by Ким Харрисон
"Ivy?" I questioned.
"'Morning, Rachel," she said tightly. Ignoring Jenks, she opened the door and dropped the metal mixing bowl onto the walk with the rest. Plucking the cookie out of Jenks's hand, she flicked it over the threshold, slammed the door, and vanished into her room.
Bewildered, I glanced at Jenks. The pixy shrugged, then turned the volume down on the TV. I followed his gaze to Nick. His expression was positively vindictive. My eyes narrowed and I leaned back, crossing my arms. "What was that all about?" I asked.
"Ooooh, I forgot," he said, lightly snapping his healing fingers. "Vampires are sensitive to the scent of cloves. Golly, the smell must have woken her up."
My jaw tightened. I hadn't known that. Apparently neither had Jenks, since he was the one who had gone shopping. Nick turned to the sink a little too slowly to hide his smile.
I took a breath, deciding he was lucky Ivy hadn't smacked him hard enough to knock him out. In the shape he was in, it wouldn't take much. My eyes fell on the pain amulet he was wearing, thinking the entire situation was stupid. Jenks told me earlier that Ivy had been on the Internet all last night as Nick tried to sleep. Payback?
My fingers tapped the laminated table. Standing, I closed the lid on my laptop, then slid my demon curse book off the table and into my arms. "I'll be in the van," I said blandly.
"Rachel—" Nick started, but I snatched up my list and pencil and walked out of the kitchen, the heavy book making me awkward and unbalanced. It kind of went with my mood.
"Whatever, Nick…" I said tiredly, not turning around.
Jenks was a mix of wary alertness. The paper on the table before him was strewn with Jax's work. He was getting better.
"I'll be in the van, if you need me," I said in passing.
"Sure." His eyes went from me to Jax trying to coax Rex out from under the bed. The sight of a pixy holding up a bedspread calling "Kitty, kitty, kitty" looked risky even to me.
"Rachel," Nick protested when I opened the door, but I didn't turn. Reversing my steps, I snatched up my bag with the focus in it. No need to leave that sitting around.
"You stupid lunker," Jenks said as I left. "Don't you know she always sides with—"
The door clicked closed, cutting off his words. "The underdog," I finished. Depressed, I leaned against the door, the focus tucked between me and my demon book, my head bowed. Not this time. I wouldn't side with Nick, and despite the cookie incident, Nick was the underdog.
Birdsong and the chill of morning pulled my head up. It was quiet and damp, the rush-hour traffic nonexistent. The sun was trying to break through the light fog, giving everything a golden sheen. The nearby straits were probably beautiful, not that I could see them from where I stood.
Gathering my resolve, I shifted the weight of the demon book and dug in my pocket for the van's keys. We'd parked in the shade of a huge white pine between the road and the motel so I could set a circle without people running into it. The new hundred-dollar running shoes that Ivy had bought me were silent on the pavement, and it felt odd being up this early. Creepy. Habit made me shift through the keys so they didn't clink, and only the muffled thunk of the van unlocking broke the stillness until I lugged the side door open in a sound of sliding metal and rolling rubber. Still peeved, I stepped up and in, and slammed the door shut in frustration.
I dropped the demon book on the cot and sat next to it. Elbows on my knees, I kicked my bag under me. I didn't want to be there, but I wanted to be in the motel room less. The silence grew, and I reluctantly slid the curse book onto my lap. I was here, I might as well do something. Wedging off my shoes, I sat cross-legged with my back to the drape drawn between me and the front seat. It was dim, and I tugged the little side curtain open to let in the light.
My lightning charm rasped on the yellowing pages as I leafed through the tome looking for anything familiar. There wasn't a table of contents, making it difficult to satisfy my curiosity. Big Al used demon magic to look like people he had never seen, plucking their description and voice from memories like I picked flowers from my garden. I wasn't going to twist a demon curse for a disguise when I could use an illegal, white earth charm, but comparing the two might give me insight into how the three branches of magic pulled on each other's strengths.
The Latin word for copy caught my attention, and I leaned closer, feeling my legs protest. I needed to get out and run; I was stiffening. Slowly I pieced it out, deciding the word actually translated into transpose. There was a difference. The curse didn't make someone look like someone else, it moved the abilities of one person into another. My lips parted. That's how Al not only turned himself into Ivy, but took the abilities of a vampire as well.
My eyebrows rose, and I wondered whom Al got his vampiric abilities from. Piscary, in return for a favor? A lesser vampire he had in the ever-after? Ceri would know.
Gaze dropping to my bag, my pulse quickened at the thoughts sliding through me. I couldn't duplicate the focus without commissioning an artist—who would take forever and then have to be charmed into forgetfulness—but maybe if I moved its power to a new thing…
"Demon curse, Rachel," I whispered. "You're a bad girl to even think it."
The sound of a motel door opening and closing pulled a thread of caution through me. I didn't hear footsteps. Berating myself for not having done it sooner, I tapped a line. "Rhombus," I whispered, instigating a series of hard-practiced lessons that flicked a five-minute setup and invocation of a circle into a heartbeat. The zing of ever-after tingled through me, making it feel as if my body was humming. It was fascinating that the line here "tasted" different, more electrical almost. I think it was all the ground water.
"Yikes," came Jenks's soft voice. "When she wants to be alone, she doesn't leave any bones about it, does she?"
There was a high-pitched answer, and I pushed the book off my lap and lurched past the curtain and into the front. "Jenks," I called, tapping the glass before I stuck the key in the ignition and rolled the window down. "What's up?"
The tall pixy turned from unlocking Kisten's Corvette. Smiling, he squinted in the haze and crossed the parking lot, two amulets about his neck and a red baseball cap on his head. One was for scent, the other, an over-the-counter charm, turned his hair black. It wasn't much, but it would do. His feet edged the black haze of ever-after between us, and I dropped the circle, my pulse temporally quickening at the surge of power before I disconnected from the line.
"I need some more toothbrushes," he said, coming closer. "And maybe some fudge."
Knealing on the seat, I put my crossed arms on the windowsill. Toothbrushes? He had six open on the bathroom counter. "You know, you can reuse those," I said, and he shuddered.
"No thanks. Besides, I want to take Jax on a lesson on low-temperature runs so Ivy can smack crap for brains a good one if he wants to keep antagonizing her."
"Hi, Ms. Morgan," Jax chimed out, Jenks's hat lifting to show Jax peeping from under it.
A smile curved over me. "Hi, Jax. Keep your dad's back, okay?"
"You bet."
Pride crinkled Jenks's eyes. "Jax, do a quick reconnaissance of the area. Watch your temps. And be careful. I heard blue jays earlier."
"Okay." Jax wiggled out from under his dad's hat and zipped off in a clatter of wings.
I exhaled, a mix of melancholy and pride over Jax learning a new skill. "Will you stop calling Nick crap for brains?" I asked, tired of playing referee. "You used to like him."
Jenks made a face. "He turned my son into a thief and broke my partner's heart. Why should I give him a draft of consideration?"
Surprised, my eyebrows rose. I hadn't known my falling out with Nick bothered him.
"Don't get all girly on me," Jenks said gruffly. "I may only be eighteen, but I've been married for ten years. You turned into a slobbering blob, and I don't want to see it again. It's pathetic, and it makes me want to pix you." His face grew worried. "I've seen how you get around dangerous men, and you always fall for th
e underdog. Nick is both. I mean, he's dangerous and he's been hurt, and hurt bad," Jenks rushed on, mistaking my sick look for fear. Crap, was I that transparent? "He's going to hurt you again if you let him—even if he doesn't mean to."
Disconcerted, I brushed the dampness of fog from my arm. "Don't worry about it. Why would I go back? I love Kisten."
Jenks smiled, but his brow was furrowed. "Then why did we come out here?"
I fixed my gaze on the curtained windows of the motel. "He saved my life. I might have loved him. And I can't pretend my past didn't happen. Can you?"
There wasn't much Jenks could say to that. "You need anything while I'm out?" he said, clearly changing the subject.
My lips curved upward. "Yeah. Can you get one of those disposable cameras?"
Jenks blinked, then smiled. "Sure. I'd love a shot of you and me together in front of the bridge." Still smiling, he whistled for Jenks and turned away.
The reminder of why we were there intruded, and my stomach clenched. "Uh, Jenks. I could use something else too." His eyes went expectant, and I licked my lips nervously. You're a bad girl, Rachel. "I need something made from bone," I said.
Jenks's eyebrows rose. "Bone?"
I nodded. "About fist-sized? Don't spend a lot of money on it. I'm thinking I might be able to move the curse from the statue to something else. It needs to have been alive at some point, and I don't think wood is animate enough."
Feet scuffing, Jenks nodded. "You got it," he said, turning to the dry, desperate-sounding clatter of pixy wings. It was Jax, and the exhausted pixy almost fell into his dad's hand.
"Tink's dia—uh, diapers," Jax exclaimed, changing his oath mid-phrase. "It's cold out here. My wings don't even work. Jeez, Dad, are you sure it's okay for me to be out here?"
"You're fine." Taking off his hat, Jenks raised his hand and Jax made the jump to his head. Jenks carefully replaced his cap. "It takes practice to know how long your wings will work in low temps and get yourself to a heat source in time. That's what we're doing this for."
"Yeah, but it's cold!" Jax complained, his voice muffled.
Jenks was smiling when he met my gaze. "This is fun," he said, sounding surprised. "Maybe I should go into business training pixy backups."
I chuckled, then turned solemn. It would make his last months more enjoyable if he could teach what he could no longer do. I knew Jenks's thoughts were near mine when the emotion left his face. "Jenks's school for pixy pirates," I quipped, and he smiled, but it faded fast.
"Thanks, Jenks," I said as he made motions to return to the car. "I really appreciate this."
"No prob, Rache." He touched his hat. "Finding stuff is what pixies do fourth best."
I snorted, pulling myself in and already knowing what Jenks thought pixies did first best. And it wasn't saving my ass like he told everyone.
Rolling up the window against the chill, I returned to my cot, wondering if Kisten had a second blanket in there somewhere. The rumble of the Corvette rose, fading to the ambient sound of passing traffic when Jenks drove off. "Bone," I mumbled, writing the word beside the Latin. My breath caught, then slipped from me in chagrin when the pencil faded. That's right. Ceri had used a charm to fix the print to the page. Next time I talked to her, I'd ask.
"Why?" I mumbled, feeling my mood sour. It wasn't as if I was going to make a practice of using these curses. Right? Eyes closing, I let a sound slip from me as I pushed my fingers into my forehead. I am a white witch. This is a one-shot deal. Too much ability leads to confusion over what's right and wrong, and obviously I was confused enough already. Was I a coward or a fool? God help me, I was going to give myself a headache.
The squeak of the motel door opening brought my head up. There wasn't an accompanying sound of a car starting, and my face blanked when a tap came on the back door of the van. A shadow moved past the dirt-smeared window. "Ray-ray?"
I should have reset my circle, I thought sourly, forcing my shoulders down and trying to decide what to do for an entire five seconds: an eternity for me.
"Rachel, I'm sorry. I brought you some hot chocolate."
His voice was apologetic, and I exhaled. Closing my "big book of demon curses," I went to the back door, thinking I was making a mistake when I opened it.
Nick stood there in his borrowed gray sweats, looking like he was ready for a run in the park: tall, lean, and battered. A survivor. He had a foam cup of instant hot chocolate in his hands and a pleading expression in his eyes. His hair was swept back and his cheeks were clean-shaven. I could smell the shampoo from his shower, and I lowered my eyes at the memory of how silky his hair was when it was toweled dry and still damp, a whisper over my fingertips.
Jenks's warning resounded in me, and I stifled my first feeling of sympathy. Yes, he had been hurt. Yes, he had the potential to be dangerous. But damn it, I didn't have to let it get to me.
"Can I come in?" he asked after I'd silently stared at him for a good while. "I don't want to sit alone in that motel room knowing a vamp is sleeping behind a flimsy door."
My pulse quickened. "You're the one who woke her up," I said, hand on my hip.
He smiled, to turn himself charmingly helpless. He wasn't. He knew I knew he wasn't. "I got tired of being called crap for brains. I didn't know everyone would leave."
"So you pushed her buttons, relying on Jenks and me to buffer the retaliation?" I asked.
"I did say I was sorry. And I never claimed it was smart." He raised the hot chocolate. "Do you want this or should I go?"
Logic railed against emotion. I thought of Ivy, knowing I wouldn't want to be alone in the same motel room with an angry vampire either. And there wasn't much sense in saving someone if you were going to let your partner take him apart the first chance she got.
"Come on in," I said, sounding like it was a concession.
"Thanks." It was a grateful whisper, his relief obvious. He handed me the hot chocolate and, using the side of the van to steady himself, stepped up and in. His pain amulet swung, and he tucked it behind his shirt as he straightened in the low height. I could tell by his stiff motions and his grimace that the amulet wasn't working to cover all the pain. I had only the one pain amulet left until I made more, and he'd have to ask for it.
Clearly cold, Nick shut the door, sealing us in the same darkness that I had been in before, but now it was uncomfortable. My hands on the hot chocolate, I sat dead center on the cot, forcing him to sit on the pile of boxes across from me. There was more room than before, because Ivy had dumped off Marshal's stuff at the high school pool, but it was still too close. Gingerly settling himself, Nick tugged his sleeves down to hide his shackle marks and set his clasped hands in his lap. For a moment the silence was broken only by the hush of traffic.
"I don't want to bother you," he said, watching me from under his fallen bangs.
Too late. "It's okay," I lied, crossing my legs at my knees, very conscious of the demon text beside me on the bed. I took a sip of hot chocolate, then set it on the floor. It was too early for me to be hungry. The silence stretched. "How is the amulet holding up?"
A relieved smile came over him. "Great, good," he rushed to say. "Some of the hair on my arms is starting to grow back. By this time next month I might look…normal."
"That's good. Great." If we managed to evade the Weres and live that long.
His eyes were worried as he glanced at the book beside me, taking up the space so he wouldn't. "Do you need any help with the Latin? I don't mind interpreting it for you." His long face scrunched up. "I'd like to do something."
"Maybe later," I said guardedly. My shoulders eased at his admission of uselessness. Ivy and Jenks were making a point to keep him out of everything, and it would have bothered me too. "I think I have a curse I can use. I want to talk to Ceri about it first."
"Rachel…"
Oh God. I've heard that tone before, usually coming out of me. He wants to talk about us. "If she says the imbalance won't be too bad," I rushed to say, "I'm
going to move the magic from the focus to something else, so we can destroy the old statue. It shouldn't be too hard."
"Rachel, I—"
Pulse quickening, I tugged the demon book closer. "Hey, why don't I show you the curse. You could—" He moved, and my eyes jerked up. He didn't look dangerous, he didn't look helpless, he looked frustrated, as if he was screwing his courage up.
"I don't want to talk about the plan," he said, leaning over the space between us. "I don't want to talk about Latin or magic. I want to talk about you and me."
"Nick," I said, my heart pounding. "Stop." He reached for my shoulder, and I jumped, lashing out to block his hand before he could touch me.
Startled, he jerked away. "Damn it, Rachel!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were dead! Will you just…Will you just let me give you a hug? You're back from the dead, and you won't let me even touch you! I'm not asking to move in with you. All I want is to touch you—to prove to me you're alive!"
I let out my held breath, then caught it again. My head hurt. I did nothing as he shifted to sit beside me, moving the book out of the way. Our body weight slid us closer, and I shifted to face him, my knees forcing us apart.
"I missed you," he said softly, his eyes scrunched with old pain, and this time I did nothing as his arms went around me. The scent of cinnamon and flour filled my senses, instead of musty books and the snap of ozone. His hands were light, almost not there. I felt his body relax, and he exhaled as if he'd found a piece of himself. Don't, I thought, tensing. Please don't say it.
"Things would have been different if I had known you were alive," he whispered, his breath shifting the hair about my face. "I never would have left. I never would have asked Jax to help me. I never would have started this fool snatch. God, Rachel, I missed you. You're the only woman I've met who understands me, who I never needed to explain why. Hell, you didn't even leave when you found out I called up demons. I…I really missed you."
His hands clenched for an instant and his voice cracked. He had missed me. He wasn't lying. And I knew what it was like to be alone and the rarity of finding a kindred soul, even if he was screwed up. "Nick," I said, my heart pounding.