Читать книгу For A Few Demons More - Kim Harrison, Ким Харрисон - Страница 12
ОглавлениеThe afternoon sun was warm on my shoulders, bare but for the straps of my chemise. Last night’s rain had left the ground soft, and the moist heat hovering an inch or so over the disturbed earth was comforting. I was taking advantage of it by tending my yew plant, having an idea that I might make up some forget potions in case Newt showed again. All I needed now was the fermented lilac pressings. It wasn’t illegal to make forget charms, just use them, and who would fault me for using one on a demon?
The soft plunk of a cut tip dropping into one of my smaller spell pots was loud, and with my face turned to the earth, I knelt before the tombstone it was growing out of and sent my fingers lightly among the branches, harvesting the ones growing inward to the center of the plant.
Ceri’s reaction to my aura’s pooling out last night had left me very uneasy, but the sun felt good, and I took strength from that. I might have made a strong connection to the ever-after, but nothing had changed. And Ceri was right. I needed a way for Minias to contact me without having to show up. This was safer. Easier.
A grimace crossed my face, and I turned my attention from pruning to pulling weeds to widen the circle of cleared earth. Easy like a wish. And wishes always came back to bite you.
Glancing at the angle of the sun, I decided I ought to call it good and get cleaned up before Kisten came over to take me to my driver’s-ed class. I stood, slapping the dirt from my jeans and gathering my tools. My gaze expanded from the singular vision of the pollution-stained grave marker to the wider expanse of my walled graveyard, the domestic Hollows beyond that, and, even farther, the tallest buildings of Cincinnati across the river. I loved it here, a spot of stillness surrounded by life, humming like a thousand bees.
I headed for the church, smiling and touching the stones as I passed, recognizing them like old friends and wondering what the people they guarded had been like. There was a small flurry of pixies by the back door to the church, and I picked my way to it, curious as to what was up. My faint smile widened when the snap of dragonfly wings turned into Jenks. The pixy circled me, looking good in his casual gardening clothes.
“Hey, Rachel, are you done over there?” he said by way of greeting. “My kids are dying to check out your gardening.”
Skirting the circle of blasphemed ground encompassing the grave marker of a weeping angel, I squinted at him. “Sure. Just tell them to watch the oozing tips. That stuff is toxic.”
He nodded, his wings a gossamer blur as he went to my other side so I wasn’t looking into the sun. “They know.” He hesitated, then with a quickness that said he was embarrassed, blurted, “Are you going to need me today?”
I looked up from my uneven footing, then back down. “No. What’s up?”
A smile full of parental pride came over him, and a faint sparkle of gold fell as he let some dust slip. “It’s Jih,” he said in satisfaction.
My pace faltered. Jih was his eldest daughter, now living across the street with Ceri to build up a garden to support her and a future family. Seeing my worry, Jenks laughed. “She’s fine! But she’s got three pixy bucks circling her and her garden and wants me to build something with them so she can see how they work, then make her decision from that.”
“Three!” I adjusted my grip on my spell pot. “Good Lord. Matalina must be tickled.”
Jenks dropped to my shoulder. “I suppose,” he grumbled. “Jih is beside herself. She likes them all. I just stole Matalina and didn’t bother with the traditional, season-long supervised courtship. Jih wants to make a dragonfly hut. Poor guy who wins is going to need it.”
I wanted to look at him, but he was too close. “You stole Matalina?”
“Yup. If we had jumped through all the hoops, we never would have gotten the front entryway gardens or the flower boxes.”
My eyes went to my feet, and I picked my path so I wouldn’t jar him. He had dropped tradition to gain a six-by-eight swath of garden and some flower boxes. Now he had a walled garden of four city lots. Jenks was doing well. Well enough that his children could take time from their life for the rituals that marked it. “It’s nice that Jih has you to help her,” I said.
“I suppose,” he muttered, but I could tell he was eager for the chance to guide his daughter in making a good decision in whom to spend her life with. Maybe that’s why I keep making such stellar decisions in my own love life, I thought, smirking at the idea of Jenks coming out on a first date with me and grilling the poor guy. Then I blinked. He had warned Kisten to behave himself when I went out with him that first time. Damn, had Kisten gotten Jenks’s stamp of approval?
The gust from Jenks’s wings cooled the sweat on my neck. “Hey, I gotta go. She’s waiting. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Sure,” I said, and he rose up. “Tell her I said congrats!”
He gave me a salute and darted off. I watched him for a moment, then continued to the back door, imaging the grief he was going to put the three young pixy bucks through. The heavenly scent of baking muffins was slipping out the kitchen window, and, breathing deeply, I climbed up the few stairs. I checked the bottoms of my sneakers, stomped my feet, and entered the torn-apart living room. Three Guys and a Toolbox had yet to show up, and the smell of splintered wood mixed with the scent of baking. My stomach rumbled, so I headed into the kitchen. It was empty but for the muffins cooling on the stove, and after dropping my cuttings by the sink, I washed my hands and eyed the cooling bread. Apparently Ivy was up and in the mood to bake. Unusual, but I was going to take advantage of it.
Juggling a muffin and the fish food, I fed myself and Mr. Fish both, then pulled a dark green T-shirt on over my chemise and collapsed into my chair, happy with the world. I startled at the sudden skittering of claws, and an orange ball of feline terror streaked into the kitchen and under my chair. Pixies spilled in, a swirling storm of high-pitched screeching and whistles that made my skull hurt.
“Out!” I shouted, standing. “Get out! The church is her safe place, so get out!”
Pixy dust thickened to make my eyes water, but after the loud complaints and muttered disappointment, the Disney nightmare subsided as quickly as it had come. Smirking, I peered under my char. Rex was huddled, her eyes black and her tail fluffed, the picture of fear incarnate. Jenks must already be at Jih’s, since his kids knew he’d bend their wings backward till they slipped dust if he caught them teasing his cat.
“What’s the matter, sweet pea?” I crooned, knowing better than to try to pet her. “Did those nasty pixies bother you?”
Eyes averted, she hunched down, content to stay where she was. Snorting, I carefully settled back, feeling like the great protector. Rex never sought me out for attention, but when danger threatened, I was where she ended up. Ivy said it was a cat thing. Whatever.
I reached for my nail polish, taking careful bites of breakfast between touch-up swipes. A soft scuffing in the hallway brought my attention up as Ivy came in, and I smiled. She was dressed in her exercise tights and had a light sheen of sweat on her. “What was all that about?” she asked, going to the stove and wedging a muffin out of the tin.
Mouth full, I pointed under my chair.
“Oh, poor kitty,” she said, sitting in her spot and dropping her hand to the floor.
Disgust puckered my brow when the stupid cat padded to her, head up and tail smoothed. My annoyance deepened when Rex jumped into her lap, settling down to stare at me. The cat suddenly turned to the hallway, and a sharp rapping of heels grew loud. Eyes wide, I looked at Ivy, but my question was answered when Skimmer breezed in, brushed, tidied, and looking as perfect as an uncut wedding cake in her stark white shirt and black slacks.
When did she get here? I thought, then flushed. She never left last night. I glanced at Ivy, deciding I was right when my roommate dumped Rex out of her lap and found great interest in her e-mails, opening them up and throwing out the spam—avoiding me. Hell, I didn’t care what they did together. But apparently Ivy did.
“Hi, Rachel,” the slight vampire said. Then, before I could answer, she bent to give Ivy a kiss. Ivy stiffened in surprise, and I blinked when Ivy pulled away before it could turn passionate—which was clearly where Skimmer had intended it to go. Recovering smoothly, Skimmer headed for the muffins. “I’ll be done with work about ten tonight,” she said, putting one on a plate and sitting carefully between us. “Do you want to meet for an early dinner?”
Ivy’s face was creased in annoyance at the attempted kiss. Skimmer was doing it to bother me, maybe scare me off, and Ivy knew it. “No,” she said, not looking from her monitor. “I’ve got something planned.”
Like what? I thought, deciding that Skimmer’s and my relationship was probably going to nosedive like a brick with wings. This was really, really not anything I was prepared for.
Skimmer carefully broke her muffin in two, then got to her feet to find a knife and the butter. Leaving them by her plate, she moseyed to the coffeemaker, her steps carrying the presence and power of the courtroom. Damn. I’m in trouble.
“Coffee, Ivy?” she asked, the sun blinding on her shirt, crisp and pressed for the office.
“Sure. Thanks.”
Feeling the tension, Rex slunk out. Wish I could.
“Here you go, sweets,” the vamp said, bringing Ivy a cup. It wasn’t the oversize mug with our Vampiric Charms logo on it that Ivy liked, but maybe she used them because I did.
Ivy jerked back when Skimmer tried to steal another kiss. Instead of being upset, the woman confidently sat down again to meticulously butter her muffin. She was pulling both Ivy’s and my strings, fully in charge though Ivy was the more dominant of the two.
I wasn’t going to leave because she was trying to make me uncomfortable. Feeling my blood pressure rise, I settled myself firmly in my chair. It was my kitchen, damn it.
“You’re up early,” the blond, blue-eyed vamp said to me as if it meant something.
I fought to keep my eyes from narrowing. “Did you make these?” I asked, raising what was left of my muffin.
Skimmer smiled to show her sharp canine teeth. “Yes, I did.”
“They’re good.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you,” I shot back, and Ivy’s hand on her mouse paused.
Skimmer ate her muffin, watching me with unblinking eyes and slowly widening pupils. My scar started tingling, and I stood. “I’m going to shower,” I said, irate that she was giving me the creeps, but I did need to get cleaned up.
“I’ll alert the media,” Skimmer said, licking the butter suggestively from her finger.
I went to tell her to shove it up her ass and lay an egg with it, but the front doorbell rang, and my manners stayed intact. “That’s Kisten,” I said, then grabbed my shoulder bag. I was clean enough, and the last thing I wanted was three vampires in my kitchen and me naked in the shower. “I’m outta here.”
Ivy broke from her computer, clearly surprised. “Where are you going?”
I glanced at Skimmer, feeling a blush rise. “Driver’s ed. Kisten’s taking me.”
“Oh, how sweet!” Skimmer said, and I gritted my teeth. Refusing to respond, I headed for the hallway and the door, dirty knees or not. A sharp snap jerked me to a stop, and I turned, catching a blur of motion. Skimmer was red, clearly shocked and chagrined, but Ivy was smug. Something had happened, and Ivy arched an eyebrow at me in a dry amusement.
The front doorbell clanked again, but I wasn’t a good enough person to walk out of here now without saying something. “You going to be around tonight for dinner, Ivy?” I asked, cocking my hip. Maybe it was mean, but I was mean.
Ivy took a bite of her muffin, crossing her legs and leaning forward. “I’ll be in and out,” she said, wiping the corner of her mouth with a pinkie. “But I’ll be here about midnight.”
“Okay,” I said lightly. “I’ll see you later.” I beamed at Skimmer, now sitting primly but obviously torn between seething and sulking. “’Bye, Skimmer. Thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome.”
Translation: Choke on it, bitch.
The doorbell rang a third time, and I hustled down the hallway, my good mood restored. “Coming!” I shouted, fussing with my hair. I looked okay. It was only a bunch of teenagers.
I plucked Jenks’s aviator jacket from the post in the foyer and shrugged into it just for looks. The coat was a remnant from his stint at being people-size. I’d gotten his jacket, Ivy had gotten his silk robe, and we’d thrown out his two dozen toothbrushes. Shoving the door open, I found Kisten waiting, his Corvette at the curb. He didn’t work much until after sunset, and his usual trendy suit had been replaced with jeans and a black T-shirt, tucked in to show off his waist. Smiling with his mouth closed to hide his sharp canines, he rocked from heel to toe in his boots with his fingers jammed in his front pockets, tossing his dyed-blond hair out of his blue eyes with a practiced motion that said he was most assuredly “all that.” What made it work was that he was.
“You look good,” I said, my free hand slipping between his trim waist and his arm, using him for balance as I leaned up and in for an early-afternoon kiss hello right there at the threshold.
Eyes closing, I breathed deeply as his lips met mine, intentionally bringing in the scent of leather and the incense that clung to vampires as if it were a second skin. He was like a drug, throwing off pheromones to relax and soothe potential blood sources. We weren’t sharing blood, but who was I to not take advantage of a thousand years of evolution?
“You look dirty,” he said when our lips parted. I fell back to my heels, my smile growing to meet his when he added, “I like dirty. You’ve been in the garden.” Eyebrows rising, he tugged me back into him, angling us into the darker foyer. “Am I early?” he said, the richness of his voice under my ear sending a shiver through me.
“Yes, thank God,” I replied, enjoying the mild rush. I liked kissing vampires in the dark. The only thing better was being in an elevator descending to certain death.
I was blocking his way into the sanctuary, and when he realized I wasn’t going to invite him in, his grip on my upper arms hesitated. “Your class isn’t until one-thirty. You have time to take a shower,” he said, clearly wanting to know why I was rushing out the door.
Maybe if you help me, I thought wickedly, unable to stop my grin. He caught my look, and as a spark of titillation zinged through me, his nostrils widened to take in my mood. He couldn’t hear my thought, but he could read my pulse, my temperature, and considering the randy look I knew I had, it wasn’t hard to figure out what was on my mind.
His fingers tightened, and from the hallway came Ivy’s voice, “Hi, Kist.”
Not dropping his gaze, Kisten answered, “Morning, love,” not bothering to take out the heat rebounding between us.
She snorted, the soft sound of her bathroom door closing a clear indication that she was all right with the relationship Kisten and I had, despite their old boyfriend/girlfriend status. If he touched my blood, things would get nasty, which was why Kisten wore caps on his teeth when we slept together. But if I was going to be sharing my body with someone other than Ivy, she’d rather it be with Kisten. And that’s … where we were.
Ivy and Kisten’s relationship was more platonic these days, with a little blood thrown in to keep things close. Our situation had become a balancing act since she had tasted my blood and swore never to touch it again, but she didn’t want Kisten touching it either, unable to give up the hope we could find a way to make it work, even as she denied it was possible. Defying his usual submissive role, Kisten had told Ivy he’d risk it if I succumbed to temptation and let him break my skin. But until then we could all pretend that everything was normal. Or whatever passed for normal these days.
“Let’s just go?” I said, my ardor cooling at the reminder that this screwed-up situation would hold steady as long as the status quo didn’t change.
Chuckling, he let me push him to the door, but Skimmer’s obvious throat clearing turned him from pliable vampire to immovable rock, and I slumped in defeat when her sultry voice echoed in the sanctuary. “Good morning, Kisten.”
Kisten’s smile widened as his gaze flicked between the two of us, clearly sensing my exasperation. “Can we go?” I whispered.
Eyebrows high, he turned me to the door. “Hi, Dorothy. You look nice today.”
“Don’t call me that, you S.O.B.,” she said, her voice scathing across my back as I slipped out before Kisten. Apparently Skimmer felt about Kisten the same way she did about me. I wasn’t surprised. We were both threats to her subordinate claim on Ivy. Neither of us was a true obstacle—me stymied by Ivy, and Kist because of their past—but try telling her that. Multiple blood and bed partners were the norm for vampires, but so was jealousy.
I took a deep breath as the door shut behind us, squinting in the sun and feeling my shoulders ease. It lasted all of three seconds until Kisten asked, “Skimmer sleep over?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumbled.
“That bad, eh?” he added, taking the steps lightly beside me.
I glanced longingly at my convertible, then back to his Corvette. “She’s not being nice anymore,” I complained, and Kisten picked up his pace to gallantly open the door before I could reach for the handle. Giving him a smile of thanks, I slipped in, settling myself in the familiar confines of his leather-scented, incense-rich car. God, it smelled good in here, and I closed my eyes and leaned back while Kisten went around to his side. I kept them shut even as he buckled himself in and started his car, willing myself to relax.
“Talk to me,” he said when he started into motion and I was still silent.
A hundred thoughts sifted through me, but what came out was, “Skimmer …” I hesitated. “She found out that Ivy’s the one not allowing a blood balance between us, not me.”
His soft sigh drew my attention. The sun glinted on his stubble, and I stifled an urge to touch it. I watched his gaze flick behind us to the church through the rearview mirror. Depressed, I rolled my window down and let the morning breeze shift my hair.
“And?” he prompted as he gunned it, pulling out ahead of a blue Buick trailing smoke.
Holding my hair away from my eyes, I frowned. “She’s gotten nasty. Trying to drive me away. I told her Ivy’s just scared and that I’m waiting until she isn’t, so Skimmer’s gone from ‘I want to be your friend because Ivy’s your friend’ to ‘suck my toes and die.’”
Kisten’s grip on the wheel tightened, and he hit the brakes a little too hard at the stoplight. Realizing what I’d said, I flushed. I knew he’d rather have me lusting after a bite from him. But if I let him bite me, Ivy would snap. “I’m sorry, Kisten,” I whispered.
He was silent, staring at the red light.
Reaching out, I touched his hand. “I love you,” I whispered. “But letting you bite me would tear everything apart. Ivy couldn’t take it.” Jenks would say that my saying no to Kisten had more to do with the threat of his biting me being a bigger turn-on than the actual bite might be. Whatever. But if Kisten found a closer relationship with me when Ivy couldn’t, it would hurt her, and he loved her, too, with the fanatical loyalty shared abuse often engenders; Piscary had warped them both.
From my bag came the trill of my phone, but I let it ring. This was more important. The light changed, and Kisten pulled into traffic, his grip more relaxed. Ivy had always been the dominant one in their relationship, but he was willing to fight for me if I was ever tempted enough to give him my blood. Trouble was, saying no had never been my strong suit. I courted disaster every time I slept with him, but it made for great sex. And I never said I was smart. Actually, it was pretty stupid. But we’d been over that before.
Depressed, I let my arm hang out the window and watched the Hollows turn from homes to businesses. The sun glinted dully on my bracelet and its distinctive pattern of links. Ivy had an anklet in the same pattern. I’d seen a few others around Cincy here and there, earning shrugs and smiles when I tried to hide mine. I knew they were probably Kisten’s way to show the world his conquests, but I wore it nevertheless. So did Ivy.
“Skimmer won’t hurt you,” Kisten said softly, and I turned to him.
“Not physically,” I agreed, relieved he was handling this as well as he was. “But you can be sure she’s going to put extra love in her petition to get Piscary out.”
He sobered at that, and quiet filled the car at the thought of what might happen if she succeeded. We’d both be up shit creek. Kisten had been Piscary’s scion, betraying the master vampire the night I’d beaten Piscary into submission. Piscary was ignoring that right now, but if he got out, I was sure he’d have a thing or two to say to his ex-scion, even if Kisten had been the one keeping Piscary’s business ventures intact, since Ivy wouldn’t, her scion status aside.
My phone rang again. Digging it out, I looked to see that it was an unfamiliar number before I set it to vibrate. I was with Kisten, and taking the call would be rude. “You aren’t mad?” I offered hesitantly, watching the emotion on his face shift from worry about his physical being to that of worry for his emotional state.
“Mad that you’re attracted to Ivy?” he said, the sun flashing over him as we crossed the bridge. My face warmed, and he pulled his hand from mine to manage the thicker traffic. “No,” he said, his eyes slightly dilating. “I love you, but Ivy … Since leaving the I.S. and you moving in with her, she’s never been happier, more stable. Besides,” he said, settling himself suggestively, “if this keeps up, I might have a chance at one hell of a threesome.”
My mouth dropped open, and I swatted him. “No way!”
“Hey,” he said, laughing, though his eyes were firmly on the traffic. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
I crossed my arms before me and looked straight out the window. “Not going to happen, Kisten.” But when I met his eyes, I could tell he had only been teasing me. I think.
“Don’t make plans this Friday,” he said as we stopped at yet another light.
I stifled a huge smile, but inside I was singing. He remembered! “Why?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
He smiled, and I lost my battle to remain unmoved. “I’m taking you out for your birthday,” he said. “I’ve got reservations for the Carew Tower restaurant.”
“Get out!” I exclaimed, my eyes darting to the top of the building in question. “I’ve never been up there to eat.” I squirmed, gaze going distant as I started to plan. “I don’t know what to wear.”
“Something that comes off easy?” he suggested.
A horn blew behind us, and, not looking, Kisten accelerated.
“All I’ve got is stuff with lots of snaps and buckles,” I teased.
He went to say something, but his phone rang. I frowned when he reached to take it. I never took calls when we were together. Not that I got that many to begin with. But I wasn’t trying to run Cincy’s underworld for my boss either.
“Snaps and buckles?” he said as he flipped open the top. “That might work, too.” Smile fading, he said into his phone, “This is Felps.”
I settled back, feeling good just thinking about it.
“Hey, Ivy. What’s up?” Kisten said, and I straightened. Then, remembering my phone, I pulled it out and looked. Crap, I’d missed four calls. But I didn’t recognize the number.
“Right beside me,” Kisten said, glancing at me, and a flicker of concern rose. “Sure,” he added, then handed the phone to me.
Oh, God, now what? Feeling like I’d heard a shoe fall, I said, “Is it Jenks?”
“No,” Ivy’s irate voice said, and I relaxed. “It’s your Were.”
“David?” I stammered, and Kisten pulled into the driving school’s parking lot.
“He’s been trying to reach you,” Ivy said, her tone both bothered and concerned. “He says—are you ready for this?—he says he’s killing women and he doesn’t remember. Look, will you call him? He’s called here twice in the last three minutes.”
I wanted to laugh but couldn’t. The Were murder the I.S. was covering up. The demon tearing my living room apart for the focus. Shit.
“Okay,” I said softly. “Thanks.’ Bye.”
“Rachel?”
Her voice had changed. I was upset, and she knew it. I took a breath, trying to find a glimmer of calm. “Yes?”
I could tell by her hesitation that she wasn’t fooled, but she knew that whatever it was, I wasn’t running scared. Yet. “Watch yourself,” she said tightly. “Call me if you need me.”
My tension eased. It was good to have friends. “Thanks. I will.”
I hung up, glanced at Kisten’s expressive eyes waiting for an explanation, then jumped when my phone, sitting in my lap, vibrated. Taking a breath, I picked it up and looked at the number. It was David’s. I recognized it now.
“You going to take that?” Kisten asked, his hands on the wheel though we were parked.
In the next spot over, I watched a girl slam the door to her mother’s minivan. Ponytail bobbing and mouth going nonstop, she chatted as she headed to class with a friend. They disappeared past the glass doors, and the woman behind the wheel wiped at her eye and watched through her rearview mirror. Kisten leaned forward to get into my line of sight. The phone vibrated again, and a sour smile lifted the corners of my mouth as I flipped the phone open.
Somehow I didn’t think I was going to make my class.
