Checking to see that my bandages hadnt come off my knuckles, I stomped up the wooden steps and wedged my gardening sneakers off. Leaving them there, I went in the back door and into the living room. The smell of coffee was almost a slap. A set of masculine boots clattered on the linoleum in the kitchen across the hall, and I hesitated. That wasnt Ivy. Kisten?
Curious, I padded to the kitchen. Hesitating in the open archway, I scanned the apparently empty room.
I liked my kitchen. No, let me rephrase. I loved my kitchen with the loyalty of a bulldog to his favorite bone. It took up more space than the living room and had two stovesso I never had to stir spells and cook on the same flame. There were bright fluorescent lights, expansive counter and cupboard space, and sundry ceramic spelling utensils hanging over the center island counter. An oversized brandy snifter with my beta, Mr. Fish, rested on the sill of the single blue-curtained window over the sink. A shallow circle was etched in the linoleum for when I needed the extra protection for a sensitive spell, and herbs hung from a sweater rack in the corner.
A heavy, antique farm table took up the interior wall, my end holding a stack of books that hadnt been there earlier. The rest held Ivys precisely arranged computer, printer, maps, colored markers, and whatever else she needed to plan her runs into boredom. My eyebrows rose at the pile of books, but I smiled because of the jeans-clad backside poking out from the open stainless-steel fridge door.
Kist, I said, the pleased sound of my voice bringing the living vamps head up. I thought you were Ivy.
Hi, love, he said, the British accent he usually faked almost nonexistent as he casually shut the door with a foot. Hope you dont mind I let myself in. I didnt want to ring the bell and wake the dead.
I smiled, and he set the cream cheese on the counter and moved to me. Ivy wasnt dead yet, but she was as nasty as a homeless bridge troll if you woke her before she thought she should be up. Mmmm, you can let yourself in anytime so long as you make me coffee, I said, curving my arms around his tapering waist as he gave me a hug hello.
His close-cut fingernails traced an inch above the new bruises and tooth marks on my neck. Are you okay? he breathed.
My eyes slid shut at the concern in his voice. He had wanted to come over last night, and I appreciated that he hadnt when I asked him not to. Im fine, I said, toying with the idea of telling him that they hadnt played fair, five alphas binding into a round to give their bitch the advantage in an already unfair fight. But it was so unusual an occurrence that I was afraid he would say I was making it upand it sounded too much like whining to me.
Instead, I leaned my head against him and took in his scent: a mix of dark leather and silk. He was wearing a black cotton tee that pulled tight across his shoulders, but the aroma of silk and leather remained. With it was the dusky hint of incense that lingered around vampires. I hadnt identified that particular scent with vamps until I started living with Ivy, but now I could probably tell with my eyes closed whether it was Ivy or Kisten in the room.
Either scent was delicious, and I breathed deeply, willingly taking in the vampire pheromones he was unconsciously giving off to soothe and relax me. It was an adaptation to make finding a willing source of blood easier. Not that Kisten and I were sharing blood. Not me. Not this little witch. No how or ever. The risk of becoming a playthingmy will given to a vampirewas too real. But that didnt mean I couldnt enjoy the mild buzz.
I could hear his heartbeat, and I lingered while his fingers traced a yummy path to the small of my back. My forehead came to his shoulder, lower than usual, since he was in boots and I was in socks. His exhaled breath stirred my hair. The sensation brought my head up, and I met his blue eyes squarely from under his long bangs, reading in the normalsized pupils that he had slaked his blood lust before coming over. He usually did.
I like it when you smell like dirt, he said, his eyes half-lidded and sly.
Smiling, I ran a fingernail down his rough cheek. He had a small nose and chin, and he usually kept a days worth of stubble to give himself a more rugged cast. His hair was dyed blond to match his almost-beard, though I had yet to catch him with darker roots or a charm to color it. Whats the real color of your hair? I asked impulsively as I played with the wispy strands at the nape of his neck.
He pulled away, blinking in surprise. Two slices of toast popped up, and he shifted to the counter, bringing out a plate and setting the bread on it. Ah, its blond.
My eyes roved over his very nice backside, and I slumped against the counter, enjoying the view. The rims of his ears were a faint red, and I pushed into motion, leaning to run a finger along his torn ear where someone had ripped out one of the twin diamond studs. His right ear still held both studs, and I wondered who had the missing earring. I would have asked, but was afraid hed tell me Ivy had it. You dye your hair, I insisted. What color is it, really?
He wouldnt look at me while he opened the cream cheese and spread a thick layer on the toast. Its sort of brown. Why? Is that a problem?
Dropping my hands to his waist, I turned him around. Pinning him to the counter, I leaned until our hips touched. God, no. I just wondered.
Oh. His hands went about my waist, and clearly relieved, he inhaled slowly, seeming to take my very soul in with him. A spark of desire jumped from him to me, going right to my core to catch my breath. I knew he was scenting me, reading in the slight tension of my body pressing into him my willingness to turn our embrace into something more. I knew our natural scents mixing was a potent blood aphrodisiac. I also knew Ivy would kill him if he broke my skin even by accident. But this was all old news, and Id be a fool if I didnt admit that part of Kistens allure was the mix of deep intimacy he offered along with the potential danger of him losing control and biting me. Yeah, I was a stupid, trusting girl, but it made for great sex.
And Kisten is very careful, I thought, pulling coyly away at the low growl rumbling up through him. He wouldnt have come over if he wasnt sure of his control, and I knew he teased himself with my off-limits blood as much as I tested my will against the supposedly better-than-sex carnal ecstasy that a vampire bite could bring.
I see youre making friends with your neighbors, he said, and I eased from him to reopen the window and wash my hands. If I didnt stop, Ivy would sense it and be out here glowering like a shunned lover. We were roommates and business partnersthat was allbut she made no attempt to hide that she wanted more. She had asked me once to be her scion, which was sort of a number-one helper and wielder of vampire power when the vamp in question was limited by sunlight. She wasnt dead yet and didnt need a scion, but Ivy was a planner.
The position was an honor, but I didnt want it, even though, as a witch, I couldnt be turned vampire. It involved an exchange of blood to cement ties, which was why I had flatly refused her the first time shed asked, but after meeting her old high school roommate, I thought she was after more than that. Kisten could separate the drive for blood from the desire for sex, but Ivy couldnt, and the sensations a blood-lusting vamp pulled from me were too much like sexual hunger for me to think otherwise. Ivys offer that I become her scion was also an offer to be her lover, and as much as I cared for her, I wasnt wired that way.
I turned off the tap and dried my hands on the dish towel, frowning at the butterfly wings drifting closer to the garden. You could have helped me out there, I said sourly.
Me? Blue eyes glinting in amusement, he set the orange juice on the counter and shut the fridge. Rachel, honey, I love you and all, but what do you think I could have done?
Tossing the dish towel to the counter, I turned my back on him, crossing my arms while I gazed out at the cautiously approaching wings. He was right, but that didnt mean I had to like it. I was lucky Matalina had shown up, and I wondered again what she wanted.
A warm breath touched my shoulder and I jerked, realizing Kisten had snuck up on me, unheard with his vamp-soft steps. I would have come out if you needed it, he said, his rumbly voice going right into me. But they were only garden fairies.
Yeah, I said with a sigh. I suppose. Turning, my eyes went over his shoulder to the three books on the table. Are those for me? I asked, wanting to change the subject.
Kisten reached past me to pluck an early daisy from the vase beside Mr. Fish. Piscary had them behind glass. They look like spell books to me. I thought you might find something to Were in them. Theyre yours if you want them. Im not going to tell him where they went.
His eyes were eager for the chance to help me, but I didnt move, standing beside the sink with my arms crossed, eyeing them. If the master vampire had them under glass, then they were probably older than the sun. Even worse, they had the look of demon magic, making them useless since only demons could work it. Generally.
Uncrossing my arms, I considered them again. Maybe there was something I could use. Thanks, I said, moving to touch the top book and stifling a shudder when I felt a slight sponginess, as if my aura had gone from liquid to syrup. My torn skin tingled, and I wiped my hand on my jeans. You wont get in trouble?
The faint tightening of his jaw was the only sign of his nervousness. You mean in more trouble than trying to kill him? he said, flicking his long bangs from his eyes.
I gave him a sick smile. I see your point. I went to get myself a cup of coffee while Kisten poured a small glass of orange juice and set it on a tray he pulled from behind the microwave. The plate of toast went on it, shortly followed by the daisy hed taken from the windowsill. I watched, my curiosity growing when he gave me a sideways smile to show his sharp canines and hustled into the hallway with it all. Okay, so it wasnt for me.
Leaning against the counter, I sipped my coffee and listened to a door creak open. Kistens voice called out cheerfully, Good afternoon, Ivy. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!
Shove it, Kist, came Ivys slurred mumble. Hey! she cried louder. Dont open those! What the hell are you doing?
A smile curved over my face and I snickered, taking my coffee and sitting at the table.
Theres my girl, Kisten coaxed. Sit up. Take the damn tray before I spill the coffee.
Its Saturday, she snarled. What are you doing here so early?
As I listened to Kistens soothing voice rise and fall in an unrecognizable patter, I wondered what was going on. From families of wealth, Kisten and Ivy had grown up together, tried the cohabitation thing, and parted as friends. Rumor had it Piscary planned for them to get together and have a passel of children to carry on his living-vamp line before one of them died. I was no expert in relationships, but even I could tell that wasnt going to happen. Kisten cared deeply for Ivy, and she for him, but seeing them together always gave me the feeling of a close brother/sister relationship. Even so, this breakfast in bed thing was unusual.
Watch the coffee! Kisten exclaimed, shortly followed by Ivys yelp.
You arent helping. Get out of my room! she snarled, her gray-silk voice harsh.
Shall I lay out your clothes, love? Kisten said, his fake British accent on full and laughter in his voice. I adore that pink skirt you wore all last fall. Why dont you wear that anymore?
Get out! she exclaimed, and I heard something hit the wall.
Pancakes tomorrow?
Get the hell out of my room!
The door clicked shut, and I met Kistens grin with my own when he came in and went to the coffeemaker. Lose a bet? I guessed, and he nodded, his thin eyebrows high. I pushed out a chair kitty-corner from me with my foot and he settled in with his mug, his long legs going out to encircle mine under the corner of the table.
I said you could go on a run with David and come home without turning it into a slugfest. She said you couldnt. He reached for the sugar bowl and dumped two spoonfuls in.
Thanks, I said, glad he had bet against her.
I lost on purpose, he said, crushing my vindication before it had taken its first breath.
Thanks a lot, I amended, pulling my feet from between his.
Setting his mug down, he leaned forward and took my hands in his. Stop it, Rachel. How else could I find an excuse to come over here every morning for a week?
I couldnt be mad at him now, so I smiled, dropping my gaze to our twined hands, mine thin and pale beside his tan, masculine fingers. It was nice seeing them there together like that. The past four months he had not lavished attention on me, but rather was there and available whenever the mood struck either of us.
He was incredibly busy running Piscarys affairs now that the undead master vampire was in jailthanks to meand I was occupied with my end of Ivys and my runner firm, Vampiric Charms. As a result, Kisten and I spent spontaneous snips of intense time together that I found both extremely satisfying and curiously freeing. Our brief, nearly daily conversations over coffee or dinner were more enjoyable and reassuring than a three-day weekend backpacking in the Adirondacks dodging weekend-warrior Weres and slapping mosquitoes.
He felt no jealousy about the time I spent pursuing my career, and I felt only relief that he slaked his blood lust elsewhereit was a part of him I was ignoring until I found a way to deal with it. There were problems brewing in our future, as blood-chaste witches and living vampires were not known for making long-term commitments. But I was tired of being alone, and Kisten met every emotional need I had raised and I met all of his but one, allowing someone else to do that with no distrust on my part. Our relationship was too good to be true, and I wondered again how I could find comfort with a vampire when Id never been able to hold onto it with a witch.
Or with Nick, I thought, feeling the expression leave my face.
What? Kisten said, more aware of my mood shift than if I had painted my face blue.
I took a breath, hating myself for where my thoughts had gone. Nothing. I smiled thinly. Just thinking how much I like being with you.
Oh. His bristly face creased into a worried smile. What are you doing today?
I sat back, pulling my hand from his and putting my sock feet to either side of his lap so he wouldnt think I was drawing away. My eyes drifted to my shoulder bag and my checkbook. I wasnt desperate for moneywonder of wonders, since the calls for my services had dropped dramatically after the six oclock news last winter had featured me being dragged down the street on my ass by a demon. And because I was heeding Davids advice to take a few days off to mend, I knew I ought to spend the time in research, or balancing my bank account, or cleaning my bathroom, or doing something constructive.
But then I met Kistens eyes, and the only idea that came to me wasah, not the least bit constructive at all. His eyes were not calm. There was the faintest rising of black in them, the faintest thinning of blue. Gaze riveted to mine, he reached for one of my feet, bringing it onto his lap and starting to rub it. The intent behind his action strengthened when he sensed my pulse quickening, and his massage took on a rhythm that spoke ofpossibilities.
My breath came and went. There was no blood lust in his eyes, only a desire that made my gut tighten and a tingle start at my demon scar.
I need todo my laundry? I said, arching my eyebrows.
Laundry. He never looked from me as his hands left my foot and started creeping upward. Moving, pressing, hinting. That sounds like it involves water and soap. Mmmm. Could be slippery. And messy. I think I have a bar of soap somewhere. Want some help?
Uh-huh, I thought, my mind pinging over the possible ways he could help me, and how I could get Ivy out of the church for a few hours.
Seeing mywellwillingness might be too weak a wordenthusiasm in my inviting smile, Kisten reached out and pulled my chair bumping and scraping around the corner of the table, snuggling it up to his with a living vampires strength. My legs opened to put my knees to either side of him, and he leaned forward, the blue of his eyes vanishing to a thin ribbon.
Tension rising, I put my lips beside his torn ear. The scent of leather and silk crashed over me, and I closed my eyes in anticipation. You have your caps? I whispered.
I felt him nod, but I was more interested in where his lips were going. He cupped a hand along my jaw and tilted my face to his. Always, he said. Always and forever with you.
Oh God, I thought, just about melting. Kisten wore caps on his sharp canines to keep from breaking my skin in a moment of passion. They were generally worn by adolescent living vampires still lacking control, and Kisten risked a severe ribbing should anyone find out he wore them when we slept together. His decision was born from his respect for my desire to withhold my blood from him, and Ivys threat to stake him twice if he took my blood. Kisten claimed it was possible to be bound and not become a vampires shadow, but everything I had seen said otherwise. My fear remained. And so did his caps.
I inhaled, bringing the vamp pheromones deep into me, willing them to relax me, wanting the tingling promise that was humming in my demon scar to race through my body. But then Kisten stiffened and drew away.
Ivy? I whispered, feeling my eyes go worried as his gaze went distant.
Pixy wings, he said, pushing my chair out.
Matalina, I answered, sending my gaze to the open archway to the hall.
There was a distant thump. Jenks? came Ivys muffled call from her room.
My lips parted in surprise. She had heard Matalinas wings through a closed door? Great. Just freaking great. Then shed heard our conversation, too.
Its Matalina! I shouted, not wanting her to burst out thinking it was Jenks.
But it was too late, and I stood awkwardly when her door thumped open. Matalina zipped into the kitchen a heartbeat before Ivy staggered in, halting in an undignified slump with one hand supporting herself against the open archway.
She was still in her skimpy nightgown, her black silk robe doing next to nothing to hide her tall lanky build, trim and smooth-limbed from her martial arts practice. Her straight black hair, mussed from sleeping, framed her oval face in an untidy fashion. Shed had it cut not too long ago, and it still surprised me to see it bumping about just under her ears. It made her long neck look longer, the single scar on it a smooth line, now faint from cosmetic surgery. Wide-eyed from being jerked from her bed, her brown, somewhat almond-shaped eyes looked larger than usual, and her thin lips were open to show small teeth.
Head cocked, Kisten spun in his chair. Taking in her lack of clothes, his grin widened.
Grimacing at her less than suave entrance, Ivy pulled herself straight, trying to find her usual iron hold on her emotions. Her pale cheeks were flushed, and she wouldnt meet my eyes as she closed her robe with an abrupt motion. Matalina, she said, her voice still rough from sleep. Is Jenks okay? Will he talk to us?
God, I hope so, Kisten said dryly, turning his chair so he didnt have his back to Ivy.
The agitated pixy flitted to perch on the center island counter. A glittering trail of silver sparkles sifted from her, slowly falling to make a temporary sunbeam, clear evidence of her flustered state. I already knew her answer, but I couldnt help but slump when she shook her head, her wings stilling. Her pretty eyes went wide and she twisted the fabric of her silk dress. Please, she said, her voice carrying a frightening amount of worry. Jenks wont come to you. Im so scared, Rachel. He cant go alone. He wont come back if he goes alone!
Suddenly I was a whole lot more concerned. Go where? I said, crowding closer. Ivy moved in too, and we clustered before her, almost helpless as the tiny woman who could stand down six fairies started to cry. Forever the gentleman, Kisten carefully tore a tissue and handed her a piece the size of his thumbnail. She could have used it for a washcloth.
Its Jax, Matalina said, holding her breath between sobs. Jax was her oldest son.
My fear quickened. Hes at Nicks apartment, I said. Ill drive you over.
Matalina shook her head. Hes not there. He left with Nick on the winter solstice.
I jerked upright, feeling as if Id been kicked in the stomach. Nick was here? I stammered. At the solstice? He never even called! I looked at Ivy, shocked. The freaking human bastard! He had come, cleared out his apartment, and left; just like Jenks said he would. And I thought he cared for me. I had been hurt and half dead from hypothermia, and he just left? As I fumed, the betrayal and confusion I thought long gone swelled to make my head hurt.
We got a call this morning, Matalina was saying, oblivious to my state, though Kisten and Ivy exchanged knowing glances. We think hes in Michigan.
Michigan! I blurted. What the Turn is he doing in Michigan?
Ivy nudged closer, almost coming between Matalina and me. You said you think. You dont know for certain?
The pixy turned her tear-streaked face to Ivy, looking as tragic and strong as a mourning angel. Nick told Jax they were in Michigan, but they moved him. Jax doesnt know for sure.
They moved him?
Who moved him? I said, bending close. Are they in trouble?
The tiny womans eyes were frightened. Ive never seen Jenks so angry. Nick took Jax to help him with his work, but something went wrong. Now Nick is hurt and Jax cant get home. Its cold up there, and Im so worried.
I glanced at Ivy, her eyes dark with widening pupils, her lips pressed into a thin angry line. Work? Nick cleaned museum artifacts and restored old books. What kind of work would he need a pixy for? In Michigan? In the springtime when most pixies were still shaking off hibernation at that latitude?
My thoughts went to Nicks confidant casualness, his aversion to anything with a badge, his wickedly quick mind, and his uncanny tendency to be able to get ahold of just about anything, given time. Id met him in Cincys rat fights, where he had been turned into a rat after borrowing a tome from a vampire.
He had come back to Cincinnati and left with Jax, without telling me he was here. Why would he take Jax with him?
My face went hot and I felt my knees go quivery. Pixies had other skills than gardening. Shit. Nick was a thief.
Leaning hard against the counter, I looked from Kisten to Ivy, her expression telling me that she had known, but realized Id only get mad at her until I figured it out for myself. God, I was so stupid! It had been there all the time, and I hadnt let myself see it.
I opened my mouth, jumping when Kisten jabbed me in the ribs. His eyes went to Matalina. The poor woman didnt know. I shut my mouth, feeling cold.
Matalina, I said softly. Is there any way to find out where they are? Maybe Jax could find a newspaper or something.
Jax cant read, she whispered, dropping her head into her hands, her wings drooping. None of us can, she said, crying, except Jenks. He learned so he could work for the I.S.
I felt so helpless, unable to do anything. How do you give someone four inches high a hug? How do you tell her that her eldest son had been misled by a thief? A thief I had trusted?
Im so scared, the tiny pixy said, her voice muffled. Jenks is going after him. Hes going all the way up north. He wont come back. Its too far. He wont be able to find enough to eat, and its too cold unless he has somewhere safe to stay at night. Her hands fell away, the misery and heartache on her tiny features striking fear in me.
Where is he? I asked, my growing anger pushing out the fear.
I dont know. Matalina sniffed as she looked at the torn tissue in her grip. Jax said it was cold and everyone was making candy. Theres a big green bridge and lots of water.
I shook my head impatiently. Not Jax. Jenks.
Matalinas hopeful expression made her look more beautiful than all of Gods angels. Youll talk to him? she quavered.
Taking a slow breath, I glanced at Ivy. Hes sulked enough, I said. Im going to talk to the little twit, and hes going to listen. And then well both go.
Ivy straightened, her arms held tight at her sides as she took two steps back. Her eyes were wide and her face carefully blank.
Rachel Kisten said, the warning in his voice jerking my attention to him.
Matalina rose three inches into the air, her face alight even as the tears continued. Hell be angry if he finds out I came to you for help. D-Dont tell him I asked you.
Ignoring Kisten, I took a resolute breath. Tell me where hes going to be and Ill find him. He isnt going to do this alone. I dont care if he talks to me or not, but Im going with him.