The Good, The Bad, And The Undead th-2

by Ким Харрисон

  Heart pounding, I jerked to get away, failing. "Let me go, Ivy," I panted. "You don't want to do this." A cloying scent of incense pulled the memory of her pinning me to her chair last spring. "If you do this," I said frantically, "I'll leave. You'll be alone."

  She leaned close, putting the flat of her free forearm against the wall by my head. "If I do this, you won't leave." A heated smile curved over her—showing a hint of teeth—and she pressed closer. "But you could get away if you really wanted to. What do you think I've been teaching you the last three months? Do you want to get away—Rachel?"

  Panic lanced deep into me. My heart beat wildly, and Ivy sucked her breath in as if I had slapped her. Fear was an aphrodisiac, and I'd just given her a jolt. Lost in the blackness of instinct and need, her muscles went tension-wire tight. "Do you want to get away, little witch?" she murmured, her breath against my demon scar sending a surge of tingling through me.

  My intake of breath went to my core, seeming to turn my blood to liquid metal as it conducted a pulse through me. "Get off," I panted, the delicious feeling coursing from my neck to fill me. It was my scar. She was playing on my demon scar as Piscary had done.

  She licked her lips. "Make me." She hesitated, the hard hunger shifting to something more playful and insidious. "Tell me it doesn't feel good when I do this." Breath easing from her in a sigh, she watched my eyes as her finger ran a trail from my ear, across my neck, and down my collarbone.

  I almost buckled at the sensation of her nail finding the faint bumps of scar tissue, stimulating the scar back into full play. My eyes closed as I remembered that the demon had taken Ivy's face when it ripped out my throat, filling the wound with a dangerous cocktail of neurotransmitters to make pain into pleasure. "Yes," I breathed, almost moaning. "God help me. It does. Please…stop."

  Her body shifted against mine. "I know how it feels," she said. "The hunger racing from it to fill your body, the need it stirs, until the only thought burning in you is to touch the craving to fulfill it."

  "Ivy?" I whimpered. "Stop. I can't. I don't want to."

  My eyes flashed open at her silence. The drop of blood at the corner of her mouth was gone. I could feel the blood pounding through me. I knew my reactions were tied to the demon scar, that she was sending out pheromones to restimulate the pseudovamp saliva that remained in me to make pain into pleasure. I knew it was one of the survival adaptations vamps relied upon to bind people to them, ensuring that they had a willing supply of blood. I knew all of this, but it was getting harder to remember. Harder to care. It wasn't sexual. It was need. Hunger. Heat.

  Ivy put her forehead against the wall beside mine as if to gather her resolve. Her hair made a silk curtain between us. I felt the warmth from her through her body stocking. I couldn't move, wire-tight with fear and want, wondering if she would sate it or if I would be strong enough of will to push her away.

  "You don't know what it's been like living beside you, Rachel," she said, her whisper coming from behind her hair as if from a confessional grate. "I knew you'd be frightened if you knew how vulnerable your scar makes you. You've been marked for pleasure, and unless you have a vampire to claim and protect you, they all will take advantage of it, taking what they want and passing you to the next until you're nothing but a puppet begging to be bled. I was hoping you might be able to say no. That if I taught you enough, you would be able to drive a hungry vampire away. But you can't, dear heart. The neurotoxins have soaked in too far. It's not your fault. I'm sorry…."

  My breath came in small pants, each one sending the promise of coming pleasure through me, flowing back to renew that which ebbed, building on those that came before. I held my breath, trying to find the will to tell her to get off me. Oh God, I was failing.

  Ivy's voice went soft, persuasive. "Piscary said this is the only way to keep you. To keep you alive. I would be kind, Rachel. I wouldn't ask anything you didn't want to give. You wouldn't be like those pathetic shadows at Piscary's, but strong, an equal. He showed me when he bespelled you that it wouldn't hurt." Her voice went little girl soft. "The demon already broke you. The pain is over. It will never hurt again. He said you would respond, and my God, Rachel, you did. It's as if a master broke you. And you're mine."

  Fear flashed through me at her hard, possessive tone. She turned her head, her hair falling back to show her face. Her black eyes were an ancient hunger, faultless in their innocence. "I saw what happened under Piscary, what you felt with no more than a finger touching your skin."

  I was too frightened and enraptured by the waves of feeling coming off my neck in time with my pulse to move. "Imagine," she whispered, "what it's like when it's not your finger but my teeth—slicing clean and pure through you."

  The thought sent a pulse of heat through me. I went slack in her grip, my body rebelling against my railing thoughts. Tears slipped down my face, warm on my cheeks to fall on my collarbone. I couldn't tell if they were tears of fear or need.

  "Don't cry, Rachel," she said, tilting her head to brush her lips upon my neck in time with her words. I almost passed out from the ache of desire. "I didn't want it to be like this, either. But for you," she whispered, "I'd break my fast."

  Her teeth grazed my neck, taunting. I heard a soft moan, shocked to realize it came from me. My body cried out for it, but my soul screamed no. The eager, pliant faces at Piscary's intruded. Lost dreams. Wasted lives. Existence turned to serve someone else's need. I tried to push her away, but failed. My will was a ribbon of cotton, falling apart with the slightest tug. "Ivy," I protested, hearing my whisper. "Wait." I couldn't say no. But I could say wait.

  She heard, pulling away to look at me. She was lost in a haze of anticipation and rapture. Numb terror struck through me. "No," I said, panting as I fought the pheromone-induced high. I had said it. Somehow I had said it.

  Wonder and hurt crossed her face, a breath of awareness returning to her black eyes. "No?" She sounded like a hurt child.

  My eyes closed in the ripples of ecstasy that flowed from my neck as her fingernails continued to trace the scars where her lips had let off. "No…" I managed, feeling unreal and disconnected as I weakly tried to push her away. "No."

  My eyes flashed open as her grip on my shoulder tightened. "I don't think you mean that," she snarled.

  "Ivy!" I shrieked as she pulled me against her. Adrenaline scoured my veins. Pain followed it, punishing me for my defiance. Terrified, I found the strength to keep her from my neck. She pulled me with an increasing power. Her lips drew back from her teeth. My muscles began to shake. Slowly she pulled me closer. Her soul was lost from her eyes. Her hunger shone like a god. My arms trembled, ready to give out.

  God save me, I thought desperately, my eyes finding the cross incorporated into the ceiling.

  Ivy jerked as a metallic bong reverberated through the air.

  She stiffened. The need in her flickered. Her eyebrows rose in bewilderment and her focus wavered. Breath held, I felt her grip slacken. Fingers slipping from me, she collapsed at my feet with a sigh.

  Behind her stood Nick with my largest copper spell pot.

  "Nick," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. I took a breath and reached out for him, passing out as he touched my hand.

  Thirteen

  It was warm and stuffy. I could smell cold coffee. Star-bucks: two sugars, no cream. I opened my eyes to find a red stringy mass of my hair blocking my sight. My arm aching, I pushed it out of the way. It was quiet, with only the hushed sound of traffic and the familiar hum of Nick's alarm clock to break the stillness. I wasn't surprised to find I was in his bedroom, safe on my occasional side of the bed, facing both the window and the door. Nick's dilapidated dresser with the missing knob never looked so good.

  The light slanting in past the drawn curtains was faint. I was guessing it was getting close to sunset. A glance at his clock showed 5:35. I knew it was accurate. Nick was a gadget guy, and the clock received a signal from Colorado every midnight to reset it from the atomic clo
ck there. His watch was the same way. Why someone had to be that accurate was beyond me. I didn't even wear my wristwatch.

  The gold and blue afghan Nick's mother had crocheted him was snuggled under my chin, smelling faintly of ivory soap. What I recognized as a pain amulet lay on the night-stand—right beside the finger stick. Nick thought of everything. If he could have invoked it, he would have.

  I sat up looking for him, knowing by the scent of coffee that he was probably nearby. The afghan pooled about me as I swung my feet to the floor, Muscles protesting, I reached for the amulet. My ribs hurt and my back was sore. Head bowed, I pricked my finger for the three drops of blood to invoke the charm. Even before I slipped the cord over my head, I felt myself relax in immediate relief. It was all muscle aches and bruises, nothing that wouldn't heal.

  I squinted in the artificial dusk. An abandoned coffee cup pulled my eyes to a slump of clothes on the chair. It moved in a gentle rhythm, becoming Nick asleep with his long legs sprawled out before him. He was sock-footed, since he wouldn't let shoes on his carpet, and his big feet pulled a smile from me.

  I sat, content to do nothing for the moment. Nick's day started six hours earlier than mine, and a faint stubble made early shadows on his long face slack in slumber. His chin rested on his chest, his short black hair falling to hide his eyes. They opened as a primitive part of him felt my gaze on him. My smile grew as he stretched in the chair, a sigh slipping from him.

  "Hi, Ray-ray," he said, his voice pooling like brown puddle-warm water about my ankles. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm okay." I was embarrassed that he had witnessed what happened, embarrassed he'd saved me, and heartily glad he had been there to do both.

  He came to sit beside me, his weight making me slide into him. My breath made a relieved, contented sound as I fell against him. He put his arm around me and gave me a sideways squeeze. I rested my head against his shoulder, taking the scent of old books and sulfur deep into me. Slowly my heartbeat became obvious as I sat and did nothing, taking strength simply from his presence.

  "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, his hand buried deep in my hair as he held me.

  I pulled away to look at him. "Yes. Thanks. Where's Ivy?" He didn't say anything, and my face went slack in alarm. "She didn't hurt you, did she?"

  His hand dropped from my hair. "She's on the floor where I left her."

  "Nick!" I protested, pushing myself away from him so I could sit straight. "How could you just leave her there?" I stood, looking for my bag and realizing he hadn't brought it. I was still barefoot, too. "Take me home," I said, knowing the bus wouldn't pick me up.

  Nick had risen when I did. His face flashed into alarm and his eyes dropped. "Shit," he said under his breath. "I'm sorry. I thought you said no to her." His gaze flicked to mine and away, his long face looking pained, disappointed, and red with embarrassment. "Aw, shit, shit, shit," he muttered. "I'm really sorry. Yeah. Yeah, come on. I'll get you home. Maybe she hasn't woken up yet. I'm really, really sorry. I thought you said no. Oh God. I shouldn't have interfered. I thought you said no!"

  He was hunched with discomfort, and bewildered, I reached out and pulled him back before he could walk out the bedroom door. "Nick?" I said as he jerked to a halt. "I did say no."

  Nick's eyes widened even farther. His lips parted and he stood there, seeming unable to even blink. "But …you want to go back?"

  I sat on the bed and looked up at him. "Well, yeah. She's my friend." I gestured in disbelief. "I can't believe you just left her lying there!"

  Nick hesitated, confusion thick in his pinched eyes. "But I saw what she tried to do," he said. "She almost bit you, and you want to go back?"

  My shoulders slumped and I dropped my gaze to the stain-spotted, ugly yellow carpet. "It was my fault," I said softly. "We were sparring and I was angry." I glanced up. "Not with her. With Edden. Then she got cocky, and it ticked me off, so I jumped her, catching her off guard…landed on her back, pulled her head back by her hair and breathed on her neck."

  His lips pressed together, Nick lowered himself to sit on the edge of the chair and put his elbows on his knees. "Let me get this straight. You decided to spar with her while you were angry. You waited until you were both emotionally charged, and then you jumped her?" He exhaled loudly through his nose. "Are you sure you didn't want her to bite you?"

  I made a sour face at him. "I did say it wasn't her fault." Not wanting to argue with him, I got up and moved his arms to make a spot for me in his lap. He made a surprised grunt, then curved his arms about me as I sat down. I tucked my head against his cheek and shoulder, breathing in his masculine scent. The memory of the vamp-saliva-induced euphoria flickered through me and was gone. I hadn't wanted her to bite me—I hadn't—but a niggling thought wouldn't go away that the baser, pleasure-driven side of me might have. I had known better. It hadn't been her fault. And as soon as I could convince myself of that and get out of Nick's lap, I was going to call and tell her so.

  I snuggled and listened to the traffic as Nick ran a hand over my head. He seemed inordinately relieved. "Nick?" I questioned. "What would you have done if I hadn't said no?"

  He took a slow breath. "Put your spell pot just inside the door and left," he said, his voice rumbling up through me.

  I straightened, and he winced as my body weight shifted against him. "You would have let her tear out my throat?"

  He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Ivy wouldn't have drained you and left you for dead," he said reluctantly. "Even in the frenzy you had her whipped up to. I heard what she offered you. That was no one night stand. It was a life commitment."

  My demon scar tingled at his words, and frightened, I pushed the feeling away. "Just how long were you standing there?" I asked, going cold with the thought that the nightmare might have been far more than Ivy simply losing control.

  His grip around me tightened as his eyes failed to reach mine. "Long enough to hear her ask to make you her scion. I wasn't going to stand in your way if it was something you wanted."

  My mouth dropped open and I pulled my arm from around behind him. "You would have walked away and let her make me into a plaything?"

  A flash of anger flickered in his brown eyes. "A scion, Rachel. Not a shadow or plaything, or even a thrall. There's a world of difference."

  "You would have walked away?" I exclaimed, not willing to get out of his lap for fear pride might make me leave his apartment. "You would have done nothing?"

  His jaw clenched but he made no move to dump me onto the floor. "I am not the one living in a church with a vamp!" he said. "I don't know what you want. I can only go on what you tell me and what I see. You live with her. You date me. What am I supposed to think?"

  I said nothing, and he added in a softer voice, "What Ivy wants is not wrong or unusual, it's a cold, scary fact. She's going to need a trustworthy scion in about forty years or so, and she likes you. To tell you the truth, it's a damn fine offer. But you had better make up your mind as to what you want before time and vamp pheromones make it for you." His voice grew halting, reluctant. "You wouldn't be a plaything. Not with Ivy. And you would be safe with her, untouchable by just about every nasty thing Cincinnati has."

  Gaze distant, my thoughts lit on small, seemingly unrelated instances of friction between Ivy and Nick, seeing them in a new light. "She's been hunting me all this time," I whispered, feeling the first hints of real fear.

  The wrinkles around Nick's eyes creased. "No. It's not just blood she's after, though an exchange is involved. But I have to be honest. You complement each other like no vamp and scion pair I've seen." A flicker of unknown emotion swelled and died within his eyes. "It's a chance at greatness—if you're willing to give up your dreams and bind yourself to hers. You would always be second. But you would be second to a vamp slated to rule Cincinnati."

  Nick's hand ceased its motion over my hair. "If I made a mistake," he said carefully, not looking at me, "and you want to be her scion, then fine. I'll drive you and your
toothbrush home and walk away, letting you two finish what I interrupted." His hand began moving again. "My only regret will be that I wasn't enough to lure you away from her."

  My eyes drifted across Nick's hodgepodge of furniture, hearing the busy traffic outside his apartment. It was so unlike Ivy's church with its wide open spaces and breathing room. All I had wanted was to be her friend. She desperately needed one, unhappy with herself and wanting to be something more, something clean and pure, something untouched and unsullied. She was trying so hard to escape her vampiric existence, and I knew she harbored a belief that someday I might find a spell to help her. I couldn't leave and destroy the one thing that kept her going. God save me if I was a fool, but I admired her indomitable will and belief that someday she'd find what she sought.

  Despite the potential threat she posed, her asinine demands for organization, and her strict adherence to structure, she was the first person I'd roomed with who said nothing about my mind-slips, like draining the water heater or neglecting to turn off the heat before opening the windows. I'd lost too many friends over such petty arguments. I didn't want to be alone anymore. The scary thing was that Nick was right. We did do well together.

  And now I had a new fear. I hadn't realized the threat of my vamp scar until she told me. Marked for pleasure and unclaimed. Passed from vampire to vampire until I begged to be bled. Remembering the waves of euphoria and how hard it had been to say no, I saw how easy Ivy's prediction could turn real. Though she hadn't bitten me, I was sure the word on the streets was that I was taken goods and to back off. Damn. How did I get to this place?

  "Do you want me to take you back?" Nick whispered, pulling me close.

  I shifted my shoulder to mold myself into him. If I was smart, I'd ask his help in moving my stuff out of the church tonight, but what came out of my mouth was a small, "Not yet. I'll call to make sure she's all right, though. I'm not going to be her scion, but I can't leave her to be alone. I said no, and I think she'll respect that."