“The old lunker—uh—witch across the street?” Jenks said.
Matalina nodded. “Tell him Rachel needs medical help.”
Ivy, too, seemed bewildered. “You think he can do something?” she asked, the edge of fear in her voice. Ivy was afraid for me. Maybe I should have been afraid for me, too.
Matalina flushed. “He asked—the other day—if he might have a few cuttings from the garden. There’s no harm in that.” The pretty pixy fussed with her dress, her eyes downcast. “They were all plants with strong properties. Yarrow, vervain, that sort. I thought perhaps if he wanted them, he might know what to do with them.”
“Woman …” Jenks said warningly.
“I stayed with him the entire time,” she said, her eyes defiant. “He didn’t touch but what I said he could. He was very proper. Asked after everyone’s health.”
“Matalina, it’s not our garden,” Jenks said, and the angel grew angry.
“If you won’t get him, I will,” she said sharply, and she darted out the window. I blinked, staring at the spot where she had been.
“Matalina!” Jenks shouted. “Don’t you fly from me. That’s not our garden. You can’t treat it as if it was.” He dropped into my line of sight. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly embarrassed and angry. “She won’t do it again.” His face hardened, and he darted out after her. “Matalina!”
“’S okay,” I whispered, though neither of them were there anymore. “I say it’s okay. The angel can ask anyone she wants into the garden.” I closed my eyes. Nick put a hand on my head, and I smiled. “Hi, Nick,” I said softly, opening my eyes. “Are you still here?”
“Yes, I’m still here.”
“Good,” I said. “’Cause when I can stand up, I’m going to give you a bi-i-i-g kiss.”
Nick’s hand fell from me and he took a step back.
Ivy grimaced. “I hate this part,” she muttered. “I hate it. I hate it.”
My hand crept up to my neck, and Nick forced it back down. I could hear the faucet dripping again on the carpet: plink, plink, plink. The room began to revolve majestically, and I watched it spin, fascinated. It was funny, and I tried to laugh.
Ivy made a frustrated sound. “If she’s giggling, she’s going to be all right,” she said. “Why don’t you take a shower?”
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’ll wait until I know for sure.”
Ivy was silent for three heartbeats. “Nick,” she said, her voice thick with warning. “Rachel stinks of infection. You stink of blood and fear. Go take a shower.”
“Oh.” There was a long hesitation. “Sorry.”
I smiled up at Nick as he edged to the door. “Go wash, Nick Nicky,” I said. “Don’t make Ivy go all black and scary. Take as long as you want. There’s soap in the dish, and …” I hesitated, trying to remember what I was saying. “… and towels on the dryer,” I finished, proud of myself.
He touched my shoulder, his eyes flicking from me to Ivy. “You should be all right.”
Ivy crossed her arms before her, impatiently waiting for him to leave. I heard the shower go on. It made me a hundred times more thirsty. Somewhere, I could feel my arm pounding and my ribs throbbing. My neck and shoulder were one solid ache. I turned to watch the curtain move in the breeze, fascinated.
A loud boom from the front of the church pulled my attention to the black hallway. “Hello?” came Keasley’s distant voice. “Ms. Morgan? Matalina said I could walk in.”
Ivy’s lips pursed. “Stay here,” she said, bending over me until I had no choice but to look at her. “Don’t get up until I get back, okay? Rachel? Do you hear me? Don’t get up.”
“Sure.” My gaze drifted past her to the curtain. If I squinted ju-u-u-u-ust right, the gray shifted to black. “Stay here.”
Giving me a last look, she gathered up all her magazines and left. The sound of the shower drew me. I licked my lips. I wondered, if I tried really hard, could I reach the sink in the kitchen?
There was the rattle of a paper bag in the hallway, and I tilted my head up from the arm of the couch. The room held steady this time, and a fog seemed to lift from me. Keasley’s hunched figure came in, Ivy close behind. “Oh, good,” I whispered breathlessly. “Company.”
Ivy pushed past Keasley and sat on the end of the chair nearest me. “You look better,” she said. “Are you back yet or still in la-la land?”
“What?”
She shook her head, and I gave Keasley a wan smile. “Sorry I can’t offer you a chocolate.”
“Ms. Morgan.” His gaze lingered on my exposed neck. “Have an argument with your roommate?” he said dryly as he ran a hand over his tightly curled black hair.
“No,” I said hurriedly as Ivy stiffened.
He arched his eyebrows in disbelief and set his paper bag on the coffee table. “Matalina didn’t say what I needed, so I brought a little of everything.” He squinted at the table lamp. “Do you have anything brighter than that?”
“I’ve got a clip-on fluorescent.” Ivy slipped to the hall and hesitated. “Don’t let her move or she’ll go incoherent again.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she vanished, to be replaced by Matalina and Jenks. Jenks looked positively incensed, but Matalina was unrepentant. They hovered in the corner, their conversation so fast and high-pitched I couldn’t follow it. Finally Jenks left, looking like he was going to murder a pea pod. Matalina adjusted her flowing white dress and flitted to the arm of the couch beside my head.
Keasley sat down on the coffee table with a weary sigh. His three-day-old beard was going white. It made him look like a vagrant. The knees of his overalls were stained with wet earth, and I could smell the outside on him. His dark-skinned hands, though, were raw from an obvious scrubbing. He pulled a newspaper out from his bag and spread it open like a tablecloth. “So who’s that in the shower? Your mother?”
I snorted, feeling the tightness of my swollen eye. “His name is Nick,” I said as Ivy appeared. “He’s a friend.”
Ivy made a rude sound as she attached a small light to the shade of the table lamp and plugged it in. I winced, squinting as heat and light poured out.
“Nick, eh?” Keasley said as he dug in his bag, laying amulets, foil-wrapped packages, and bottles onto the newsprint. “A vamp, is he?”
“No, he’s a human,” I said, and Keasley peered mistrustingly at Ivy.
Not seeing his look, Ivy crowded close. “Her neck is the worst. She’s lost a dangerous amount of blood—”
“I can tell.” The old man stared belligerently at Ivy until she backed up. “I need more towels, and why don’t you get Rachel something to drink? She needs to replace her fluids.”
“I know that,” Ivy said, taking a faltering step backward before turning to go into the kitchen. There was the clatter of a glass and the welcoming sound of liquid. Matalina opened her repair kit and silently compared her needles to Keasley’s.
“Something warm?” Keasley reiterated loudly, and Ivy slammed the freezer door shut. “Let’s take a look,” he said as he aimed the light at me. He and Matalina were silent for a long time. Easing back, Keasley let his breath slip from him. “Perhaps