For a Few Demons More - Page 10/20

Chapter Twenty

Standing at the church's door in the early-afternoon sun, I shifted the shiny paper sack of three-dollar pastries and wedged the foam container of brewed gourmet coffee into the crook of my elbow. One hand free, I managed the latch and pushed on the heavy door. The strap to my shoulder bag slipped to my elbow to throw me off balance, but my held breath eased out when it opened. Thank God it wasn't bolted. Ivy would hear me for sure if I had to come in the back.

Listening, I pushed the door wider. My stomach was upset. I'd like to say it was from lack of sleep, but I knew it was from how the next hour was going to play out. Kisten hadn't broken my skin, but Ivy was going to be pissed, especially after being so clear yesterday. One way or another, my life was going to change - in the next sixty minutes.

Letting Kisten face the fallout wasn't going to happen either. Ivy was my roommate; it had been my decision. And after I had quelled my minor panic attack in Kisten's bathroom this morning, I'd convinced him to let me tell her. She wanted a relationship with me, and if I came in unrepentant and matter-of-fact, she'd hide her feelings until she could deal with them. If he came to her meek and guilty, she'd get mad and do who knew what. Besides, Ivy had shown me what she could offer, then walked out the door. What did she expect me to do? Be celibate with Kisten while I figured it all out? Kisten had been my boyfriend first.

But she was my friend, and her feelings mattered.

The sack of Godiva chocolate and the thimble-size jar of dogwood-blossom honey that had set me back ten bucks swung from a pinkie as I eased the door shut and, in the darkness of the foyer, kicked off my shoes. So I wasn't above bribery. So sue me.

A thick silence gave me pause. It was eerie, and I padded in my sock feet through the sanctuary. Ivy had moved her stereo out, though the furniture was still clustered in the corner. I wondered if she was waiting for me to finish the living room together. The church felt different, the blasphemy seeming to grate heavily on my aura.

Head down, I hustled past her closed bedroom door, not wanting the scent of coffee to wake her until I was ready. I wasn't a fool to believe that coffee, pastries, chocolate, and honey would be enough to soothe Ivy's hurt emotions and Jenks's worry, but it might buy me time to explain before the shit hit the fan. Kisten wanted me to tell her I'd bitten him to understand her hunger better, but it would be a lie. I'd bitten him because I had known he'd enjoy it. That it had felt good to me had been an unexpected surprise - which I was embarrassed about now.

Safe in the kitchen, I set the pastries by the sink, wincing at the nine-by-thirteen pan of unfrosted chocolate cake and tub of white frosting. She made me a cake while I was sleeping with Kisten? Great.

"The nice plate," I said, quashing my guilt and rummaging for the plate Ivy had bought at a garage sale this spring after I'd said I liked the violets on the open-weave rim. Not finding it, I slid the top everyday black plate out, glancing at the empty hallway when the ceramic clinked. The sack crackled as I took out and arranged the pastries. The coffee was next, and my frown deepened when Ivy's Vampiric Charms mug wasn't in the cupboard. It wasn't like her to put it in the dishwasher, but the door creaked, so I poured the brew into a set of smaller cups.

"Now for Jenks," I muttered, getting a matching dessert plate and setting the single square of fudge on it, strategically placing the honey beside it. This was going to work. I'd talk to them both together, and it was going to be all right. It wasn't as if I had let him bite me.

Ready, I spun to the table. My face went cold. Ivy's computer was gone.

My thoughts flew to the sanctuary and her missing stereo. "Please, let us have been robbed," I whispered. Scared out of my mind, I hustled into the hallway. Had she found out and left? Damn it! I wanted to be the one to tell her!

Pulse pounding, I stopped before Ivy's door. I felt hot, then cold. Hesitating, I tapped the thick wood. "Ivy?" No answer. I took a deep breath, knocked again, and turned the handle. "Ivy? Are you awake?"

Heart in my throat, I looked in. Her bed was made and her room looked normal. But then I saw that her book was gone from her night-stand and the closet was empty.

"Oh... crap," I breathed. My eyes darted to the wall with her informal collage of pictures. They were all there from what I could tell, but then I wondered. The picture of Jenks and me standing before the Mackinac Bridge. Had there been an empty spot on the fridge?

Feeling unreal, I paced to the kitchen, my stomach caving as I entered. It was gone.

"Ah... shit," I swore, and a tiny harrumph pulled my attention to the sink.

"Shit?" Jenks said, standing on the windowsill between his sea monkeys and Mr. Fish. "Shit!" he shrilled, coming to hover before me. His face was tight in anger, and black pixy dust spilled from him. "Is that all you have to say? What did you do, Rachel?"

Mouth open, I took a stumbling step back. "Jenks..."

"She's gone!" he said, hands clenching. "Packed up and left. What did you do!"

"Jenks, I was - "

"She leaves, and you come home with bribes. Where were you?"

"I was with Kisten!" I shouted, then fell back two steps when he flew at me.

"I can smell him in you, Rachel!" the pixy shouted. "He bit you! You let him bite you when you knew Ivy couldn't! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"Jenks. It's not like that - "

"You stupid witch! If it's not one of you, it's the other. You women are all damned fools. She makes a pass at you, and you screw everything up by letting Kisten bite you so you can feel secure in your own sexual drives?" He darted at me, and I put the center island counter between us, but seeing as he could fly over it, that was kind of useless. "And then you try to buy me off with fudge and honey? You can stick my dragonfly's turds on a stick and roast them, because I can't take you two women screwing my life up anymore!"

"Hey!" I shouted, hands on my hips and leaning to put my nose inches from him. "He didn't bite me! She never said I couldn't bite him. She only said he couldn't bite me!"

Jenks pointed a finger at me. He took a breath, then hesitated. "He didn't bite you?"

"No!" I shouted, burning off some adrenaline. "You think I'm stupid?" He raised a hand, and I added, "Don't answer that."

He landed on the counter, arms crossed over his chest and his wings a blur of agitation. "That doesn't make it right," he said, sounding sullen. "You knew it would bother her."

Pissed, I slammed my hand on the counter to make him jump into the air. "I can't live my life by what bothers Ivy! Kist is my boyfriend! Ivy making a pass at me didn't change that, and I'll have sex with who I want and how I want, damn it!"

His feet touched the counter, and his wings went still. Guilt hit me hard as I looked at him standing there. I wished he were bigger so I could give him a hug and tell him it was going to be all right, anything to get that terrible look of betrayal and anger off him. But he just stared.

Sighing, I swung a chair around. I sat on it backward and put my folded arms on the counter, slumping to get my eyes on the same level as his. He wouldn't look at me. "Jenks," I said softly, and he sneered, wing's coming alive. "It's going to be okay. I'll find her and explain." I reached out, letting my hand fall to curve protectively around him. "She'll understand," I said, gazing at the cake and hearing the guilt in my voice. "She has to."

He looked at me, his arms uncrossing. "But she left," said plaintively.

My hand beside him moved in a motion of exasperation. "You know how she can be. She just needs to cool off. Maybe she went to spend the weekend at Skimmer's?"

"She took her computer."

Glancing at the empty space, I winced. "She couldn't have found out that fast. What time did she leave?"

"Right before midnight." He stopped pacing and looked at me sideways. "It was really weird. Like that movie where the guy gets a call and it triggers a set of actions programmed into him years ago? What's the name of that movie?"

"I don't know," I muttered, glad he wasn't yelling at me anymore. She couldn't have left because of this. Kisten and I hadn't even had dinner yet by midnight.

"She wouldn't answer me," he said. He resumed pacing, and I watched, wondering how much of his outburst had been worry for Ivy finding an easy outlet in anger at me. "She just packed her clothes and her computer and her music and left."

My eyes went to the fridge and the empty tomato magnet. "She took our picture."

"Yeah."

I pulled myself up. Something had happened, but it was unlikely she knew about Kisten and me, and there was no way for her to find out until she got back. Jenks was the only one who knew; I had taken the bus home, so even Steve wouldn't smell Kisten's blood in me. "Who called? Skimmer?" I asked, wondering if it had simply been an emergency run. An emergency run she hadn't taken Jenks on? Or even told him what it was?

"I don't know," Jenks said. "I came in when I heard the whine of her computer shut off."

Lips pressed together, I thought about that.

"Why, Rachel?" Jenks asked, his voice tired.

I didn't move anything but my eyes. "My biting Kisten is not why she left."

His angular face pinched in distress. "Maybe someone found out and called her."

The thought of what Ivy was capable of in a fit of rage passed through me, and I reached for my shoulder bag. The timing was wrong, but still... "Maybe I should call Kisten."

He nodded in worry, coming closer as I punched the right buttons. I held the phone from my ear, and we both listened to it ring until it shunted me into voice mail. "Hey, Kisten," I said, eyes on Jenks, "give me a call when you get this. Ivy wasn't here when I got home. She took her computer and music. I don't think she knows, but I'm worried." I wanted to say more, but there wasn't more to say. " 'Bye," I whispered, and hit the "end" button. 'Bye? God, I sounded like a little lost girl.

Jenks peered up at me, the color returning to his wings. "Call Ivy," he demanded, but I was already ahead of him. This time I was dumped right into voice mail, and I left a guilty-sounding message that I had to talk to her and not to do anything until I talked to her. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I closed the phone and looked at it sitting alone on the counter.

Suddenly the pastries arranged on their plate looked trite. I was an ass. "Jenks..."

The coaxing in my voice turned his worry into a cold anger. "I don't want to hear about it. You screwed everything up for one moment of blood passion. Even if that's not why she left, she will when she finds out. What's wrong with you? Can't you leave things alone? "

"No, I can't!" I exclaimed. "And it wasn't just a moment of blood passion, it was an affirmation of what I feel for Kisten, so you can shove it, you little twit. I know what I'm doing," I said. He opened his mouth to protest, and I threw my hand up in the air. "Okay, maybe I don't, but I'm trying to figure this out. It's all mixed up. The blood, the passion. It's all mixed up, and I don't know what to do!"

He was clearly taken aback, and I surged ahead, almost panicked. "I want Ivy to bite me." I said. "It feels too damn good, and it would do both of us good. But the only way to do it safely is to sleep with her. And I'm not going to sleep with her just for the blood passion until I know what's going on in my head. I never thought I'd like a girl - I mean, I'm straight, right? Is it the vamp scar that's turning me on, or her? Do I love Ivy or just the way she can make me feel? There's a difference, Jenks, and I'm not going to cheapen it if it's only about the blood." I knew my face was red, but he deserved to hear it all. "Ivy made a pass at me because she knows I make decisions by doing stuff and then thinking about it, not the other way around. Well, I'm doing different stuff, and look how messed up everything got. Isn't this nice?" I said sarcastically, gesturing behind me at Ivy's empty place.

Jenks's wings went still, and he sat down on edge of the fudge plate. "Maybe you should try it," he said, and a spike of adrenaline shot through me and was gone. "Just once," he coaxed. "Sometimes the quickest way to find out who you are is to be that person for a while."

I'd thought of that already, and it scared me. Slowly I brought my eyes to his. "Then why are you upset that I bit Kisten?" I said. "That's me trying to be someone new. You think I would've done that a year ago? Why is it wrong when I try things with Kisten and not Ivy? "

His gaze went to her empty spot at the table. "Because Ivy loves you."

My gut tightened. "So does Kisten."

Jenks brought his knees to his chin and clasped his hands around his shins. "Ivy would die for you, Rachel. Kisten won't. Put your emotions where they will keep you alive."

It was a hard truth. Ugly. I didn't want to choose who I loved by who could keep me alive. I wanted to make decisions on who I loved by who completed me, made me feel good about myself. Who I could love freely and help make a better person by just being there. God, I was confused. Tired, I pillowed my head on my folded arms and stared at the table, inches from my nose. I heard the soft sound of wings, and the draft from Jenks stirred my hair.

"It's all right, Rachel," he said, close and concerned. "She knows you love her."

My throat closed, and I sighed. Maybe I should try it Ivy's way. At least as far as I could without becoming uncomfortable or freaked out. Just once. A moment of embarrassment would be better than all this confusion. And awkwardness. And misery.

The small dinner bell at the front door rang, and I jumped. Jenks's face was full of hope when I brought my head up, then fear. If something had happened to Ivy, I wouldn't get a phone call but a stone-faced I.S. agent on my doorstep telling me my roommate was in the city morgue.

"I got it," I said, the chair scraping as I rose. I hustled into the sanctuary, hoping it was Ivy with her stuff and needing someone to open the door for her.

"I'm right behind you," Jenks said, sounding grim as he joined me in the hall.

Chapter Twenty-one

My stomach was in knots when I pushed open the heavy oak doors to find Ceri. Forcing a smile, I felt both relief and disappointment when I saw her beaming in the sun, her long, fair hair floating and a squishy wrapped present in her hands. She was wearing a summery, ankle-length linen dress and was barefoot - as usual. I wasn't surprised to see Rex, Jenks's cat, at her feet. The orange kitten was purring, rubbing her ankles.

"Happy birthday!" the young-seeming woman said cheerfully.

Jenks dropped three feet. "Crap, is that today?" he stammered, then zipped off.

My distress that it wasn't Ivy faded. "Hi, Ceri," I said, flattered she had remembered. "You didn't have to get me anything!"

She came inside and handed me the package. "It's from Keasley and me," she said in explanation, eager and flustered. "I've never gotten anyone a birthday present. Are you going to have a party?" Her face went solemn. "I wanted to have a party for Keasley, but he won't tell me when his birthday is, and I don't know what day I was born."

My smile went bemused. "You forgot? "

"My kin never celebrated a person's years, so the day I was born never meant anything. It was in the winter, though."

I found myself nodding as I followed her in. She was from the Dark Ages. They didn't celebrate birthdays then. I seemed to remember that from a class.

"Ivy made a cake," I said, feeling depressed. "But it's not frosted yet. Do you want some coffee and pastries instead?" May as well. Ivy isn't going to eat them with me.

Stopping in the middle of the sanctuary, she turned, anticipation brightening her expression. "So you're going to have a party later?" she asked.

"Probably not," I said, and when her shoulders slumped, I laughed. "Not everyone has a party, Ceri, unless they have stock in a card company."

Her lips pursed. "Now you're making fun of me. Go on. Open your present."

I could tell she wasn't really upset, so I opened the squishy package, tossing the paper into the trash basket under my desk. "Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed as I found a soft casual shirt made from brushed cotton. It was a vibrant red, almost glowing, and I could tell without trying it on that it would fit me perfectly.

"Jenks said you needed a new shirt," she said shyly. "Do you like it? Is it suitable?"

"It's beautiful. Thank you," I said, feeling the richness of the fabric. It was a simple style, but the cloth was scrumptious and the neckline would flatter my small chest. She must have spent a fortune. "I love it," I said as I gave her a quick hug, then rocked into motion. "I should hang it up. Do you want some coffee?"

"I'll make tea," she said, her gaze going to the empty spot where Ivy's stereo had been. Her steps soft behind mine, she hesitated at the door to my room upon catching sight of Trent's bridesmaid dresses and my newest party dress hanging from the back of the closet. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "When did you get that?"

I beamed, finding an empty hanger and wrangling her shirt onto it. "Yesterday. I needed something for a run, and since it's a party, I bought something appropriate."

Jenks's laugh rang out even before he was in sight. "Rache," he said as he landed on Ceri's shoulder, "you have some odd ideas of dress codes."

"What?" I fingered the stiff black lace at the hem of the skirt. "It's a nice dress."

"For a wedding rehearsal? It's in a church, right?" He screwed his face up in a pious look. "Spank me, Father, for I have sinned," he said in a falsetto.

My eyes narrowed, and I hung up Ceri's gift. It was in the Basilica, actually. The Hollows' cathedral. "It's the party afterward I want to look nice for."

Jenks snickered, and Ceri frowned. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners, but she didn't move, since Rex was twining about her feet, meowing for Jenks. "That's a nice dress," she said, and worry filled me at her forced tone. "It looks as if it will keep you cool and comfortable even if you are outside. And it's probably easy to run in."

"Tink's knickers, I hope it doesn't rain," Jenks said sarcastically. "Everything you got will be on display."

"Hush," Ceri admonished. "It's not going to rain."

Crap. I should have waited until Kisten could shop with me. Suddenly worried, I unzipped the two silk garment bags. "These are the bridesmaids' dresses," I offered, wanting to get Jenks's attention off my new outfit before he saw the cherries painted on the jacket's snaps. "She hasn't picked which one yet," I said, touching the split skirt of the black lace dress. "I hope it's this one. The other is just ugly."

"And you knows ugly when yous sees ugly, don't ya, sweet thang."

I glared at Jenks. "Shut up. What are you wearing tonight, pixy?"

Jenks's wings shifted into motion, and he rose from Ceri's shoulder. "My usual. Holy crap, tell me those aren't cherries?"

I snatched up the hanger and shoved it into my closet. Why was I worried about what I was going to wear? I should be worried about the focus and who was killing Weres to find it. I wasn't ready to believe that Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong weren't responsible. And, realistically, it was only a matter of time before they called my bluff and came after me.

Ceri was frowning at Jenks when I turned. Seeing my attention on her, she changed her severe, wordless admonishment to him to a worried smile for me. "I think it suits you," she said. "You will look... unique. And you are a unique person."

"She's going to look like a forty-dollar hooker."

"Jenks!" Ceri exclaimed, and he darted out of her reach to sit atop my dresser mirror.

Depressed, I looked at my closet. "You know what? I'm going to wear the shirt you just gave me. With some jeans. And if I'm underdressed, I'll just add some jewelry to it."

"Really? You want to wear the shirt I chose?" Ceri said, so brightly that I wondered if Jenks had coached her on what to buy to fit this situation. He looked far too smug, and Ceri's ears were as red as the shirt. My eyes narrowed in suspicion, and the slight woman turned her attention to the black lace bridesmaid gown, touching the fine fabric.

"This is beautiful," she said. "Do you get to keep it after the wedding?"

"Probably." I trailed my hands down the lace sleeves. They'd drape dramatically over my fingertips, and the built-in bodice would show off my waist. I'd never go to another function where I could wear anything so elegant, but just having it would be nice. It was slit up the side but cut so that it wouldn't give anything except brief glimpses.

"The bitch hasn't decided which dress yet," I said sourly. "If she picks the other, I'm going to double my fee. Call it hazard pay. Look at it." I gestured disparagingly at the lace-hemmed collar that dipped so low it would make my small chest look nonexistent. "There are no curves at all. Just a straight tube all the way from my shoulders to the floor. I won't be able to run if I need to, much less dance unless I hike the thing up past my knees. And the lace?" I touched the outer covering trying to hide the ugly color of pea soup as if in shame, feeling the rough edges of the second-grade lace catch on my fingers. "It's going to catch on everything. I'll look like a freaking sea cucumber."

That didn't get the expected smile, and when I met Jenks's eyes, he glanced at Ceri's softly creased brow and shrugged. Rex sat at her feet as though she might get some attention if she stared hard enough. "He's marrying a Were woman?" Ceri said, her voice unusually soft.

"No. I was being rude." I shoved the green dress away, not wanting to talk about it.

Jenks moved to the closet's shelf. "I've never met Ellasbeth, but she sounds more prickly than a porcupine's scab."

Though icky, it was a pretty good description. "Nice visual, Jenks," I muttered.

Ceri's thin fingers were tracing the tiny stitches on the black sleeve. I don't think she had even heard me, so enamored of the dress was she.

"This one would be a pleasure to dance in. If she chooses the other, she is either an idiot or a sadist."

"Sadist," Jenks said, his feet swinging. "I wish they made cameras I could carry. I know the Hollows Observer would pay good money for a shot of Rachel and Trent dancing."

"Ha!" I barked, gently taking the pretty dress and putting it in my closet, newly organized thanks to Newt. "That will be the day."

"You have to," Jenks said, the sparkles sifting from him turning silver. "It's the rules."

I sighed. Yes, I was probably going to have to dance with him if I was in the wedding party. Ceri had a wicked smile on her face. "Well, I'm not going to enjoy it," I said, trying not to think about his tight ass and how he showed off a tux. My height looked good against his class, and it would be fun to get Ellasbeth's knickers in a knot. I shut my closet door, smiling. "Do you know how hard it is to slow-dance with a gun strapped to your thigh?"

"No." Jenks followed me out to the kitchen, Ceri and the cat trailing behind.

"Where's Ivy's computer?" Ceri asked when we entered, and I cringed.

"I don't know." My stomach tightened as I looked at her empty corner. "I spent the night at Kisten's, and she wasn't here when I came home."

Face still and empty, the elf looked up from the sink from where she was filling the copper kettle. Her gaze went from the pastries arranged on the plate to the store-bought coffee to the square of fudge. But it wasn't until she saw the honey that she figured it out. "She's gone," Ceri said, turning off the tap with excessive force. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said, feeling guilty and defensive. "Well, sort of nothing," I amended. "God, Ceri, this isn't any of your business," I added, crossing my arms over my chest.

"She bit Kisten this morning," Jenks said helpfully. "While bumping uglies."

"Hey!" I said, embarrassed, "That is not why she left. We hadn't even finished dinner before she walked out." Taking a breath, I faced Ceri, surprised to find her jaw set in disapproval. "He's my boyfriend!" I exclaimed. "And he didn't bite me. And why in hell does everyone think I should live my life by what Ivy wants? "

"Because she loves you," Ceri said, standing beside the lit stove. "And you love her, as a friend if nothing else. She's afraid, and you're not. You're the stronger person in this situation and need to exert some restraint. You can't live your life by her wishes," she added, holding up a hand to forestall my protest. "But you know this is something she is aching to share with you."

Miserable, I glanced at Ivy's empty spot and then back to Ceri. "She can't separate blood passion from sex, and I don't think I can either," I whispered, wondering how my personal life had become everyone's favorite topic and why I was being so open about it. Apart from my being completely lost and trying to find anyone to help me.

"Then you have a problem," Ceri said, turning her back on me to open a cupboard.

I couldn't read her mood at all. "I never said I was good at this," I muttered. Getting up, I pulled a mug from the cupboard, but when I dropped a tea bag into it, her eyes narrowed.

"Go sit and drink your foul coffee," she said, her voice harsh. "I'll make my own tea."

Jenks snickered, and after I moved the plate with the honey and fudge to the table, I sat with my cold gourmet coffee. It had lost much of its appeal. Ceri's silent disapproval was obvious, but what was I supposed to do? I didn't like the idea that Ivy had left to move in with Skimmer without telling me, but it was the best explanation I had right now.

Ceri brought the ceramic teapot out from under the counter. Throwing my tea bag away, she measured out two spoonfuls of loose tea. Jenks flitted to his honey and wrestled with the top until I opened it for him. Some birthday this was turning out to be.

"Jenks?" I warned, my eyes going to Rex. The orange cat was sitting in the threshold of the kitchen, watching me with those creepy kitten eyes. I'd seen Jenks on honey; it got him drunker faster than a frat boy avoiding finals, and Rex liked little winged things too much for my comfort.

"What!" he said belligerently. "You bought it for me."

"Yes, but I was hoping you'd be sober this afternoon for our run."

Snorting, Jenks settled himself before the jar brimming with the sticky amber. "Like I've ever been drunk for longer than five minutes?" Clearly eager, he pulled what looked like a set of chopsticks from his back pocket. Manipulating them expertly, he spindled a wad of the honey into his mouth. His wings drooped and stilled when he swallowed, and a giggle slipped from him. "Crap, this is good stuff," he said around a gooey mouthful.

Five minutes. That was about right, but I was worried about Rex.

Ceri stood at the sink and warmed the teapot with hot tap water. I thought it a useless step that only served to make more dirty dishes, but Ceri was the expert when it came to tea. Her gaze went to Jenks, now holding the sticks high over his uptilted head and letting the honey dribble into him. It was going exactly where he wanted, even if he was starting to cant to one side.

"Can you take that into the overhead rack?" I said, worried.

Stiffening, Jenks gave me a wide-eyed, unfocused look. "I can fly, woman. I can fly better honey-drunk than you can fly stone sober." To prove his point, he lifted into the air, Making a whoop of exclamation, he lost altitude. Ceri's hand was under him in a flash, and he started giggling. "Listen, listen!" he coaxed while he slumped on her hand, then belched the first two lines to "You Are My Sunshine."

"Jenks..." I protested. "Get off Ceri. That's disgusting."

"Sorry, sorry," he slurred, almost falling. "Damn, that's good honey. Gotta take some of this to Matalina. Matalina would like it. Maybe help her sleep a little."

Clearly concentrating, he had sparkles sifting from him thick and furious as he wobbled down to the table. I sighed apologetically, and Ceri smiled, snagging Rex as the cat padded past her, headed for Jenks. The cat settled herself in Ceri's arm, purring.

"Kitty, kitty, kitty," Jenks slurred as he landed next to me and his honey. "Kitty wants some honey? S' good hu-honey?"

Yeah, my life was weird, but it had its moments.

Ceri leaned against the counter while she waited for her water to warm. "How have you been sleeping lately?" she asked, as if she were my doctor. "Any more sneezing?"

I smiled, flattered she cared. "No. I didn't sleep much this morning, but that wasn't Minias's fault." Her eyebrows rose, and I added, "Do you think Newt will show up again? "

She shook her head solemnly. "No. He will watch her carefully for a time."

Fingers gripping my warm coffee, I thought that if Newt did show up, there wasn't much I could do about it, seeing as she had taken control of Ceri's triple circle with the ease of opening a letter. Remembering me taking Tom's circle. I went to ask her about it, then didn't. It had to be because I'd walked into its construction. That's all. I was sure I'd read somewhere that that was possible. And I didn't want to risk hearing her say it was unusual.

Singing the Rolling Stones' "Satisfaction," Jenks sat cross-legged before his one-ounce jar, ladling honey into himself. "I will protect you, Rache," he said, cutting his music short. "I'll give that demon a labeotomy, boobotomay, lob, lob, lobotomy if he shows up again!"

I made a wry face, watching him fall over, laughing merrily at himself, then sitting up with a loud "Ow." Depressed, I pulled a ribbon of dough from the pastry. It was dry, but I ate it anyway.

Ceri's water started to steam. Managing to fill her teapot with Rex still in her arms, she brought her brew it to sit on the table. Jenks staggered to the teapot, wings a blur for balance as he put his back to it and slid down with a heavy sigh.

"May I ask you something?" Ceri asked, her eyes on her empty cup.

I didn't have anything to do until about six, when I would start getting ready for my run, so after putting the top back on Jenks's honey, I pulled a foot up onto my chair and clasped an arm around a knee. "Sure. What?"

A faint hint of pink on her cheeks, she asked, "Did it hurt when Ivy bit you?"

I stiffened, and Jenks - his eyes closed - started mumbling, "No, no, no. Damn vampire made it feel good. Ah, crap, I'm tired."

Swallowing, I met her eyes. "No. Why?"

Her lower lip turned in, and, biting it to look charming, Ceri grew solemn. "You should never be ashamed of loving someone."

My blood pressure spiked. "I'm not," I said defensively.

I was belligerent because I was afraid, but instead of responding with an equal amount of ire, she unexpectedly dropped her eyes. "I'm not finding fault with you," she said softly. "I... envy you. And you need to know that."

My fingers laced about my knee tightened. Me? She envies my screwed-up life?

"You say you don't trust people," Ceri rushed to explain, her vivid green eyes pleading for understanding. "But you do trust. You trust too much. You give everything even when you're afraid. And I envy that. I don't think I could ever love anyone without fear... now."

Jenks hiccupped. "Aw, Ceri. It's okay. I love you."

"Thank you, Jenks," Ceri said, sitting primly in her chair. "But it would never work. Your body is not as big as your heart, and much as I'd like to think I am a soul and mind, I have a body that needs to be satisfied as well."

"The hell I'm not big enough!" he protested, lurching up. Only one wing was working, and it almost knocked him over. "You just ask Matalina." The pixy went pale. "Never mind."

Ceri poured out some tea, the amber liquid gurgling with the sound of contentment to stand at contrast with my unease. I slowly pulled my second knee up to my first. "Jenks, sit down," I murmured when his staggering path toward the honey went off track and he angled for the table's edge. Glad for the distraction, my thoughts drifted to Trent and Ellasbeth's marriage. I was reaching for Jenks when he collapsed into the napkins and pulled one over his head.

Why hadn't I told Trent about Ceri? Or Ceri about Trent? I was a lousy judge of character, but even I could tell that the two seemed made for each other. Trent wasn't that bad. Though he had kept me caged as a mink. And put me in the fights. And tricked me into trying to take Piscary down by myself, though some of that stupidity was my fault.

I pulled another ribbon of pastry from a roll. Trent had treated me with respect the night I'd been his paid bodyguard, then kept me alive during the aftermath. He'd trusted me to take care of Lee on my own instead of killing him like he wanted to. Though if I had let Trent kill his friend, I wouldn't be playing bodyguard at his wedding... probably.

This is a mess, I thought, washing the pastry down with a swallow of cold coffee. Ceri could decide what she wanted to do. And if Trent used her, I'd freaking kill him. And because I was gaining his trust, I could probably get close enough to do it. Which was a terrifying thought.

My heart beat faster, and I wiped my fingers on a napkin. "Ceri?" I said, and she looked up expectantly. Rex was still on her lap, and her fingers were gentling the animal. Taking a steadying breath, I said, "I've got someone I want you to meet."

Her green eyes met mine, and a smile grew. "Who?"

I looked at Jenks, but he was out of it, sleeping under the napkins. "Uh, Trent." My chest clenched, and I prayed I was doing the right thing. "See, he's an elf."

Beaming, Ceri pushed Rex to the floor so she could lean across the table. The cat stalked out of the room, and the scent of wine and cinnamon filled me when Ceri gave me a quick hug. "I know," she said as she leaned back and smiled at me. "Thank you, Rachel."

"You knew?" I said, warm from embarrassment. God, she must think me an insensitive boob, but she settled herself in her chair and smiled as if I had just given her a pony. And a puppy. And then the freaking moon. "Kalamack, right?" I stammered. "We're talking about the same Trent? Why didn't you say anything? "

"You gave me back my soul," she said, her hair drifting. "And with it the chance to redeem my sins. I look to you for guidance. Until you approved of him, it would have caused problems. You made no attempt to hide that you don't like him."

She smiled shyly, and I stared. "You knew he was an elf?" I asked, still not believing it. "How? He doesn't know about you!" At least I don't think he does.

Embarrassed, she pulled her feet up under her to sit cross-legged, looking both wise and innocent. "I saw him in a magazine last winter, but you didn't like him." Her eyes flicked to mine and then back down. "I knew he had hurt you. Keasley told me he controls the Brimstone trade, and, like anything in excess, it's damaging. But, Rachel, how can you condemn all the good for a little bad?" she said, not a hint of pleading in her voice. "It's been illegal for thirty-two years out of five thousand and is a blatant way for humans to try to control Inderland."

When you put it like that, Trent almost sounded respectable. Bothered, I leaned back. "Did Keasley tell you he blackmails people using illegal genetic research? That his Make-A-Wish camps are underground genetic labs where he helps children in order to blackmail their parents?"

"Yes. He also told me that Trent's father cured your blood disease because your father was his friend. Don't you think you owe him a debt of gratitude?"

Whoa. My breath caught, and I felt cold, not about the debt-of-gratitude thing, but that Keasley knew something I hadn't until last solstice. "Keasley told you that? "

Ceri watched me over her teacup. Her head went up and down, nodding sharply.

My worried gaze went to the blue-curtained window above the sink and the sunlit garden beyond. I was going to have to have a talk with Keasley. "Trent's father saved my life," I admitted, bringing my attention back to her. "My dad and his were friends and work partners. And they both died because of it, so I think that rubs out any gratitude I might have." Stupid-ass elf thinks the world owes him everything.

But Ceri only sipped at her tea. "Maybe Trent put you in the rat fights because he blames your father for his father's death."

I took a breath to protest, then slowly let it out. Crap. Is Trent as insecure as the rest of us? Smug, Ceri topped off her cup.

"Didn't you blame him for the loss of your father?" she asked, unnecessarily, I might add.

"Yes," I said, realizing that her putting it in past tense worked. I didn't blame him anymore. Piscary had killed him - in a roundabout way. Somehow. Maybe. And if I was a good little witch and kept Trent's little elf ass above the green, green grass during his wedding, he just might tell me the details. Giving myself a mental shake, I filed that away to think about later. "Do you want to meet him?" I asked tiredly, sounding oh so thrilled at the prospect.

Her remaining ire vanished, and she smiled from across the table. "Yes, please."

Yes, please. As if she needed my okay. "You don't need my permission."

My tone was almost sullen, but she dropped her eyes demurely. "I want it." She set her cup on the saucer with a clink. "I was raised with the expectation that someone would guide me in matters of the heart: a guardian and confidant. My mother and father are deceased. My kin has been diluted by time. You rescued my body, freed my soul. You are my Sa'han."

I straightened in my chair as if ice had washed over me. "Whoa! Wait up, Ceri. I'm not your guardian. You don't need one. You're your own person!" Is she nuts?

Ceri set her feet on the floor and leaned forward, her eyes asking for understanding. "Please, Rachel," she begged. "I need this. Being Al's familiar tore everything from me. Give this piece of my life back to me? I need to resume ties to my old life before I can cut them and move into this one."

I felt panicky. "I'm the last person you should seek advice from!" I stammered. "Look at me! I'm a mess!"

Smiling softly, Ceri dropped her eyes. "You're the most caring person I know, consistently risking your life for those who can't fight on their own. I see this in the people you love. Ivy, who is afraid she can't fight her battle alone anymore. Kisten, who struggles to stand in a system where he knows he's too weak. Jenks, who has the courage but not the strength to make a difference in a world that doesn't even see him."

"Aw, thanks, Ceri," the pixy mumbled from under his napkin.

"You often see the worst in people," she said, "but you always see the best. Eventually."

I gaped at her. Noting my unease, she hesitated. "Do you trust Trent?"

"No!" I blurted, then paused. But here I was broaching the subject of introducing Ceri to him. "Maybe in some things," I amended. "I trust your judgment, though."

Apparently it was the right thing to say, since Ceri smiled and put a cool hand upon mine. "You believe in him more than you realize, and I though I may not know him, I trust your judgment, slow as it is in coming." Her smile turned wicked. "And I'm not a silly girl to be blinded by a tidy posterior and expansive landholdings."

Tidy posterior and expansive landholdings? Was that the Dark Ages equivalent of a tight ass and a lot of money? I chuckled, and her hand slipped away. "He's devious," I warned. "I don't want you to be taken advantage of. I know he's going to want a sample for his labs."

Ceri sipped her tea, her eyes focused on the sunlit garden. "He can have it. I want my species to recover as much as he does. I only wish I'd predated the curse so the damage could be fixed completely instead of the bandage he has been slapping on our children."

My fingers curled around the cool porcelain, but I didn't bring the cup to my lips. Trent owed me big time. Ceri was giving him one hell of a better bandage. "He's manipulative," I added, and she raised one eyebrow.

"And I'm not? Do you think I couldn't wind this man about my finger if I wanted? "

I looked away, worried. Yeah, she could.

Ceri laughed. "I don't want a husband," she said, green eyes twinkling. "I have to reinvent myself before I can share my life with anyone. Besides, he's getting married."

I couldn't help my snort. "To a really nasty woman," I muttered, starting to relax. I did not want Trent marrying Ceri. Even if Trent weren't such a dirtbag, I'd probably never see her again after she found his garden.

"I do believe," Ceri said wryly, "you think this wedding is just punishment for past sins."

Nodding, I glanced into the garden following a flash of motion. I stood up and went to the window to see that it was just Jenks's kids driving a hummingbird out of the yard. "You haven't met her," I said, marveling at their teamwork. Ceri came to stand beside me, the rich scent of cinnamon drifting off her to tickle my nose. " She's a terrible woman," I added softly.

Ceri's gaze followed mine into the garden. "So am I," she said, more softly still.