by Ким Харрисон
It was her fault I was restless; moving seemed to help. Though I knew Ivy would disagree, I thought it unlikely that the Weres would look for us here when it was more likely we had hightailed it to Cincinnati. But I wasn't going home until this was done. I wouldn't take a war back to my streets, my neighbors.
"Oh, wow," Jenks breathed. "Rachel, look at this!"
I turned, finding him standing proudly before me with a red and black striped hat on his head. The thing must have been a foot tall, like a weird top hat. "That's nice, Jenks," I said.
"I'm going to get it," he said, beaming.
I took a breath to protest, then let it out. It was on sale. Five bucks. Why not?
My fingers trembled as I sifted through a display of beads, trying to decide if they were made of bone. I'd been out here with Jenks for an hour, and though he was loaded down with fudge, T-shirts, and useless bric-a-brac only a twelve-year-old or a pixy could love, I hadn't found anything suitable yet. I knew it wasn't smart to be out there, but I was a runner, damn it, and I could take care of myself—as long as I had Jenks to back me up, anyway. That and my splat gun tucked in my shoulder bag, loaded with sleepy-time charms.
A smile quirked the corners of my mouth as I watched Jenks ogle a rack of plastic dinosaurs. He still had that hat on, but with his physique, the man could wear anything. Feeling my attention on him, he glanced up and away. Sure, he was oohing and ahhing over the trashiest stuff, but his eyes were constantly shifting, scanning the area more closely than a candy shop owner with a store full of elementary kids.
I knew he wished Jax was with us to play scout, but the pixy had gone with Ivy and Nick. Ivy wasn't letting Nick out of her sight since Jenks had found him in Squirrel's End trying to leave his sorrow in an empty glass. If she hadn't hated him before, she did now, seeing that he had put everything in jeopardy to slam down a few in the comfort of humans.
"Rache." Jenks was suddenly at my elbow. "Come and look at what I found. It's made of bone. I think it's perfect. Let's get it and get out of here."
His brow was creased in concern, because of my increasing fatigue, and deciding I had pushed my luck far enough, I shuffled after him. I was tired, the blood loss starting to win out over Ivy's Brimstone cocktails. Hiking my bag higher, I stopped beside a case full of American Indian stuff: tomahawks, little drums, carved totem poles, strings of beads and feathers. There was some turquoise in there, and realizing by the price tags that it wasn't tourist crap but real artwork, I leaned forward. Didn't Indians carve stuff out of bone?
"Look at that necklace," Jenks said proudly, pointing through the glass. "It's got a hunk of bone for the pendant. You could get that. Put the demon curse in it, and bang! Not only do you have a new focus, but you've got yourself some kick-ass Native American bling."
Hunched over the display case, I glanced wearily up at him.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, and I followed his gaze to an ugly totem shoved into the corner of the case as if in apology. "Look at that! That would look great in my living room!"
I exhaled slowly, dubiously eyeing it. The thing stood about four inches high, and the animals portrayed were so stylized, I couldn't tell if they were beaver, deer, wolves, or bear. Blocky teeth and big eyes. It was ugly, but a right kind of ugly.
"I'm getting it for Matalina," he said proudly, and my eyes widened as I tried not to imagine what to a pixy would be akin to a six-foot totem pole in the middle of Matalina's living room. I had no idea how pixies decorated, but I couldn't imagine the woman would be pleased.
"Ma'am?" he called out, his posture upright and eager. "How much is this?"
I leaned heavily on the counter as the woman finished up at the register and hustled over. Tuning her and Jenks out as they haggled over the price, I looked at the necklace. It was out of my easy price range, but there was a statue of a wolf next to it. It was expensive too, but if it didn't work, I could bring it back.
Reaching a decision, I straightened. "Can I see that wolf statue?" I asked, interrupting Jenks trying to sweet-talk the woman into giving him a senior citizen discount. She wasn't buying that he had kids and a mortgage. I couldn't blame her. He looked like he should be in high school with that funky hat on.
Her eyebrows high and her expression cagy, the woman unlocked the case and set the statue in my hand. "It's bone, right?" I asked, turning it over to see the MADE IN CHINA sticker. Not so authentic, then, but I wasn't going to complain.
"Ox bone," the woman said warily. "No regulations on importing ox bone."
I nodded, setting it on the counter. It was pricey, but I wanted to go home. Or at least back to my motel room. "Would you give us a price break if we bought two pieces?" I asked, and a satisfied smile spread over the woman's face.
Delighted, Jenks took over, overseeing her wrap both pieces up and boxing them individually. My pulse slow and lethargic, I dug in my bag for my wallet.
"My treat," Jenks said, his young features looking innocent and flustered. "Go stand by the door or something."
His treat? It was all coming out of the same pot. Eyebrows high, I tried to look past him, but he got in my way, pulling off his hat and using it to hide something he had slipped onto the counter. I caught a glimpse of a bottle of Sun-Fun color-changing nail polish, then smiled and turned away. Next year's solstice gift, maybe?
"I'll be outside," I said, seeing an empty bench in the middle of the open-air mall. Jenks mumbled something, and I leaned into the glass door, glad it moved easily. The air smelled like fudge and water, and with slow steps I made a beeline for the bench before the young family with ice cream cones could reach it.
I exhaled as I settled myself on the wooden bench. The wind was light in the protected area, and the sun was warm. I breathed deeply, pulling in the scent of the marigolds behind me. It was right on the cusp of being able to plant annuals up there, but they would be sheltered from frost, being surrounded by so much stone.
Though the tourist season hadn't officially started, it was busy. People with colorful sacks drifted aimlessly in a contented pattern of idle amusement that was comforting to see, humans mostly, with the odd witch making a statement with his or her dress. It was hard to tell who was who otherwise—unless you got close enough to smell them.
The sound of unseen pixy wings was a soft, almost subliminal hum. My hands drifted up to my scent amulet, making sure it was touching my skin. I knew I shouldn't have been out there alone, but I was under two disguises. What were the chances the Weres would even be looking for me here? And if they were, they would never recognize me.
I glanced up when the shop door opened and Jenks came out, squinting in the brighter light until he put his shades on. The top of that hat poked out from the bag he carried, and I smiled. His head turned to the end of the mall where we had parked Kisten's Corvette. It was obvious he wanted to hustle me over there and get me home, but upon seeing me slumped in fatigue, he came to a silent standstill above me. Slowly I drew my head up.
"Are you—" Jenks started.
"I'm fine," I lied, wanting to pluck my turtleneck off my stitches. Jax had used dental floss, but they still pulled on the fabric. "The couch left me tight, is all."
He grinned, sitting down cross-legged on the bench as if it was a toadstool. Jenks had slept in the van last night so neither Ivy nor I had to. Hell, I didn't even want to ride in it again—which was probably why Ivy had taken a cab across the straits to get Nick's truck.
"I was going to ask you if you were hungry and wanted a hamburger," he said, squinting, "but I like your idea better. I could go for a little scuffle. Loosen up. Get the blood flowing."
I hated feeling weak. Taking a weary breath, I straightened. "Jenks, sit like a man. That was cute when you were four inches tall, but now you look prissy."
Immediately he put his feet on the ground, knees together and a worried look on him. Puffing the hair from my eyes, I gave up and rolled my turtleneck down. So I had been bitten by a vamp. Lots of people were. "That doesn't look much be
tter," I said.
"Well, how the hell am I supposed to sit!" he exclaimed.
Lacing my fingers over my head, I stretched carefully, feeling the stitches pull. Kisten's bracelet shifted to my elbow to make a cold spot of metal against my skin. "Have you seen Kisten slouch in the kitchen?"
With a hesitant slowness that could have been provocative, Jenks extended his legs. Lean in his tight jeans, he slumped until his neck rested atop the back of the bench. His arms went out to run along the length of the worn wood and his feet spread suggestively.
Oh—my—God. Flushing, I sat up straight. "Yeah," I said faintly. "That's better." Fifty-four kids. Fifty-four kids. And where was that camera he was going to buy for me?
"Give me a minute to catch my breath," I said, sneaking glances at him. "Then we can head to the car. I need a few more things to make the demon spell, but I'm too tired to do it now." It grated on me to admit it, but it was kinda obvious.
Jenks sat up with a little grunt, rummaging in a pocket of his coat to bring out a folded napkin. "Here," he said, handing it to me. "Ivy said you might be stupid enough to leave the motel, and if you did to give you this."
Irritation filled me, and I unfolded it to find one of her Brimstone cookies. "Damn it, Jenks!" I hissed, folding it up and glancing at the passing people. "You want to see me in jail?"
He smirked. "Then eat it and get rid of the evidence. Tink's a Disney whore, Rache, you're worse than my kids. You need it. It's medicinal. Just eat the damned cookie."
I felt it light in my hand, thinking it wasn't as simple as he made it out to be. The only reason I was out here was because the dose I'd taken before bed had woken me with the jitters. 'Least, I was blaming it on that. I felt like crap, though, so I opened it up and nibbled a corner.
Immediately Jenks's posture relaxed. I followed his gaze across the busy plaza to the hanging planters, finally spotting the pixies. They were chasing a hummingbird off, their ferocity surprising me. It was too early for fairies to be back from Mexico, and with a little practice, the pixies might be able to hold the plaza when they migrated up.
The silence grew as I broke off a second corner off Ivy's cookie and guiltily ate it. I hated being on Brimstone, but I hated being flat on my back more. There had to be another way, I thought. But it would shorten my fatigued state from three weeks to three days. It wasn't magic, but it was close. I could actually feel the drug taking hold, making my pulse quicken and the slight trembling of my fingers disappear. No wonder this stuff was illegal.
Jenks was quiet, watching the passing people with interest while he waited for my strength to return. I didn't have a dad to talk stuff over with, and my mom was too far away. Jenks was a heavy third of our firm; what he thought mattered. I took a breath, worried about what he might say after I told him what really had me out there, running from my thoughts.
I'd done some thinking that morning, hunched over the sink and squinting into the shower-fogged mirror to inspect my new stitches and scraped face. The tears were small and harmless looking, nothing like the savage rips Al had given me—but they forced me to question how long I had been pushing Ivy into biting me—'cause this hadn't come out of nowhere. So while the shower ran from hot to cold, I sat on the edge of the tub with a towel wrapped around myself, shaking and almost physically ill with the thought that Ivy had been right about at least part of it. All it had taken was a brush with death for me to admit it.
So maybe I had wanted her to bite me even before I moved in with her. That did mean I needed a subliminal feeling of danger to become passionate. Nobody was that screwed up.
"Thanks for helping me," I said, trying to work up to what I wanted to say. "With Ivy."
Jenks shrugged. Shifting position, he pulled himself together and watched the pixies with a professional interest. "What was I supposed to do? Walk away?"
I looked at my half-eaten cookie. Nick might have. Nick almost did the first time I had goaded Ivy into trying to bite me. Until I said no to her and she insisted. Then he stepped in to help. Looking back on the incident, it seemed obvious I had been jonesing for a bite.
"Sorry," I said, thinking of how tenuous I'd made everything. "I wasn't thinking."
Making a rude snort, he crossed his legs. "Do tell, Miss witch princess," he said. "Ivy was handling it, and you go and get curious, tipping her into all but killing you. Bloody hell! When are you going to stop being afraid of yourself?"
I ate a bite of cookie, a big one this time. "I'm scared," I said after I forced it down, dry.
"We're fine," Jenks said loudly, his eyes on the hanging flowers and clearly not knowing where my thoughts were. "We're all fine. Ivy said she isn't going to bite you again. We'll go out for pizza at Piscary's when we get home, and everything will return to normal. You're safer now than your first night spent under the same roof."
I put the last of the cookie in my mouth, nervously folding the crumbs up into the napkin. Jenks was probably right about Ivy never again initiating a bite between us. But she hadn't initiated the first one either. The thing was, I didn't want everything to return to normal.
Jenks swiveled to face me. "Ah, you are too scared to let her bite you again, right?"
A slow breath slipped past my lips and adrenaline zinged through me, pushed by fear. It was a feeling I was beginning to understand. I didn't need fear to feel passion. I didn't.
"Crap on my daisies," Jenks breathed. "You aren't. Rache…"
Frightened, I shifted to put my elbows on my knees, wadding the napkin up and squishing it as if it was my shame. "I'm in trouble," I whispered. "She didn't bind me, but she may as well have."
"Rache…" It was soft and pensive, and it ticked me off.
"Just listen, will you?" I snapped, then slumped back, squinting into the sun as I looked at nothing. My throat was tight, and I shoved the napkin in a pocket. "I…I learned something about myself. And I'm scared it's going to kill me if I ignore it. It's just…God! How could I be that blind about myself?"
"It might be the vamp pheromones," Jenks coaxed. "You aren't necessarily attracted to women just because you want to sleep with Ivy."
My eyes widened and I turned to him, shocking myself that he was still wearing that disguise and only his eyes looked like him. "I don't want to sleep with Ivy!" I said, flustered. "I'm straight. I…" I took a deep breath, afraid to admit it aloud. "I want to try to find a blood balance with her."
"You what?" Jenks blurted, and I sent my gaze to the people around us to remind him we weren't alone. "She would have killed you!" he said, hushed now, but no less intense.
"Only because I asked her to ignore her feelings for me." Flustered, I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind an ear. "Only because I let her bite me without the buffer of emotion that she uses to control her hunger."
Jenks leaned closer, his curls flashing blond in the sun for an instant as his disguise charm bobbled. "But you're straight," he said. "You just said you were."
Blushing, I pulled the bag that had the fudge in it closer. Hunger gnawed at my middle—thanks to the Brimstone—and I dug for the little white box. "Yeah," I said, uncomfortable as I remembered her gentle touch on me growing intimate when she misunderstood. "But after yesterday, it's pretty obvious she can share blood without the sex." I darted a look at him, even as a shiver rose through me, unstoppable, at the reminder of how good it had felt.
"And she almost killed you trying," Jenks protested. "Rache, she is still messed up, and this is too much, even for you. She can't do it. You're not physically or mentally strong enough to keep her under control if she loses it again."
I hunched in worry, hiding my concern in trying to get the taped box open. "So we go slow," I said, wrenching the thin white cardboard to no avail. "Work up to it, maybe."
"Why?" Jenks exclaimed softly, his brow pinched in worry. "Why risk it?"
At that, I closed my eyes in a slow rueful blink. Crap. Maybe Ivy was right. Maybe this was just another way to fill my life with excitement and
passion. But then I remembered our auras mixing, the desperation her soul was drowning in, and how I had eased her pain—if only for an instant.
"It felt good, Jenks," I whispered, shocked to find my vision blurring with unshed tears. "I'm not talking about the blood ecstasy. I'm talking about my being able to fill that emotional void she has. You know her as well as I do, maybe better. She aches with it. She needs to be accepted for who she is so badly. And I was able to do that. Do you know how good that felt? To be able to show someone that, yes, you are someone worth sacrificing for? That you like them for their faults and that you respect them for their ability to rise above them?"
Jenks was staring at me, and I sniffed back the tears. "Damn," I whispered, terrified all of a sudden. "Maybe it is love."
Reaching slowly, Jenks took the box of fudge from me. Twisting to a pocket, he flipped open a knife and cut the tape. Still silent, he handed me the open box and tucked the knife away. "Are you sure about this?" he asked worriedly.
I nodded, cutting a slab of fudge off with that stupid little plastic knife they put in with it. "God help me if I'm wrong, but I trust her. I trust her to find a way to make it work and not kill me in the process. I want it to work."
He fidgeted. "Have you considered this might be a knee-jerk reaction to Nick?" he said. "Are you trusting Ivy now because Nick hurt you and you simply want to trust somebody?"
I exhaled slowly. I'd already mulled that around in my head, trying it on and dismissing it. "I don't think so," I said softly.
Jenks reclined against the bench, pensive. Thoughtful myself, I put the bite of fudge in my mouth and let it dissolve. It was butterscotch in salute to Ivy's new "allergy," but I hardly tasted it. Silent, I handed him the box of candy.