptly swung open and Jeff and another vamp, in an apron, came out with trays. Jenks’s wings were a shimmer of motion though he hadn’t moved from the arm of the couch. “I didn’t know you liked sushi,” I said.
“I don’t, but there’s honey in one of the dipping sauces.”
“Jenks,” I warned as Cormel and Ivy made a spot on the coffee table before the fire.
“Wha-a-a-a-at,” he complained, his wings slowing until I could almost see the red bit of tape. “I wasn’t going to eat any. I was going to take it home for Matalina. It helps her sleep better.” And seeing the flicker of concern in his eyes, I believed him.
The trays looked fabulous, and glad now I’d said yes to dinner, I took up my chopsticks, pleased I didn’t have to break them apart to use them. They looked expensive. All we had at home were the ones we saved from takeout.
I watched Ivy handle her sticks with the fluency of a native language, the extensions of her fingers taking three different sashimi and several rolls with cream cheese and what looked like tuna. Remembering our first disastrous dinner as roommates, I kept my eyes down and put a few bites on my plate followed by lots of ginger. Jenks hovered over an amber sauce, and I put some on my plate, making sure he knew it was for him by pointing at him with the sticks—though how he was going to get it home was beyond me.
Cormel was still fussing with the sauces by the time Ivy and I had retreated with full plates. “I’m so pleased you stayed,” he said as he moved with that eerie vampire speed and put all of three bites on his plate. “Sushi alone is not the same. You never get the variety.”
Ivy was smiling, but the display of vampiric speed had me on edge. I didn’t need the reminder that he was stronger than me. And he didn’t need to eat. Why he was sort of bothered me.
“I love sushi,” I said, not wanting him to guess he had unnerved me. “Since I was a kid.”
“Really.” Cormel put a bite into his mouth and chewed. “I’m surprised.”
“I was eight,” I said, taking a slice of ginger and enjoying the sweet zing. “I thought I was dying. Well, I was, but I didn’t know I was going to get better. My brother went on this big push for me to do everything. Made it his goal one summer.”
My fumbling for a roll slowed as I thought about the girl in the hospital and the look in her eyes. I should go back and tell her the chance was real. If I survived, then she had a chance. I didn’t even know her name.
“You still are, you know,” Cormel said, startling me.
“Dying?” I blurted, and he laughed. Ivy smiled thinly, not appreciating the joke.
“I suppose,” he said, eyes on his second roll. “I’m the only one here not performing that particular trick anymore, but what I meant was, you’re still pushing to try new things.”
My eyes flicked to Ivy. “No, I’m not.”
Ivy shifted uncomfortably between us. Determined to not back down, I took one of the more mundane crunchy pieces of fried shrimp and ate it with a great deal of noise.
Cormel smiled and set his plate aside, having eaten only one roll. “You’re in a tight spot, Rachel, and I’m curious as to what your plan is for getting out.”
Jenks clattered his wings in warning, and the tension went up. “I’ll get the AMA whether you help me or not—” I started, and he cut me off.
“I promised you your form, and you will have it,” he said, sounding insulted. “That’s short-term survival, and I’m talking progress. Moving forward. Establishing yourself in a safe, long-term situation.” He took his glass and sipped from it. “You have been seen consorting with demons. You were refused traditional treatment on the witch floors because of your demon scars. What do you think that means?”
“It means they’re idiots.” My chin rose, and I set the plate of sushi down. “Human medicine worked fine.”
“Humans don’t like demons any more than anyone else,” he said. “Less. If you continue dealing with them openly, you will be silenced. Probably by witches.”
I laughed at that. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, waving my sticks about. “I don’t know where you’re getting your info, but witches don’t do that to each other. They never have.”
&
nbsp; “And you know that how?” he asked. “Even so, you’re acting out of character, and that will force them to do the same.”
I made a scoffing sound, and returned to eating. Why do they make these rolls so darn big? I look like a freaking squirrel.
“Be cautious, Rachel,” Cormel said, and I ignored him, continuing to try to chew a wad of rice and seaweed too big for my mouth. “Humans are vicious when cornered. That’s why they survive and we don’t. They came first, and they will probably persist long after we’re gone. Rats, cockroaches, and humans.”
Ivy rolled her eyes and ate a glob of the green stuff. Seeing her disbelief, Cormel smiled. “Ivy disagrees,” he said, “but I’ve had to speak favorably for you more than once.”
My motion to dip my last cucumber roll hesitated. “I never asked you to do that.”
“It wasn’t your place to give me permission,” he said. “I’m not telling you this so you feel you owe me a debt, but to let you know your situation. If the witches don’t react to you openly trafficking with demons, then the vampires will be pressed into it for another reason.”
I set my sticks down, feeling sick. I had no choice but to traffic with demons, having bought Trent’s freedom from them with a promise to be Al’s student. “If you’re not upset about the demons, then what’s bothering you?” I asked, feeling trapped and angry.
“What you’re doing to help the elves, of course.”
Ivy exhaled, and I suddenly got it. “Oh.” I took a steadying breath and pushed my plate away. I wasn’t hungry anymore. Piscary had killed my dad and Trent’s father for simply trying to help the elves. I had gone past trying and had actually saved them. Well, I’d gotten the sample that Trent used to do it.
“There have been three elf conceptions in the last three months,” Cormel said, and my thoughts flew to Ceri. “All healthy from what I understand. Their population is going to slowly rise. The Weres, too, are poised to explode under the right circumstances. You can understand why the vampires are slightly concerned.”