White Witch, Black Curse

  Ivy smiled with her lips closed, her eyes dilating slightly at the pulse of adrenaline I’d probably given off. “Not long,” she said, picking up Rex and giving her a cuddle.

  “You freaking scared the crap out of me,” I complained. And why were you just standing there, watching me?

  “Sorry.” Dropping Rex, she eased into the kitchen, going to the sink and warming up her coffee mug in a steady stream of hot tap water.

  I casually moved back to my chair and sat, trying not to look like I was avoiding her. She didn’t look sorry. She looked…gorgeous, her alabaster white skin having a hint of rose. Casual in her black robe, her motions had an unusual edginess to them. Sharp. Obviously her night at Cormel’s had done more than save her life.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked hesitantly, eyeing the pizza and deciding I couldn’t stomach it. “Cormel brought you home about midnight. You, ah, look great.”

  The gurgle of the coffee as it filled her cup was loud, and she said without turning, “I’m feeling really, really good. Every last itch scratched, every last bubble burst.” Her voice was tight and depressed, and she carefully replaced the carafe. “I hate myself. But tomorrow will be better. I took blood from someone to keep from dying. My only consolation was that it wasn’t you.” Now she turned, and holding her cup high in salute, she added, “Small victories.”

  I didn’t know what to do, seeing her standing at the sink with the island counter between us. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I don’t care what you did. I’m just glad you’re okay.” But I couldn’t bring myself to cross the room and give her a hug. Not yet.

  Her eyes dropped to the mug in her hand. “Thank you. We both know the monster is there. No need to have to look at it, right?”

  She sounded resigned, and I protested, “Ivy, you’re not a monster.”

  Her gaze flicked to mine, and she looked away. “Then why do I feel so damn good right now? After what I did last night?”

  I didn’t know the answer. My thoughts went to the brat pack, comparing black magic to chemo treatments. “All I know is that it saved your life, and I’m glad you’re okay.”

  She took her coffee to her computer. Lips pressed in a tight line, she moved two books off her chair and sat before a blank screen. More needed to be said, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. I listened for the sound of wings, but Jenks was either in the sanctuary with his kids or being especially quiet in his eavesdropping. “Um, Ivy, I have something to ask you.”

  Tossing the hair from her eyes, she shook the mouse and woke up her computer. “Yes?”

  Yes? It sounded innocent enough, but my pulse was racing, and I knew she knew it and was feigning disinterest. Hands around my warm mug, I took a slow breath. “If you could, would you leave everything to become human?”

  Mouse unmoving, she stared at me with empty eyes. “I don’t know.”

  A dry clattering of pixy wings interrupted and Jenks darted in, spilling silver sparkles. “What!” he exclaimed, hovering in midair between us in his Peter Pan pose. “Rachel says she can take away the blood lust, and you say you don’t know? What’s wrong with you!”

  “Jenks!” I exclaimed, not surprised he’d been listening. “I didn’t say I could make her human. I asked if she could, would she do it. And quit eavesdropping on us, okay?”

  Ivy shook her head. “So I’m human, and the blood lust is gone. What does that leave me with? It’s not the blood lust that warped me, it was Piscary. I’d still be mixing savagery with feelings of love. Only now, if I hurt someone in passion, it would hurt. At least the way things are, it would feel good.”

  Jenks’s wings dropped in pitch, and a slip of dust turned green for a moment. “Oh.”

  “Not to mention I’d be frail and lower on the food chain,” she added, a soft blush coloring her skin, attention going to the screen, avoiding us. “Anyone could take advantage of me and probably would, seeing as I’ve got a past. The way things are now, no one dares.”

  Cold, I tugged my robe closed. “You can feel strong without the vampire virus.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said, and my expression froze at her flash of anger. “I like being a vampire. It’s losing my soul that scares me. If I knew I wouldn’t lose it when I die, I might try harder to…conform.” Her eyes met mine, my magic books stacked between us, all brought down this morning from the belfry. “You really think you can make me human?”

  Jenks’s kids came rushing in with a burst of noise and silk, and I shrugged as he corralled them, pushing them out ahead of him as he went to see what had them in a tizzy. “I don’t know,” I said in the abruptly quiet kitchen. “Trent has a treatment. It only has an eleven percent success rate, and it only makes the virus and neurotoxins dormant. If you survived taking it, you’d still become an undead and lose your soul when you died. Rynn Cormel would say it was a failure.” I smiled thinly, thinking it sucked to be a vampire, even one as respected as Ivy. “It might make your life easier. Or it might kill you.” I wasn’t going to risk an 11 percent chance of success. Not with Ivy.

  “Actually,” I said, hesitant to bring it up, “I was thinking along the lines of a curse that can turn you human.”

  “Or witch?” Ivy said, surprising me. There was a soft vulnerability in her and I blinked.

  “You don’t want to be a witch,” I said quickly.

  “Why not? You are.”

  Jenks came back in with one of his kids, her wings tangled up in what was probably spiderweb. “I think you should be a pixy,” he said, fingers sifting dust as they gently ran over Jrixibell’s wing to clean it. “You’d look so cute with your little wings and your sword. I’d let you fight in my garden anytime.”

  A smile quirked her lips, then died. “A witch can’t be turned,” she said shortly.

  “Neither can a Were,” said Jenks, smiling as he boosted his child into the air and the little girl zipped out, hurting my ears with her shout to wait for her.

  Ivy was lost in thought, and I couldn’t help my smile as I thought of David. I think she was, too, when she turned to her computer, blushing. Cormel would freaking kill me if I turned Ivy into anything other than a vampire with an eternal soul. But seeing as I couldn’t be what I wanted, why not use my liability to give Ivy the chance to be what she wanted?

  Feeling like something had been settled even though it hadn’t, I pushed myself up and went to the pantry. Everything that had been in our fridge was outside. “You want pancakes? I feel like cooking.”

  “Sure.” Her fingers were clicking on the keys, but her eyes were on the three bottles of potion against the wall by the disillusion pot of salt water. “You got the book?” she asked.

  I came out of the pantry with the box of mix. “Last night. I’m going out to try it tonight at Fountain Square. You want to come?”

  “Will there be news vans and screaming?”

  “Probably,” I said sourly.

  “Count me in,” she said, and Jenks snorted from the sill where he was feeding his sea monkeys. The tiny tank of brine had taken the place of honor at the window ever since I’d moved Mr. Fish to the ever-after as my canary, to know if the ever-after was poisoning me.

  Leaning against the counter, I read the back of the box. If we had eggs, they were frozen. “Actually, I’m going to rent a van and park it in the garage. Could you help keep people away?”

  “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’!” Jenks said, gyrating beside me.

  “God, Jenks,” I said. “We do have kids in the church.”

  “How do you think they got here, baby?” he said, laughing.

  I set the box down hard, and the mix puffed up into him. “Hey!” he shouted, dusting heavily as he shivered his wings and the mix made a cloud.

  Ivy was smiling with closed lips. This was nice. We’d come a long way in a year—all of us. “After you whip that demon’s ass, I’ll take you and Pierce out for pizza,” she offered.

  “Deal.” Bending, I got the frying pan out
from under the counter and put it on the stove. My thoughts went to what spells I could make today to help ensure that Al wouldn’t get so pissed he took his mistake out on me. They’d be earth charms, so I wouldn’t have to tap a line, but that was where I excelled. Sleepy-time charms for sure.

  Ivy stood in a fast motion, and Jenks and I jumped. Either she wasn’t hiding her vampire speed, or she was having trouble controlling it. Seeing Jenks’s and my alarm, her face scrunched in amusement. “Glenn’s car is at the end of the street,” she said, and Jenks rose higher, his expression one of disbelief. “I’m getting dressed.” Coffee in hand, she walked out.

  “Tink’s little red thong,” Jenks blurted, following her. “You can hear that from here?”

  “Today I can,” she said, her words fading as she went into her room.

  I tightened the tie on my robe. Would I give up being that special in order to love someone, or would I just find someone new to love?

  The creaking of the front door and the ensuing pixy uproar told me Jenks had let the FIB detective in, and I was smiling when the tall man entered, a paper grocery bag in his grip. Pixies wreathed him, noisy as they darted in and out of the bag while he set it on the counter. His eyes went to the empty space where the fridge had been, a question in his expression. “Where’s your fridge?”

  “I blew it up,” I said, taking in his fading bruises and bare scalp, newly shaved to even out the mess the hospital had left. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him in jeans before, and a dark sweater showed from underneath a leather coat. “You look better,” I said as he eyed my robe.

  “Uh, it’s three in the afternoon,” he said, suddenly unsure.

  “It sure is.” I gave him a hug, truly glad to see him. “How are those locator amulets I gave your dad working? You want some coffee? Pancakes? I owe you for helping me get out of the hospital. Thanks for that.” I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d thought he was going to die or be hospitalized for months, and now he was standing in my kitchen with a bag of groceries and only the faintest hint of stress showing in his face.

  Glenn’s gaze slid to the coffeepot, then back to the empty spot. “Uh, amulets are working, I guess, you’re welcome for the help breaking out, and no thanks on the coffee. I can’t stay. The department heard what happened last night with you and Ivy, and the guys wanted me to bring you both something. You’re not invincible, you know. There’s no big S on your chest.” He hesitated, brow furrowing as he leaned close enough that I could smell his aftershave. “How’s Ivy? I heard she was hit hard.”

  “She bounced right back,” I said dryly, peeking into the bag with the pixies to find…Tomatoes? He bought tomatoes with the FIB’s gift fund? “Ah, she’s getting dressed,” I added, surprised. Where did Glenn get tomatoes?

  “Damn, vampires heal fast,” he said, his dark eyes interested as he leaned to see into the bag while I poked around. “It took me five days. No wonder Denon wants to be one.”

  “Yeah, well, we all make mistakes.” Three of Jenks’s kids rose up with a cherry tomato, arguing over who got the seeds. “Glenn, did you get all this by yourself?”

  He grinned, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “Yeah. Too much?”

  “Not if you’re going to have a family reunion,” I said, smiling so he’d know I was messing with him. “Damn, Mr. Man! I’m proud of you! You actually went in a store and everything?”

  He came close to the bag, leaning to look in, his eagerness charming on a big black man. “You should have seen the looks I got,” he said as he reached in and the bag crackled. “Did you know there is more than one kind of tomato? This one is a beefsteak.” A huge tomato the size of my two fists hit the counter. “It’s good for slicing up on sandwiches. And the lady at the store said you can quarter them and grill them.”

  “No kidding,” I said, hiding a grin as his dark fingers pulled out a bag of plum tomatoes.

  “These long ones are Romas,” he said as he set them down. “You cut these up and put them in salads, on pizza, and in sauces. And the little ones here are cherry tomatoes. You can put them in salads or eat them like candy.”

  I had never eaten a tomato “like candy,” but I ate one now, the acidic fruit not mixing at all well with the coffee. “Mmmm, good,” I said, and Jenks laughed, hovering at the lintel with the tomato his kids had swiped. Behind him, one of his daughters waited, wringing her hands.

  “I’ve got three that were vine ripened,” Glenn said, showing me the top of his bruised and cut head as he looked for them. “Those babies were expensive, but they’re really red.”

  “Don’t you want some of these for yourself?” I asked, and he looked up, grinning. The smile went all the way to his eyes, and it felt good to see it on him.

  “I’ve got another bag in the car. You’re going to have to find someone else to blackmail into giving you law enforcement tools.”

  “So you don’t mind if I tell your dad, then?” I teased, and his smile vanished.

  Jenks came in, easily handling the weight of the cherry tomato. “Here, Glenn. My kids are sorry. They won’t do it again.”

  I caught the fruit as he dropped it. “They can keep it,” I said, and five pixy bucks and Jenks’s daughter swooped in, arguing in high-pitched voices as they snatched it from my palm.

  “Hey!” Jenks shouted, following them out.

  “Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?” I said as I heard Ivy’s door creak open. “I think the rani of recycling has a foam cup around here. You can take it with you.”

  Glenn took his fingers out of the bag of tomatoes, his hands going behind him in sort of a parade rest, his back to the door. “No, I have to go. But I want your opinion on last night.”

  He was starting to look like a cop. Frowning, I thought about Ivy and my frantic drive to the bridge. “It sucked. Why?”

  “Not your personal night,” Glenn said dryly. “Don’t you ever look at a paper?”

  Interested, I pushed off from the counter and found this morning’s paper still in its little plastic bag on the table. Under it was the picture of Jenks and me standing before the Mackinaw Bridge, rescued from yesterday’s burning fridge. Carefully moving the photo, I opened up the paper. “Where am I looking?” I asked, standing hunched over it.

  “The front page,” he said wryly.

  Oh goodie. Wincing, I read, THREE IN HOSPITAL. EARLY MORNING BLACK MAGIC TO BLAME. There was a picture of ambulances in the dark, the scene lit by a car on fire. People were milling around in front of a business. From my shoulder, Jenks whistled, back from his kids.

  “Uh, I was home all night,” I said, thinking I was going to get blamed for this somehow. Whatever it was. “I talked to your dad about midnight. He can vouch for me.” I leaned forward, recognizing the roof’s outline. Aston’s roller rink? “You’re not working this, are you?” I asked, worried now. “Glenn, you might feel better, but your aura is still thin.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” he said, his attention moving from the paper to the open box of cold pizza. “Hey, uh, can I have a slice of that? I’m starving.”

  “Sure.” I squinted at the black-and-white shot as Glenn crossed the kitchen and wrangled a slice from the pizza. “Jenks, did you know about this?”

  Jenks shook his head and landed on the paper, hands on his hips and his attention directed downward as he read.

  “From what we’ve gotten from the I.S.,” Glenn said around a bite of pizza, “it seems Ms. Walker ran into Ms. Harbor. Three people in intensive care with damaged auras.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said, glad I wasn’t being blamed for it. “Do you need me to come down and look at the crime scene?” I asked, brightening. “It’s Aston’s roller rink, isn’t it?”

  Glenn laughed, turning it into a choke, and I kept my eyes on him—not on Ivy, suddenly standing in the doorway. She was dressed in jeans and a black sweater, looking nice, her hair brushed and wearing a little bit of makeup. “No, but thanks,” he said, oblivious to Ivy.

  Aff
ronted, I sat in my chair and said, “You didn’t have to laugh.”

  Jenks was in the air with the paper, struggling to turn it over and get to the rest of the article. “Yes, he did. You need to take a class on crime scene etiquette, Rache.”

  Ivy ghosted up behind Glenn as he started to take another bite, her feet soundless. “Thanks for the tomatoes, Glenn,” she whispered in his ear, and the man jumped.

  “Sweet mother of Jesus!” he exclaimed, spinning, his hand smacking his hip where his pistol would have been. The slice of pizza went airborne, and he scrambled to catch it. “Damn, woman,” he complained as it hit the floor. “Where did you come from?”

  Ivy smiled with her lips closed, but I was laughing. “My mother always said I came from heaven,” she said, then delicately stepped over the pizza to reach the coffeemaker. Motions sultry, she refilled her cup and turned, standing in front of the cupboard door to the trash.

  Glenn was holding the slice of pizza cradled in his big hand like it was a favorite pet—dead but still beloved. Ivy slid sideways and opened the cupboard door, and the man sighed as he threw it away. Amused, I extended the pizza box, and he brightened, taking another slice.

  “So what’s up?” Ivy asked as she sipped her coffee, eyeing him over the rim as if she wanted to eat him up like pie.

  “Yeah, why are you here, Glenn, if you don’t want me to check out that crime scene?” I asked, putting my feet up on the adjacent chair and adjusting my robe to cover my legs.

  “Can’t a guy bring over a get-well tomato without getting the third degree?” he said with a false innocence.

  “Six freaking pounds of get-well tomatoes,” Jenks muttered, and Ivy set her cup down, turning to the sink to fill a small pan to wash the red fruit. She wanted to stay and needed something to do.

  “It better not be about working tonight,” I said, looking askance at the paper. “I already told your dad I was not working his lame-ass party.”

  “No way!” Jenks darted from the paper to hover an inch before Glenn’s nose. “There is no way I’m letting Rachel work with her aura that crappy. You want her facedown again? She may look all tough and shit, but her aura peels off like a banana skin.”