White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7)

White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7) Page 21

I pulled my car into one of the open, back spots at the correctional facility, right under a light, and making a best guess as to where the lines were since they hadn't plowed the last few inches of snow. The heater was going full blast since Ivy had the window cracked for air, and turning it and the car lights off, I killed the engine and dropped the keys into my bag. Ready to face Skimmer, I sighed, hands in my lap and not moving as I looked at the low building before us.

Ivy sat rigidly still, staring at nothing. "Thank you for doing this," she said, her eyes black in the dim light.

I shrugged and opened my car door. "I want to know who killed Kisten, too," I said, not wanting to talk about it. "I haven't been much help, but I can do this."

She got out as I did, and the thump of our doors was muffled by the mounds of snow that turned the world black and white under the puddles of security lights in the thickly populated lot-employees, probably, though I supposed they could be visitors; it was a low-security facility. Sure, Skimmer had killed someone, but it had been a crime of passion. That, and being a lawyer, had gotten her here instead of the high-security prison outside Cincinnati.

About a quarter mile back, the hospital was hazy with dusk and falling snow. Seeing the peaceful buildings, I had the sudden idea to take my old stuffed animals to the kids. They'd know how precious they were and would take good care of them. I could pick the toys up tonight when I was looking for that spell book. It would be a good excuse for me to get up there, too.

Ivy was still standing beside her closed door, gazing at the building as if it held her salvation or her damnation. She looked sleek and lanky in her working leathers, all in black, with a biker cap to add some spice. Feeling my questioning gaze on her, she pushed into motion, and we met at the front of my convertible. Together we angled through the parked cars toward the shoveled sidewalk. "I'm sorry to make you do this," she said, hunched from more than the cold. "Skimmer...she's going to be ugly."

I choked back my laughter. Ugly? She was going to be positively poisonous. "You want to talk to her," I said stiffly, shoving my fear down where I hoped it wouldn't show.

I had way too much to do tonight to be visiting Skimmer, if not for the information we might get from her, but at least I wouldn't have to restir the locator charms. The relief that the problem was likely with my blood-not my skills-was starting to outweigh the worry of why the problem was with my blood. Jenks was the only one who knew that the charm I invoked had failed, and he thought it was a bum amulet. By now, the locator charms Marshal had invoked were in the hands of six FIB guys cruising the city. I doubted they'd come within the needed hundred feet to engage the amulet, but it had improved my standing with them immeasurably.

Dinner with my mom and Robbie later tonight would hopefully give me the book and equipment and I could move forward on stamping out that fire. I'd been concerned that Al might show up and snag whoever was with me now that it was again dark, but he hadn't done so before finding Pierce, and it was unlikely he would now.

I so wanted to be at my mom's looking for that book, not here talking to an angry vampire, but I resolutely walked beside Ivy to the low-security Inderland correctional facility. All the safeguards must be on the inside, because the outside looked like a research building, its stucco walls and accent lights shining on low, snow-covered evergreens. It probably made for better neighbor relations, but not being able to see the fences gave me the creeps.

We walked in silence but for our boots on the crushed ice and salt. The pavement gave way to gray sidewalk, and then the glass double doors with visiting hours and rules about what could be brought into the building. My lethal-amulet detector was going to be a problem.

The woman behind the desk looked up from her phone conversation as we entered. Mild alarms were already going off, reacting to my amulets, and I smiled to try to defuse the situation. Redwood, and a faint smell of unhappy vampire, drifted to me. Ivy grimaced, and I swung my bag around to drop it on the desk while we signed in. There was a TV on in the corner, set to the weather map and talking to itself. More snow tonight.

"Rachel Morgan and Ivy Tamwood to visit Dorothy Claymor," I said, handing her my ID as I noticed the sign asking for it behind her. No wonder the blond vampire wanted everyone to call her Skimmer. "We have an appointment."

Ivy handed me the pen, and I signed in under her. My thoughts went back to the last time I'd put my name in a register book, and I added a solid period after my signature to symbolically end any psychic connection it might have to me. Crossing it off would be better, but I wouldn't be able to get away with that here.

"Right through there," the woman said as she ran our IDs through a scanner and handed them back. "Keep your ID out," she added, gesturing to a pair of thick plastic doors, clearly anxious to get back to her phone conversation.

I'd rather have gone to the right, where the floor was covered in carpet and there were fake potted plants, but Ivy, who clearly knew the drill, was already headed for the sterile, ugly hallway to the left with its white tile and milky-plastic doors. They were magnetically sealed, and when I caught up to Ivy, the woman buzzed us through.

My jaw clenched when the doors opened and the scent of unhappy vampire and angry Were worsened. I shuddered as I passed the threshold and the prison's safeguards started to take hold. The magnetic door snicked shut behind us, and the air pressure shifted. We were probably in prison air now. Swell. There could be anything in it up to and including airborne potions.

At the end of the room was another set of those doors and a guy behind a desk. The old woman with him started our way, clearly in charge of the standard-looking spell checker before us-which was probably anything but standard. I couldn't help but notice that the woman really stank of redwood, and that, if the gun on her hip wasn't enough, would keep me minding my p's and q's. She might look like an old woman, but I bet she could give Al a run for his money.

"Anything to declare?" the woman asked as she looked over our IDs then gave them back.

"No." Ivy's mood was tight as she handed her coat and purse to her, ignoring the little claim check and walking unhesitatingly through the spell checker and to the desk at the end of the room. More paperwork, I thought as I saw her take a clipboard and start filling in a form.

"Anything to declare?" the guard asked me, and I brought my attention back. God, the woman looked a hundred and sixty, with nasty black hair that matched the color of her too-tight uniform. Her complexion was a pasty white, and I would've wondered why she didn't invest in a cheap complexion spell except I didn't think they allowed them anything while on the job.

"Just a lethal-amulet detector," I said, handing her my bag and taking the little slip of paper and jamming it in a jeans pocket.

"I'll bet," she said under her breath, and I hesitated, eyeing her. I didn't like my stuff in her care. She'd probably go through it as soon as I was out of sight. I sighed, trying not to get upset. If this was the crap you had to go through to see a low-security inmate, I didn't want to know what was needed to see someone in the high-security prison.

Smiling, making herself look almost ugly, she nodded to the spell checker, and I reluctantly approached it. I couldn't see the cameras, but I knew they were here-and I didn't like the casual carelessness she used to bag my stuff up and drop it in a bin.

The wave of synthetic aura cascading over me from the spell checker gave me a start, and I jumped. Maybe it was because I didn't have much of an aura right now, but I hadn't been able to stifle my shudder, and the guy at the desk smirked.

Ivy was waiting impatiently, and I took the form the guy shoved across the desk at me. "And who are we visiting today?" he snarkily asked me as he handed Ivy her visitor's pass.

My attention jerked up from the release form. I was not the one in jail here. Then I saw where he was looking and went cold. My visible scars were less than a year old, clear enough, and I stiffened when I decided he thought I was a vampire junkie on my way to get a fix. "Dorothy Claymor, same as her," I said as if he didn't know, signing the paper with stiff fingers.

The young man's smirk grew nasty. "Not at the same time you aren't."

Ivy took a stance, and I set the clipboard down with a tap. Peeved, I looked at him. Why is this becoming so difficult? "Look," I said, using one finger to slide the form back to him. "I'm just trying to help a friend, and this is the only way Dorothy will see her, okay?"

"She likes threesomes, eh?" the guy said, and seeing me drumming my fingers on my crossed arm, he added in a more businesslike voice, "We can't let two people visit an inmate at once. Accidents happen."

Much to my surprise, it was the woman who came to my rescue, clearing her throat like she was trying to get a cat out of it. "They can go in, Miltast."

Officer Miltast, apparently, turned. "I'm not losing my job over her."

The woman grinned and tapped her paperwork. "We got a call. She can go in."

What in hell is going on? Concern wound tighter in my gut when the man looked from me to my scrawl and back again. Face scrunching up, he turned to Ivy, then handed me the visitor's badge the tabletop machine spit out.

"I'll escort you to the visiting rooms," he said as he rose and patted his shirt front for his key card. "You got this okay?" he asked the woman, and she laughed.

"Thank you," I muttered as I peeled the backing off my badge and stuck it to my upper shoulder. Maybe me being an independent runner just got me in, but I doubted it. My man Miltast opened the door, and hoisting his belt up, waited for us to pass through. God, he was only thirty-something, but he was swaggering around like he was fifty, with a gut.

Again the vampire incense hit me, with a hint of unhappy Were and decayed redwood. It was not a good mix. There was anger, and desperation, and hunger. Everyone was under mental stress so thick I could almost taste it. Ivy and I going in together suddenly didn't seem like a good idea. The vamp pheromones were probably hitting her hard.

The door shut behind me, and I stifled a shudder. Ivy was silent and stoic as we paced down the corridor, jittery under her facade of confidence. Her black jeans looked out of place in the white corridor, and her dark hair caught the light, looking almost silver. I wondered what she was hearing that I wasn't.

We passed through another Plexiglas door and the corridor got twice as wide. Blue lines blocked the floor into sections, and I realized that the clear doors we were passing led to cells. I couldn't see anyone, but it all looked clean and sterile, like a hospital. And somewhere down here was Skimmer.

"The solid doors cut down on the pheromones," Ivy said, noticing me eyeing them.

"Oh." I missed Jenks, and I wished he was here watching my back. There were cameras in the corners, and I bet they weren't fake. "So how come they've got witches working as guards?" I said, realizing that the only vamp I'd seen outside a cell so far had been Ivy.

"A vampire might be tempted to do something stupid for blood," Ivy said, her gaze distant and not paying me much attention. "A Were can be overpowered."

"So can a witch," I said, watching our escort take an interest in our conversation.

Ivy looked sideways at me. "Not if they tap a line."

"Yeah," I protested, not liking that I couldn't right now, "but even the I.S. doesn't send a witch after an undead. There's no way I could even come near besting Piscary."

The man walking behind us made a small noise. "This is an aboveground, low-security facility. We don't house dead vampires here. Just witches, Weres, and living vampires."

"And the guards are more experienced than you, Rachel," Ivy said, her gaze lighting on the cell numbers, counting them down probably. "Officer Milktoast here probably has clearance to use charms that aren't street legal." She smiled at him, chilling me. "Isn't that right?"

"It's Miltast," he said sharply. "And if you ever get bitten," he added, looking at my neck, "you lose your job."

I wanted to jerk my scarf up, but knew that to a hungry vampire, dead or alive, that was like wearing a negligee. "That is so unfair," I said. "I get labeled a black witch for getting a smutty aura saving people's lives, but you can use a black charm with impunity?"

At that, Miltast smiled. "Yep. And I get paid for it."

I didn't like what he was saying, but at least he was talking to me. Maybe he had a smutty aura, too, and my own greasy coating didn't scare him. That he was even talking to me was odd. He had to know I was shunned. That's probably why they'd let me in with Ivy. They simply didn't care what happened to me. God help me. What am I going to tell my mom?

We passed through another set of doors, and my claustrophobic feeling doubled. Ivy, too, was starting to show the strain and was beginning to sweat. "You okay?" I asked, thinking she smelled great. Evolution. You've gotta love it.

"Fine," she said, but her nervous smile said different. "Thank you for doing this."

"Wait to thank me until we both get back in the car in one piece, okay?"

Our escort slowed to check the numbers painted on the outside of the doors, and leaning to the side, he used a two-way radio to check something. Satisfied, he looked through the glass, pointed his finger at someone in warning, then ran his card to open the door.

There was a soft hiss of equalizing pressure, and Ivy immediately went in. I moved to follow Ivy, and Miltast stopped me. "Excuse me?" I said snottily, letting him grip my arm like that because he was the only one armed with magic.

"I'm watching you," he threatened, and I started. Me? He was watching me? Why?

"Good," I said, confirming that he knew I'd been shunned. Maybe they let us in together hoping we would all kill each other. "Tell them that I'm a white witch and to get off my case."

Miltast didn't seem to know what to say, and with a final squeeze of pressure, he let me go in. Knees shaking, I passed over the threshold. The door hissed shut, and I swear I heard it seal with a vacuum. The better to contain the pheromones, I guess.

The white chamber was a mix of interviewing room and conjugal-visit trailer. Not that I knew what the latter looked like, but I could guess. There was a second, solid door in the back with a peephole. A white couch took up one side wall, two chairs and a table between them filled the opposite. Lots of room to touch. Lots of room for mistakes to be made. I especially didn't like the transparent door we had come through or the camera on the ceiling. It smelled like burnt paper, and I wondered if it was to help mask the pheromones.

Skimmer sat coyly in a corner white chair. Her white jumpsuit looked good on her, making her seem both small and devilish. Standing in the middle of the room, Ivy was her polar opposite. Skimmer was confident where Ivy was unsure. The blond vamp was coy where Ivy was pleading for understanding. Skimmer wanted to rip my face off, and Ivy wanted to save it.

No one said anything, and I realized I could hear the circulation fans. Skimmer stayed silent, knowing from her courtroom past that he who spoke first was probably the neediest.

"Thank you for seeing me," Ivy said, and I sighed. Here we go.

Skimmer shifted to cross her legs the other way. Her blond hair hung about her face, and her complexion was blotchy. They didn't allow them much in here. "I didn't want to see you," she said. Smiling wickedly, she stood to show she'd lost some weight. Never heavy, the woman was now skinny. "I wanted to see her," she finished.

I licked my lips and edged away from the closed door. "Hi, Skimmer." My pulse was quickening, and I forced my breathing to slow, knowing tension was a trigger.

"Hi, Rachel," the smaller vampire mocked as she sashayed closer.

Ivy jerked her arm up, and I fell back in shock when she blocked Skimmer's blurring arm, lashing out at me. Thin fingers with long nails swung inches from where my face had been, and I pressed against the wall. Crap, I didn't want to walk out of here with a scratch or a bite. I was having dinner with my mom and Robbie, and he'd never let me live it down.

"Don't," Ivy said, and I forced myself from the wall. This was going to be bad. Skimmer's eyes had flashed black, and a thread of warning drifted through me, tightening my muscles when I realized Ivy's eyes had dilated to match hers. Damn.

Ivy let go of Skimmer's arm, and the white-clad vampire backed up, smelling Ivy's scent on her wrist and smiling. Double damn.

"So, Ivy," Skimmer said, shifting her body in its tight jumpsuit to look sultry. "She's still stringing you along like a pull toy, baby?"

Ivy jerked when I moved a step closer. "Can you be decent for once?" my roommate said. "Who visited Piscary but wasn't on the official list? He got blood from someone."

"Other than you?" Skimmer mocked, and my pulse jerked again. "Hurts, doesn't it?" she said as she settled herself in her chair, making it a throne of power. "Seeing what you want and knowing they don't care a shit about you."

I took a deep breath, unable to let that stand. "I care."

"Don't argue with her," Ivy said. "It's what she wants."

Skimmer smiled to show her fangs, and that, combined with her dark eyes, caused a shiver to slide through me. She wasn't dead yet, so she couldn't pull a full vampiric aura, but it was close.

"But here you are," the small woman almost purred, "asking what I know. How bad do you want it, Ivy girl?"

"Don't call me that." Ivy had gone pale. That was Piscary's pet name for her, and she hated it. My scar started to tingle, and I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the tendrils of feeling slip any deeper in me. Skimmer must have noticed my panicked expression.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" she said coquettishly. "Like a lover's long-absent touch. If you knew how it was hitting Ivy in this little tiny locked room, you'd be scared shitless."

In a surge of pique, the vampire rose. I took an involuntary step back before I could stop myself. This was so not good. I think they'd bent the rules and let me in here hoping I'd get killed, thus ending the problem of what to do with Rachel Morgan.

Ivy's stance stiffened. "You said you'd tell me who visited Piscary."

"But I didn't promise..."

Ivy's face became closed. "Let's go," she said, her tone crisp as she spun to the door.

"Wait," Skimmer said petulantly, and Ivy halted. There'd been panic in Skimmer's voice, but instead of making me feel better, my tension ratcheted higher. This was so not safe.

Skimmer came forward, to take the middle of the room, and Ivy stood almost in front of me with her hands on her hips. "I can't give you anything, Skimmer," my roommate said. "You killed Piscary. That was a mistake."

"He treated you like shit!" Skimmer exclaimed.

Ivy was calm and sedate. "He was still important to me. I loved him."

"You hated him!"

"I loved him, too." Ivy shook her head, making the tips of her hair shift. "If you're not going to tell me who visited him off the lists, then we're done."

Again Ivy turned her back on Skimmer. She took my arm and started me to the door. We're leaving?

"Ivy likes her new toy," Skimmer said bitterly. "She doesn't want to play with her old dolls anymore."

I didn't think we were going to get anything out of Skimmer, but Ivy stopped. Her head was down as she gathered her thoughts, and slowly she spun around to the angry, frustrated vampire. "You were never a toy," she whispered, pleading for understanding.

"No, but you were." Skimmer's confidence flowed back, and she stood before us tall and proud. "Once. When we first met. I turned you back into a person."

Her eyes were black again, and my scars, both visible and hidden beneath my perfect skin, were tingling. Backing up, I found the wall. I felt safer, a false security.

Skimmer moved forward as I moved back, and the woman stopped right before Ivy. "I want you to hurt, Ivy," she breathed. "I want restitution for what you did to me."

"I didn't do anything to you."

"That's the point, love," Skimmer said, hitting Kisten's accent perfectly.

Ivy took a breath and held it, frozen as Skimmer started circling her. "You aren't going to have one good thing in your life," the smaller vampire said, and I knew she was talking about me. "Not one. And I'm going to take her from you. Know how?"

"If you touch her," Ivy threatened, and Skimmer laughed.

"No, silly Ivy girl. I'm better than that. You're going to do it for me."

I didn't get it. Skimmer had already tried to warn me off Ivy, and it hadn't worked. There wasn't anything she could do, but as the slinky woman wound herself more tightly around Ivy, I wondered what the intelligent vamp was thinking.

The satisfied noise coming from deep within her set my scars warming in memory. Her motions sultry and slow, Skimmer stopped, facing me, with Ivy between us, draping her arms around Ivy's neck. Ivy didn't move, frozen, and my gut tightened. "You want to know who visited Piscary?" Skimmer asked, her eyes flicking over Ivy's shoulder to me. "Bite me."

My face went cold. I didn't think she meant it in the negative sense.

"Right now," the small woman said, "in front of your new girlfriend. Show her the blood, the savagery, the monster you really are."

I took a breath and held it. I knew how ugly Ivy could be. I didn't want to see it again.

"I told you," Ivy whispered. "I'm not practicing anymore."

A surge of panic rose through me, and I jerked from the wall. "Since when?" I exclaimed, pretty much ignored. "I want you to practice. God, Ivy, it's who you are."

Skimmer just smiled, showing a slip of fang. "But it's not who she wants to be." Watching me, she played with the hair behind Ivy's ears until my blood pounded in anger. She was toying with Ivy, and I could do nothing. Ivy couldn't move, couldn't bring herself to pull away. Skimmer was in complete control.

"I want you to bite me," Skimmer said, "or you get-nothing."

Ivy's hands, fisted at her sides, trembled. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Her eyes fixing on me, Skimmer wound even more tightly against Ivy, kissing her neck. "Please?" she whispered, soft and petulant. "It's been ages, Ivy. And you're the best. I'd kill for you."

I pressed into the wall, wanting to escape. Skimmer put her mouth on an old scar under Ivy's ear, and a rush of remembered ecstasy rose through me at Ivy's tormented intake of breath.

"Don't do this," Ivy whispered, her hands rising to take Skimmer's elbows, but she couldn't push her away. It was too much. I knew it felt too good, and I leaned against the wall, unable to look away as the pheromones lit through my own scars and dove to my groin.

"I'm not making you do anything," Skimmer said. "You want to do this. How bad do you want to know who killed that bastard Kisten? How much did you love him? Was it real? Or was he just another one of your toys?"

I clenched my jaw harder. My neck was flaming, sending tendrils of promised ecstasy down my long muscles, making them tremble. "That's not fair," I managed. "Stop it."

Skimmer moved to Ivy's earlobe. "Life seldom is," she said, and I watched, fixated, as she bit down gently on Ivy's lobe, her white teeth on Ivy's skin. "Push me away," Skimmer whispered into her ear. "You can't do it. You're a monster, my sweet, and only I will love you. Little Bo Peep will lose her sheep if the sheep can see inside her. You'll be all alone, Ivy. And I'm the only one who loves you."

I exhaled, but the vampire scent I pulled in after it only made things worse. My eyes closed and I held myself, almost rocking with the pain of not wanting to be here. Too late I saw Skimmer's plan. She was going to drive Ivy into biting her, thinking if I saw Ivy rip open Skimmer's throat in a release of blood lust that I'd abandon her. Or if it turned into sex, the same result. This was ugly. It wasn't love, it was manipulation, using Ivy's instincts against her will. And Ivy couldn't stop it.

The soft sounds of Skimmer coaxing Ivy made my stomach clench as private moments from their past were laid out before me. My focus went blurry as I tried to divorce myself from it, but the combination of my fear and the vampire pheromones ripped through the barriers my mind had made, and with the suddenness of a slap, a memory of Kisten surfaced.

I gasped, holding my breath as I felt my face go blank. Slowly I slid down the wall until I found a corner. It was a memory not of Kisten, but of his killer, one so close to what Skimmer was doing to Ivy that it had triggered a memory of my own struggle.

Oh God, I thought as I clenched my eyes, trying to keep the memory from growing on itself, but I couldn't...stop it, and as I sat, my knees to my chin, I remembered.

Kisten's killer tried to blood-rape me, exactly like Skimmer is trying to do to Ivy. Breath held, I put a hand to my neck as the memory of him playing on my scar slithered into my conscious mind. I remembered him holding me against the wall, bespelling me. I remembered the waves of passion he sent through me with only the lightest of touches, passion mixed with loathing, disgust, and desire. His fingers had been rough and aggressive, and I had been confused. The sound of Ivy's ragged panting as she struggled to say no ignited a memory of me doing the same. They were so familiar, so god-awful familiar.

"No," Ivy whispered, and I felt my own lips form the word. I had said no, too, and then I had begged him to bite me, hating myself as I writhed for it. I could almost feel the boat rocking as I recalled standing with my back to the wall, my hands clenched upon him, as they were clenched about my knees right now. Tears started. I had begged for it, just as Ivy was about to.

And Kisten, I remembered, hadn't let me. In my thoughts, I had a vision of Kisten, confused and not himself, knocking us apart so I could regain my will. He had done it knowing the other vampire would end his life a second time, but he had loved me so deeply that just the shadow memory of it had broken past his first death and he had made the sacrifice.

Anger burned through my misery, driving the Skimmer-and-Ivy-induced, pulse-pounding ecstasy deep, where I could see beyond it. Head up, I wiped the tears away, wishing I could do the same for my fragmented memory, but it was there now, and I'd never forget. I focused on Skimmer and Ivy, heart breaking at what Ivy had to suffer simply because of who she was, her vulnerabilities tied closely to her strengths. Kisten had saved me. I could do no less for Ivy.

Ivy was trembling, her lips parted and her eyes closed as she forgot how to say no, tasting the sweetness she couldn't refuse. Victory was in Skimmer's face as she nuzzled Ivy's neck, and her eyes were black with the power she had over Ivy, taking herself higher by dragging Ivy down to her swill.

My teeth clenched, and the remembered scent of damp cement spilled through my memory. I staggered to my feet, and it was as if I could taste cold, dry iron on my tongue. I strode forward, making my hands into fists as the memory of running my hands through Kisten's killer's short black hair filled me.

Skimmer gasped and arched into Ivy, encouraging her, blind to me coming at her.

It was almost too late. Ivy's fangs were wet, glistening, and a flash of remembered heat sparked through me at the memory of them sliding cleanly into me, mixing pleasure and pain in an unreal surge of adrenaline and endorphins. Shaking, I took a breath.

"I'm sorry, Ivy," I whispered, then punched her in the gut.

Ivy's breath whooshed out. Hands on her middle, she stumbled, struggling to breathe.

"You bitch!" Skimmer screamed, too shocked to move as the expected rush of a bite had been ripped from her. If I had hit her, she would have instinctively reacted and I'd probably be dead. Even dying, Kisten had taught me one more lesson. He had gone after his murderer, and it had cost him his undead existence. He had died for me. He had died for me.

Ivy took in an ugly gasp of breath. I spared her a glance, then fell into a defensive stance between them. "Leave Ivy alone."

Skimmer screamed in frustration, her eyes black and her hands cramped into claws, but I had knocked her on her butt once before, and she knew I could take her.

"Ivy?" I called, risking a glance back to see that she was still lost in the throes of blood lust even as she struggled for air. Crap on toast. I hadn't expected to have to handle both of them at once. "Ivy!" I shouted, angling to get her out from behind me yet keeping an eye on Skimmer, too. "Look at me. Look at me! Who do you want to be tomorrow?"

Her hands still on her middle, Ivy peered at me from around the curtain of her hair. She got one clean breath, then another. To my right, Skimmer started shaking in frustration. Ivy looked at her, her face horrified.

"Who do you want to be tomorrow?" I asked again, seeing her awareness return. "You haven't lost anything, Ivy. It's okay. You didn't lose. You're still the same."

She blinked, and a rim of brown showed about her pupils. "Oh my God," Ivy whispered, then straightened. "You sorry little...vampire!" she shouted. "How could you do that to me!"

Ivy took three steps, and I got between them. Behind me, Skimmer was pressed into a corner in fear. "Ivy, don't!" I demanded.

Her eyes were still black, the fear heavy that she'd almost lost herself, to be ruled by her instincts, and a shiver lifted through me. "Let it go," I said, and her jaw unclenched. My breath slipped from me in relief, and I inhaled. She smelled delicious when she was pissed.

Skimmer saw Ivy regain her will, and knowing that I'd given it to her, something in her broke. "She's mine!" the vampire shouted, and she leapt, fangs bared and snarling.

I ducked, and I heard a soft "Ooff." Skimmer fell to the floor beside me in a crumpled heap. I looked up at Ivy from my crouch. Pain and betrayal had replaced her hunger, and deeper than that, gratitude.

"You can't have her!" Skimmer was crying, pushing into a folded ball of misery. "She's mine. She's mine! I'll kill you. I'll kill you just like I killed Piscary!"

Ivy extended a shaking hand to help me rise. "Are you okay?"

I looked up at her, standing between me and a jealous death. Her eyes were mostly brown, the pain at what was happening mirrored in her gaze, familiar. I turned to Skimmer, sobbing and scared. Taking a shallow breath, I put my hand into Ivy's and let her help me up. "Yes," I whispered as I stumbled until I found my balance. I didn't feel so good.

Ivy wouldn't look at Skimmer. "I think we should go."

She moved to the door, and I glanced at Skimmer. "We didn't get what we came for."

"I don't care."

Ivy tapped on the door, and when that brought Miltast, though the screams hadn't, Skimmer rallied. "Bitch!" she shouted, lunging at me again. Ivy was ready, and Skimmer ran right into Ivy's stiff-armed palm. My pulse hammered at how fast it had been.

Gasping, Skimmer fell back. Her hands covered her face, but blood leaked from her nose. Crying now in earnest, the small vampire collapsed onto the couch. Her back was to us, and as I almost ran through the open door, Ivy hesitated. I watched from the hall as she put a loving hand on Skimmer's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I heard her whisper. "I loved you, but I can't do this anymore."

Skimmer hunched deeper. "I'll kill her," she sobbed. "If you stay with her, I'll kill her."

A chill ran through me. Not at her words, but at the love in Ivy's arms as she curved them around Skimmer. "No, you won't. Rachel isn't the one who showed me I deserved to be loved. You did. Tell me who came to visit Piscary."

"Get out," Skimmer sobbed, pushing weakly at Ivy. Blood stained her white jumpsuit, and Miltast stiffened upon seeing it.

"Who visited Piscary off the lists?" Ivy insisted.

Skimmer's shaking stopped as she gave up. "No one but Kisten came," she said, her high voice bland. "Once a week, three days after you. No one else."

I exhaled, and a sorry-assed depression took hold. Nothing. We had gotten nothing.

"I loved you, Ivy," Skimmer whispered in a dead voice. "Get out. Don't come back."

Ivy stood, her head bowed. Steadying herself, she turned and strode to the door, passing me in a wash of sour, unhappy-vampire incense. Boots clacking on the hard floor, she continued down the hallway alone.

I jumped to follow. I heard Miltast lock the door and then his booted steps. I caught up to Ivy at the locked door where we waited for Miltast. "Are you all right?" I questioned, not knowing what she was feeling.

"She'll be okay," Ivy said, jaw tight and not looking at me.

Miltast fumbled for the door lock, swiping his card and falling back when Ivy pushed through it ahead of him. "I can't believe you didn't get bitten," he said in apparent awe.

My eyes narrowed and I decided that they'd let me in there expecting me to come out hurt or dead. He was a white witch who had the government's blessing to do black magic. And if I made one wrong move, he'd react. Disgusted, I turned on my heel and followed Ivy.

I could hear his steps slow behind me, and my skin prickled. I finally caught up with her at the first door. The old woman at the spell checker, standing up and getting the check-out forms ready, seemed surprised to see us.

"Ivy," I said as we waited for Miltast to catch up, her head down and silent. "I'm sorry."

Finally her stoic expression cracked and she looked at me, unshed tears glinting. "I didn't know she was going to do that," she said. "Thank you for hitting me. I...couldn't say no. Damn it, I couldn't. I thought-"

She cut her thought short when Miltast slid the glass door aside. The air wasn't much fresher, but I pulled it in deep as I crossed into the middle ground, trying to rid myself of the accumulated vampire pheromones. Sighing, I put a hand to my neck and let it drop. "You're not serious about going on a blood fast," I asked as I handed Miltast my badge.

Ivy's fingers shook as she peeled off her name tag and handed it to the officer. "I was thinking about it," she said evenly.

Even Miltast knew it was a bad idea, and he eyed me as we signed our forms again and headed to the final door. If she was on a blood fast, living with her was going to be a lot harder.

"What a waste of time," Ivy said softly as we passed back through the spell checker and the woman gave us our stuff; but it hadn't been, and my pulse quickened. I remembered. I had remembered a lot. Ignoring my shaky knees, I wound my scarf around my neck, and with my bag under my arm, I headed for the double glass doors and the brutal but honest chill of the night. Milktoast and his friend had been privy to too much of our drama already.

"Actually," I said as I wrangled my gloves on while Ivy held the door open for me, "it wasn't a waste. Seeing you and Skimmer...I remembered something."

Ivy stopped dead in her tracks, pulling me to a halt in a puddle of light just outside. It seemed to have gotten colder in the hour we'd been inside, and the night air cut into my lungs like a knife, making my thoughts crystal clear after the heated confusion behind the glass walls. I pulled the dry air, smelling of snow and exhaust, in deep, relishing it and seeing the past moments with a clearer eye.

"Kisten-" I said, warming, then flushed. God, this was hard, and I closed my eyes to keep them from filling. Maybe I could say it if I couldn't see her. "Kisten's killer had dry hands," I said. "Rough. He smelled like damp cement, and his fingertips tasted of cold iron." I knew this because I'd had them in my mouth. God help me, I had begged him to bite me.

My jaw clenched, and I forced it to relax as I opened my eyes. "Kisten was dead," I said as the snow started to show on Ivy's black-clad shoulder. "I think it was an accident. His killer hadn't touched his blood yet, and he was really mad about that... So he was going to make me his shadow instead. He...he was making me beg for it." I took a shaky breath. If I didn't tell her now, I might not ever. "He was playing on my scar to make me beg him to bite me. Kisten stopped him. He knew it might end with him dead twice, but he did it anyway."

Ivy's head dropped, and she rubbed her forehead.

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing why. "He let himself be killed again because he loved me."

The light glistened on Ivy's tear-wet eyes when she looked up. "But he couldn't remember why he loved you, could he?"

I shook my head when a remembered feeling of mental pain drifted up. "No, he couldn't."

Ivy silently took that in. Deep in her shadowed eyes I could see her wish that I might find a way to save her from that fate. "I don't want to live not remembering why I love," she finally said, her face pallid as she looked ahead to her own soul death.

"I'm sorry, Ivy," I whispered as I fell into step beside her while we headed for my vehicle.

"It's what we are," she said stoically.

But it wasn't who she wanted to be.