“Now, Rache,” he cajoled, hovering by my ear. “If I had told you, your reactions would have been off and the fairies would have just waited until I wasn’t watching.”
My face went slack. “Fairies?” I said, chilled. Denon must be off his rocker. They were expe-e-e-e-ensive. Perhaps they gave him a discount because of the frog incident.
“There’re gone,” Jenks said, “but I wouldn’t stay out here for long. The word is the Weres want another crack at you.” He took off his red bandanna and handed it to his son. “Jax, you and your sisters can have their catapult.”
“Thanks, Papa!” The small pixy rose up two feet in excitement. Wrapping the red scarf around his waist, he and about six other pixies broke from the group and zipped across the street.
“Be careful!” Jenks shouted after them. “It might be booby-trapped!”
Fairies, I thought as I clutched my arms about me and looked over the quiet street. Crap.
The remainder of Jenks’s kids was clustered around him, all talking at once as they tried to drag him around back. “Ivy’s with someone,” Jenks said as he started to drift upward, “but he checks out okay. You mind if I call it a night?”
“Go ahead,” I said, glancing at the bike. It wasn’t Ivy’s after all. “And, uh, thanks.”
They rose like a swarm of fireflies. Close behind them were Jax and his sisters, working together to carry a catapult as small as they were. With a dry clattering of wings and shouts, they flew up and beyond the church, leaving a hard silence in the morning street.
I turned my back and shuffled up the stone stairs. Glancing across the road, I saw a curtain fall against the single lit window. Show’s over. Go to sleep, Keasley, I thought, tugging open the heavy door and slipping inside. Easing it shut, I slid the oiled dead bolt in place behind me, feeling better despite knowing most of the I.S.’ s assassins wouldn’t use a door. Fairies? Denon must be royally ticked.
Blowing wearily, I leaned back against the thick timbers, to shut out the coming morning. All I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. As I slowly crossed the empty sanctuary, the sound of soft jazz and Ivy’s voice raised in anger filtered out from the living room.
“Damn it, Kist,” I heard as I entered the dark kitchen. “If you don’t get your butt out of that chair right now, I’m going to sling you halfway to the sun.”
“Aw, lighten up, Tamwood. I’m not gonna do anything,” came a new voice. It was masculine, deep but with a hint of a whine, as if whomever it came from was indulged in almost everything. I paused to dump my used amulets into the pot of saltwater beside the refrigerator. They were still good, but I knew better than to leave active amulets lying around.
The music snapped off with a jarring suddenness. “Out,” Ivy said softly. “Now.”
“Ivy?” I called loudly, curiosity getting the better of me. Jenks said whoever it was had the all clear. Leaving my bag on the kitchen counter, I headed for the living room. My exhaustion spilled into a tinge of anger. We had never discussed it, but I assumed that until the price was off my head, we would try to keep a low profile.
“Ooooh,” the unseen Kist mocked. “She’s back.”
“Behave yourself,” Ivy threatened him as I entered the room. “Or I’ll have your hide.”
“Promise?”
I took three steps into the living room and jerked to a halt. My anger vanished, washed away in a surge of primal instinct. A leather-clad vamp sprawled in Ivy’s chair, looking like he belonged. His immaculate boots were on the coffee table, and Ivy shoved them off in disgust. She moved quicker than I’d ever seen before. She took two steps from him and fumed, her hip cocked and her arms crossed aggressively. The mantel clock ticked loudly.
Kist couldn’t be a dead vamp—he was on holy ground and it was almost sunup—but burn my britches if he didn’t come close. His feet hit the floor with an exaggerated slowness. The indolent look he gave me went right to my core, settling over me like a wet blanket to tighten my gut. And yeah, he was pretty. Dangerously so. My thoughts jerked back to Table 6.1, and I swallowed.
His face was lightly stubbled, giving him a rugged appearance. Straightening, he tossed his blond hair out of his eyes in a movement of artful grace that must have taken him years to perfect. His leather jacket was open to show a black cotton shirt pulled tight over an attractively muscled chest. Twin stud earrings glittered from one ear. The other had a single earring and a long-healed tear. Otherwise, he hadn’t a visible scar anywhere. I wondered if I would be able to feel them if I ran my finger down his neck.
My heart pounded, and I dropped my gaze, promising myself I wouldn’t look again. Ivy didn’t scare me as much as this one did. He moved on feral instinct, governed by whim.
“Aw,” Kist said, scooting himself up in the chair. “She’s cute. You should have told me she was such a dar-r-r-rling.” I felt him take a deep breath, as if tasting the night. “She reeks of you, Ivy love.” His voice dropped in pitch. “Isn’t that the sweetest?”
Cold, I clutched the collar of my coat closed and backed up until I was in the threshold.
“Rachel,” Ivy said dryly. “This is Kisten. He’s leaving. Aren’t you, Kist.”
It wasn’t a question, and my breath caught as he got to his feet with a fluid, animal grace. Kist stretched, his hands reaching for the ceiling. His lean body moved like a cord to show every gorgeous curve of muscle on him. I couldn’t look away. His arms fell and our eyes met. They were brown. His lips parted in a soft smile as he knew I had been watching him. His teeth were sharp like Ivy’s. He wasn’t a ghoul. He was a living vamp. I looked away even though living vamps couldn’t bespell the wary. “You have a taste for vamps, little witch?” he whispered.
His voice was like wind over water, and my knees went loose at the compulsion he put in it. “You can’t touch me,” I said, unable to resist looking at him as he tried to bespell me. My voice sounded like it was coming from inside my head. “I haven’t signed any papers.”
“No?” he whispered. His eyebrows were raised in sultry confidence. He eased close, his steps soundless. Heart pounding, I looked at the floor. I felt behind me to touch the doorframe. He was stronger than me, and faster. But a knee in the groin would drop him like any man.
“The courts won’t care,” he breathed as he drifted to a stop. “You’re already dead.”
My eyes widened as he reached for me. His scent washed over me, the musty scent of black earth. My pulse pounded, and I stepped forward. His hand cupped my chin, warm. A shock went through me, buckling my knees. He gripped my elbow, supporting me against his chest. Anticipation of an unknown promise made my blood race. I leaned into him, waiting. His lips parted. A whisper of words I couldn’t understand came from him, beautiful and dark.
“Kist!” Ivy shouted, startling both of us. A flash of ire filmed his eyes, then vanished.
My will flowed back with a painful swiftness. I tried to jerk away, finding myself held. I could smell blood. “Let go,” I said, almost panicking when he didn’t. “Let go!”
His hand dropped. He turned to Ivy, completely dismissing me. I fell back to the archway, shaking, but unable to voluntarily leave until I knew he was gone.
Kist stood before Ivy calm and collected, a study in opposites to Ivy’s agitation. “Ivy, love,” he persuaded. “Why do you torment yourself? Your scent covers her, but her blood still smells pure. How can you resist? She’s asking for it. She’s screaming for it. She’ll bitch and moan the first time, but she’ll thank you for it in the end.”
Expression going coy, he gently bit his lip. Crimson ran, wiped away with a slow, taunting, deliberate tongue. My breath sounded harsh even to me,