White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7)

White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7) Page 24

I winced at the clatter of the three black potion storage bottles in the sink. Looking up at the night-darkened window, I listened for the whine of adolescent pixy wings. It was just after midnight; Jenks's kids were asleep, and I wanted to keep it that way. Hearing nothing, I shoved my sleeves up higher and dipped my hands into the warm suds. I wouldn't be able to invoke Pierce's charm until tomorrow night, but I had to do something to distract myself from my worry over Ivy, and prepping the charms would help. I still hadn't heard from Cormel, and if no one called me soon, I was calling them.

A box of cold pizza with one piece gone lay open atop Ivy's papers, and a two-liter bottle of pop sat, barely touched. The fridge was gone, leaving an empty space; our food was outside on the picnic table. Behind me on the center counter were the partially prepared bits and pieces of my spell, making a wide semicircle around the open university textbook. There was enough stuff to make three substance charms, and I was going to use it all.

New Year's Eve was my best chance to find enough ambient energy to work the spell, and I wasn't going to bet everything on one go. Not after the locator charms had failed to work. Yes, it had probably been my blood that had been the problem, seeing that Marshal's worked and mine hadn't, but the mere thought that I might do a spell wrong was enough for me to spend the time to stir a little insurance.

Oh God, Marshal, I thought, almost dropping the slippery storage bottle as I remembered my shunning. What was I going to tell him? Or better yet, how was I going to tell him? Hey, hi, I know we just had sex with our clothes on, but guess what I found out! Shunning was contagious. I didn't want him to lose his job because of me. Actually, I didn't want him to lose his job again because of me. I was the freaking black plague.

Mentally tired, I rinsed the bottles in salt water and reached for the dishcloth. And things had been going so well, too-apart from my latest mess, that is. I'd finally gotten the Weres off my case by returning the focus to them. Thanks to my saving Trent, the elves weren't bothering me despite my potential demon, ah, liabilities. The vampires were edgy, but I think I had just taken care of that. Ivy was going to be okay, and our relationship was going to get a lot less chaotic. Just when everything was under control and I might be able to have something normal with a normal guy doing normal things, my own people had come down on me.

"Must have been Tom," I muttered, shoving my sleeves back up and pulling out the drain plug.

Young, attractive guys who have a good job and don't mind a girl who spends a night in the ever-after once a week were hard to find. It wasn't as if Marshal and I had been planning a life together, but damn it, there'd been the chance that it might have gone that way. Eventually. Not anymore. What was wrong with me?

Standing at the black window, I closed my eyes and sighed. That power pull had been fantastic, though. What am I going to tell him?

Grimacing, I turned back to the center counter and the spells waiting to be put together, bottled, and stoppered for tomorrow. I'd take them out to Fountain Square, find an alley, and when the crowd started singing "Auld Lang Syne," I'd invoke them all if I had to. And then Al and I would talk. Get a few things settled.

But even as I was looking forward to it, the thought of arguing with Al in the snow with a naked ghost and a square full of witnesses made me cringe. Maybe I could rent a van and do it in the parking garage. It wasn't as if Al was giving me any choice. I'd tried to call him earlier, but all I'd gotten for my trouble was a lingering headache and a "go away" message. Fine. We could do it the hard way. I had agreed not to summon him, but he hadn't said anything about stealing his latest chunk of meat out from under him.

The soft hum of pixy wings got my attention, and I gave Jenks a closed-lipped smile as he flew in. "Hi, Jenks," I said as I shook the black bottle to get the water out and dried the exterior, impatient to get to the fun stuff on my counter. "I didn't wake up your kids, did I?"

Jenks glanced over my spelling supplies, and a slip of silver dust sifted from him as he hovered over the table. "No. Have you heard from Cormel yet?"

"No." The word was flat, carrying all my worry. "But she'll be fine." And if she isn't, I'm taking up the new profession of master-vampire killer.

He landed on the open pizza box, making a face at the unused garlic dipping sauce. "Fine. Yeah. Going after a banshee is fine. You're both lucky to be alive."

I set the bottle upside down in the cold oven and turned it on low, letting the door shut with a hard thump. There was a clatter as the bottle fell over. "Don't you think we know that?" I said, irritated. "Mia came after us, we did not go after her. What would you like us to have done? Roll over and play dead?"

"Ivy might be okay if you had," he muttered, just within my hearing, and I shook the last drops of water out of the next bottle before giving it a cursory swipe with the towel. It went in beside the first, this time propped up against the wall, and I reached for the last black bottle.

"Ivy thinks it's her fault that Mia learned how to kill without a trace," I said. "She tried to bring her in. She tried, failed, and learned from it. Next time, we'll do it together." I looked at his drooping wings, and added, "All of us. It's going to take all of us. That's one wicked bitch."

His wings blurred into nothing, and feeling better, I set the last bottle in the oven with the others and carefully shut the door. They'd be dry by the time I was ready for them.

Whether from the pixies being asleep, or Ivy being gone-or maybe because Pierce was in the ever-after-the church felt empty. Turning to the center counter, I wiped my hands on my jeans and looked at the clock. Spelling on the back side of the night wasn't the best of times, but it would be okay. "Wine," I said as I reached for the cheap bottle and unscrewed the top. Not one of the finest wines to have graced our kitchen, but it was local, the grapes grown in the soil where Pierce had lived and died.

Squinting, I crouched to put my eyes level with the graduated cylinder and filled it until the meniscus settled right where it should, and as Jenks watched, I dribbled in a little extra.

"You overfilled it," he said dryly, wings clattering as he looked from it to the recipe.

"I know." Not bothering to explain, I picked up the cylinder and made the big no-no of putting it to my lips and doing my impression of "The Drunken Chef." The hint of warmth slipped down my throat as I sipped the level back to where it should be. My mom had said to do the spell exactly the same, and being stupid at eighteen, that's how I had leveled it. Who knew? It might be why it had worked. Arcane earth spells were notoriously difficult to reproduce. It might be something that nebulous that had made it possible the first time.

Three separate batches of the yew and lemon mix were already waiting, and leaving them where they sat, I dumped the wine into the mortar already holding the snipped bits of holly leaf I'd taken from Ivy's Christmas centerpiece earlier. "Don't get your dust in that," I said, waving Jenks off from the top of the open bottle, and the pixy shifted to alight on the overhead rack of spelling utensils instead. Ivy had replaced the tacked-together rack with a solid redwood mesh, and my spelling supplies were again where they should be instead of shoved in cupboards.

"So-o-o-orry," he muttered, and I nodded, more concerned with the spell than his pique.

"Ivy roots," I murmured, reaching for the little measuring cup full of the tiny little rhizomes from one of Jenks's plants in the sanctuary. It had to be airborne roots, not underground, and Jenks's kids had been delighted to harvest them for me. The knobby roots went in, and with a few twists, the scent of chlorophyll mixed with the cheap wine.

It was a lot easier to crush everything this time, not being sick now like I'd been at eighteen. My thoughts went back to Pierce as the soft sounds of rock against rock filled the kitchen, and a whisper of worry lifted through me that tomorrow might be too late. I didn't think Al would give Pierce a body until he had a buyer, enabling him to work the cost of the expensive curse into the deal. Not to mention that Pierce couldn't tap a line given the state he was in. Why would Al make him stronger if he didn't have to? I knew Al wouldn't sell to the first buyer, wanting to up the going price as far as he could. It would take a few days at least.

A curl drifted between me and the mix, and remembering something, I carefully drew a single hair into the mortar and gave the pestle two twists, grinding it before I pulled the hair out. My hair had been to my waist the first time I had done this charm, and it had gotten caught. It might be important. I was betting it was. With this and my spit, I might be investing part of myself in the spell. It was going to be hard enough getting this to work.

I straightened to crack my back. "Holy dust," I murmured, looking for it among the clutter. Jenks's wings hummed and he dropped to hover over the envelope that I'd gathered from the slats under my bed, the only place the pixies didn't clean. It was on sanctified ground, so I figured it was holy enough. And God knew my bed hadn't seen any action lately.

"Thanks," I said absently as I pulled the flap to open it. I wiped the pans of my scales with a tissue, then frowned. A thin smear of lotion showed in the bright overhead lights. Not only would it add aloe, but the dust would stick to it and I wouldn't get enough in the mix.

Sighing, I took the pans to the sink to give them a quick wash. Jenks moved back to the overhead rack, and in the black mirror the window had become, I could see a sifting of dust falling from him. He was worried.

"Ivy is going to be fine," I said over the chatter of running water. "I'll call before I go to bed, to find out how she is, okay?"

"I'm not worried about Ivy, I'm worried about you."

Metal pans swathed in a dish towel, I turned. "Me? Why?" He made an exasperated gesture that encompassed my spelling, and I huffed. "You want Al popping over anytime with the excuse of checking on me and then snagging whoever he wants? Can you imagine the trouble I'd be in if Al showed up and took, say, Trent, when I'm telling the little shoemaker to get lost?"

Jenks's small angular features pulled into a tight grimace. "Al is going to be more pissed than a fairy who finds acorns in his spider sack."

That was a new one, and I frowned as I replaced the pans and weighed out the dust, carefully tapping the envelope until the delicate balance started to shift. "He left a loophole, and I'm going to use it," I said as the instrument leveled. "Al's not taking my calls, and this is the only way I can think of to get his attention. Not to mention, this will save Pierce, too. Two birds with one stone. He'll probably treat me to dinner for outsmarting him." After he smacks me around. I looked up, seeing an unsure look on his tiny features. "What's the worst he's going to do to me? Ground me? Cancel our weekly sessions?" A private smile curved across my face and I tapped the dust from the pan into the wine medium. "Bully for him."

"Rachel, he's a demon. He might just pull you into the ever-after and not let you back."

The fear in Jenks's voice broke through my nonchalance, and I turned to him. "Which is why I told you and Ivy my summoning name," I said, surprised that this was bothering him so much. "He can't hold me even with charmed silver, and he knows it. Jenks, what's the matter? You're acting like there is more to this than there is."

"Nothing."

But he was lying, and I knew it.

The dust turned black when it hit the wine and sank. Jenks flew to the sill and looked out into the snowy garden, only a small patch lit by the back-porch light. All that was left besides invoking the charm was adding the identifying agent-in this case, metal shavings from the back of my dad's watch.

I drew the old pocket watch from my back jeans pocket, hefting the weight and feeling the warmth of my body in the metal. It had belonged to my dad, but it had been Pierce's before that, hence his being pulled from purgatory the night I had tried to make contact with my dad. I turned the watch over to find that the scratches I'd made eight years ago were now tarnished. I tried to remember what I had used to scrape the tiny bits into the spell pot the last time, guessing it had been my mom's scissors.

"It's the thought that counts," I said as I reached for Ivy's pair, jammed into her pencil cup, and scraped a new three marks into the old silver. The almost-unseen shavings made dimples on the wine half of the brew, and I stirred it until they settled. Almost done, and I pulled a warm, and now dry, bottle from the oven and dumped in both the lemon-yew mix and the wine, dust, roots, and holly.

Jenks hovered over it, his expression blank. "It didn't work," he said, and I waved him off before his dust could get in it.

"It's not done yet. I have to add my blood to invoke it, and I can't do that until tomorrow night," I said as I wedged a glass stopper into it and set it aside. Fortunately it was an earth charm and I could do it without tapping a line. He was frowning, and tired of his mood, I asked, "What's your problem, Jenks?"

His face tightened, and he flew to land on the book. Standing sideways to me, he crossed his arms and fumed, wings drooping. Silently I waited. "This isn't going to work," Jenks finally said.

My breath slipped from me, and I turned away, brow furrowed. "Gee, thanks, Jenks."

"I meant with Pierce."

Understanding him now, I straightened after carefully pouring a second portion of wine into the graduated cylinder. "You think I'm cooking up a boyfriend in my kitchen? Grow up."

"You grow up!" Jenks said. "Let's just say he's a nice ghost who needs a little help and is not spying on us for some demon. I know you, Rache. He is a ghost. You're a witch. He needs help, and I'd be willing to bet the first time you met him, he did something strong and powerful. And now he needs help, which turns him into freaking Rachel candy."

I couldn't help a flush from creeping up my face. Okay, maybe once, but I was smarter now. But seeing it, Jenks rose an inch.

"He's Rachel candy. And I don't want to see you hurt when you realize you can't have him."

"You think I'm doing this because I like him?" I said, mentally backpedaling. "It's not always about sex!"

"Then it's a good thing you didn't sleep with Marshal, isn't it."

Silently I reddened, eyes fixed on the wine level. Damn it!

"Tink's titties, Rache!" he exclaimed. "You slept with the guy? When?"

"I didn't sleep with him," I protested, but I couldn't look at him as I sipped the wine to the right amount. "It was just a really involved kiss." In a broad sort of way. Crap, Ford had said Pierce spent a lot of time in the belfry. I sure hoped he hadn't been up there when Marshal and I had-No, Al had abducted him before that.

Jenks landed on the bottle I'd just capped, and with his hands on his hips, he stared disapprovingly at me. "I thought you were going to leave it at friends," he said, then he slumped. "Crap, Rache, can't you just have a guy friend?"

"I did have a guy friend," I snapped, my hair swinging as I dropped the ivy roots and a holly leaf into the mortar and started grinding. "I spent two months doing friend stuff because I thought my life was too dangerous, and I found out that yeah, I can keep it friendly, but I also found out he was a really nice person. Maybe someone I might want to spend my life with. Maybe not. I didn't know I was going to get shunned. Excuse me if I thought I might finally have my freaking life together enough that I could share it with someone other than just you and Ivy!"

Jenks's wings buzzed, then went guiltily silent. Feeling bad for yelling at him, I set the pestle down and crouched to put us on the same level. "I thought I had my life together," I whispered. "I really liked him, Jenks."

"Me, too." In a soft hum, he landed by my hand. "Don't put him in the past tense."

My focus sharpened on him and I stood. "He is," I whispered. "Ever since I became shunned." Depressed, I straightened and looked to the holy dust. Ashes and dust. It sort of fit.

Jenks watched as I shook the envelope over the weighing pan, then rose up on a column of amber-tinted sparkles. "The phone is going to ring. You want to get it before it wakes up my kids?"

I looked up, not sure I believed him. The trill of the phone broke the silence, and I reached for the receiver, adrenaline jumping through me. Cormel? "God, I hate it when you do that," I said, as I hit the button to open the line.

"Hello, yes?" I blurted as Jenks darted from the kitchen to check on his kids. Then remembering we were a business, I cleared my throat. "Vampiric Charms," I said politely. "This is Rachel. We can help, dead or alive."

"Alive would be better," came Edden's voice, and disappointment that it wasn't Cormel slumped my shoulders. Tucking the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I went back to my set of scales.

"Hi, Edden. How is Glenn doing?" I asked, trying not to breathe on the scales as I tapped a little more dust out.

"Great. They released him this afternoon. The massage worked, though it raised a few eyebrows. It's going into the SOP for aura trauma."

"That's fantastic!" I said as I stood and dumped the dust in with the wine mix. Wine to give life, dust to give substance, ivy to bind, and holly to be sure nothing bad came in on the souls of the dead. "Thanks for calling me." I looked at the clock, wanting to keep the line open, but clearly Edden didn't get the hint.

"It was only right, seeing as you helped get him out." He hesitated, and when I didn't say anything, he added, "I'm sorry about Ivy. Is she okay?"

My motions to scrape the metal shavings into the mix were harsher than I had intended, and I warmed, gaze flicking to Jenks as he flew in. Oh yeah. He would have heard about that. "Ah, she's okay." I winced, adjusting the phone and remembering to grind a strand of my hair in with everything. "Um, how much trouble am I in over that?"

He laughed. "Just come in tomorrow and fill out a statement. I told them you were working for me, and they cut you a lot of slack."

I sighed in relief. "Thanks, Edden. I owe you."

"Yeah, you do...," he said, and my tension ratcheted up again at his sly tone.

"What," I said flatly. My eyes flicked to Jenks, listening to the entire conversation from across the room, and the pixy shrugged.

"I'd like your help on the next step in bringing Mia in," he said. "We can go over it tomorrow. See you at my office at eight."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Edden," I said, holding the phone tight to my ear. "There is no next step. Until my entire team is functioning, none of us is going after her."

"Our three best profilers say Ms. Harbor will be at a party tomorrow," Edden said as if not having heard me. "I want you there."

Jiggling the phone, I pulled a bottle from the oven and turned it off. Jenks's wings had hit a high pitch, and I tried to tell him with my eyes that this was not going to happen. "On New Year's Eve?" I quipped. "How much are you paying these guys? Half of Cincinnati is going to be at a party."

"I want you to come with me to one in particular," he continued, his voice tired.

"Golly, Edden. I don't date people I work with."

I could hear him puff his breath out in annoyance. "Morgan, stop messing with me. There's an eighty-three percent chance Mia will show up at this one."

The bottle was warm in my hands as I filled it, and I gave the mix a good shake before setting it beside the first with a sharp tap. "I've got spelling to do tomorrow. Personal spelling."

"I'll give you time and a half," he coaxed.

I crossed one arm over my middle. He wasn't getting it. "That woman's baby almost killed me," I said, trying the direct approach. "She tried to finish the job last night in front of a freaking jail, damaging my new aura and pretty much stripping Ivy's down to nothing. Do you know how hard it would be to live with Ivy if she were dead? I'm not going to risk us on some lame attempt to tag her and her psychotic boyfriend. Did you know I can't tap a line without convulsing if I don't have a good aura? I'm helpless, Edden. Not going to happen."

"Make some charms. I'll double your rate," he said, and I heard a burst of muffled noise when someone came into his office.

Make some charms. Stupid human. "No," I said, eyeing my potions. "Maybe when it gets warmer and all three of us can work."

"Rachel...People are dying. Don't you want to get even with this piece of work for what she did to your roommate?"

I got mad at that. "Don't you guilt me, Edden," I said, hearing Jenks's wings clatter. "There's a reason the I.S. is ignoring her. She's a freaking apex predator, and we are zebras at the watering hole to her. Trying to goad me into it by waving the flag of revenge is low. You can just take your guilt and your manipulation and shove it!"

Jenks looked pained, and I lowered my voice so I wouldn't wake up his kids. From the phone came Edden's cajoling voice saying, "Okay, okay, that was unfair. I'm sorry. Can I come over and talk to you about it? Bring you flowers? Candy? Does bribery work with you?"

"No. And you can't come over. I'm in my pajamas," I lied. God, I couldn't believe he had tried to use revenge to get me to do what he wanted. Thing was, last year, it might have worked.

"You are not. It's only midnight."

I leaned to look at the clock. By golly, he's right. "I took a bath," I lied again. Tired, I turned to look at my reflection in the black window. "Remus is a psychotic murderer, but Mia is a power-hungry psychotic murderer who is also an Inderlander. She thinks she owns this city, built it, even, and she's been alive longer than most undead vampires. Edden, she said if you don't back off, she's going to start picking targets according to her political agenda instead of thinning the herd. You need to slow down and think. I know people are dying, but bringing her in is going to take a lot of finesse and luck, and I'm fresh out of both."

Apart from a slow breath, there was silence on the other end. "Her threatening the FIB doesn't surprise me. It goes along with the profilers' report."

I rolled my eyes. Damned profilers' report. Upset, I put my back to the window and leaned against the sink. I am not going to do this. It is too risky. "Mia is not your average psychotic killer. She doesn't need to go to a party," I said, tired. "If she goes out at all, it will be to a private party where she already knows the victim, and the poor guy will probably die of a heart attack or choke on an olive."

He said nothing, and I blurted, "Look, I agree, we have to get her, but staking out parties isn't going to do it! You can't catch her! The I.S. can't catch her. She keeps slipping your lines because she knows the city better than you, and she's like a poisonous snake you can't get within ten feet of. You've got to get her to come in voluntarily." Frustrated, I looked at my demon books beside Ivy's maps and charts. "I've done the research, and there's nothing I can do to protect your auras from her, so short of gunning her down, you don't have a chance."

"Then we'll dart the bitch with an animal sedative," he said grimly. "Don't you guys do that with Weres?"

"No. We don't," I said tightly, thinking it was barbaric to even suggest it. "Listen to me. You cannot risk alienating this woman. Even if I do hit her with a sleepy-time potion and down her for you, in about eighteen years, you're going to have another one of these women on the street, and you won't be able to distinguish her kills from natural causes. You saw Remus. He's alive because of some stupid wish, and from watching Holly interact with him, Mia learned how to push energy into people, not just take it."

"So," the FIB officer prompted. "That sounds good to me."

"So like every good thing we can think up to make our lives better, it can be turned into a weapon. Mia goes in, makes some poor sap think she's in love with him, and because she's feeding him emotion, he believes it. His guard goes down, and he dies without a whimper or an emotional stain. Of natural causes."

"Like Glenn's friend," he said, and I picked up the bottle of wine, looking at it. No, Rachel. You'll have a migraine in the morning.

"Exactly," I said, filling the graduated cylinder right to the top. Not looking at Jenks, I drank half of it, then topped it off to get to the right mark. Who would have thought that so much trouble could come from one lousy wish? No wonder Ivy felt responsible.

Edden was silent, and I let him stew while I dropped another leaf of holly and some ivy roots into the mortar and started working them over. "I have to get this woman," he finally said. "Will you just come with me to the party?"

Frustrated, I shifted the phone to the other ear. He wasn't getting it. "Mia is not afraid of you," I said. "The only thing you have to bargain with is Holly, and that's pretty thin. The woman doesn't want The Walker to have her. If you can promise me that there will be no wards of the court, no temporary custody, and that you can keep Holly with Mia all the time, she might come in just so she can impress you with how low and scummy you are."

"I will not promise that woman anything," Edden said, his anger so deep that Jenks clattered his wings in concern. "She left my son to die. Her child is social service's problem, not mine."

Angry, I huffed, "That's right. You'll be retired by the time Holly is out on her own." Me, I'll probably be just coming into my own-if I am still alive. "Come on," I coaxed when he was silent. "Look at the bigger picture. You tell me Mia's daughter can stay with her, and maybe I can get Mia to come in as a gesture of goodwill. Everyone wins, and you look like a benevolent human being allowing a helpless woman in jail to keep her baby. She'll do her time for beating up Glenn, and then peacefully reenter society, promising to be good. You'll have a handle on her, and better yet, one on Holly."

"What about the Tilsons?" he asked, and I made a face he couldn't see. Oh yeah. I forgot about them.

I continued to grind away, shoulder starting to hurt. "She'll probably blame it on Remus, and God knows he deserves whatever comes to him. Once you have her behind bars, you have control. One step at a time."

Again there was a long silence. "I'll see what I can do."

It had been a sour-sounding admission, and the circuit clicked closed. "Edden!" I exclaimed, but it was too late. I couldn't go to Mia with "I'll see what I can do," and upset, I set the phone in its cradle and made a frustrated noise at the ceiling. "CYA bull crap," I muttered.

Jenks flew to the island counter, stilling his wings when I finished weighing out the last bit of dust. "Why are you helping her, Rachel?"

Eyes on the scale, I blew some of the dust off, then held my breath until it gave me a reading. "I'm not." I said, satisfied with the amount. "I'm trying to not get blamed for the resurgence of a deadly Inderlander species. If we can keep her in jail long enough, Remus will be dead when she gets out, and she can't easily have another child."

I dumped the dust into the wine mix, watching it turn black and the clumps settle to the bottom. Jenks rose high again, bringing me a strand of my hair. I carefully put it in the mix and gave a couple of twists with the pestle.

The shavings from the watch were next, and finished, I opened the oven for the last bottle. Jenks came close to ride the updraft from the heat, and as I dumped everything into it and stoppered it up, I felt a twinge on my awareness. It wasn't someone tapping my ley line out back, but rather a sensation that I could sense it almost without trying. My eyes went to the ceiling, and I wasn't surprised to see Bis crawling in, his usually dark skin a pale white to match the color of what he was clinging too. My welcoming smile faded when his red eyes met mine and I noticed that his huge, white-tufted ears were at a worried slant, almost parallel to his head.

Seeing me notice him, the young gargoyle dropped to the counter.

"Holy sweet mother of Tink!" Jenks yelped, shooting halfway across the kitchen and leaving a spot of dust like an octopus inking. "Bis! What the hell is wrong with you?"

I set the bottle beside the first two, lined up beside my dissolution vat, and wiped my hands on my jeans. "Hi, Bis," I said. "Come in to get warmed up?"

Bis shook his wings straight and wound his lionlike tail around a back haunch, as if nervous. "There's two cars out front. I think it's Rynn Cormel."

My breath hissed in and a spike of adrenaline jumped, making my head hurt. "Is Ivy with them?" I asked, already moving.

"I don't know."

Jenks was way ahead of me, and I almost jogged to the front of the church, hitting lights as I went. The gong of the farm bell we used as a doorbell clinked once, not very loud, and I brushed bits of the spell off my shirt.

Though the sanctuary was blazing with light, the foyer was dark. Relief that Bis had gotten the graffiti off the sign flitted through me. It was followed by the thought that I really needed to invest in a peephole. Or some lighting. Pulse racing, I reached for the handle, ducking when Bis landed beside the door to cling to the wall like a huge bat. His ears were pinned to his head, and he shifted upward to hang at head height. Jenks was at my shoulder, and hoping the pixies stayed asleep, I opened the door.

Rynn Cormel was on my front porch, standing somewhat sideways in the yellowish light shining on the sign above the door. He looked about the same as he had a few hours ago: long coat, round hat, snow dusting his shiny shoes, hands in his pockets. Behind him were two long cars in the dark street. Not limos, but close.

Giving us a welcoming smile, he inclined his head at Jenks and me, his eyes flicking briefly to where Bis was lurking inside, almost as if he could see through the paint and shingles.

"Is she okay?" I said breathlessly.

"More than," he said in his rough voice, his New York accent obvious. "She's a masterpiece." Bringing a gloved hand from a pocket, he gestured to the second car.

Jenks's wings clattered as he dropped beside my neck to find some warmth, and my eyes narrowed. People were getting out of the second car, but there was no sign of Ivy, and I hadn't appreciated his comment.

Rynn Cormel smiled at my obvious anger, ticking me off all the more. "I did not take advantage of her, Rachel," he said dryly. "Piscary is an artist, and I can appreciate a work of art without having to get my fingers on it, spoiling it."

"She is a person," I snapped, arms crossed over me against the cold, and not going out on the stoop.

"And a magnificent one at that. You have a discerning eye."

God! This was just sick. Jenks's wings moved against me, and I looked past Rynn to the street, seeing in the dim light Ivy slumped in a husky guy's arms. He was in a black T-shirt, arms bulging while he carried Ivy as if she were nothing. Behind him was a second man with her boots and coat.

"You said she was okay!" I accused, realizing she was unconscious.

The master vampire moved aside as they mounted the steps, and I got out of their way as they walked in, nice as you please, the heavy scent of vampire trailing behind them. "She is," he said as they passed me. "She's asleep. She will likely stay that way until well after sunrise. Her last words made it quite clear that she wanted to come home." He smiled, ducking his head to look perfectly normal, perfectly alive. Perfectly deadly. "She used words that left no doubt. I didn't see the harm in it."

I could imagine. "Her room is on the left," I called after them, not wanting to follow and leave a past U.S. president standing on my porch. Jenks took off from my shoulder, and dusting heavily from indecision, he finally took off after them.

"I'll show you," he said. "This way."

I turned back to Cormel, arms still over my chest. I didn't care if I looked defensive. "Thank you," I said stiffly, thinking I'd give him something more sincere once I found out how messed up she was.

Again the tall man inclined his head. "Thank you."

He said nothing else, and the silence became uncomfortable. Bis twitched his ear, and Cormel's eyes shifted. There was a soft thump from inside the church, then nothing.

"I am going to try to find a way for her to keep her soul after death," I said.

"I know you are." He smiled the smile that saved the world, but I saw beyond it to the monster underneath. I had to keep Ivy from becoming this. It was foul.

I didn't look away from Cormel as the sound of footsteps and pixy wings grew behind me. Standing in the middle of my threshold with my feet spread and my arms crossed, I refused to move as the men brushed past me and went down the cement steps and into the dark. With a last inclination of his head, Rynn Cormel slowly spun on a heel and followed, getting in the first car when one of his men opened the door. Two more doors thumped shut, and they slowly accelerated down the street.

Jenks landed on my shoulder as I exhaled long and loud. "In or out, Bis?" I asked, and the gargoyle launched himself deeper into the church. There was a delighted laugh from the open support beams, and I shut the door, sealing out the night. Jenks's wings were cold, and I decided I'd bake cookies or something to warm up the church.

Feet slow, I went into the sanctuary. Bis was on one of the support beams, three of Jenks's older kids with him. His ears were flat as he tried to decide what to make of them, and it looked sweet as he tried to appear harmless, shifting to a bright white and holding his wings close. Bis didn't come in often, but the entire church had the feeling of closing in, circling the wounded, bracing for a fight.

"Is she okay?" I asked Jenks as I tiptoed into the hall.

"She stinks like vampire" was his opinion. "But her aura looks really thick."

Really thick. Thicker than usual? I mused, not knowing if that was good or bad, sighing as I touched Ivy's closed door in passing. I was glad to have her home. The church felt...almost right.

Just a few more days, I thought as I reached the kitchen and turned the oven on to preheat. Just a few more days, and everything will be back to normal.

But as I looked at the stoppered bottles all lined up and ready to go, I wondered.